Chapter 24

Chatsworth hesitated to open the door until he was sure no more missiles were forthcoming. After a count of twenty, he knocked. There was no sound on the other side and no answer to his knock.

A pretty problem this… Rebecca couldn't know I am in the house and can't know the servant is still here. Am I about to walk into not only a shocked woman's misery, but a pistol barrel?

"Miss Fogg?" He called. "Your servant let me in. I need to speak with you."

Sounds came after that. The door was opened to him. Rebecca allowed him to enter the room. She looked strained, like an over extended bowstring.

"Sir Jonathan… I would never have expected you to come calling so late," Rebecca said, trying to hide her unease. "Is something wrong?"

Possibilities for such an unusual visit tallied in her mind. She was in no frame of mind for handling a crisis. She wanted to scream, cry, throw something else; anything but sit chit-chatting with her boss. How do I beg off and get rid of him?

"May I sit?" he said.

"Of course," Rebecca reluctantly said. She showed him to a chair by the tea table. She had noticed his valise, so may have need of the table. She took a chair near him.

As Chatsworth sat down, he took a large folder from his valise and set it on the table. "Miss Fogg, you are needed for a mission of importance. Of such importance, your cousin has agreed to return to the service temporarily to handle it as well."

That statement visibly shocked Rebecca out of the shock she had already suffered. Whatever her personal problems, Chatsworth knew she would put them aside to hear him. Phileas would return to the service for nothing but the gravest of matters. When Rebecca's eyes cleared and sharpened, he gathered himself to continue.

"We have a man under surveillance that has been preying on those with connections to financial and governmental information. He has been very good at covering his tracks until now, but we have several close observers who have been watching him."

"Who is he?" Rebecca said.

"Isaac Jordan," Chatsworth said.

Rebecca did not have the means to hide her surprise. She stared at Chatsworth.

"Jordan is an extortionist, business cheat, and defrauder. He has a taste for preying on ladies connected with his business associates. There have been four victims that we know of over the three years prior to your association with him. All were set to financial ruin, extorted of their incomes, and forced to become his mistresses. Your mission started late last spring."

Chatsworth let Rebecca digest the matter for a moment. She had already experienced Jordan's first stages, firsthand. She knew what that was all about and now knew where it was leading. He could literally see events and situations pieced together in her mind. The hurt and anguish in her eyes he had seen when he walked in were replaced with hard anger. He was not sure if that anger was directed at Jordan or himself. If it was aimed at him, Sir Jonathan did not blame her. He had royally used her without her knowledge, but that was neither here nor there. While missions were normally open to the acceptance or rejection of the agents because of the risks, some were not.

A momentary cold sweat washed over him. Guilt stabbed at him. Did I not lecture Rebecca on just the day I first thought to involve her in this matter?

"I chose not to allow you to know about this to make sure your reactions to his advances and deceits could not be untainted by forewarning," Sir Jonathan said. "Verne agreed to be part of it to give us a business venture to base the operation on. You were taken to the first meeting to provide him with potential prey. We did not know if he would accept you for his next victim."

He swallowed and dove in. "You are not like his other victims. He looks for exploitable innocence and ignorance. There were other victims already lined up. I made you an extra target to deflect his attention from the others and succeeded.

I had Fogg agree to return to the service to oversee the operation. Agents have watched to make sure Jordan did not change his mode of operation in your case. You have never been alone," he assured her. "I apologize for the unorthodox methods, but when you have time to consider what the mission is about, you will see the need. Innocence and trust are not things easily faked.

From her seat, Rebecca looked at him with building anger, and was about to tell him what the man had done to her. "Jordan was just here this evening telling me—"

"Lies," Chatsworth finished for her. "Your estate has never been in any danger, despite the man forging papers to have it transferred to his firm without your or Fogg's knowledge. Your family's man of business has been working with us in this, too. Secret Service funds were used to simulate yours. Further, we have a man in Jordan's office that has been working with us since before your properties were supposedly mortgaged. He has been creating copies of everything that Jordan has done. Your legacies are as secure as they have always been."

"Furthermore," Chatsworth said, "what he has been telling you about your cousin's involvement has also been lies. Phileas has never been involved in any investment in Verne's project. You have been the sole backer. Jordan used your trust in your cousin to get you to sign the papers involved in his scheme. He then invented the plunder of your estate to put a wedge between you and your cousin to remove his protection."

"The scoundrel knows his business," Sir Jonathan said gentler, if in a bitter tone. "As with all his victims, Jordan found a strong point of trust between you and Fogg to manipulate. With trust and family ties shattered, he leaves his victims alone and susceptible to attack. This has been a trial for us all, especially for your cousin. Watching how the man plays with lives…"

"Why did you not tell me of this mission from the start?" Rebecca said. He had already explained that, but she didn't accept it. She could not take in half what he was saying. Her relief at not being in the stew she had thought she was in was so profound, she felt weak, giddy, and furious all at the same time.

"Rebecca, you had to be kept from forewarning," Chatsworth said. He stood, releasing some of the tension from the conversation. He walked away from the table and turned back to her. "If you had known about this from the start, you might have given yourself away. Jordan might have seen it in you. When you have the time to consider this fully, you will understand this was the way it had to be played."

"And Phileas agreed to this?"

