“Not today, but I shall work on Uncle’s copy.” She rose, and the pair of them nipped off to the study to discuss their latest discovery.
Lady Lyman directed a gimlet glance at her brother. “She has lost out on Lord Costain. We must do something to buck up her spirits, Rodney.”
“I’ll take her to the ball myself if you think it will help.”
“I shall buy the tickets from Lady Eagleton and go with you. I might achieve some rapprochement with Costain yet. Such a suitable parti. I fear this disappointment might send Cathy into a decline. She cannot afford that at her age.”
“Marriage is overestimated,” Rodney said.
“Marriage is delightful. It is the trials of widowhood that are underestimated. Although, I must say, Gordon is improving. He used to fret and complain at having nothing to do, but nowadays he is studying from morning till evening. I wonder if I should bother with my Christmas rout.”
Rodney, seeing his nephew’s untouched eggs, reached out and helped himself to them.
In the study, Gordon paced and pounced about the room in a state of high excitement. “A traitor, by Jove.”
“Mama said it was Mr. Fotherington who was the traitor, Gordon,” Cathy pointed out.
“At his wife’s instigation, no doubt.”
“It would be best to watch Mrs. Leonard a little longer and see what she is up to. Watch her like a hawk, Gordon.”
“You need have no fear of that. I have smuggled a footman’s outfit into the cupboard. I must wiggle into it before Uncle comes.”
“Mama will keep him gossiping for ages. Breakfast is her favorite time for reminiscing. About the Great Ball, Gordon, do you not think you and I might go together? It is a shame to waste the tickets.”
“They an’t wasted. The ball is for a good cause--charity, I think it is.”
Gordon nipped into his uncle’s office before Cathy could talk him into the ball. He emerged moments later in the bottle green of the Lymans’ livery, with a dashing half cape over his shoulders for warmth.
“
I
shall be back to meet Leo at five,” he said, cocking the footman’s tricorne hat at a rakish angle over his eye.
“Come sooner if you learn anything,” Cathy said urgently. “I am on nettles with all the responsibility of this affair.”
“My dear girl, stop frowning, or you’ll destroy what is left of your face with wrinkles. I shall handle this. No one expects a lady to do anything.”
Gordon opened the study door, peered up and down the street to see he was unobserved, and skulked off in the direction of Half Moon Street. The weather had warmed sufficiently to melt the snow which now ran in rivulets along the gutter. He was glad the curst wind was taking a rest.
* * *
It was clear as glass to Cathy that Gordon was enjoying himself immensely. It was all a game to him, but for her the excitement had turned to dismay. No matter which way she slanted events, she could not return Lord Costain to his former eminence. How had he fooled her so completely the night before? She went over their meeting a dozen times, but to return Costain to his former integrity was like trying to put Humpty Dumpty together again.
After long consideration she decided he was Mrs. Leonard’s dupe. In that manner she could pity him instead of despise him, but she could not esteem him. He had poked fun at the word, but without esteem there could be no love.
Cathy worked desultorily on Rodney’s copy that morning. At eleven a client came with a letter written in French in a wavering hand on sere, yellowing paper. He wished to have it translated. The owner, Mr. Culpepper, had the air of a provincial—a solicitor or doctor perhaps—to judge by his modest toilette.
“I found it in the family Bible,” he explained. “My ancestors were French, but we have lost the language over the years. We hope it may establish a link with a certain noble house in France,” he said proudly.
Cathy studied it with interest. “It uses very old French,” she explained. “The date, you see, is 1649. I shall have to do a little research to make sure the translation is accurate. Can you leave it with me?”
“Certainly, but I hope you can get at it right away. I am in from Devon, and hope to return at first light tomorrow.”
“I shall do my best, sir. Come back this afternoon.”
The translating helped to divert her thoughts. She feared Mr. Culpepper would be disappointed.
The letter was a nagging one to a neighbor, threatening to take him to court over a cow. Nothing in it suggested the writer was an aristocrat, though he must have been a gentleman, as writing was the preserve of the upper classes at that time.
