Gilley crunched down his toast and continued talking. “There is a clamor of rooks that dives after the cat next door. The cat might pretend all is well, but she never leaves the house without looking around, and she wears her ears flat against her head.”
God, he"d had enough of chitchat. “If Smelter"s behavior was so suspicious, I wonder why you didn"t send word.”
“I didn"t have anything firm to report. I was going to speak to the count when he arrived.”
Karl rubbed between his brows with two fingers, and Reese wondered if he had a headache. He had eaten very little. “Mr. Gilley, do you know if Smelter is the only traitor in my company? Did you see any other suspicious activity?”
“I haven"t heard of anything, Your Excellency. Of course, I didn"t know of the men of your retinue before the incident at Lord Merridew"s house, so I don"t know if any of their patterns have changed. The Cohen man meets with a Russian, a gentleman we know, of course, though he"s not on any of our lists of suspicious characters. I believe they meet to argue and play chess. I get the impression that they are old friends.”
“Anything else?”
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“No, Your Excellency, but do recall that the attack only occurred a couple of days ago.”
It felt as if it had been weeks.
“Did you talk to Toole?”
Gilley"s gaze darted to Karl, and he frowned. Understandable why the man looked astonished. Reese was talking about this in front of a man who didn"t work for the government. Hell, Karl was a foreigner, and Reese usually never spoke any of his contacts" names. He rarely admitted that he worked for them. This was the captain"s training.
He smiled at Gilley"s blank surprise, but really, Reese had had enough of secrets. In fact, he"d had enough of that work—nosing around and gathering information for men he"d never met and whom he didn"t entirely trust.
“I spoke to someone,” Gilley said at last. “He wasn"t pleased with you. You were to report to them, you know.”
“I shall when I have something more to say.” Reese drained his teacup and started in on the ham. “Smelter knew we were in Buckinghamshire, so you might have a leak, Gilley. Or Smelter was listening at closed doors.”
Gilley"s fair face turned red. Embarrassment, not anger, and Reese suspected he"d recalled an incident when he"d probably spoken too loudly without thinking who might be listening. His friend was behind a desk for a reason. His
friend
? Yes.
That thought was even more astonishing than the realization that he was tired of secrets. He tried the phrase out again. Gilley was a friend.
“Your voice does carry,” Reese added.
Gilley ignored Reese and directed a weak smile at Karl. “I"m grateful you have had time to recover without the disturbances present at your uncle"s house, Your Excellency. It was a very busy place, crawling with police and members of your entourage. And now the count is due to arrive.”
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Karl sat up straighter, as if someone had reprimanded him on his posture. “Do you know what time my father will be in London?”
Gilley flipped through some papers that lay on the table next to his plate.
“Lord Merridew received a telegram that says the count will arrive this morning.
Apparently he wished to come earlier, but he was at the bedside of your uncle.”
Reese had a moment of confusion, then recalled Karl"s other uncle, the feckless younger brother of the count.
“My Uncle Hans-Friedrich?” Karl leaned forward, frowning. “What is the matter with him?”
“An illness, Your Excellency.” Gilley adjusted his monocle and looked down at the papers. “I believe he ate some bad fish. It"s not certain he"ll survive.”
“And Gerhard?” Karl"s voice cracked. His young cousin, Reese remembered.
Karl looked so stricken, Reese quickly asked, “Was anyone else harmed?”
“Your uncle dined with his mistress that night, and she"s nearly as ill as he is.”
Karl looked at Reese, bleakness in every line in his face. “My uncle was poisoned,” he whispered. “Of course it wouldn"t do to have it appear to be murder.
Not in Neuschlosswold.”
Reese wanted to go to Karl, pull him close, say something reassuring, promise to do whatever he must to erase whatever was causing pain.
Karl shook his head and rubbed his brow again. “We must go at once to my Uncle Merridew"s house.” He rose to his feet and strode from the dining room without looking back.
Reese sprang to his feet to follow him, leaving their host sitting alone over his half-finished breakfast. “Thank you, Gilley,” he muttered before he hurried out.
Karl was already at the front door, his hat in his hand.
They went on foot, walking quickly. Only a half dozen streets away they entered an entirely different neighborhood from Gilley"s neat but somewhat shabby street. The pristine white faces of the houses here gleamed in the morning sunlight.
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Servants scrubbed the steps or swept the walkways in front of these elegant domiciles, sprucing them up for the new day.
Reese and Karl raced up the steps to Lord Merridew"s door. Reese had waited for Karl to speak during the walk, but the man barely seemed to notice his presence next to him. Now he stood, jaw set, staring straight ahead at the dark red door.
Reese couldn"t stand it. “What is wrong, Karl? Tell me what you suspect.”
But then Lord Merridew"s footman was answering the door, and there was no more time for discussion.
The butler stepped forward to greet the guests, and his eyes widened for a moment—after all, Karl was supposed to be injured and in an upstairs bedroom, but Lord Merridew"s butler would never question the activities of his superiors. He bowed. “Your Excellency, good morning. Lord Merridew had an early meeting. He should return any minute. In the meantime, your father is in the library.”
“So early,” Karl said. “He must not have spent much time by Hans-Friedrich"s bed after all.” He sounded angry.
As they followed the butler down the passageway, Reese found he was anxious about meeting the man who figured so prominently in Karl"s life, the man who made Karl doubt himself, the father who manipulated and used his own son for political gain. What would he think if he knew Karl and Reese had bonded beyond a temporary liaison? Such a man would make certain an inconvenient lover like Reese disappeared from his son"s life, never to surface again.
They were ushered into the library and Reese studied the man he couldn"t help but think of as an adversary.
