The Noble Spy (London Season Matchmaker 2)

Lieutenant James chuckled dryly as Edward approached. “But do you not know that Lord Mitchell and I did, at one time, fight alongside one another?” He chuckled, looking steadily back at Edward. “Upon the death of his brother, he was forced to return and take up the title and the responsibilities and the like, whereas I must continue on with my chosen profession.” He shrugged. “Although that does not mean that, upon occasion, I cannot enjoy an evening such as this!” He looked all about him, as though he had not seen as much grandeur and splendor as this before. “I was glad to be invited—for it meant that I would have the opportunity to speak to you about certain matters.”

“Oh?” Edward was surprised, having thought that his specific duties were simply to ensure that the young lady who had seen the murder and fought off the murderer would do as she had promised and remain silent about the matter. “What is it that could not wait until two days hence, when we we

re next due to meet?”

A glint appeared in Lieutenant James’s eye, and he leaned a little closer, speaking with a confidential air. “It is to do with Ravel, Carroway.”

A snake wriggled up Edward’s spine upon hearing this news.

“One of the other men in our particular service has been able to…shall we say, converse with another gentleman who works for the French,” Lieutenant James continued, looking at Edward steadily. “The information was extricated somewhat slowly, but it appears that Ravel is here solely to attempt to bring some sort of disaster to the royal family.”

“To the prince regent?” Edward stated, his eyes flaring with surprise. “I am well aware that the king himself is unwell, so what further trouble does Ravel intend to bring?”

Lieutenant James hesitated, his eyes darting away. “I cannot say that I know specifically,” he replied quietly, looking back at Edward. “But the country is already troubled by the loss of the king and the ruling of his son, and I can imagine that any further difficulties might weaken England somewhat. If trouble comes to the royal family, then men will be taken away from the fighting and sent to all manner of places within the kingdom, so that they might protect the royal family and prevent any further incidents. The strength of England could well be weakened.”

“Therefore, we must be more than careful,” Edward murmured, his mind suddenly alive with interest. “And we must find Ravel.”

“We must,” the lieutenant agreed. “But how we are to find such a man when we do not even know his face? It is, as you well know, rather difficult.”

Edward bit his lip and nodded, looking away from his lieutenant and out across the crowded floor. Ravel might be here in person and Edward would never know. Whilst he had been chasing the fellow throughout London for many months, the truth was that Edward had never clearly seen his face. Ravel was, from what he could recall, tall with dark hair – and that was all he knew of him. Aside from which, whenever Edward was close to capturing him, whenever Edward was only a fraction too late to place his hands on Ravel and take him to the lieutenant, the man had always left a small token behind

A button.

It would always be the same. A large, brown button would be left behind somewhere for Edward to find. And, should he turn it over to the back, he would find a tiny initialed ‘R’ waiting there for him, mocking him that he had not, as yet, been able to capture the illusive French spy.

“I am quite certain that he will appear as English as you or I,” he began, but the lieutenant held up one hand.

“Are you quite certain, Carroway, that this man Ravel is French?”

Edward frowned, blinking slowly, as he tried to take in what the lieutenant meant. “Are you questioning whether or not I know the truth about the spy we call Ravel?” he asked, lines burrowing into his brow.

“I am,” the lieutenant said, a trifle more loudly now as the music from the orchestra began to waft across the room. “What is it that you know of him, precisely?”

Pausing, Edward dredged up every last little bit of information he could recall. “The man known as ‘Ravel’ has been spoken of by many of the spies we have already captured,” he said firmly, seeing the lieutenant nod. “He is spoken of as being the greatest spy in all of France – except that he is now here in England. Where Ravel leads, the other spies will follow.”

“So you think him the sort of man to lead a group of spies, instead of being led by one,” the lieutenant said, his own eyes holding a glint of steel. It was clear to Edward that Lieutenant James despised Ravel and his intentions towards the royal family. “He is the one who will come up with the plan instead of allowing it to be led by another.”

“That is precisely it,” Edward agreed. “He mocks us by leaving this button of his for us to find. Right when we think we have him, he eludes us. On two occasions, I believe I have seen him, but it was in the midst of a crowd and I could not get to him.” Even now, the memories goaded him. “I will not let him get to the prince regent.” His frown lifted, as he glanced at the lieutenant. “This man that was captured. Are you quite certain that he can tell us nothing more?”

“He is dead,” the lieutenant said bluntly. “So I fear he has nothing more he can tell us.”

Edward smirked ruefully. “Then we must put all of our efforts into seeking out this fellow,” he said, seeing the lieutenant nod. “I will do as you have asked and ensure that I discover the young lady’s name and attempt to make sure that she is not a gossip nor a lover of the rumor mill. I have not, as yet, heard any whispers about a murder nor about a lady out in her night things.” He arched an eyebrow as the lieutenant shot him a quick glance. “I have begun to consider that it is in the young lady’s interests to remain silent about the incident,” he continued swiftly. “For she will not wish her reputation to be smudged, and revealing that she was out of doors, alone and unchaperoned, would surely raise questions over her character. Therefore, I have no reason to believe that she will say a word.”

The lieutenant nodded but fixed Edward with his gaze. “You must, at the very least, discover her name,” he said firmly. “That way, we will know if it is from her that any rumor stems.”

“Of course,” Edward agreed, thinking that he would not find it too difficult to recognize the young lady again. Even in the gloom of that night, he had well been able to make out her features. “I shall go and do so now. She is certain to be here, being a young lady of the ton, for this evening’s ball is a highlight of the beginning of the Season.”

The lieutenant cleared his throat and nodded, turning away to allow Edward the space to move about the guests. He looked from left to right as he moved slowly through the room, not once stopping to talk to anyone or so much as greet them. His eyes roved from one face to the next, his ears catching the trills of laughter that came from various directions. There were a great number of guests here, and to try and find one face in amongst the crowd would be a more difficult task than he had first imagined.

Perhaps you ought to remain still.

The thought was a good one and so, ensuring that he was not standing in the middle of the floor so that he would not be caught up by dancing couples, Edward remained perfectly still and let his eyes travel from left to right. It was a fairly good vantage point, being near the center of the room but to the back of it, and since he was tall, it allowed him to take in more than a shorter gentleman might have been able to.

No one caught his attention. The music started as another dance began to take place and Edward focused his mind on looking at each and every young lady in the dance. None of them were the lady in question.

A trifle frustrated, Edward let out a long breath of frustration and wondered if there was an easier way to go about this task. He could not think of anything other than returning to the street where he had first come upon the lady. That would not, however, give him the name of the lady who resided within, not unless he wished to rap loudly on the door and demand that he be told the names of all who lived there. Most likely, he would be thrown from the house! No, he could not even imagine doing such a thing.

Sighing heavily to himself, Edward heard the loud voice of one Lord Huckleby coming towards him. Groaning inwardly, he allowed his gaze to travel towards the gentleman, seeing him bowing to two ladies. The first had dark hair and the second had a cascading pile of reddish bronze curls running down her back. He could not easily make out their faces and found himself turning his eyes away from Lord Huckleby. He did not much care for the fellow, although he considered the man to be an acquaintance. The gentleman was loud and a little brash for Edward’s liking, as though he fully intended to make as much use of his title, fortune, and wit as he could. Every young lady of the ton was eager for his attentions, it seemed, and he was more than happy to share them. The way the beau monde hung onto his every word was deeply frustrating for Edward, thinking that Lord Huckleby was everything Edward despised about London society.