A Clandestine Affair (Currents of Love Book 5) Read online

  “No news of any import to share it looks like,” her brother Eric’s voice announced as he too came wandering through the doorway, newspaper in hand.

  Even with eyes trained on the paper in front of him, he still managed to come to a precarious pause as little Yvette used the opportunity of his entrance and the distraction it caused to go racing across the flooring in the direction of the chair again. The child’s trajectory worked on the assumption that any adults in her vicinity would allow her right-of-way. In this case, she proved correct. Angelique scurried by an instant later, giving chase to her young ward and the entire group converged upon the tea table.

  Once they’d all found their seats and Eric set down the newspaper, Lady Langdon caught his attention and began to move her hands in time to her words to ask her son questions.

  “How is Eloise feeling?”

  She referenced Sarah’s other sister-in-law, Eric’s wife Eloise. The young bride was still a few months off from bearing her own first child but was frequently weary in the afternoon and chose to take the hour to rest rather than participate in tea.

  “Quite well, mother, just a bit fatigued.” Eric responded.

  Being the only Langdon brother unable to take to sea due to his lack of hearing, Eric functioned as head of the household in the absence of his elder brothers. The ladies of the house were of course always happy to have him, though Sarah often wondered if being surrounded by so many cackling hens might not drive him a bit impatient. Eric often joked that his lack of hearing became a blessing in that regard, he was sure that if he had to be privy to the constant heckling of the women around him, he would have to be institutionalized.

  “That’s good to hear,” Lady Langdon smiled before she began pouring the tea. Sarah took in her mother’s warm and happy glow with a smile. There had been a long period after her father’s death when the Langdon siblings feared they might not witness their mother smile again.

  But life and time have a way of healing, and the addition of family members via the marriages of Sarah’s elder four siblings and the consequent first additions of grandchildren remedied whatever lack of joy remained in the Countess’ being. Lady Langdon had taken to grandmother-hood with as much enthusiasm and happiness as she had to her own motherhood. Having raised an unfashionably large brood of children, the Countess somehow managed to never make any of her six children feel left out or unloved.

  “I’m sure she will be glad to leave the city for the remainder of her confinement,” Lady Langdon mused.

  “Undoubtedly,” Eric agreed. She will be quite happy to have the fresh country air and ability to wander at her leisure when we return to Heathermoore.”

  “Any news in today’s post?” Lady Langdon addressed Sarah hopefully.

  Sarah suppressed a sigh. This year marked her fourth season, again with no interest shown her, and she knew her mother hoped to hear of some suitor requesting to call on her. Adding to her mother’s concern was the fact she’d put off having her initial season to the age of twenty, making this past season essentially her final chance.

  “Nothing significant, mother,” Sarah replied, but you did receive an invitation from Mrs. Weston to take tea with her if possible before we leave the city.”

  Her mother’s features fell and she nodded, sparking an unfounded anger in Sarah. Each of her sibling’s weddings had worked to highlight her continued solitary status, and her mother’s hints increased exponentially along with it. She’d done her best to ignore it and convince herself she was perfectly content alone, but then she would catch a lovestruck exchange between one of her siblings and his or her spouse, or get caught up in the perfection of one of their sleeping children and the desire to have all those things for herself all but crippled her.

  “Why don’t you accompany me to Mrs. Weston’s?” her mother asked brightly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to see you.”

  Mrs. Weston was likely unable to distinguish Sarah from half the other misses at the dances this season, Sarah thought. Her mother undoubtedly remembered the woman’s marriageable nephew was staying with her at present.

  “Thank you, mother, but I prefer to stay in these last few days.”

  “Of course.” Her mother abated for the span of two scone bites. “But with the fine weather we’ve been having, you ought to ask Eric to take you through Hyde Park for a final turn.”

  “I’ve been to the park, mother, I prefer to stay in.” Sarah’s growing irritation seemed lost on her mother, though Angelique sent an anxious glance toward her in-laws before refocusing on the biscuit she was dipping in milk for Yvette. Eric had his full concentration on the newspaper in front of him.

