Merely the Groom (Free Fellows League 2)

Scotland. The memory of the face at the window of the Blue Bottle Inn in Edinburgh flashed through Colin’s mind as he listened to Jarrod speak. Apparently, there’s been a spate of elopements to Scotland recently. Colin sighed. His instincts hadn’t failed him. He hadn’t been mistaken. The woman standing at the window had been a lady. A lady in need. A damsel in distress. Some unfortunate young woman had eloped to Scotland and been abandoned by some pinchbeck gentleman, by the man she trusted and married.

Colin had done the right thing in leaving the note and the money.

“Damnation!”

“What?” Jarrod demanded.

Colin slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I thought it unusual at the time,” he said. “Because I had never seen one there before. And now, it makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Jarrod prompted.

“There was a lady at the Blue Bottle Inn.”

“So?” Griffin prompted.

“The Blue Bottle is not the sort of establishment that caters to ladies. Certainly not the sort of establishment to which a gentleman would bring a lady. And yet, there was one. I saw her through the window.” Colin didn’t see the point in confiding that he’d also spent the night holding that same lady in his arms or that he could still remember her scent and the taste of her lips. “I had never seen any women at the Blue Bottle other than the innkeeper’s wife, the serving girls, or the waterfront whores who keep company with the sailors and smugglers who frequent the place. And I overheard the innkeeper and his wife discussing the fact that she was a lady whose husband had left her in their dubious care.”

“Have you any idea who she was?” Griffin asked.

“No,” Colin said. “But I know she was English.” He wiped his hand over his face. “Bloody hell! But I should have paid closer attention when I signed the register. It might have given me a clue.”

Jarrod shook his head. “To what? She could have used any number of names to sign the register. Or the man who accompanied her, if a man did accompany her, could have used any number of names.” He looked at Colin. “And it’s possible that she was some gentleman’s wife or mistress. Reputable or not, the Blue Bottle is a waterfront inn. Ships dock in the firth every day. She might have sailed into Edinburgh. Or journeyed there in order to sail out. What clue could you have found when you were unaware that someone was eloping with young women and using your alias to do it? There was no way for you to know anything was amiss.”

But Colin had known something was amiss. He had known it the moment he saw her staring out the window. And his suspicions had been confirmed when she’d called him by name. Colin nearly choked on his whisky as a horrible thought took root. “That spate of elopements you mentioned... Did they all involve the same man?”

Jarrod shrugged his shoulders in an eloquent but uncharacteristic gesture. “We don’t know if it’s the same man. We do know that he only used your name in one elopement.”

“The question is whether he is using my alias,” Colin said. “Or whether I’m using his name.”

“Or whether it’s simply a coincidence,” Jarrod replied.

Colin didn’t believe in coincidences. As far as he was concerned, everything happened for a reason. And everything that happened occurred naturally or was manufactured. “Is that a possibility?”

Jarrod looked to Sussex and Griffin for answers.

“It’s possible,” Sussex told them.

“But not likely.” Griffin agreed. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Sussex and I checked parish registers, government rolls, militia, regular army, and navy enlistment rolls, and court records when we decided to use it as Colin’s alias. We checked everything we could think of. We found the surname connected with men named Charles, Edward, James, George, Paul, Matthew, Christopher, Michael, Stephen, Tristan, David, Daniel, William, Harry, Robert, and a half a dozen others. But we didn’t find a single living adult male named Colin Fox in London proper or any of its surrounding areas.”

Griffin and Sussex had used their positions as dukes to gain access not only to public records but also to records that were part of the military and the government. The two of them, along with a handful of trusted staff members, had spent countless hours personally checking those rolls. Griffin and Sussex were nothing if not thorough. And Jarrod knew that they were very aware of the danger Colin faced.

Now that Griff had become a national hero and had retired from active duty in his cavalry regiment at the Prince Regent’s and the prime minister’s request, Colin had become the Free Fellow most at risk.

Because Griffin and Jarrod and Sussex occupied higher positions in society and were subject to more social obligations and more scrutiny than Colin, they were limited, in many ways, to planning, arranging, and financing the clandestine war against Bonaparte. The others engaged in the occasional secret smuggling holiday, but Colin, as a relatively unimportant and poor viscount, was the primary foot soldier in the field.

The duty of protecting him and his secret identity fell to Jarrod, Griffin, and Sussex, and they took the duty very seriously.

“Griff and Sussex didn’t find any other man named Colin Fox in London or any of its environs, and now we suddenly have two Colin Foxes operating in the same territory,” Jarrod said, finally reaching for his glass of whisky. “That’s too provident—even for coincidence.”

“I agree,” Colin said. “But there was that incident in London before I left for France and another, at the Dover docks upon my return.”

“What?” Griffin leaned forward on his chair.

Colin looked at Jarrod. “Remember the statement we received from Scofield’s Haberdashery for a suit of clothes billed to Colin Fox?”

Jarrod nodded and began to explain the circuitous route he used in order to protect the source of the income used to pay the Free Fellows League bills. “We thought it odd at the time. When he’s working, Colin almost always pays in cash.” He looked at Sussex and Griffin. “Except when carrying large amounts of cash would be imprudent. Any charges he makes are routed through a series of clerks and factors in half a dozen different businesses. All charges eventually make their way to me. Colin and I review the charges, and my private secretary sends payment through the same series of clerks and factors that we change quarterly.”

“But in this case,” Colin continued. “The man wasn’t my tailor, and I hadn’t ordered a suit of clothing from him.”