Chapter 2

Nine years later, outside Whites Gentlemen's Club

A carriage pulled up in front of the club to take one if it's many members home. The man came out wearing a good beaver hat and cloak against the damp of the night. The fog was thick and chilly, obscuring the view of the dark streets around him. He didn't think of the fog or how late it was. He just wanted to get home.

A second later, all thoughts scattered when a shot rang out in the night. He dove for the pavement along with the doorman and coach driver when a bullet hit the stone edifice of the building instead of his head. The horses shied but didn't bolt. A good thing, as they and the carriage were the only cover the three men had.

They stayed in place on the damp cold paving stones for a full minute, waiting for another shot. When nothing happened, the doorman rose first, looking about. The fog was so thick he couldn't see the building across the street, much less a man in hiding with a gun. Still, no shots were fired.

The gentleman rose a moment later, along with the driver. The driver was paid a generous tip as an apology for the close call. He watched the carriage disappear into the fog and looked about the empty street.

He said to the doorman. "Find a constable, Harrison. I will wait for him in the club."

"Very good, sir."

Later the next day, three men argued in the Secret Service director's office about personal security.

"It was not me they were after, Robert," one brother said, correcting the other. "I'm sure the man thought I was you. You're the man who holds the seat; I just shuffle papers for you."

The speaker was standing by the bookshelves, scanning the titles for lack of anything better to do. He had spent half an hour arguing with his brother and the owner of the office over his safety. He scrutinized the director's clocks. "I should have gone straight home and ignored the incident. Had I, all this fuss could have been avoided."

A strong baritone from a chair near the office's desk said, "You are likely right on both counts, Richard. But it would appear the would-be assassin set on my trail is nearsighted. If the blighter knew one Sutton from the other, you wouldn't have been shot at."

"Then let us get him a pair of glasses and be done with it," Richard Sutton shouted.

Lord Robert Sutton smiled and chuckled.

Sir Boniface Fogg had stayed out of the conversation, but looked up, stifling an angry retort. Richard Sutton was being deliberately flippant about his own safety.

"Sir, there is also the possibility that you were indeed the assassin's target," Sir Boniface said. "Your near miss may have even been deliberate, a warning to your brother. Or it could have been an accidental miss intending to send a stronger message. In either case, your brother and I are quite concerned and wish to see you protected."

Lord Robert said, "There is also the fact that, had the assassin succeeded last night, I would become the recipient of your brood of petticoats."

That wake-up call, reminding him of his mortality, had been the only reason Richard had agreed to this interview. "Yes, can't have that," he shot back, covering his discomfort. "You manage your three boys so poorly as it is. My girls would have you overrun and tied about their little fingers in a matter of days."

Lord Robert dropped his chin to glare at his bother. This was an old ongoing argument. His boys were in the hellion stage, young men on the verge of manhood. His eldest was in the Army for maturing after one too many scandals landed him before the courts. The next younger was just out of university and showing the failures of his mathematics lessons. He could not make his allowance last the quarter. Most likely, the money disappeared at the card tables as soon as it reached his hands. His youngest, his only child by his second wife, was raising hell at a third boarding school. If he is expelled from this one… well, perhaps the Army will get him, too.

A plea for consideration of his difficulties wasn't what came from his mouth. "Had you and Olivia had a son or two; we would see who can and can't handle exuberant boys," Lord Robert shot back.

"Heaven forbid!" Richard shouted. "I am not the heir and have no need for sons. Besides, my girls are far more interesting and a lot less trouble."

Sir Boniface pleaded, "Gentleman, could we please get back to the subject at hand? Richard, your life is in jeopardy. It is therefore imperative you be put under professional protection. Until the culprit has been captured, you will be assigned an agent. You will be protected around the clock."

"You mean some agent in your employ will be barracked in my home? I think not." Richard's mouth went firm, mulish.

"It will be fine, Richard," Robert said. "Remember nine years back when I was placed under protection? You will have the same agent watching over you. She is quite discreet and will cause very little disruption."

"She?"

Sir Boniface Fogg winced at that one-word question was emphasized, ever sensitive to slights against his ward, for no better reason than her skirts. This mission would break the promise he had made to involve her in international affairs more. But it was out of his hands. Lord Sutton had insisted she take the job and could not be refused.

"Miss Fogg is a very competent agent," he said. "She will see you are protected without introducing a male agent into your household. She can be added to your staff as a personal assistant. That would keep her at your side."

Richard shrugged. "I am not questioning the woman's competence, sir. I, if anyone, am intimately aware of the strengths of the fair sex. Considering their natural protective tendencies, it wouldn't surprise me if the Crown had a battalion employed for national security. I simply see no reason to waste the lady's energies on me. I will remove to the country for the duration."

Lord Sutton broke in. "You can't do that, Richard. We have too much work. Nancy would be quite willing to have the girls come to her, however. I have already sent her a message explaining the situation. You could and should remove the girls from danger, but I need you here."

Richard didn't like it, but his brother was right. They worked together as partners in Parliament. Robert held the seat and the power but didn't have the temperament to do the backroom negotiating, required to gain votes. Richard, who was a consummate negotiator and diplomat, did much of his brother's research and glad-handing.

That bullet could have been meant for me to remove Robert's right hand.

"I accept your offer to have the girls go to Nancy for a holiday," he said. "I will send a message to Mrs. Morgan to pack them up for the trip. Mrs. Morgan is my housekeeper," he said to Sir Boniface.

Sir Boniface approved. "That will simplify things, yes."

Turning a household of ten girls over to Rebecca's care would have been a bit much. Rebecca managed small children well enough one on one but had little experience with large groups.

"The matter is settled. Miss Fogg will meet you in the foyer."