  “Oh, but you must—”

  “No, mother.” She set down her cup with more force than intended, the rattle drawing attention from all sides. “Excuse me, please.”

  Lacking the energy to continue her mild argument with her mother and embarrassed at the extent of her ire, Sarah stood and made her way to the door, the stabs of three sets of staring eyes following in her wake.

  Retreating to her room, Sarah hurried across to the window and took refuge in staring out over the London cityscape. A few moments later a soft knock sounded at the door, but she didn’t respond. She heard the click of the latch as the door opened and quietly closed again.

  “Sarah, darling, forgive me,” Her mother’s voice drifted over to her from the other side of the room. “I’ve been so caught up in Yvette and the other babies I suppose I’m in a rush to expand my collection.” The hint of a smile tinted the Countess’ words. “I only wish to see you happy, that’s all.”

  “I am happy, mother,” Sarah’s statement fell flat but her mother didn’t acknowledge it.

  The rustle of fabric announced Lady Langdon’s approach, followed by her mother’s hands pressing her shoulders and a light kiss meeting her cheek.

  “It’s been a lot to adjust to in just a few short years,” her mother noted. “We get so used to our routines and our space, the people around us. I remember a moment after the birth of the twins when your father had gone back to sea. I looked around me; James had just spilled his porridge all over the floor and Amaryllis was crying about something or other. Daniel was a hair’s breadth away from pulling the tea service down atop his head and poor Mrs. Smith was doing her best to herd them all while I crumpled into tears. All at once it appeared as though my life had gone completely indistinguishable. Within three years, I lost my mother, traveled half a world away to live in a new country, got married, and was the young mother of three. I watched the entire scenario play out, but suddenly had no idea how my life had come to be as it was.”

  Sarah turned in her mother’s embrace, looking up at the older woman. “Did you regret the changes?” She asked.

  “Oh no, dear, never regret. But for a little while, the changes overwhelmed and frightened me. You’ve been standing by watching your brothers and sisters move off into their own lives and their own adventures, for each of them the individual changes may not be much, but you’ve had to adapt to all of them at once. I can imagine seeing it all playing out every day might be a bit much.”

  Sarah ducked her chin.

  “But it all sorted itself out in time,” her mother continued. “And I fear I’m the one who needs reminding of that,” She added. “I’ll do my best not to push you. I sometimes forget your happiness is your own affair and you don’t need a meddling mother in the mix.” She smiled at Sarah and pulled her into a hug. “Do you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, mother,” Sarah leaned into her mother.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have a love of her own, but she faced certain obstacles her mother was unaware of.

  The season had gone by like the others before it in a slew of parties and events and expected behavior. She attended those events she was invited to, ignored those she had no interest in, set her cap at no one, and was generally ignored. In her first season or two, there had been some interest in her. She
couldn’t deny even to herself that her family were a handsome brood and though she knew her elder sister Marissa claimed the lion’s share of beauty among the girls, she and her eldest sister Amaryllis had not fared poorly.

  Both of her sisters were now married, and Sarah remained on the shelf. What interest there was in her waned with time and experience. She was the quietest of them all, not tending toward fashion or displays of preening. She had a bad habit of listening to the self-promoting speeches of the men who took notice of her without comment, a trait which did not earn her much interest in their eyes.

  “I’m in no rush and it doesn’t bother me that I haven’t had much attention during the season,” She assured her mother. “Truthfully, I think I would much rather get to know someone privately instead of under the spotlight of the London season.”

  The Countess loosened her grip enough to look at her daughter and smiled. “I agree that would likely be best. When your match presents himself, you’ll know it and things will work as they are designed to.”

  Sarah took in a breath and smiled for her mother’s benefit. Her mother didn’t know, and would likely never know, that Sarah had long ago set her cap on a man who could never be hers. He’d never taken notice of her and since the rift between their families, he never would.