"Fogg thought you could hide your feelings, but I chose not to chance it. It would have been a great deal to expect of you. Jordan has been doing this for years. He knows his marks. He knows the way women react to manipulation. And you, Rebecca, are not the sort of women he would normally go after."

Chatsworth returned to his chair and leaned toward Rebecca. He did not know if she would agree with his reasoning, but he had to try.

"Rebecca, you are an unusually independent, intelligent, and strong woman. It shows in the way you walk, in the way you speak, in the way you approach people. Being of the upper class cannot fully justify such a bearing. It is not arrogance or privilege, as with some women. You are also, might I add, beautiful. But your strength does not come from using your beauty to manipulate others, either. It is honest, self-assured confidence. Altogether, those qualities are guaranteed to catch attention. Yet, I had worried from the start that those qualities would run him off. Women of intelligence and confidence do not make exploitable victims.

As he spoke, Rebecca regathered her wits somewhat. Some of what he was saying made sense. She knew perfectly well she was better educated than most. She was more confident that the average woman of her class simply because she had learned how to take care of herself and trained to handle most any situation. She used those things not just in missions, but also in her daily life, and she did often have to hide those qualities to walk about society without standing out, as he put it. Standing out was not a good thing in a lady or an agent. Conformity to a defined, somewhat romanticized ideal was the mark most women held to.

"As such," Chatsworth said, "I ensured you were not given a single inkling of what was happening. Had you known, had you reacted with anything less than a spontaneous response, Jordan would have known. As it was, your lack of knowledge concerning financial and business affairs handicapped you enough to make you an acceptable mark."

Chatsworth stopped then to gage how Rebecca had taken that. It was hard to tell. Her expression was blank. "You may back out of the mission if you wish. I would not blame you if you did. The strain you have already gone through has been great. But I implore you to hold the course. We can bury this scoundrel in his own lies. You have the power and position now to enact his downfall."

Chatsworth stood again. He was getting frustrated. He was literally pleading with her. He was not used to that. He did not speak to agents like this. His motivations and back planning, for better or worse, for the good of England, was his job. He sent agents into the field. Sometimes he told them all, sometimes he did not. It depended on the situation.

Spycraft was a chess game, and he had learned it at the feet of the master, Sir Boniface Fogg. But he had died before the lessons had been completed. Sir Jonathan had to teach himself the rest. He knew with certainty not to apologize for the way he ran the service, no matter how much of a cold-blooded bastard that sometimes made him look like.

And here I am doing the opposite.

He paced toward the mantle, staring down into the grate, trying to get hold of himself. He needed Rebecca to take this mission. But to what length would he have to go to get her?

Rebecca continued to sit, staring at his back, trying to decide how she was going to proceed. He had royally used her, but was making late apologies for it. She was in no mood to accept them or his rationale. But right now, she was too overwhelmed to think. Shame, pain, stress, dread for a future she had never had to worry about, Self-righteous indignation, and stone-cold rage were all mixed up inside her, tearing her apart.

"How did you get Phileas to agree to return to the service?"

"Easily," Chatsworth admitted. "I told him that Lady Ashley and Lady Townsend were Jordan's next victims. Their husbands are clients. If you know them, you would agree that they are both completely helpless creatures. They would have been completely incapable of dealing with Jordan's advances. Had Fogg not agreed to back you up on this mission, I could not have set this up. I would have been forced to watch closely and hope that one of them would have been willing to cooperate with a service investigation after he approached them."

Rebecca knew of both women and would have gladly taken this mission to protect them. Phileas, sweet knight-errant that he was with such women, would indeed have been the first to accept the need to protect them. And Chatsworth had used his inborn sense of chivalry against him. As he said, it would have been easy. And more than that, he had used it to get him to partner her, as if she needed a partner, a man, to watch over me.

Rebecca bit back her fury. No, not knowing what was going on, I needed all the oversight I could get.

"Will you accept the mission?" he said again.

Rebecca stood and turned away from Sir Jonathan to get a grip on herself.

Oh, yes, I will see this mission to the end. Isaac Jordan will hang for what he has done to me and his past victims. I would happily see to that. But there are things I must deal with before I say yes.

First, she had to see her cousin.

Before Sir Jonathan had walked into her parlor, she had been shaking with rage, righteous indignation, and a bone deep, very personal hurt. The pain and rage welled up as caustic as acid. Against her will, she had believed everything she was told. Rebecca accepted her cousin had been a presumptuous, arrogant, playing with her future behind her back. She believed he had ruined her, and then had not had the backbone to own up to it. The gall of it seared away all the love she had ever felt for him, leaving behind a dark, empty hole in her heart. She could have blindly killed. Had Phileas walked through her parlor door instead of Chatsworth, she would have killed him.

That admission scared her.

The rage was gone now, counteracted by Sir Jonathan's admissions. Now she felt only the shame at being manipulated. Rebecca hated that. And right now, she would happily tear Chatsworth apart for it. He would have to be dealt with, but not now.

"I need to see my cousin."

"He is across the street waiting for you in the park," Chatsworth said.

Sir Jonathan did not push for her to for an answer anymore. He had done all he could. He gave Rebecca his hand as she stood, leaving the mission folder on the table. He led her out of the house to the dark park entrance to reconcile with her cousin.

He stood to watch as she walked away until his coach came for him. He climbed in for the ride home. He would have to get his answer through Phileas.