Falconer's Heart Read online

“A change in the French strategy. A highly successful change, I might add.”

  Felicity considered for a moment. “And you think the traitor might be Marie.”

  “It could be. She certainly seems a good prospect—of French parentage, possibly idealizing the France she remembered as a child? Her life certainly hasn’t been happy here, from what you’ve said. Does she have any money?”

  “Just her jointure, not much,” Felicity said slowly. Then, “No! It’s absurd! I know Marie. If she’s an agent at all, it’s far more likely she’s working for the British, trying to entrap Mr. Warwick into revealing he has been sabotaging our cause. And I’ll bet it was Belmont who set her onto it!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Belmont!” Riki stared at Felicity, her turn to be aghast. “No, he wouldn’t…would he?”

  “My brother is intensely loyal.” Felicity nodded, apparently not realizing the effect of her words on Riki. “If he had even the tiniest doubts about his assistant, you may be sure he would have him investigated.”

  Had he started an inquiry two years ago that even now continued its subtle way toward entrapment? No, it wouldn’t have taken this long…would it? Unless… She stared at Felicity without seeing the girl. Unless he’d deliberately surrounded David with trusted government employees. What better way to keep under control an unknown American with strategic military knowledge? Then if his loyalty ever became suspect, it would be a simple thing to drop a word in the right ear and abruptly curtail any potentially traitorous activities.

  And that word had been dropped, of that Riki was suddenly certain.

  How dare Belmont? If they were to speak of traitors, he made a fine candidate! He wouldn’t denounce David himself because of his promise to her, but he had done it in a sneaking, roundabout fashion. Was that what he’d done in Whitehall the morning before while she’d waited for him all unsuspecting in the carriage?

  This was one matter she wasn’t about to let wait a minute longer. With more determination than grace, she packed Felicity off to her own bedroom with the feeble excuse that she had a headache coming on. As soon as she saw the girl’s door close behind her, Riki slipped out of her chamber and marched back down the stairs.

  She encountered Belmont in the hall, in a low-voiced conversation with Newly. The viscount looked up at her determined approach and instantly dismissed the butler.

  “What the—the devil do you mean by setting a spy onto David?” she whispered in furious tones.

  He picked up his candle, took her arm and led her toward his bookroom without answering the charge. Once inside, he lit a sconce and placed his taper with deliberation on the desk. “You will sit down quietly, then tell me what in heaven’s name you’re talking about,” he said at last.

  “As if you didn’t know.” But she complied and waited until he closed the door firmly behind them. “You dropped a few hints in the War Office about David, didn’t you?” she demanded.

  He reached into his pocket, drew out a snuffbox, but paused before opening it. “Whatever gave you that idea?” His voice betrayed curiosity—and a touch of bewilderment.

  She told him of her suspicions concerning Marie. “Do you deny she was introduced to him on your orders?” she finished.

  “I do.” He stuffed the unused box back into his pocket, took a few pacing steps, then stopped once more before the brocade sofa on which she sat. “The first part of your accusation is correct—I did order a thorough investigation into his activities outside Whitehall. I’d have been a fool not to, under the circumstances. But I have said and done nothing since I learned the truth about him. I only want him back in his own time, where he belongs.”

  Riki studied her hands in her lap, uncertain whether to trust his words or not. “What about Mrs. Marley? Is she a British agent?”

  “Not a British one, no. There has never been any reason to suspect her of being a French agent, either. But it will now be looked into, just in case, I assure you.”

  She watched the closed expression of his face but gained no clues. “You don’t believe him.”

  “My dear Miss van Hamel—”

  “Oh, stop patronizing me! You think he’s guilty, don’t you? Well, he isn’t! You’d better find out who is before all your secrets are given away!” She stood, shook out her delicate skirts and glared up at him.

