Chapter One
“Do tell mewhat terrible thing your valet did,” Isabelle, Lady Meunier commanded as she poured Jackson, Lord Sayres his tea.
Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp, and Jackson felt his gut tighten in reaction. This would be a dicey conversation, so he took his time answering. “My valet is exceptional, as you well know.” An exceptional spy, to be exact, and Jackson no longer wished the man in his home.
“And yet, you released him,” Isabelle pressed.
“I did.” He toyed with the finger sandwich set before him. Though he was hungry, he tried to appear reluctant to eat. He’d learned that Isabelle noted every show of appetite—for anything—and inevitably found a way to use it to her advantage. “I passed him to Lord Denbigh who was in need.” He smiled. “And as we were in need of information regarding Lord Denbigh’s Irish relations, I thought it an excellent opportunity.”
“There was no need to deprive yourself of a valet for such a thing. I could have provided another candidate.”
“There wasn’t time,” he lied. In truth, he and his valet had been long searching for a way to get them both out from under Isabelle’s thumb. Andrews’ opportunity had come first. “Denbigh took his entire household to Ireland the next day. I had to put Andrews in place immediately.”
Isabelle stroked her favorite ring, a large garnet that flipped up to allow poison to drip free. It was an implied threat. As far as he was aware, she’d never poisoned anyone. But she had ruined them financially, socially, and even once had a priest excommunicate an enemy. The lady was vicious when she felt betrayed, and so he stepped carefully.
“He has promised regular letters on Ireland,” he said. “We may learn several interesting things soon.”
“You understand that Andrews was my servant. You cannot dismiss my people without my consent.”
“He is still serving you. Indeed, that is his intent. But you need no longer pay the cost of his salary. Lord Denbigh will pay him very well.” Sayres had made sure of it.
“And yet, the problem remains. Andrews wasmy servantto deploy as I wish.”
Jackson said nothing. It would do no good to remind my lady that England allowed no slaves inside the country’s borders and that Andrews was free to seek employment wherever he wished. Isabelle felt ownership no matter the laws of the land and was displeased with this turn of events.
Or she should have been displeased. Instead, she continued to toy with her ring while her smile grew to an alarming grin. She never smiled like that except when she won.
Damnation, what had he missed?
Isabelle rang a small bell set at her elbow. The tinkling sound was pleasant to the ear, and yet it rang like a gong in Jackson’s head. He was about to learn of his defeat. He knew it to his bones, and yet he kept his expression calm despite the way his heart sank.
A footman stepped into the parlor room. Except he was no footman. It was Andrews dressed as the lowest bootblack in Lady Isabelle’s household. Bloody hell, what was the man doing here? He’d escaped!
“Andrews?” he said slowly. “You look remarkably solid for a man who is in Ireland.”
The man hung his head, his gaze fixed upon the floor. “Lord Denbigh found another valet more to his liking. One my lady suggested.”
How the hell had she managed it? How had she learned of Sayres maneuvering and switched in her own servant in the short twenty-four hours before Denbigh left? Good lord, the extent of Isabelle’s tentacles never ceased to amaze him.
“Just as well,” Sayres lied. “I found I’ve missed your service.” He gestured behind him to the door. “You can wait outside. We’ll ride together back to my flat.”
He didn’t really think it would work. Isabelle was not one to let an escape attempt go unpunished, but it was worth a try. As expected, Andrews did not budge.
“I’m afraid I’ve found service with my lady more to my liking.” The words were spoken like a dirge. It was an obvious lie, but why? “I have happy news,” continued the man in a tone that implied the exact opposite. “My wife shall present me with a child soon. She was most happy to learn that the babe will be born in England.”
So that was what happened. Isabelle had learned that Andrews had wed. Sayres had told him to keep it secret, but somehow the news had travelled, and once known, Isabelle had leveraged the wife and the child. The method didn’t matter. Far from escaping her control, Andrews now was deeper under Isabelle’s paw. He would be punished for a time as a bootblack, but eventually, he would be sent somewhere else useful in Isabelle’s vast information network. And he would go, fully chastened, in the knowledge that his own wife and child were in danger if he disobeyed.
That’s what came of falling in love. The man was now trapped with no hope of escape.
“I give you my felicitations,” he said, his own tone matching Andrews’. “I hope the child brings you every joy.” Because he would have little joy in his life from Isabelle for a long, unhappy time.
Andrews lifted his gaze. “Working for you was a great privilege. I am sorry to see it end.” There was truth in his words and misery in his gaze.
“But end it must,” said Isabelle. “You may return to your duties,” she said by way of dismissal. And once the door closed behind Andrews, Isabelle allowed her expression to become truly triumphant. “Now let us discuss your new valet. Here is how I wish you to use him—”
“No.” His word was hard and loud. It was a risk to speak so strongly against her, but he had grown tired of her manipulations. Andrews was a lost cause now, and so Jackson gave her that win, but he had no wish to engage in yet another dance of control with yet another servant. “I have no need of a new valet.”
“You have engaged another one? But you said, you have missed Andrews’ service. I assure you, the man already at your flat is superior in every respect.”