A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,101

over her head.

And, in that meantime, he knew he’d die a little each day he spent without her.

“We have to be rid of Arthur, I tell you,” Sir Ralph said watching as the Earl of Laleham twirled his wineglass by its stem, staring into the dark liquid as it glowed in the lamplight. They had left Lord Mappleton, who was off to drool all over the rich Miss Rollins yet again, and retired to White’s. “He is becoming a liability. Every time the man opens his mouth he nearly betrays us.”

“Impossible, my dear fellow. There is no time to recruit another willing conspirator and use Stinky to have him inserted into the Treasury. But I do agree we’re in danger. Five men are too many for this operation. Especially when one of them is disloyal and only out for himself.”

Sir Ralph felt his stomach turn over, nearly causing him to lose his lunch of sweet ham and buttered biscuits. “Disloyal?”

“Yes,” the earl went on, still gazing into his wineglass, “Perry is putting his own desires above those of the group.”

“Perry?” Sir Ralph nearly sank to his knees, so complete was his relief. “How?”

“Why, by believing his own high opinion of himself transfers to real intelligence. Lord, to think I once rated him as our equal. Stinky and Arthur have never been more than willing dupes since our school days—well born, respected, and convenient to our plans—but I had held out higher hopes for Perry. But to get back to what I was saying—I have an acquaintance at one of the newspapers, and he forwarded to me a story that will be printed in tomorrow’s edition. It’s most interesting!”

“How so?” Harewood was beginning to enjoy himself. He’d always known of William’s low opinion of the others, and was more than willing to believe they would be disposed of the moment their usefulness in this latest, greatest of their schemes was done. Even better, if William was taken up with Perry’s suspected treachery, he’d have no time to look into his affairs with Maxwell or his secret meetings with Thomas Donovan. No time to wonder about his ambitions.

“The pompous idiot believes he’s discovered a description of buried Roman treasure. Worse, he enlisted Stinky into his plans, prevailing upon him to convince our ridiculous Prince of Wales to allow Perry to dig up the grounds to the south of the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula.”

Sir Ralph laughed out loud. “Inside the walls of the Tower? Is the man insane?”

“Quite possibly, Ralph. But to push the boundaries of credulity—what if the fool is right for the first time in his life? What then, Ralph? Will he decide, now that fame and respect are at long last his, he no longer has need of our scheme? Even worse—will he conclude he would be appreciated much more by the prince than he ever would be by us when we came into power? Consider it, Ralph—can we afford such a single-sighted, puffed-up co-conspirator?”

Harewood rubbed his chin, thinking furiously. “He has already done everything except to actually order the transfer of goods from the War Ministry. Once I—that is, once we’ve reached an agreement with Donovan, Perry will be superfluous. But, William, we always knew that. Neither of us has actually said it, but they are none of them necessary once the plan is well launched.”

“How true. But I, unlike you, had been prepared to be generous. Now, with Perry striking out on his own, I’ve rethought the matter. He knows too much about our plans and about our past. You do remember our past, don’t you, Ralph?”

“About Geoffrey Balfour, you mean. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it, William?” Harewood didn’t need to be reminded of Geoffrey Balfour. He saw his face each night before he fell asleep. Saw the terror. Felt the fear. “Arthur is equally as dangerous in that regard, William,” he pointed out reasonably. “Maybe more so, especially now that he’s thinking of marriage to a rich woman.”

William set down his glass and prepared to rise. “So very bloodthirsty. Very well, Ralph, if you insist. I had only thought of Perry, and then, not quite seriously. But you have my permission to kill them both—dispose of them all. But not until we are finished with Donovan.”

“Me?” Harewood breathed, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. How had it all come down to him, and not William? How had the man maneuvered him into being the one who put forth the mention of