At lunch Lady Lyman mentioned that Gordon had asked for a tray to be taken to his room to avoid interrupting his studies. Cathy assumed that Gordon had taken his valet into his confidence. She wondered where her brother really was at that hour. Was he even now watching as Costain paid a quick noon-hour visit to his lover?
The food lodged in her throat, making every bite a struggle. When an apple tart appeared for dessert, she rose and excused herself.
“I am not very hungry, Mama. Mr. Culpepper may arrive while I am out. I shall go back to the study now.”
“We ought to have a sign at the door, directing clients to the front door if they get no answer,” Rodney said.
This was an old argument with Lady Lyman. “I will not have every Tom, Dick, and Harry coming to my front door, Rodney. You may direct them to the back door if you wish. I have no objection to that.”
“You cannot expect clients to deal with a cook!” Rodney pointed out.
Cathy slipped away while the familiar words echoed behind her. She was surprised to hear a sound at the street door as she entered the study. She had not expected Mr. Culpepper quite so soon, and wondered if Uncle Rodney actually was missing clients by having no notice at the door. She hurried forward, for the knocking was loud and insistent, as if it had been going forth for some moments.
She looked at the young man who was seeking entrance. She had met him only once, but she recognized him immediately.
“Mr. Burack!” she exclaimed. The idea popped into her head that something awful had happened to Lord Costain. He had been discovered. “What is it?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“May I come in for a moment, Miss Lyman? I am sorry to disturb you at lunchtime, but it is rather urgent, and this is the only time I could get away.”
She moved aside and he came in, peering over his shoulder to see if he was watched. He removed his curled beaver, but he did not take a seat, and in her confusion Cathy did not offer one. She remained standing, too.
“Are we alone?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes, for the moment. What is it? Why have you come? Is it Lord Costain?” The questions burst out in a rush.
“Exactly. I am relieved you already suspect something of his doings.”
Her hands flew to her heart. “What has he done?” she asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know, for certain. I have some reason to suspect, however, that he is using his position to discover our war plans—for what purpose you may imagine.”
Cathy’s mouth was dry. She swallowed wordlessly, encouraging Burack by her strained interest.
“He obtained a highly secret document that he had no right to see, and worse, he removed it from the office. He returned it, but we don’t know that he had not made a copy, or what he may have done with the copy.”
“When was this?” she asked.
“Four days ago. It was quite by chance that I discovered it. The clerk asked me if Lord Cosgrave had received a certain letter. I knew he had not, for he had been in meeting for some time. I asked the clerk where he had put the letter. He said he had handed it to Lord Costain. Costain had left the building. The letter certainly went with him, for I searched his office and Lord Cosgrave’s and Mr. Leonard’s thoroughly.”
It was the letter Costain had brought to her that they were discussing, then. “Why are you telling me this?” Cathy asked. Burack didn’t know Costain had brought it to her! She might yet protect Costain if she said nothing.
“I have often noticed the sign on your door. The letter was in German. Costain does not speak German. As you are his friend, I thought you might have helped him—not realizing he had no right to the letter, of course,” he added hastily, and with apparent sincerity. “I do not mean to accuse you of any wrongdoing, Miss Lyman.”
“Does Lord Cosgrave know of this?” Cathy asked, to play for time while making her decision.
“Certainly, it was his idea that I come to you.”
Lord Cosgrave knew, so there was no point in trying to hide it. “I did translate a letter for Lord Costain,” she said. “He thought it might be urgent, and wished a translation in a hurry.”
“Then why did he not take it to Lord Cosgrave, who reads and writes German fluently?”
“He does?” Cathy exclaimed. It was like an arrow piercing her heart. Costain had not told her that. His excuse was that he did not trust the translators, but he must certainly trust Lord Cosgrave.
“Certainly. Has Costain asked you to translate any other letters?”
“No, only the one.”
“I take it he pledged you to secrecy?”
“Yes.” And she had broken her promise to him.
“Does he call often? Is he keeping you in good humor, to ensure your assistance at a future date if it should be necessary?”
Her reply was a whisper. “Yes.”