  A sudden smile touched his lips and the blazing light in his eyes faded to a tender glow. He rested his hands on her shoulders so he could stroke her throat with his thumbs. “I know you don’t want to believe him guilty, Riki, but—”

  “But nothing!” She shoved his hands away. “Are you forgetting the person who hit Hillary?”

  “You seem to be. Mrs. Marley was not at the Court.”

  She glared at him.

  “You are also assuming,” he went on remorselessly, “that your supposed traitor possesses a great deal of knowledge about the French and British plans of battles not yet fought.”

  She almost stamped her foot, knowing in her heart she’d much rather kick him. “I mean, your traitor has probably been getting my cousin drunk and at his ease and gaining who knows how much information.”

  “Which brings us back to my point. Once your cousin is removed, so will be the source of the information.”

  She saw the force of that argument but was not about to admit it. “That still leaves you with a traitor.”

  “Possibly,” he said with maddening calm.

  Her fists clenched. “How can you be so…so stupid and stubborn?”

  A slight smile touched his lips. “It’s an art.”

  Belmont watched as she jerked away from him and marched out of the room. How could he be so stupid, indeed? It took every ounce of resolve not to drag the fiery little termagant into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless and yielding. Then—

  He broke off that thought. He knew damn well what he’d like to do then. Too damn well, in fact. He lay awake nights trying not to think about it, and it was beginning to drive him mad.

  Where Miss Erika van Hamel was concerned, only two possibilities existed. Either he kept her beside him for the rest of his life or he got rid of her as quickly as possible, keeping his distance until he banished her back to the future where she belonged before he lost the last vestiges of his self-control.

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Damn Miss Erika van Hamel. Riki. He caught a tender thought creeping into his mind and squelched it. He had a great deal of thinking to do this night—and probably a day of intense activity on the morrow. He didn’t need to lie awake, yearning for something—or rather someone—he couldn’t have. He snuffed the flame in the sconce with undue force, picked up his candle and made his way upstairs to where Pervis awaited him.

  As he prepared for bed, he glowered at his reflection in the mirror. If David Warwick were guilty, he was more than willing to consign the man to the devil. He’d only have to engineer his passage through time then he’d be rid of him and that would be the end of the matter. If he were not guilty…

  Almost, he didn’t want to think about that possibility. What would it leave? Someone he knew—and trusted—was betraying their country. It was easier to believe Warwick and his ridiculous passion for “war-gaming” was behind the change in the British fortunes in the Peninsula.

  Either way, though, the person to whom Warwick was passing the information—knowingly or not—had to be discovered and dealt with.

  By morning he found himself no closer to an answer. Barring David Warwick, and taking into consideration the attack on Hillary, he had three logical suspects. Four, if he was to take Riki’s fears about Marie Marley seriously.

  He climbed out of bed, too restless to lie still, and stared down into Half Moon Street below his window. My uncle, my brother-in-law, my best friend. Lord, what a choice! He couldn’t visualize any of them in the role of traitor. Sylvester lacked perseverance at anything but the gaming table, Sir Julian cared for nothing but cutting a dash in society and Linton was no
thing but a mouse, and a sickly one at that.

  He’d dismiss them all out of hand except for the one motive that could not be ignored. Money. Any one of them might have been induced to pass on information for a sufficient sum.

  And now that he and Riki had come blundering onto the scene with their talk of American agents, the guilty party would be alert for trouble and probably not approach Warwick in any but the most innocent manner. Frustration sent him off to the Park for a brisk early-morning ride.

  He returned well over an hour later to find Sylvester in possession of the front salon, basking under the undeniable pleasure of Riki’s flattery. Damn the chit, why does she have to sit so close to him on that inviting sofa, listening so avidly to every word he utters as if he’s the most fascinating man she has ever met? The old reprobate positively preened himself.

  Sylvester leaned closer to Riki, and Belmont’s brow snapped down. He had always known his uncle to be a roué but he had never thought him to be a shameless libertine! What was the chit about, allowing him to fondle her hand and stare blatantly at her shockingly low décolletage?

