“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where was her mother?” Jonathan asked. “And what about the footman? Where was he?”
“I suppose Lady St. Germaine is in residence at Upper Brook Street. Miranda and I were not,” Daniel admitted.
“Where were you?”
“For her sake, I’d rather not say.”
“And the footman?” Jonathan asked again.
“He didn’t stay. He brought provisions, did chores, and ran errands. He’s been with Miranda for years and is entirely devoted to her.”
“I hope you’re right, or else you may find yourself the topic of that”—Jonathan pointed to the newspaper lying on the table—“in the morning. Daniel, what the devil were you thinking to compromise her like that? And what the devil was she thinking to allow it? Miranda St. Germaine isn’t just a lady, she holds a title in her own right. You’ve been attracted to Miranda for a long time now, but I can’t believe you were so careless. Are you looking to ruin her? Are you looking to cause a scandal?”
Daniel shook his head. He hadn’t deliberately set out to compromise her. It had just happened that way. “No one knows I was there except Miranda and her footman and driver, and they’re completely trustworthy.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“No one else saw you there?”
“Perhaps a street vendor.” There was no perhaps about it and Daniel knew it. But the odds on the pieman recognizing him as the Duke of Sussex were very slim.
Jonathan groaned. “And no one other than Miranda, her footman, and her driver saw you go in.” He looked at Daniel for confirmation.
“As far as I know,” he answered. “I was unconscious at the time.”
Jonathan asked one last question. “What about coming out?”
“Thunderation!” He looked at his cousin. “Send word to Colin and Griff and Courtland. Tell them we’ll meet them at White’s.”
“Impossible today,” Jonathan said. “Jarrod assigned us tasks before he left for his wedding and honeymoon. Griffin is meeting with the men at Whitehall about the need for a permanent training facility for ciphers, and that may take the rest of the afternoon.” He related the details of dispatches Colin’s wife had deciphered, the plot they’d uncovered to kill Wellington and prominent members of the English government—including them. “There’s a leak in the government somewhere, and Colin and his lady are trying to decipher the rest of the code in order to find it. And Courtland is preparing to make the next smuggling run to France. We’re to meet and brief Jarrod as soon as he returns from his honeymoon.”
“When will that be?”
“A few days. He’s scheduled to sail to Spain to brief Grant and Scovell at week’s end. And to warn Wellington in person.”
Daniel thought for a moment. “Are we certain the leak is in the government?”
“We can’t be absolutely certain,” Jonathan replied. “But if it isn’t there, where else can it be?” He looked at Daniel. “It’s not one of us. We’re collecting the information and bringing it back to Shepherdston. Scovell and Grant are gathering information on the Peninsula and sending it to Lord Weymouth. Weymouth and Shepherdston share information.”
“We provide information to Lord Weymouth and to the men at Whitehall and Abchurch Lane. Lord Weymouth provides information to us and to the men at Whitehall and Abchurch Lane. But we work independently of the government, and we’re not the only ones collecting information,” Daniel reminded him, as the seed of an idea took root. “What about the couriers Scovell sends to Lord Weymouth? Are they reporting the same things we’re discovering?”
Jonathan shook his head. “For the most part. But the information Colin and Gillian have deciphered has proven to be much more accurate than the information the men in Abchurch Lane have produced.”
“Even after Lady Grantham furnished Abchurch Lane with a corrected cipher sheet?”
“Even so,” Jonathan answered. “They’ve missed things Gillian found.”
“Like troop movements?” Daniel asked, knowing that Lieutenant Colquhoun Grant’s staff was privy to that information before they were. Grant was in Spain. He had firsthand knowledge. The Free Fellows’ information came from a broader network of spies they’d recruited in London and Edinburgh, in France, on the Peninsula, and from the dispatches they received from Grant.
“And a plot to kill Wellington and us because Abchurch Lane’s primary source of information is the dispatches Grant’s couriers deliver to Lord Weymouth, and Lord Weymouth …” Jonathan broke off.
“Reports to Lord Bathhurst,” Daniel concluded. “Who would Lord Bathhurst trust to collect the dispatches from Weymouth? Who would Weymouth trust to deliver them? And do either Lord Weymouth’s or Lord Bathhurst’s names appear on the list of intended victims?”