A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2)(38)

But the room seemed to recognize this, for Stalwood, Rosalinde and Gray exchanged a look before they moved toward the door.

"We'll be in my office," Gray said softly. "Join us when you're finished, Clairemont."

Aiden didn't react or respond, but continued to hold her stare. Rosalinde was the last to leave the room and shot Celia a quick look before she tugged the door shut behind her.

Once they were alone, Celia took a step toward him. Immediately he took one of an equal distance back.

"Don't shut me out," she said softly.

He let out a ragged breath, his hand lifting at his side like he wanted to touch her but couldn't. Or wouldn't. Then he shook his head.

"This is madness. I must, Celia. I will." He turned and headed for the door. But there he paused, his hand resting against it, his head bent. "I'm ending this. All of this."

Then he threw the door open with such force that it nearly slammed back on the opposite wall and stalked away, leaving Celia alone with her pain.

She moved to the settee and sank back down, covering her face with her hands. She heard her sister enter, she recognized Rosalinde's soft footfalls. But Rosalinde said nothing, just sat down next to her and put an arm around her.

Celia kept her face covered, even as she leaned in to the comfort her sister offered. A comfort that would no succeed in making the situation any better.





When Clairemont stalked into Gray's office, both he and Stalwood looked up from the papers on his desk in surprise.

"That was quick," Stalwood said. "Is there any problem?"

Clairemont gritted his teeth and tried with all his might to forget the image of Celia's crestfallen face as he turned away from her. "No," he ground out. "What do we have?"         

     



 

Gray glared at him, but then returned his attention to the desk. "I looked through all my correspondence with the real Clairemont, which I gathered here for you both. But I can tell you the only person he insisted I should include in my business was Lord Turner-Camden."

Stalwood arched a brow. "Turner-Camden?"

Clairemont shook his head as he exchanged a look with Gray. "Who is Turner-Camden?"

Gray folded his arms. "A marquess," he explained. "A very well-respected one at that."

Clairemont pinched his lips together. "It's probably nothing then. Cronyism is hardly treason."

"I would think the same thing except for something peculiar I noted in one of the letters about the marquess." Gray pulled out a folded sheet and pointed. "Clairemont refers to him as the Rooster once here."

Stalwood straightened up and took a long step back from the table, the color draining from his face. Clairemont stared at his mentor, seeing the same shock in him that he felt in himself.

"The Rooster," they repeated together.

Gray wrinkled his brow. "I thought it odd at the time and again when I read it. Does it mean something to you?"

Stalwood paced away, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yes," Clairemont said, his throat suddenly dry. "The Rooster is a notorious traitor. He's traded in weapons and secrets, he's killed men by his actions and his own hand. We've been tracking him for years, but he's like a ghost. Could it be him?"

Stalwood faced them both. "I-I don't know. I have stood at a billiard table with Turner-Camden, chatted with him about the weather, and never suspected. But he is powerful. And rich. Far richer than his title and lands should have made him. It is possible?"

Gray shot a side glance at Clairemont. "Well, it goes to show we never truly know who we invite in."

Clairemont gripped his fists at his sides. "I deserve that, I suppose."

"You do," Gray agreed. "At any rate, I have more. Lord Turner-Camden has not been in Town yet this Season. Some sort of mysterious business has kept him away, though he's normally quite early in his arrival to London. But he has just arrived and … " Gray looked between the men. "He sent me a message this morning."

"What?" Clairemont said. "As soon as he arrived?"

"Apparently. It sounded urgent and he specifically mentioned he wanted to discuss the topic of the Duke of Clairemont."

Stalwood took a long step forward. "That is curious. It sounds like he has something specific on his mind."

"Indeed, it does," Gray said.

"So what do we do?" Clairemont asked. "What is our next move?"

Gray folded his arms and leaned back on his desk. "I know exactly what to do. I will invite him here to meet with me. And you'll be there."

