One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,86

“Brook Street,” he ordered. “And can’t you make those horses go any faster? A fool’s errand,” he then declared to her, as the coachman cracked his whip and the carriage jolted, tossing Langley back onto the seat beside Amanda.

“Let us pray Lord Dulsworthy is just such a fool.”

* * * *

Even as the coach swayed to a stop before Dulsworthy’s town house, Langley had his doubts about whether he’d made the right decision. No, that wasn’t true. He knew very well he’d made quite a number of wrong decisions.

The only problem was where to begin tallying them.

He never should have brought Amanda along on what was, at best, a wild goose chase. If Dulsworthy’s plan was to hold Jamie and Philip hostage, to exchange them for the codebook, how could he expect her to calmly accept the inevitable conclusion that the codebook—the security of the nation—must be preserved…at all costs?

And when asked to choose between her and his duty to the Crown, what would he do?

Absent the carpet and awning that had been erected for the night of the ball, Dulsworthy’s house looked comparatively plain for Mayfair, its only adornment the large stone urn at the top of the steps, from which spilled some flowering vine. Langley stepped down from the coach, then held up a hand to Amanda, marveling at her outward calm. Her bonnet once more hid her eyes from his view as he helped her out of the carriage and up the steps.

Mr. Evans, the butler, opened to his knock. “Why, Lady Kingston. I did not know you were expected,” he said, bowing them over the threshold, hardly sparing Langley a glance.

“I wasn’t. But I need to speak with Lord Dulsworthy at once.”

Evans’s eyes shifted toward the stairs. “I do not know if his lordship is home to callers this afternoon, my lady.”

“But he’s here?” Langley demanded. “That’ll do.” He shifted his grip to Amanda’s elbow and steered her toward the stairs as the butler gawked after them. “No need to trouble yourself. We’ll announce ourselves.”

On a hunch, he directed their steps toward the study, trying not to think of his and Amanda’s last encounter in that room as he swung open the door. This time, all was not in darkness, though the draperies were partly closed. Seated behind the desk, Dulsworthy lifted his head from his hands, his elbows still propped on the desktop. The man’s bleary expression made clear that the tumbler of brandy beside him was half-empty, rather than half-full.

“Well, Dulsworthy,” Langley demanded, “where are they?”

But Dulsworthy had eyes only for Amanda, who stood frozen just inside the doorway. “You shouldn’t be here. A lady shouldn’t see a gen’leman like thish—this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she told him.

He heaved a wet sigh. “I s’pose you’ll never marry me now?”

Her mouth was set in a thin line, as if she were trying to hold back words better left unspoken—or perhaps a scream. “I was never going to marry you anyway, George,” she said after a moment. “Is that what this is about? Another of your schemes to try to force my hand?”

“No, no. I shwear it,” Dulsworthy protested. “I wouldn’t—oh, what’s the ushe? You’ll never forgive me, either.”

“I daresay that will depend on the degree of forgiveness required,” she answered with surprising calm. “Now, what’s happened to Jamie and Philip? Where are they?”

Dulsworthy shook his head, the wobbly, drunken gesture reminiscent of a trained bear with a sore ear.

Langley did not intend to brook a denial. In three steps, he was in front of the desk. He thrust out his hand, caught Dulsworthy by the cravat, and jerked him to his feet. “You will stand. And you will answer the lady.”

Dulsworthy pawed ineffectually at Langley’s clenched fist, then blinked past him at Amanda. “Why, pray tell, is your tutor ordering me about?”

“Because he’s not my tutor. Any more than he was the errand boy from Porter’s bookshop or your footman on the night of the ball. This is Major Stanhope, George, and I really do think you’d better answer his question.”

Now Dulsworthy was blinking at him, as if trying to bring his face into focus. “Footman?” he repeated, then tried to discard the idea with another shake of his head.

“Oh, this is perfectly useless.” Amanda stepped forward and laid a hand on Langley’s arm, as if urging him to release Dulsworthy. “You were right. We’re here on a fool’s errand. We’d might as well go.”

Langley obliged her by shoving him back into the chair. “Something’s driven him