diversion, they’ll have pulled down Parliament. God knows they’ve made a start, what
with the blasted Luddites destroying looms and the rabble rioting over the Corn Laws.” Drake tried to answer, but Thirsk was
well into a familiar rant. “And then we have those returning soldiers wandering the streets, just looking for trouble. I say
we look to them for our traitors.”
Drake shook his head. “I’m sure the Home Secretary would like to think so. But both Hilliard and Jack Gracechurch came across
the same information, and it didn’t point toward disaffected soldiers. It implicated men of property.” He huffed impatiently.
“
British Lions
. Imbecilic name for a group of traitors.”
Thirsk glared. “You’re talking about men in the peerage, the highest levels of government. What could possibly make them want
to imperil their own positions?”
Drake fortified himself with a drink. “You read the report. They want the throne. Don’t forget. Evenham told Hilliard that
the group actually helped Napoleon, thinking he’d give it to them.”
He shuddered at the cost of that betrayal. Wellington might have held sway at Waterloo, but the loss of life had been catastrophic.
“Hilliard
says
Evenham told him,” Thirsk reminded him tersely.
Drake looked over to see the suspicion that never quite left those nondescript brown eyes. “I believe him. After what I saw
with Gracechurch, I have no question that powerful forces are behind this, and that they mean to take over this government.
And we don’t have much time to stop it.”
He saw that Thirsk’s first instinct was to protest. Instead, the older man shook his head and looked around, reassuring himself
with the normalcy of the club. “Well, until we can better assess Hilliard’s information, we’re at an impasse.”
Drake had to agree. “If only his best source hadn’t moved on.”
“The mistress?”
Drake nodded. “Madame Ferrar. I know how hard he tried to convince her to follow him here.”
Thirsk chuckled. “After seeing her, I understand why. Quite a charmer. Seems Hilliard is losing his touch. Did Schroeder at
least come home with him?”
“Babs? You know he wouldn’t move without her. As for Madame Ferrar, I’ve sent another gentleman over to see if he can make
any headway with her. In the meantime, it might behoove us all to keep our information close to the vest. After all, the Surgeon’s
capture was a state secret. Whoever is involved had enough power to set him free.”
That didn’t sit well with Thirsk. “Look to your own little group, Drake. Remember. We still don’t know everything Gracechurch
did in France.”
A remarkably indifferent comment about a man who had sacrificed four years of his life and his memory in the service of the
Crown.
“Jack doesn’t know, either,” he said. “He’s still at his estate in Sussex, recovering from Waterloo.”
And helping his wife recover from injuries she sufferedat the hands of the Surgeon
, Drake thought. Injuries Drake blamed himself for. It was he who’d sent Jack to France to infiltrate the government, and
he who had been responsible for Jack’s and Olivia’s safety after Hillard got them out of Belgium. And even after all that,
Gracechurch had still only remembered some of the information he’d risked his life for and then lost to an exploding shell
on the battlefield.
“We need to warn him,” Drake said, setting down his drink.
“A courier will be sent.”
“No. I’ll go down. As you said, the members of Drake’s Rakes are my responsibility. Maybe I’ll take Diccan with me.”
“No.” Thirsk peered into his cognac. “I’d rather not put Hilliard near any delicate information right now.”
Drake frowned. “Then you
don’t
believe him.”
“Let us say simply that Hilliard is not in good odor with Whitehall at the moment. The Fairchild chit’s great-uncle is old
General Dawes, and he’s raising a ruckus. Almost as
with the blasted Luddites destroying looms and the rabble rioting over the Corn Laws.” Drake tried to answer, but Thirsk was
well into a familiar rant. “And then we have those returning soldiers wandering the streets, just looking for trouble. I say
we look to them for our traitors.”
Drake shook his head. “I’m sure the Home Secretary would like to think so. But both Hilliard and Jack Gracechurch came across
the same information, and it didn’t point toward disaffected soldiers. It implicated men of property.” He huffed impatiently.
“
British Lions
. Imbecilic name for a group of traitors.”
Thirsk glared. “You’re talking about men in the peerage, the highest levels of government. What could possibly make them want
to imperil their own positions?”
Drake fortified himself with a drink. “You read the report. They want the throne. Don’t forget. Evenham told Hilliard that
the group actually helped Napoleon, thinking he’d give it to them.”
He shuddered at the cost of that betrayal. Wellington might have held sway at Waterloo, but the loss of life had been catastrophic.
“Hilliard
says
Evenham told him,” Thirsk reminded him tersely.
Drake looked over to see the suspicion that never quite left those nondescript brown eyes. “I believe him. After what I saw
with Gracechurch, I have no question that powerful forces are behind this, and that they mean to take over this government.
And we don’t have much time to stop it.”
He saw that Thirsk’s first instinct was to protest. Instead, the older man shook his head and looked around, reassuring himself
with the normalcy of the club. “Well, until we can better assess Hilliard’s information, we’re at an impasse.”
Drake had to agree. “If only his best source hadn’t moved on.”
“The mistress?”
Drake nodded. “Madame Ferrar. I know how hard he tried to convince her to follow him here.”
Thirsk chuckled. “After seeing her, I understand why. Quite a charmer. Seems Hilliard is losing his touch. Did Schroeder at
least come home with him?”
“Babs? You know he wouldn’t move without her. As for Madame Ferrar, I’ve sent another gentleman over to see if he can make
any headway with her. In the meantime, it might behoove us all to keep our information close to the vest. After all, the Surgeon’s
capture was a state secret. Whoever is involved had enough power to set him free.”
That didn’t sit well with Thirsk. “Look to your own little group, Drake. Remember. We still don’t know everything Gracechurch
did in France.”
A remarkably indifferent comment about a man who had sacrificed four years of his life and his memory in the service of the
Crown.
“Jack doesn’t know, either,” he said. “He’s still at his estate in Sussex, recovering from Waterloo.”
And helping his wife recover from injuries she sufferedat the hands of the Surgeon
, Drake thought. Injuries Drake blamed himself for. It was he who’d sent Jack to France to infiltrate the government, and
he who had been responsible for Jack’s and Olivia’s safety after Hillard got them out of Belgium. And even after all that,
Gracechurch had still only remembered some of the information he’d risked his life for and then lost to an exploding shell
on the battlefield.
“We need to warn him,” Drake said, setting down his drink.
“A courier will be sent.”
“No. I’ll go down. As you said, the members of Drake’s Rakes are my responsibility. Maybe I’ll take Diccan with me.”
“No.” Thirsk peered into his cognac. “I’d rather not put Hilliard near any delicate information right now.”
Drake frowned. “Then you
don’t
believe him.”
“Let us say simply that Hilliard is not in good odor with Whitehall at the moment. The Fairchild chit’s great-uncle is old
General Dawes, and he’s raising a ruckus. Almost as
Similar Books