  No, at least she had the sense to draw away and resettle her shawl. He resisted the impulse to do it for her, to make sure that not one inch of that creamy skin showed—or even that delightful freckle at the base of her throat. No one should look at her like that, except him.

  Except me? He stifled that thought. No man of his time could possess her. His hand turned on the doorknob as he started back out of the room.

  Sylvester broke off at the slight noise, apparently taken aback to discover his nephew standing only a few feet away. “What the devil are you doing here, Gil? I thought you’d be off to Whitehall by now.”

  “I have ample time,” Belmont said shortly. “Does my being here interfere with your plans?” Abruptly changing his mind, he strolled over to the hearth, where he leaned negligently, watching the couple on the sofa through narrowed eyes.

  “Of course not, why should it? I have come to entertain your charming guest. It must be dreadfully dull for her, with so little company in town and not knowing anyone. Where were we, my dear?” Considerably put out, Sylvester turned back to Riki.

  “You were about to tell me about the last time you were in Paris,” she prodded.

  “No, really.” A flush crept into his cheeks. “Was I? Not the sort of story to be sullying a young lady’s ears with. I thought you were going to tell me all about your adventures.”

  Riki cast a quick, meaningful glance over her shoulder at Belmont, then turned back to Sylvester with a silvery laugh. “I already told you all about how I was chosen for this work. Any more and I vow I’ll bore you.”

  Belmont stiffened. Has he been questioning her? Without compunction, he interrupted his uncle’s assurances that he would hang upon her lips no matter what she uttered. “Miss van Hamel, a word with you?”

  “Certainly.” She rose gracefully. “I won’t be but a moment,” she promised Sylvester, and crossed to the door that Belmont opened for her. He slammed it behind them.

  “Yes?” She looked up at him with a semblance of innocence.

  It made him long to shake her. “Just what the…the deuce do you think you’re about? Getting to know your suspects?”

  Infuriatingly, she laughed. “Let us say advancing our investigations, shall we?”

  His jaw clenched. “You have no business mixing so freely with my family. If you will remember, I agreed to permit you to come back with me on the strict understanding you would avoid talking to people. Damn it, your mere presence poses a continual threat to the…the integrity of current events and the war effort! Why can you not just go to your room and remain there out of trouble?”

  “How dull you would have me be! I am perfectly capable of guarding my tongue. You see how easily I have already picked up some of the phrases of your time.”

  He did indeed. She fitted in all too well for his peace of mind. “At any moment you might say something that could be proved a lie—or worse, might betray our position in the Peninsula.”

  She shook her head. “Only if the person to whom I speak is a traitor. Do you really enjoy suspecting your own uncle? This is the fastest way to find out.”

  “My uncle is not—” He broke off.

  She regarded him with her lovely head cocked to one side. “Yes, as little as you like to admit it, it’s a real possibility. He is shockingly expensive—you told me so yourself.” She laid a hand on his arm, and her tone cajoled. “We do have a villain, you know. The best way to discover him is to learn what we can of each suspect and clear them one by one. So I have begun with your uncle. Besides,” she flung over her shoulder at him with a disconcerting twinkle in her eye, “I like him.”

  He resisted the impulse to throttle her. Instead he turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs. He had a long and undoubtedly unpleasant day ahead of him. If things didn’t improve, he could always murder her tonight. That would make him feel better.

  He was being ill-tempered and jealous and he knew it, and that knowledge didn’t make a pleasant companion on the familiar drive to Whitehall. He should be glad Riki had been so completely accepted by his family. She was no fool. She knew what topics to avoid. What damage could she possibly do?

  That thought haunted him throughout the long hours that dragged before him. She’d do nothing wrong, of course. She’d continue to behave in a delightful—and infuriating!—manner, becoming more a part of his family’s life every day. As tempting a thought as that might be, she didn’t belong here. She had her own family, her own life—and her own time.