The count was a supremely handsome man—tall, thin, with all of Karl"s good looks, but in a more refined mode and with none of Karl"s warmth. He was dressed in a spotless uniform, an even more elaborately braided jacket than Karl had worn the night of the party. He shifted slightly, and the light gleamed on his high-polished, tasseled boots. He should have appeared ridiculous in such peacock splendor, but he was purely awe inspiring.
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In silence the count studied Karl and then Reese, and Reese suddenly became aware of their unshaven faces, the rumpled clothing they"d borrowed from Lord Merridew"s estate and slept in, the dented hat he held in his ungloved hand. The count"s glacial eyes spoke of disdain, as if he"d caught Jonathan and Karl in a compromising moment. And Reese, who never explained himself, who rarely spoke unless it was necessary, wanted to protest, explain that they"d spent a very rough hour on a train.
Reese waited for Karl to introduce him, but Karl remained silent.
At last the count spoke, in German, to Karl. “And this man is…one of your many friends?”
Karl gave a laugh that sounded genuine, but his back was too straight, his arms too stiff at his sides. “This is Mr. Reese.” He added in German, “One of the many.”
Reese shifted so he could look into Karl"s face. Karl wouldn"t look at him, yet he could feel fury rolling off Karl like heat from a fire. Was the anger directed at his father or at Reese for casting Karl in a bad light in front of his father?
This wintry creature wasn"t a Karl he knew, and Reese understood he"d been an idiot for believing he knew the man so well. “You may go,” Karl said airily to Jonathan.
“Your Excellency.” Reese gave a stiff nod, turned, and left the room, but lingered in the hall. He was a spy, after all. He had no trouble listening at doors.
The count spoke, his voice low and precise. “That man, Mr. Reese—”
Karl"s baritone cut in. “He is utterly unimportant.”
“I have heard he is a spy.”
There was silence. “From whom did you hear this?”
“Never mind that.”
“All right, yes, I knew that about Mr. Reese.” It was Karl, amused and light as always. “It is not news to me.”
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“And why are you in the company of a low creature like that? Such an association does not speak well of how you"ve spent your time in London. You must not embarrass your name and—”
“Reflect, Father. Why wouldn"t I want to cultivate one of the men following me? I knew I was in danger, but I needed to find out from whom. And once I ascertained Mr. Reese was safe, he became an asset. A man like that is trained to fight. He could do our dirty work should I be attacked. And as you can see from Lord Merridew"s ruined dining room, I
have
been attacked.”
“You have guards.”
“Ah, but they are not English.”
“All right, I agree. Here in England it would be better if an Englishman rather than one of our own acts defensively. There would be less trouble cleaning up the resulting mess.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Very well, but for a moment just now, when he looked at you, I could see that he cared what you thought.”
“Did he?” Karl sounded unconcerned. “I didn"t see it, but I believe Mr. Reese is clever at hiding his feelings. But not from you, of course.”
“Naturally not from me.” For the first time, the count"s voice was complacent, almost warm. “You believe he is true to you?”
“I"m good at promoting loyalty, aren"t I?”
“In an English spy?” The count sounded disbelieving. “You are that good, eh?”
“Yes, I am, and I use loyalty as I see fit.” Then Karl said, “
Ich benutze ihn
.”
I use him.
Reese"s throat closed tight as he swallowed a groan. Talking about a person, Karl would have used the word
nützen
, but no. He had used the word
benutze
, as if he considered Jonathan a thing, a tool. Karl seemed to spit out that word.
“Nevertheless, you understand that I don"t want him around.”
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“Yes, of course. No matter. I"m finished with Reese. The benefit of his presence is outweighed by the awkwardness of his existence.” Karl sounded amused again.
“And I guarantee he is no threat to you, Father. Now, please, enough of Mr. Reese. I tire of him. I beg of you, tell me what happened to my Uncle Hans-Friedrich?”
Reese moved away from the door. He"d heard enough. He began to rub his eyes when he recalled Karl doing exactly that, so he let his hands drop to his sides. The middle of his body, just where his heart beat, had been hollowed out. And really, that numb sensation was tolerable. He"d felt it several times in his life, and it was almost a relief.
He"d been a fool. Again. A naive idiot.
He wanted to walk away, go to his three rooms, and howl like a child. But no, no. He"d been hired to watch Karl.
And no matter that the man was as shallow as any plotting politician, luring Reese for his pleasure, using silly ploys that would make him beg… Games. All games.
At least the captain"s lies had been of omission. He"d simply forgotten to tell Reese he was a thief and scoundrel. He"d never used seduction. He hadn"t needed to—not with the groping young idiot Reese had been. Apparently still was.
He remembered what Gilley had said about Karl. No real depth to this man who had no heart.
But why had Karl played such an elaborate seduction? Was he like the captain, who entertained himself with games of the mind?
Forget that. Forget what they"d done together. Forget it all. But he couldn"t, not entirely. Reese owed himself the joy of finding who"d tried to kill Karl—no, the erbgraf. He might be ready to leave behind his work, but he hated to fail at it, and that was why he needed to find the people who plotted to kill the erbgraf, who was not Karl to him, not anymore.
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wonder he"d fled from emotion. It was a dreadful fucking nuisance, and it hurt worse than being stabbed with a bayonet, something he could personally attest to.
Never again. Never again would he be so stupid as to allow himself to care.
And to think he"d succumbed to caresses and loving words and intense gazes. It was all a lie, and he had once again been proven a fool.
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When they"d entered the room, the count had looked Jonathan up and down, and his expression of burning cold hatred sent fear coursing through Karl. He had to distract the count from directing that dangerous mind at Jonathan, confirm his fears, and then at long last, take some sort of action against his father, although he had no idea yet what that might be.