Clairemont pressed his lips together. "The last thing we want to do is have me there. If he is, indeed, a killer, he'll know I'm not the real Clairemont and he might attack. That already happened once with Perry. And God knows what has already been reported to him if Perry is in league with them."

"Oh, he won't know you're here." Gray stepped around his desk and stopped at a bookcase there. He flicked out a hand to move a book and the entire bookcase opened up to reveal a narrow passage behind it.

"A secret room," Clairemont breathed.

Gray nodded. "Many men of rank have them. When I bought this home in London, it was from a penniless lord who liked to hide here from his creditors. I believe he also might have used it to sneak his mistresses past his wife. Either way, the passage is here, and if I move this book … " He pulled another book away and revealed an opening from which someone could observe the room. "You can even watch the meeting, undetected."

Stalwood looked at the set up with a smile. "The perfect solution to our problem."

"Except that Danford will be in danger," Clairemont said, thinking of Celia and Rosalinde. "Perry already shot at him. If Turner-Camden is involved, he could do worse, and escaping the passage to intervene won't be quick."

Gray shrugged. "This time I'll know to watch myself," he said. "And there isn't any choice, is there? Turner-Camden called for a meeting with me. It's our best option for quickly determining his guilt or innocence and ending this madness once and for all."

Clairemont let out a long sigh. There was no arguing the logic of the suggestion. He just didn't want to hurt Celia or Rosalinde any more than he already had. If Gray were injured-or worse-neither one could ever forgive him. He wouldn't deserve to be forgiven.         

     



 

"I think Danford is right," Stalwood said. "But it's your case."

The case. Clairemont had to think of what was best for the case. And this was it. "Very well. Your plan is the best one. But I want you to do exactly what I say."

Gray looked annoyed, but he leaned back and glared. "I'm listening."





The house was dark and quiet as Celia trailed through the halls, her busy, troubled mind keeping her from sleep. As she turned a corner, she was surprised to find Gray's office door was open and a narrow column of light from a lantern or candle fell into the hallway.

She'd thought Gray and her sister had retired hours before. She'd heard them talking, then soft sounds she now understood through her own brief but wonderful experience.

"Gray?" she said, stopping outside the door.

"Come in," came her brother-in-law's voice after a pause.

She entered to find him sitting at his desk. He stood at her presence, and she blushed. His shirt was half unbuttoned and untucked, his hair mussed by fingers.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said, not meeting his gaze.

"No," he said, coming around the desk. "You aren't. What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, moving to the fire and fiddling with a few trinkets on Gray's mantel. A tiny portrait of Rosalinde, a figurine of a raven with its wing slightly outstretched, a small clock.

"An affliction I seem to share," Gray said, motioning to the two chairs before his fire. "You must have a great deal on your mind."

She took the seat he silently offered and was surprised when he sat at the one opposite her. He leaned forward, draping his forearms over his knees as he examined her closely. She was put to mind of the way he'd once looked at her when he thought she was a grasping title-hunter, after his brother. He'd searched her face the same way then, only now his eyes were much kinder.

"Aiden left this afternoon without saying goodbye," she said softly. "Without saying anything at all."

Gray leaned back, his lips pinching in what she could tell was frustration. It didn't seem to be aimed at her, though, but at Aiden.

"I see," he said at last. "What can I do, Celia?"

She sighed. "You and Rosalinde want to protect me, I know. I appreciate it. But I want to know what is happening. That is all that will put me at ease now."

Gray seemed to consider that statement. "You've earned the truth, I think. But I doubt it will put you at ease any more than it put Rosalinde at ease when I told her a few hours ago." He took a long breath. "Tomorrow I'll meet with a man who might be involved in the real Clairemont's treason, in his murder. And your Clairemont and Stalwood will be here, in hiding, ready to spring if anything of import is revealed."

Celia thought of the ugly red line slashed across Aiden's arm from the bullet meant for Gray. She shuddered. "That sounds very dangerous, Gray."