room held two large leather chairs, a number of hunting trophies, and very few books.
Sir William, dressed for travel in breeches and top boots, stood leaning on the mantlepiece reading a single sheet of paper. He turned when he heard the door open and scowled when he saw who it was. "Fitzroy! What the devil are you doing here? I told Babcock I was not to be..."
Then his voice trailed off as he got a better look at Henry's face. There were a number of men in London he considered to be dangerous, but until this moment, he would not have included Henry Fitzroy among them. Forcing his voice past the growing panic he stammered, "W-what?"
"You dare to ask when you're holding that!" A pale hand shot forward to point at the paper in Wyndham's hand.
"This?" Confusion momentarily eclipsed the fear. "What has this to do with you?"
Henry charged across the room, grabbed a double handful of cloth, and slammed the traitor against the wall. "It has everything to do with me!"
"I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know!" Hanging limp in Henry's grasp, Sir William made no struggle to escape. Every instinct screamed "RUN!" but a last vestige of reason realized he wouldn't get far. "If I'd known you were interested in her..."
"Who?"
"Carmilla Amworth."
Sir William crashed to his knees as Henry released him and stepped back. "So that's how you were going to hide it," he growled. "A seduction on your fabled yacht. Was a French boat to meet you in the channel?"
"A French boat?"
"Or were you planning on finding sanctuary with Napoleon? And what of Miss Amworth, compromised both by your lechery and your treason?"
"Treason?"
"Forcing her to marry you would gain you her fortune, but tossing her overboard would remove the only witness." Lips drawn back off his teeth, Henry buried his hand in Sir William's hair and forced his head back. Cravat and collar were thrown to the floor, exposing the muscular column of throat. "I don't know how you convinced her to accompany you, but it doesn't really matter now."
With the last of his strength, Sir William shoved the crumpled piece of paper in Henry's face, his life saved by the faint scent of a familiar perfume clinging to it.
Henry managed to turn aside only because he'd fed at dawn. His left hand clutching the note, his right still holding Sir William's hair, he straightened.
"... I can no longer deny you but it must be tonight for reasons I cannot disclose at this time." It was signed, C. Amworth.
Frowning, he looked down into Sir William's face. If Carmilla had insisted that they leave for the yacht tonight, there could be only one answer. "Did Yves Bouchard suggest you seduce Miss Amworth?"
"I do not seduce young woman on the suggestion of acquaintances," Sir William replied as haughtily as possible under the circumstances. "However," he added hurriedly as the hazel eyes locked onto his began to darken, "Bouchard may have mentioned she was not only rich but ripe for the plucking."
So, there was the Bouchard connection. Caught between the two men, Carmilla Amworth was being used by both. By Bouchard to gain access to Wyndham's yacht and therefore France. By Wyndham to gain access to her fortune. And that seemed to be all that Sir William was guilty of. Still frowning, Henry stepped back. "Well, if you didn't steal the document," he growled, "who did?"
"I did." As he turned, Carmilla pointed a small but eminently serviceable pistol at him. "I've been waiting in Sir William's carriage these last few moments and when no one emerged, I let myself in. Stay right where you are, Mr. Fitzroy," she advised, no longer looking either fragile or waiflike. "I am held to be a very good shot." Her calm gaze took in the positions of the two men and she suddenly smiled, dimples appearing in both cheeks. "Were you fighting for my honor?"
Lips pressed into a thin line, Henry bowed his head. "Until I discovered you had none."
The smile disappeared. "I was raised a republican, Mr. Fitzroy, and I find the
Sir William, dressed for travel in breeches and top boots, stood leaning on the mantlepiece reading a single sheet of paper. He turned when he heard the door open and scowled when he saw who it was. "Fitzroy! What the devil are you doing here? I told Babcock I was not to be..."
Then his voice trailed off as he got a better look at Henry's face. There were a number of men in London he considered to be dangerous, but until this moment, he would not have included Henry Fitzroy among them. Forcing his voice past the growing panic he stammered, "W-what?"
"You dare to ask when you're holding that!" A pale hand shot forward to point at the paper in Wyndham's hand.
"This?" Confusion momentarily eclipsed the fear. "What has this to do with you?"
Henry charged across the room, grabbed a double handful of cloth, and slammed the traitor against the wall. "It has everything to do with me!"
"I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know!" Hanging limp in Henry's grasp, Sir William made no struggle to escape. Every instinct screamed "RUN!" but a last vestige of reason realized he wouldn't get far. "If I'd known you were interested in her..."
"Who?"
"Carmilla Amworth."
Sir William crashed to his knees as Henry released him and stepped back. "So that's how you were going to hide it," he growled. "A seduction on your fabled yacht. Was a French boat to meet you in the channel?"
"A French boat?"
"Or were you planning on finding sanctuary with Napoleon? And what of Miss Amworth, compromised both by your lechery and your treason?"
"Treason?"
"Forcing her to marry you would gain you her fortune, but tossing her overboard would remove the only witness." Lips drawn back off his teeth, Henry buried his hand in Sir William's hair and forced his head back. Cravat and collar were thrown to the floor, exposing the muscular column of throat. "I don't know how you convinced her to accompany you, but it doesn't really matter now."
With the last of his strength, Sir William shoved the crumpled piece of paper in Henry's face, his life saved by the faint scent of a familiar perfume clinging to it.
Henry managed to turn aside only because he'd fed at dawn. His left hand clutching the note, his right still holding Sir William's hair, he straightened.
"... I can no longer deny you but it must be tonight for reasons I cannot disclose at this time." It was signed, C. Amworth.
Frowning, he looked down into Sir William's face. If Carmilla had insisted that they leave for the yacht tonight, there could be only one answer. "Did Yves Bouchard suggest you seduce Miss Amworth?"
"I do not seduce young woman on the suggestion of acquaintances," Sir William replied as haughtily as possible under the circumstances. "However," he added hurriedly as the hazel eyes locked onto his began to darken, "Bouchard may have mentioned she was not only rich but ripe for the plucking."
So, there was the Bouchard connection. Caught between the two men, Carmilla Amworth was being used by both. By Bouchard to gain access to Wyndham's yacht and therefore France. By Wyndham to gain access to her fortune. And that seemed to be all that Sir William was guilty of. Still frowning, Henry stepped back. "Well, if you didn't steal the document," he growled, "who did?"
"I did." As he turned, Carmilla pointed a small but eminently serviceable pistol at him. "I've been waiting in Sir William's carriage these last few moments and when no one emerged, I let myself in. Stay right where you are, Mr. Fitzroy," she advised, no longer looking either fragile or waiflike. "I am held to be a very good shot." Her calm gaze took in the positions of the two men and she suddenly smiled, dimples appearing in both cheeks. "Were you fighting for my honor?"
Lips pressed into a thin line, Henry bowed his head. "Until I discovered you had none."
The smile disappeared. "I was raised a republican, Mr. Fitzroy, and I find the
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