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Authors: Joan Overfield
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doing so, but I might have wished you'd asked permission first before taking them. It would have been dashed awkward if I sounded the alarm needlessly, eh?"
Adam leaned back, trying to make sense of the earl's rambling conversation. "And what is it I am suspected of having taken?" he asked at last, his voice carefully neutral.
"The papers from my dispatch box, of course," LordDerring replied, then paled at Adam's lack of expression. "Never say you don't have them?" he said, trembling.
Adam snapped to attention. "Which papers?" he demanded, his preoccupation with Bronyeskin forgotten in light of this alarming development.
"Not quite sure, to be honest," the earl admitted, shrugging his shoulders and tugging at his cravat. "Hadn't had a chance to study them in any great detail. Arrived the same time as his highness, so I had but a moment to peek at them. They were from the Secretary, or at least they carried his seal. Mentioned Blücher, though, as I recall." He sent Adam an apologetic look. "You'd know more about that sort of thing than I."
Adam remained silent for several seconds, digesting the enormity of what he had heard. "Are you saying these papers are missing?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
In light of his response the earl abandoned all pretense and slumped in his chair like a broken puppet. "If you don't have them, then aye, I would have to say that," he said, rubbing a hand across his ruddy face. "When I went into my study this morning to catch up on my correspondence, they were nowhere to be found. They weren't in my dispatch box, which is where I am certain I left 'em. Even checked the shelves, just to be certain, but they weren't there. Suppose this means I shall have to write the Secretary after all. Not looking forward to it, I can tell you," he added glumly.
Envisioning Viscount Castlereigh's probable reaction to discovering one of his dispatches had gone missing, Adam could well imagine the trepidation the earl was experiencing, but at the moment he had far greater concerns. "Who has access to these papers?" he demanded, deciding to send off a letter to the duke without delay. His grace had several highly placed friends in Whitehall, and they would know better what ought to be done.
"No one. I keep them locked in my dispatch box,"Derring answered, frowning at Adam. "Weren't you listening?"
"Where?"
"Eh?" The earl blinked at Adam's snarled demand. "Oh, in my study. Locked in my desk, to be exact."
"Then why the devil did you think I had them?"
In answer the earl drew himself upright. "Well, stands to reason, doesn't it?" he replied with a sniff. "The world knows the Regent and the Secretary don't get on, and are always keeping secrets from one another. You're the Prince's man; thought perhaps you wanted a look at the papers so you could see what was what. Besides, who else but you would be interested?"
Adam didn't bother cursing the earl for his appalling stupidity, any more than he bothered answering the accusation that he was the Regent's man. He was England's man, pure and simple, and he could think of several groups who'd do murder and more for a glimpse of the Foreign Secretary's correspondence.
"Have you told anyone the papers are missing?" he asked, shifting his mind to the matter at hand.
"Of course not!" the earl retorted indignantly. "Ain't a dashed loose screw, you know! I told no one other than my wife and Leeds, my valet. And I suppose I may have mentioned it in passing to my idiot of a son," he added, scowling. "Not that that dolt knows anything of value, mind."
In other words, Adam thought, bitterly, he had told the whole bloody world. He was about to make a caustic remark when he remembered the conversation he'd had with William the day he'd encountered Miss Mattingale in town. The young dandy had taken him to one side, asking if his father had seemed distracted to him. He recalled thinking at the time that the action had seemed deliberate, but he'd never pursued the
Adam leaned back, trying to make sense of the earl's rambling conversation. "And what is it I am suspected of having taken?" he asked at last, his voice carefully neutral.
"The papers from my dispatch box, of course," LordDerring replied, then paled at Adam's lack of expression. "Never say you don't have them?" he said, trembling.
Adam snapped to attention. "Which papers?" he demanded, his preoccupation with Bronyeskin forgotten in light of this alarming development.
"Not quite sure, to be honest," the earl admitted, shrugging his shoulders and tugging at his cravat. "Hadn't had a chance to study them in any great detail. Arrived the same time as his highness, so I had but a moment to peek at them. They were from the Secretary, or at least they carried his seal. Mentioned Blücher, though, as I recall." He sent Adam an apologetic look. "You'd know more about that sort of thing than I."
Adam remained silent for several seconds, digesting the enormity of what he had heard. "Are you saying these papers are missing?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
In light of his response the earl abandoned all pretense and slumped in his chair like a broken puppet. "If you don't have them, then aye, I would have to say that," he said, rubbing a hand across his ruddy face. "When I went into my study this morning to catch up on my correspondence, they were nowhere to be found. They weren't in my dispatch box, which is where I am certain I left 'em. Even checked the shelves, just to be certain, but they weren't there. Suppose this means I shall have to write the Secretary after all. Not looking forward to it, I can tell you," he added glumly.
Envisioning Viscount Castlereigh's probable reaction to discovering one of his dispatches had gone missing, Adam could well imagine the trepidation the earl was experiencing, but at the moment he had far greater concerns. "Who has access to these papers?" he demanded, deciding to send off a letter to the duke without delay. His grace had several highly placed friends in Whitehall, and they would know better what ought to be done.
"No one. I keep them locked in my dispatch box,"Derring answered, frowning at Adam. "Weren't you listening?"
"Where?"
"Eh?" The earl blinked at Adam's snarled demand. "Oh, in my study. Locked in my desk, to be exact."
"Then why the devil did you think I had them?"
In answer the earl drew himself upright. "Well, stands to reason, doesn't it?" he replied with a sniff. "The world knows the Regent and the Secretary don't get on, and are always keeping secrets from one another. You're the Prince's man; thought perhaps you wanted a look at the papers so you could see what was what. Besides, who else but you would be interested?"
Adam didn't bother cursing the earl for his appalling stupidity, any more than he bothered answering the accusation that he was the Regent's man. He was England's man, pure and simple, and he could think of several groups who'd do murder and more for a glimpse of the Foreign Secretary's correspondence.
"Have you told anyone the papers are missing?" he asked, shifting his mind to the matter at hand.
"Of course not!" the earl retorted indignantly. "Ain't a dashed loose screw, you know! I told no one other than my wife and Leeds, my valet. And I suppose I may have mentioned it in passing to my idiot of a son," he added, scowling. "Not that that dolt knows anything of value, mind."
In other words, Adam thought, bitterly, he had told the whole bloody world. He was about to make a caustic remark when he remembered the conversation he'd had with William the day he'd encountered Miss Mattingale in town. The young dandy had taken him to one side, asking if his father had seemed distracted to him. He recalled thinking at the time that the action had seemed deliberate, but he'd never pursued the
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