“Excellent!” Cathy looked at him as if he were mad. “If what we suspect is true,” Burack continued, “then he will bring you more letters. You must let us know at once. If we can catch him red-handed, he will not be able to deny it.”
“How can I inform you?”
“Say you are having difficulty—you must keep the letter and send word to the Horse Guards at once.”
“But if it is only a short note, as it was before, he will suspect if I claim I cannot translate it.”
“That’s true,” Burack said, nodding. “I’ll ask Lord Cosgrave to have him followed if he leaves the building. You can do a translation—mislead him with false information. When he leaves, he will be followed and apprehended. I would appreciate it if you would still notify me the instant Costain leaves you. He won’t have gotten far. I should like to be there to haul him in myself. To think he would use his position to betray his country,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
“I cannot believe he would do it, Mr. Burack. He is an officer. He fought for his country. He would not have to do it for money. He is wealthy.”
“His weakness is women,” Burack said sadly. “Some lady has gotten at him, no doubt.”
The name Mrs. Leonard hovered on Cathy’s lips, but she withheld it. “Have you any idea who she might be?”
“She might be anyone. He goes about a good deal in society.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Leonard?” she suggested, watching him closely.
Mr. Burack stared. “Mrs. Leonard? Surely you are joking.”
“No, indeed. I think she may be the one leading him astray.”
“Why would she need Costain? Mr. Leonard is privy to more secrets than his lordship, and he is very obviously enamored of his wife. He speaks highly of her.”
“But that is not to say he would betray his country.”
Burack gave a dismissing shrug. “I cannot believe Mrs. Leonard is involved. You saw Costain with her last night at the Royal Coburg?”
“Yes.”
“I was there myself. I have been following Costain about since he took that letter. I have not discovered the lady’s identity yet, but common sense suggests she is surely a Frenchwoman. I shall continue looking into his social life.”
“You’ll let me know?” Cathy asked. When Burack looked surprised, she felt a little foolish. He must wonder why she was taking such a personal interest in all this.
“I will not be at liberty to divulge my findings until the matter is settled, Miss Lyman. We are all under a strict code of secrecy at this sensitive time, as I am sure you realize. After it is over, I will tell you the whole story if you wish.”
“Thank you.”
Mr. Burack stood a moment, just looking at her. “The devil of it is that I do not have the entree to such places as his lordship goes in the evening. Who knows what passes behind drawing room doors?”
Cathy remembered her mother’s tickets for Lady Somerset’s ball. She had felt the odium of not having a beau to escort her. Here was a more than presentable gentleman who was eager to enter society.
“Will you be attending Lady Somerset’s ball this evening?” she asked in a strained voice she hardly recognized as her own.
“Not I. The tickets cost more than a month’s wage.”
“I have a spare ticket. That is, Mama bought a pair. I had thought I might attend ...”
A blaze of joy lit Burack’s rather fine eyes. “I say! Are you hinting that I might accompany you?”
“Yes.”
A shadow passed over his face. “Costain will think it odd that I am with you.”
“We met the other evening,” she reminded him. “It is none of Lord Costain’s concern if you have called on me since. In fact, you asked if you might.”
“So I did, and you were kind enough to give me permission, but I have not been able to get away at work. About the ball, I shouldn’t like to tip Costain the clue I am checking up on him,” he said uncertainly.
To her astonishment, Cathy found it possible to flirt with a gentleman so long as she had no real feelings for him. She adopted a moue and said, “Why should he think anything of the sort? I go about with several different gentlemen.”
“I noticed, at the theater. Very well, we’ll do it. I shall call for you at half past eight. I don’t know how to begin thanking you, ma’am. I did not expect this degree of cooperation.”
Mr. Burack looked much more handsome when he smiled. He also looked younger. He thanked her a couple of times, then said, “I must be going. I need not pledge you to secrecy. Naturally you will do what is proper in that respect. The safety of England depends on it, Miss Lyman.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
Mr. Burack bowed and left. When he was gone, Cathy found herself comparing his behavior to Costain’s. There was no denying Mr. Burack behaved more properly. Costain paid no heed to secrecy. Now that she knew even Lord Cosgrave suspected him, she found a dozen flaws in his behavior.