Chapter 5

His daughters had been ready to leave when they arrived. Rebecca watched as Richard and his housekeeper conferred over details. She tried to suppress a smile creeping into her face. Richard might be the man of the house, but Mrs. Morgan was the ultimate authority on how things were done.

The woman gave him detailed instructions to follow during her absence, with the efficiency and expectation of obedience of an Army General.

Richard accepted his orders without a single word.

Reminds me of Sir Boniface and his valet in the mornings as he dresses.

They occasionally would get into a restrained disagreement, which the valet always won. One had to wonder who was really in charge, the employer or the employed.

This employee, Mrs. Stella Morgan, was a widow, something beyond fifty, who had become more house manager than housekeeper since Olivia Sutton's death. Rebecca's first impression of her had been that of a tiny fashionable mouse.

Mrs. Morgan was a head shorter than Rebecca. She had sharp dark eyes and a thin, pointed nose and wore a tailored and starched silk black dress. Her luxurious sterling silver hair, dressed elaborately, with a black antique lace veil fastened to the crown, fell down the back of her head to her shoulders. She didn't look strong enough to handle such a large household, but when she opened her mouth, that assessment quickly disappeared. The mouse barked out orders, making Rebecca jump, despite herself.

Rebecca was introduced to Mrs. Morgan after her business was concluded. The mouse inspected the new personal assistant from head to toe, making Rebecca feel stripped bare. Apparently, the older woman must have approved. She handed Rebecca a written account of the house schedule with Richard's itinerary, the reduced staff's schedule, which comprised one housemaid and the cook. She handed Rebecca her keys and turned to the door.

"You will take my room. It is in the middle of the hall on the first floor," the mouse instructed. "When I return, we will make more permanent arrangements for you."

Rebecca watched the woman leave the house, like a ship disembarking on a long voyage. Bon voyage, and don't worry about permanent arrangements. I won't be here when you get back.

Two weeks later, Rebecca had settled into her new assignment and the man's routine well. Richard woke at the crack of dawn every day. He had a simple breakfast and left for his office by seven. Once there, he attended meetings and handled paperwork all day. He never completed work before six and often had meetings during his dinner. He worked like a fiend, almost as ceaselessly as Sir Boniface. Rebecca commented on the man's schedule within the maid's hearing as she was getting ready to leave the house.

"He is only like this when the children are away," the little maid, Sarah, said. "The master keeps a more civilized schedule when the misses are around. You can blame his brother for this. Whenever Lord Robert prevails on the master to give Lady Nancy the girls, it's to work the master to the bone. It's none of my business, but what the master needs is a new wife. That will keep him closer to home. He never did this when his dear wife was alive, God rest her soul. She wouldn't have stood for it."

Rebecca filed the girl's observations away for future reference. She had heard similar comparisons made about Sir Boniface's behavior. He had fallen into the same pattern after his wife's death.

Is it normal for a man to bury himself in work after the death of a spouse?

Rebecca's reports back to Sir Boniface often included her assessment of the subject's character. He humbly insisted he was only his brother's helper. Indispensable helper, she wrote.

Older, more experienced politicians come to meetings firmly opposed, and yet leave eating out of his hand.

Several meetings had involved increasing voting rights. There were others about abolishing the Poor Laws. Rebecca had not known how involved Lord Sutton was in social reform.

Rebecca wrote,

These are divisive topics but wouldn't get him shot at. Cursed and vilified as a coddler of the lazy, yes, but not shot at.

There were other meetings where she was sent out of the room. Rebecca wondered what the closed-door topics were about. After the second such meeting, she asked Richard about them, but was told they concerned treaties, matters too sensitive for anyone outside the principles to know about.

Rebecca sent that sketchy explanation to Sir Boniface in her next report. A lowly agent may not need to know such things, but he should know and could advise her if they would threaten a man's life.

Into her fourth week, Erasmus met Rebecca in the halls as she waited for Richard during another of his closed-door meetings. The cousins greeted each other warmly, after Erasmus's long absence.

"I hear you are babysitting a clay pigeon," he joked with his usual irreverent humor. "Not wonderful duty, but it will keep you out of trouble. Any excitement yet?"

Rebecca frowned at her cousin's choice of words. "No, it's been quiet. I haven't discovered anything he is doing that would gain him so much trouble."

"Father did." Erasmus grinned. "These closed-door meetings… They aren't treaties, precisely. They are about Prussia and proposed things for Princess Vicky and Prince Fredrick to encourage the Regent to do once he gains the throne. The King isn't expected to live much longer. The Regent might be open to another try at uniting the German States. He isn't a young man himself, though. Fredrick and Vicky may gain the crown and that duty soon."

Rebecca said, "Isn't that premature, considering Prince Fredrick is still third in line?"

"Definitely," Erasmus said, "and farfetched. The Regent isn't interested in liberal policies any more than the old king. The constitution they set up in forty-eight has been watered down so many times, it's more a guideline than a set of laws. I hear the both the King and the Regent barely tolerate their views."

