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Authors: Sari Robins
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with the men, and intelligent enough for two. Glad he’s on our side, for now.” He nodded and flipped a card. “I’ll set a man to follow the son.”
Justin rubbed his forehead worriedly. “We just need more information, and time is waning. You said you did not know much. What have you learned?”
“Just confirmed that the plot has something to do with the monetary system.”
“Counterfeiting?”
Wheaton scratched a bushy white sideburn. “Can’t see why they’d try that again. It’s never worked for Napoleon in the past.”
Justin clenched his fist. “I cannot fathom that all of our sources cannot scratch up more than that. We must stop the plan from proceeding before it’s too late.”
“ If we can stop the plan. The thing may already be in motion.”
He stated it so dispassionately that it made Justin want to pound his fists on the polished tabletop. Instead he flipped his cards and kept his voice low. “I cannot accept the view that we are powerless to prevent it. Every scheme has its weakness, the links upon which the chain of events must depend.”
“You’re just like your father. If he couldn’t figure something out, he would look at it a thousand different ways until he unlocked the logic of the thing.” Wheaton flipped his cards. “If it held his attention, that is.”
Justin shifted his shoulders. “George was the brilliant one. Not me.”
“Yes, your brother was quite intelligent, but you are better at strategy.”
“Strategy will get us nowhere without information.”
“Move up the timetable on the girl.”
“There is only so much I can do to gain her trust without raising her suspicions. She is no fool.”
“Add pressure.”
Justin threw down his cards, irritated with the under-belly of this business. Where was the dignity in tormenting an unprotected young lady? “I will do the best I can.”
“Good. And while you’re at it, get me a new deck. This one is missing a few cards.”
Justin felt as if a wave of ice water crashed over him and froze him on the spot. He stared at the colonel hard, trying to assess if the man was sending him a hidden message. “What did you say?”
The old man held up the deck innocently. “I need some new cards.”
Justin forced himself to relax. The colonel did not know about his brother. He took a long, deep breath and compelled his heart to resume beating normally. Colonel Wheaton seemed unaware of the effect his play on words had had on the marquis.
A gray-haired wizened chap in a sober charcoal suit shuffled over. His reedy lips split into a loose, wide grin, exposing tobacco-stained teeth. “Now here’s a game I can enjoy.”
Justin stood and was mortified to feel his cheeks heat. “Sir Devane.” He nodded, in awe of the wise, elderly gentleman who’d galvanized the spy trade at the Foreign Office years before.
Wheaton nodded but did not stand. “Lee. How are you, old man?”
Sir Devane’s hazel eyes twinkled as he responded, “Speak for yourself, Wheaton, I might be as ancient as the hills but I can still beat you at cribbage.” He raised a spotted hand to his temple. “I’d always taught you, it’s here that makes the difference. You don’t need brawny muscles to play the game.”
Justin understood all too well what game he referred to, and he was slightly put off by Wheaton’s lack of respect for his former mentor. Although Sir Devane had retired before Justin had begun his service, the old gent was a walking legend for having saved the empire innumerable times.
“You may have my seat, sir, I’m off to livelier amusements,” Justin said as he held out the chair for him.
Eyes twinkling, the elder gent asked, “Nothing too dangerous, I hope?” Little escaped those canny hazel eyes. Justin wondered how much the man knew. Did he still keep his fingers in the till at two and seventy years?
Wheaton sipped from his brandy, commenting dismissively, “Nothing more dangerous than chasing lightskirts. Even a
Justin rubbed his forehead worriedly. “We just need more information, and time is waning. You said you did not know much. What have you learned?”
“Just confirmed that the plot has something to do with the monetary system.”
“Counterfeiting?”
Wheaton scratched a bushy white sideburn. “Can’t see why they’d try that again. It’s never worked for Napoleon in the past.”
Justin clenched his fist. “I cannot fathom that all of our sources cannot scratch up more than that. We must stop the plan from proceeding before it’s too late.”
“ If we can stop the plan. The thing may already be in motion.”
He stated it so dispassionately that it made Justin want to pound his fists on the polished tabletop. Instead he flipped his cards and kept his voice low. “I cannot accept the view that we are powerless to prevent it. Every scheme has its weakness, the links upon which the chain of events must depend.”
“You’re just like your father. If he couldn’t figure something out, he would look at it a thousand different ways until he unlocked the logic of the thing.” Wheaton flipped his cards. “If it held his attention, that is.”
Justin shifted his shoulders. “George was the brilliant one. Not me.”
“Yes, your brother was quite intelligent, but you are better at strategy.”
“Strategy will get us nowhere without information.”
“Move up the timetable on the girl.”
“There is only so much I can do to gain her trust without raising her suspicions. She is no fool.”
“Add pressure.”
Justin threw down his cards, irritated with the under-belly of this business. Where was the dignity in tormenting an unprotected young lady? “I will do the best I can.”
“Good. And while you’re at it, get me a new deck. This one is missing a few cards.”
Justin felt as if a wave of ice water crashed over him and froze him on the spot. He stared at the colonel hard, trying to assess if the man was sending him a hidden message. “What did you say?”
The old man held up the deck innocently. “I need some new cards.”
Justin forced himself to relax. The colonel did not know about his brother. He took a long, deep breath and compelled his heart to resume beating normally. Colonel Wheaton seemed unaware of the effect his play on words had had on the marquis.
A gray-haired wizened chap in a sober charcoal suit shuffled over. His reedy lips split into a loose, wide grin, exposing tobacco-stained teeth. “Now here’s a game I can enjoy.”
Justin stood and was mortified to feel his cheeks heat. “Sir Devane.” He nodded, in awe of the wise, elderly gentleman who’d galvanized the spy trade at the Foreign Office years before.
Wheaton nodded but did not stand. “Lee. How are you, old man?”
Sir Devane’s hazel eyes twinkled as he responded, “Speak for yourself, Wheaton, I might be as ancient as the hills but I can still beat you at cribbage.” He raised a spotted hand to his temple. “I’d always taught you, it’s here that makes the difference. You don’t need brawny muscles to play the game.”
Justin understood all too well what game he referred to, and he was slightly put off by Wheaton’s lack of respect for his former mentor. Although Sir Devane had retired before Justin had begun his service, the old gent was a walking legend for having saved the empire innumerable times.
“You may have my seat, sir, I’m off to livelier amusements,” Justin said as he held out the chair for him.
Eyes twinkling, the elder gent asked, “Nothing too dangerous, I hope?” Little escaped those canny hazel eyes. Justin wondered how much the man knew. Did he still keep his fingers in the till at two and seventy years?
Wheaton sipped from his brandy, commenting dismissively, “Nothing more dangerous than chasing lightskirts. Even a
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