Page 22 of The Spy and His Lady Love
“Kincaid and James were murdered in Kincaid’s home earlier this evening. Their throats slit.”
After downing his whiskey, Newbury paced the sitting room off his bedchamber. His heart ached and instantly his entire body tensed up painfully tight. “They were made?”
“Yes,” Edmond answered.
Visions of his dead colleagues sent fear running through his veins for the safety of all the spies within the War Office. Which also included several women. He would never forgive himself for attending a musical, trying to get to know his intended better, instead of hunting down the enemy. Letting the enemy snuff out the lives of honorable men. One which had a wife and two small children. Pausing, he looked down at his hand, still holding the empty glass. He raised his arm and threw it at the fireplace with a crash.
Too bad the satisfaction of destroying something lasted only moments. Stopping at the small desk he kept in his sitting room, he scribbled off a message to Smythe and handed it to Edmond. “Deliver this right away and don’t leave without him.”
An hour later Harry had nearly worn a path in the Aubusson carpet in the library. He scribbled off several more messages and had them delivered. He waited anxiously to hear from Prinny.
Where the bloody hell were Edmond and Smythe? He was reaching here, but he hoped the Runner had some information on the deaths? No sooner had the thoughts entered his mind than the two gentlemen walked into the library.
“Please sit,” Harry said as he stood in front of the hearth, enjoying the heat from the flames against his chilled body. Not just chilled, numb, shock, whatever it was had his insides frozen.
“Thank you for coming at such an ungodly hour. Two of the War Office’s top spies were murdered. Throats slit.”
“Yes. I know. I sent a Runner over with the Guard Arms to investigate. At the time I figured it was a theft gone bad. Then when my man returned and reported to me that uniforms from the Secretary of War’s Office arrived and made everyone leave I figured they were not your average men.” Smythe wore rumpled clothing and looked exhausted, complete with dark circles beneath his eye and stress lines bracketing his mouth. “I’d only just crawled into bed when your man here arrived.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Bloody long night and only getting longer.”
“Have you heard any rumors about Kincaid and James? I know you have connections in the underbelly of London, St. Giles, and the rockeries. Your own network of spies feeding you information. And possibly a Runner or two who are crooked.”
“We’ve had our share of crooked Runners. Caught one last year, and he’s comfortably rotting in Newgate. Have you considered a double spy has infiltrated your organization? One with the task of murdering all members of the War Office? But I also must add that it is widely known that Newbury in full disguise, works for the War Office. Why has no one tried to kill you?”
“Yes, it is known, or rumored, that I work for the War Office as a delegate. Not as a spy. Most think I’m harmless and have no proper authority. Which is what we want people to think. Meanwhile, have you any thoughts about Baron Littleton. We’ve been investigating him since the war ended. Unfortunately, all we have on him is hearsay. We have no proof of his crimes against the Crown. But he has been our prime focus of late. One reason I recruited you. I believe you will pique his interest once you’re fired from your present job and insinuated back into the underbelly of London.”
Smythe frowned. “I thought I would be demoted, then quit.”
Harry ran his hands through his hair. “Changed my mind. Firing you would get you working undercover faster. And with these two murders, it’s something we need. The sooner I have you onboard the better.”
“I’m still worried about my wife and her family.”
“I know. I’m still working out the logistics.”
“So. Are we still waiting until after your wedding to fire me?” Smythe said with a knowing grin.
“No. They will fire you tomorrow on suspicion of murder.”
“Whose?” Shaking his head, he added, “Never mind. I can guess. It’s the perfect setup.”
“Indeed.” Harry paused as something else bothered him. “I may have to postpone my wedding to Lady Penelope. I can’t possibly leave for several days when my peoples’ lives are in peril. Not to mention, I’d rather not bring her into this mess and put her life in danger as well.”
Smythe visibly tensed. “Perhaps Mary should spend time with her family. If I don’t send her away, once I’m fired, Spencer will, no doubt, take her home and away from me.”
“I’m sorry to put you in this situation.”
“It’s something I agreed to. I’ll deal with the repercussions.”
“Edmond, is there anything you want to add?”
“Starting tomorrow we work in pairs. A lot of good it did for Kincaid and James, but I advise you should strictly enforce the pair issue.”
“Superb idea. I will. You gentlemen must be as tired as I. Smythe, go home to your wife. Tomorrow will prove to be a trying day for both of you. Edmond, I won’t need you again tonight, you may retire.”
By half-ninethe following morning as Harry sat in his office drinking his second cup of coffee, he cringed at what was occurring across town in Smythe’s office. Since Smythe was the head of the runner’s, the Secretary of War himself would cause a scene by firing Smythe. No charges would be brought against him, but it would be widely known he was a suspect in the two murders of War Office officials. Harry felt bad for doing this to Smythe and bringing him on board. If in the future, he changed his mind about working for the War Office, they would plan for him to retake his post. Somehow, Harry didn’t think he would go back. Smythe had that look in his eyes last night after finding out about Kincaid and James. He already felt attached to them and the War Office. If only there were more good, determined, and fearless men like him. England would benefit immensely for it.
When Smythe arrivedhome in the wee hours of the morning, instead of climbing back in bed with his lovely bride, Mary Smythe, formally Miss Mary Spencer, he stoked the fire in their modest bedchamber and sat down in one of two newly upholstered chairs and contemplated how to explain to Mary about the events which would unfold when he arrived at work. Breaking her heart and causing her pain wasn’t an option.
“Robert, has something happened? Why aren’t you in bed?” His wife’s voice, soft and sleepy, never failed to ease his heart. Nor awaken his body’s desire for her.
