single candle, he added, “Another five minutes in this hellhole, and I swear, I shall—”
The marquess moved like a wraith. One moment there was only smoke and shadows, the next, he was standing among them, silent save for the beads of rain dripping from his broad-brimmed hat.
“Ah, here he is,” murmured Marco. “Buongiorno.”
“Hardly,” replied Lynsley. “Kindly refrain from your usual humor, Ghiradelli. At the moment, my mood is about as foul as the weather.”
“But not as stormy as mine.” The rumble in the duke’s voice hinted that thunder could erupt at any time.
“I regret that the situation has turned so ugly, Cluyne.” Lynsley shrugged out of his sodden overcoat and peeled off his mud-spattered gloves. His usual well-tailored elegance was disguised by a soiled moleskin jacket and baggy canvas pants.
The odor emanating from the garments was not something Marco cared to identify.
“Under normal circumstances, it would not be a problem to clear up this murder,” continued the marquess. “But unfortunately, right now I cannot bring any pressure to bear on the local magistrate. These are very sensitive times for the government, and I’ve been asked not to draw any attention to this crime. Not only can’t we afford to reveal the truth about Lord Tappan’s treachery, but the Circle of Scientific Sibyls—that, is the Circle of Sin—has done some services for me that I would rather not have come to light.” He nodded at Kate and Charlotte. “My sincere apologies, ladies. Especially to you, Miss Woodbridge.”
“You mean to say that government business takes precedence over my granddaughter?” sputtered Cluyne.
“Yes,” replied Lynsley frankly. “I’m afraid it does.”
“Goddamn it, man, you can’t just sit there and twiddle your thumbs!” said the duke, his voice perilously close to a shout.
“Now, now, Cluyne.” Charlotte reached over to touch his sleeve. “It does no good to bellow. I am sure that Lord Lynsley is pulling every string that he can to extract Kate from trouble.”
The duke snorted but did moderate his tone to a dull roar. “My granddaughter is not a cold-blooded murderess. I’ll not see her left to hang in the air just because Lord Castlereagh is afraid of upsetting his precious peace conference.”
Marco felt his gut twist in a knot. Surely the government would not let Kate march to the gallows to cover up their own guilt in the crime. But even an arrest would ruin her forever in Society. Destroy any chances of her finding a place to fit in.
“My hands may be tied at the moment, but be assured that I will find a way to undo this knot,” said Lynsley gravely. In the guttering light of the cheap tallow candle, he looked tired and travelworn. “I would never have involved you and your family had I any inkling that there was any danger involved. I pride myself on knowing what is going on. But I do make mistakes.”
He braced a leg on the rough planking of the tavern table and blew out a sigh. “This was supposed to be a simple surveillance mission, a way to keep an eye on any alliances that might be forming for the upcoming peace conference. I anticipated a straightforward report of who was friendly with whom, not treason and murder.”
Kate, who had been unnaturally quiet all morning, leaned into the pool of light. “If the mystery man succeeds with his assassination plan in Vienna, it could plunge Europe back into war, could it not?”
Lynsley’s expression was very grim. “Quite likely.”
“Then it’s imperative that we stop him, and without anyone being alerted to the plot.”
“Yes. Any hint that a British official was conspiring to murder one of the sovereigns would ignite an explosive scandal. Our ability to influence the future of Europe would go up in smoke.” Lynsley fingered his unshaven chin. “We must, at all costs, keep this a secret. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out how. My men are on their way to apprehend Tappan, but by the time they find him and bring him back for interrogation, it may well be too late.” He shot a look at Marco. “You have no idea who his contact was?”
Marco shook his head. “I didn’t recognize the man’s voice. And to be honest, it was muffled enough by the glass that I’m not sure that I would know it again if I heard it. Nor did I see his face.”
The marquess looked to the window and appeared to be contemplating the layers of grime coating the glass.