  Eric knew, Eric tried to understand, but being her brother, he couldn’t quite comprehend the extent of her feelings. Even now as a married man, Sarah doubted his ability to transfer the depth of emotion he felt for his wife into a potential emotion in his sister. He expected her to give up the effort despite the tenure of her pining for his friend, Sir Thomas Mallory.

  So now it was as her mother said, happily married siblings surrounded her, enjoying the growth of their families, the addition of nieces and nephews, but each day she grew more certain that she would never find the same happiness for herself. None of the men she met ever came close to catching her attention or sparking her interest. Thomas was the first and only man to do so, and she worried now that it may have ruined her for any other hopes of the future.

  “Yes, of course you’re right mother,” she agreed, guilt swelling in her at the knowledge she only attempted to appease her mother in order to regain her privacy and peace, which might allow her to grieve her broken heart in solitude. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain in no time, it’s just all the preparations to leave getting the better of me. After a little rest, I’ll feel much better.”

  Her mother observed her for a moment, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear before nodding her consent. “Very well, I’ll leave you in peace, but remember you can come and speak to me whenever you like.”

  “Of course, mother.”

  As Lady Langdon drifted out of the room again, Sarah allowed herself to amble to the bench seat in the bay window of her room and sent her gaze out over the city again. Somewhere in the vast, congested mass of London, not terribly far and yet outside of her reach, Sir Thomas resided, oblivious to the feelings she harbored for him for so many years. Somewhere, he lived his life, perhaps out on an adventure, perhaps wooing some other woman; she swallowed at that thought. She knew it was foolish of her to think Thomas might exclude female company from his life, but the acknowledgment of it always caused her additional pain.

  Blinking, she watched the motions of a small conspiracy of ravens hopping along the rooftops, wondering what they saw when they paused at a windowsill here or there. Somewhere, he was moving forward through life while she stood still. If she could only hope that from time to time an image of her floated across his thoughts, it might serve to comfort her, but she knew that wasn’t the case, and with each passing day a darker and more dreary future loomed ahead of her.

  Taking in a deep sigh she whispered, “where are you Thomas?”

  Chapter 3

  A raven cawed from a rooftop and the streetlight flickered a weary salute as Thomas peered up at the faded number painted along the door frame of the old abandoned house on the outskirts of the city. The vacant eyes of the building glimmered in moonlight reflected off broken windows and highlighted contours of sagging eaves. The breeze rustled the dried grasses sprouting up in between the cracks in the pavement and the foundation, prompting Thomas to clutch his coat closer around him and adjust his raised collar.

  Eyes shifting to either side yet again, he wondered for the hundredth time why he was here. The message delivered this afternoon requested a meeting, but he hadn’t heard from this agent in months. The man had been dismissed almost a year ago. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, a desire to observe his own future. He always considered the man able and capable. Evidently, that was just another of his misconceptions. Graham Cartwright had embezzled funding and attempted to flee the country, getting caught moments before boarding a vessel to cross the Channel. His only saving grace was a lack of definitive evidence brought against him. Placed under permanent surveillance, he retreated into excess in a family member’s gaming hall.

  Staring up at the decrepit house, Thomas felt a sort of kinship with the world-weary and battered structure. It struck him as the perfect meeting place for men of his and Graham’s ilk, though he never imagined the man capable of committing the crimes of which he was accused.

  Beside the house, a rustling took up, followed by a screech before a cat tore by, a streak of muted color against the darkened street, sending Thomas jumping and his heart racing. Grumbling at himself, he shook his head, took one more look up and down the street and headed up the steps.

  No lights were visible from the street, no reason existed to believe there was anyone in the house, but he’d come out this far he might as well check to be certain. Walking tentatively up the front steps, keeping his eyes trained on the path before him lest a portion of the step crumble as he set weight on it, he made his way up to the front door, a precarious portal leaning heavily on its hinges.