  He did not leave the War Office again until late afternoon. None of his coworkers were pleased over Warwick’s resigning without warning, and Belmont had borne the brunt of it all day. A foul mood gripped him but he determined not to let it show. He stormed in the front door of his house, stripping off his gloves as he went, only to be brought up short by Felicity.

  “Gil, you’ve been an age!” She bounced down the last two stairs. “Have you forgotten we are pledged to attend the Allertons’ musical soiree this evening? Mama has been in a pelter, wondering if you would be in time to dine with us before.”

  “I have not forgotten,” he lied. Of all the unwelcome tidings. “Where is Miss van Hamel?” At the moment he only wanted to get hold of Riki and find out what she had been about in his absence.

  To his further annoyance, Felicity lowered her head demurely—to hide the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, he was certain.

  “She has not yet returned.”

  “Returned? From where?” He pulled off his shallow curly beaver.

  “Sir Julian has escorted her to the British Museum.” She peeped up at him, her expression unreadable.

  He shoved his hat back on his head, heedless of his appearance. Sweeping up his gloves, he shouted to the footman to order his curricle brought back around.

  “Are you going out?” Felicity fluttered long lashes at him, bearing a distinct resemblance to a kitchen cat who had got at a jug of cream.

  “Out with it, minx. What are you up to?” he demanded.

  She blinked innocent dark eyes at him, not fooling him for one moment. “What should I be about?”

  Trying to make me jealous, he realized. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode outside to wait.

  So my little sister has selected Riki as her future sister-in-law, has she? He stifled the intriguing response that sprang to life within him. Riki was not for him. Hadn’t he just gone through that argument? And he couldn’t care less if Sir Julian Taggart was interested in her either. There wasn’t a chance for either of them. She’d be gone all too soon.

  And I am only going to the British Museum to protect her, he assured himself as his curricle returned and he took the ribbons once more. After all, Julian was one of their potential suspects! Belmont maneuvered through the traffic, muttering to himself the whole time about how many people chose to remain in London in this dismal weather.

 
; Nearly twenty minutes later, he pulled up before the beautiful old seventeenth-century mansion that housed the museum, and left his groom walking his pair while he went inside. A further half-hour passed in frustrating and fruitless search through the crowded rooms, and he found himself wondering why he was bothering. It was hopeless. He only had Felicity’s word they had come at all. They might well have changed their minds, or even left by now to go elsewhere.

  Still, he kept on, his mood growing fouler by the minute. He had decided to abandon his pointless attempt, and be damned to Riki, when he spotted them. The surge of relief he felt startled him.

  Why shouldn’t she have been safe? Good God, does part of me really suspect Julian? He racked his conscience and realized that in truth he did. There was that touch of sarcasm that had developed in his old friend, turning him from a youth bent on a lark to a hardened roué bent on enjoying himself at someone else’s expense.

  Was it that carriage that had followed them from Brighton that loomed large in his mind, refusing to be dismissed? Or did he perhaps fear his friend intended to seduce Riki? If ever he met a female able to take care of herself, it was she. But what if she didn’t mind being seduced?

  “I do wish I might have seen it,” Sir Julian laughed as Belmont strode up behind them. Julian appeared particularly—and irritatingly—resplendent this afternoon in a new coat of a brilliant blue superfine.

  “He was the soul of heroism, I assure you,” Riki said. “Had it not been for Belmont, I doubt I would be alive today.”

  Sir Julian drew her hand more possessively through his arm. “I still don’t see why you were subjected to the rigors of a journey to Portugal. Not at all a pleasant undertaking for a delicately nurtured female.”

  “You forget, I’m an American. I had already traveled all the way from New York. And the messages I carried were of considerable importance, I assure you.”

  “But could not a man have taken them, thus sparing you? Not, of course, that I am not delighted your mission brought you to our humble shores.”