He looked away sourly. "Who are we to say what the powers decide over there?" "It's so much dreaming on Prince Albert's part, if you ask me. He wants Europe to become one big happy family, and the alliance he set up with Princess Vicky's marriage was just the start."

Rebecca kept her opinions to herself as his history lesson turned into a rant. Sir Boniface encouraged them to political neutrality. She took that to heart, but Erasmus didn't.

"And that becomes the problem you may be facing," Erasmus was saying. "Father thinks all this dreaming is making somebody over there nervous. I will tell you more if we come up with something solid. I am heading to Prussia to be father's ears."

Erasmus saw Richard and two other men come out of their meeting. "See you soon, and watch out for Richard Sutton," Erasmus warned. "He's a well-domesticated duck, that one."

Erasmus made a courtly bow to Rebecca right there in the hall and kissed her hand like an Elizabethan courtier. Rebecca would have boxed his ears if it weren't for the extra attention it would bring.

Richard's lips bowed as watched Rebecca's gentleman walk away. "Your gentleman friend makes quite an exit."

"My cousin, does, yes," Rebecca said. The irrepressible showoff had staged that display on purpose to make the impression he was her gentleman. Rebecca was sure of it. I'll skewer you to the nearest wall the next time we fence, she promised. "He enjoys playing the fop."

"…And does it well," Richard said.

Richard had to fight down a moment of relief. Seeing the tall, smiling young man at Rebecca's side when he entered the hall had caused some half-formed hope shatter against the polished floors. And now, with the words and tone Rebecca used while speaking of her cousin, the hope miraculously resurrected itself.

He took the lady's arm and led her to the doors. Not the right time for this, he reminded himself–Later perhaps during a quiet private talk over a good meal, with roses and champagne–after this is over.

They worked their way through the labyrinth of halls to Richard's office. On the way, Rebecca considered her cousin's warning. Erasmus had teased her plenty when he realized she had been attracted to Richard back when. He hadn't faulted her for admiring him. Richard had honored his wife with true love and courtesy. The teasing had centered on her girlish, wistful, longing glances at someone else's knight in shining armor.

But now that the knight was free?

Erasmus… likely got nervous. If he acts on his unvoiced interest, I've ignored it, and hope he will get over it. And if perceived competition pushes him into asking Sir Boniface for me? I should let Sir Boniface deal with him. Perhaps I should warn him. That charming display, marking territory, can't be allowed. I am no ones' territory to be fenced off, cousin. You can just go to…

"Miss Fogg, did you hear me?"

Rebecca looked up at Richard's call. "Your pardon?"

"I was asking if you were ready for lunch," Richard repeated.

"Yes, that would be fine." Rebecca pulled her thoughts back to the present, leaving her cousin for later.

Richard led the way out of the building. They took their place in a small crowd, waiting for a carriage which was now just outside the door.

Rebecca scanned the people around her and the street.

Men were hurrying back and forth. Young boys were running messages about and men and women walking side by side in the warm air of the day. She turned to her left to watch the vehicles for hire line up. All was as it should be.

Crowds like this made her nervous when she was acting as a bodyguard. Assassins, generally, didn't attack in a crowd of witnesses. But the good ones used the chaos to their advantage. You never knew when someone was waiting to strike out of nowhere and blend back into the masses like a shadow.

The four men ahead of her shared a hackney ride to Whites, so she overheard. The carriage after the next is ours.

A sudden jostling to the right of her opened the sea of people as men stepped back to make way for another pedestrian. Rebecca moved back a step, watching the man as he came closer. His hat was set low on his brow, putting his face in shadow. He wore a heavy cloak, an odd choice considering the warmth of the day.

Rebecca caught a flash of something… something polished coming out of the cloak in his hand. A spike of alarm sent her heart racing. She acted instantly.

She stepped up again, caught Richard's arm and pushed him hard back toward the entryway. Not expecting it, he nearly stumbled to the ground from the force. The attempt to regain his balance sent Rebecca forward another step as a counterweight, which put her in the pedestrian's path as he rushed by.

Something hard struck Rebecca's side. She was pushed toward the building entrance and Richard. It didn't hurt, not really. It might have been a book or valise for all she knew.

Richard's momentum and the push she received from the pedestrian forced them back into the building. Richard stumbled over several people before regaining his balance.

Rebecca fell into his arms as he changed from a dragging weight on her arm to a solid wall of male muscle. Her forehead collided with Richard's chin as she pushed herself off him. That hurt far worse than her earlier collision.

"Ouch!"

"Are you alright?" Richard said. "What the devil was all that about?"

Rebecca steadied herself, raising her hand to her head. She would have a minor lump on the noggin, nothing more. Lowering her other hand to the sore spot at her side caused a second spike of alarm. Her hand came away damp… and red. Her dress shirt had been torn somehow. No. It had been cut. The dampness was coming from a thin line of red seeping through her corset and the damaged shirt.

Rebecca looked back up at Richard, closing her hand on its blood-stained condition. "I should find for the ladies' lounge."

He caught sight of her damaged bloodied dress shirt and blanched.