  Petals of peeling paint rustled softly in a faint breeze. He lifted his hand to knock, but noticed the door leaned far enough to the side to denote the absence of secure fastening. Deciding it would be better to maintain silence in this questionable neighborhood, he tried the knob, finding it unequal to the task of keeping him out. Pushing the door slowly to test for creaks, he managed to widen the opening far enough to step through before it attempted to sound an alarm at his presence.

  Stepping inside, a long hallway boasting curtains of cobwebs and carpeted by a thick layer of dust greeted him. The dust showed signs of recent disturbance, signs of traffic in and out of the house, though nothing so distinct as footprints. The evidence of human shoes commingled with the smaller prints of rodents and cats. Rodent droppings also littered the edges of the hall.

  He followed the traces of footsteps, which passed a battered console listing to one side and a broken mirror covered over with cobwebs. Wandering further into the bowels of the building, he decided to check the first-floor rooms as he had no great faith that the stairs would hold his weight. Toward the end of the hall, a faint light spilled out from an open doorway into the hall as he approached.

  Without warning, a shot rang out, and he ducked to the side. Long moments elapsed in which he heard and saw nothing other than the beat of his own heart and the rushing of his blood in his ears. Edging toward the door, he gently pushed until he could view part of the room, then snaked around the door frame until he met with the sight of a body strewn across the floor beside the hearth, a dark pool of blood forming. He stepped into the room, but the floorboards creaked, and from the direction of the man on the floor came a weak and rasping voice.

  “So, decided to check if your work is done, eh? You’re an inept, ineffective coward.” The sentence cut off in a gurgling cough, the words a barely audible whisper, but Thomas recognized the voice all the same. Gasping, he ran to his one-time friend, kneeling behind him and taking him by the shoulder to carefully turn him over until the meager lighting illuminated his face. “Graham, what happened?”

  The man blinked, his eyes struggling to focus. “Thomas
? I wasn’t sure you’d come, just as well you weren’t here, he would’ve got you too.”

  “Who would’ve got me? Who did this to you?”

  “Too late as ever, my timing hasn’t improved. Listen to me Thomas,” the man coughed. “You must find what I’ve hidden.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I didn’t have time before they came for me, but I found out too much. I realized—” He crumpled into a fit of coughing and went silent, his head lolling on Thomas’ arm.

  “Graham, what’s happened?”

  “You must finish my work.” A rattling wheeze accompanied the words. “Someone in the agency is not who they present themselves to be. I was getting too close, that’s why they got rid of me. But you must stop them.”

  “Agency? I don’t understand.”

  “Thomas, someone has infiltrated our ranks and it will be the death of you. You must stop them before they can get any vital information to the French.”

  Somewhere in the house, creaks sounded. Thomas’ head shot up.

  “You must get out of here,” his friend whispered, eyes drooping shut.

  “I’ve got to get you to a doctor.”

  “There’s no time for that, get out of here. Finish my work and save yourself.” Graham let out a prolonged, whistling sigh and fell still.

  Thomas shuddered and rose. Remembering the creak in the floorboards, he tiptoed his way back to the door and into the hallway. But before he could make his way out, shrill whistles shattered the night, followed by the galloping of horses along the street, and he realized the danger in remaining. Someone had already alerted the watchmen. Racing to the back of the home, he plunged into the night and ran for all he was worth through the back alleys and abandoned porches. Throughout his blind flight, Graham’s words echoed through his head, fueling his panic. What had he gotten himself into now?

  Sarah smiled as she leaned from the window, waving at the departing carriage as it turned around the corner at the end of the street. Waving back from the open conveyance were her mother, Angelique and Eloise, with little Yvette being helped to waive by her mother. They were on their way to the park to take advantage of an unseasonably beautiful day, but Sarah had cried off, needing a bit of time to herself. Eric had left earlier in the morning, so she had the house to herself for a short while.