charges. Dominic reminded himself frequently that intrigue was none of his business, anymore. However, he did find himself wondering what the devious family was up to now.
“Why should that be a surprise?” He took another look at the letter. It referred to mysterious events, full of phrases like “our business” and “the parcel.” Nothing new.
“The parcel referred to in that letter is a person. The Young Pretender, no less. Are you interested now?”
Sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows across the desk. The air was redolent with lavender and spices used by the housekeeping staff no doubt to clean and add fragrance to the air.
The world was normal and continued the same way, except that it had shifted a little to one side. Dominic began to understand the general’s intent, and he didn’t like it. “Why would I be interested?” he said smoothly. He put the letter down gently. He had affairs of his own to deal with, much less government concerns.
“We would like you to look into the matter. The government would be extremely grateful to you.”
“I’m sure they would.” Because he had seen the Stuart pretender when he was still a serving officer, so he would know him again. Dominic hadn’t been wearing his uniform at the time and had choked down his distaste of subterfuge long enough to discover what his superior had wanted to know. He obeyed orders, but he hated the work. Lying stuck in his throat. He had particular reason to dislike it.
The General indicated a neat pile of papers stacked on the desk. “You are in a position to help us now.”
Dominic had had enough. He had better things to do than listen to the general sidle around the subject. “What do you want?”
None of his London acquaintances would have recognized the sharp tones, the decisiveness, but they hadn’t known him in the army. He hadn’t served in a fashionable regiment, nor had the public honors he’d received been any more remarkable than many others. When he returned to London, he became someone else. Not the officer, but the aristocrat and the man of fashion.
The General didn’t appear surprised at Dominic’s incisive tones, but then he was better acquainted with Dominic the officer. “I want you to locate him. It shouldn’t be beyond your capabilities. This time we have had enough of his dancing around London. We want Stuart in custody, and if necessary we will bring him to trial.”
Dominic sucked in a harsh breath. “If you will forgive me for saying so General, that is a mistake. He is flaunting himself in order to get arrested. It’s just what he wants.”
“If he had heirs, if his brother weren’t a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, we might agree with you.” The back of the General’s comfortable leather padded chair creaked alarmingly when he leaned back. Since he’d returned to London, he’d gained quite a lot of weight. The sedentary life obviously didn’t suit him. “However, the hope of the Stuart Cause rests on him. We would prefer to put an end to that. It works both ways, St. Just. The line effectively ends with him, so if we take him, we have the family.”
That made alarming sense. But a trial would encourage the kind of support the country could well do without at a time like this. With an aging king and a young and inexperienced heir in thrall to an unpopular advisor, the time was ripe to tip the scales back in the Stuart family’s favor, if a person had a mind to do it. “If I see him, I’ll inform you. Will that do?”
The General regarded him in silence for a full minute. Dominic knew better than to interrupt him, and he hoped General Court knew better than to press him further. Both men understood what that meant. Dominic would go hunting, and he’d find his prey, but if anyone asked, he’d never met Stuart, not even heard of him.
Eventually, the man nodded. “Very well. I appreciate your help.”
“I hope you do.” He would not forget the favor. Dominic would make sure of it.
Dominic left the room. He hurried down the stairs, more than glad to put the dust of this building behind him.
Someone calling his name interrupted him. “St. Just!”
Damnation. Pinning an affable smile to his face, he turned, letting the skirts of his coat swing gently around him. “Why, Malton, what a pleasant surprise! Do you come here on a visit, or business?”
Lord Malton grimaced. “Business, but nothing vital, as it transpires. I was merely surprised to see you.”
He waved carelessly in the direction of the stairs, taking care to keep the movement elegant. “A social call. A man I used to serve under has returned to London. Paying my respects, don’t you know.”
“Ah.” To Dominic’s relief, Malton appeared to accept his explanation. His visit here had become annoyingly clandestine. “Is your business concluded?”
Not at all. “Completely.” Dominic offered a smile and paused at the stand by the door to collect his sword. This set of government offices didn’t even allow gentlemen to carry the mostly decorative swords. Dominic’s was more than decorative, made of fine flexible Spanish steel. “Are you heading into town?”
“To Bond Street. I have to collect my sisters from the drapers’.”
Dominic had planned to walk to St. James’s, but abruptly he changed his plans. “Your sisters are up from the country?” Malton belonged to a large and influential family. Known as ‘The Emperors of London,’ they were a force to be reckoned with. Especially with regards to the Dankworths, supporters of the Pretenders, young and old. The family feud was so old nobody recalled its origins. It had renewed itself in force when the Dankworths and the Emperors took opposite sides in the Jacobite conflict. The Emperors could prove useful to him in his current quest.
Dominic was acutely aware of his lack of supporters. In the army he’d had a complete network of allies. Here, if he were found on the wrong side, he had no doubt the authorities would arrest him and cart him off to prison. If they needed a scapegoat, he provided the perfect subject. Most definitely he needed friends. Someone who knew more about this civilian battle.
However, despite Malton’s cordial greeting, he and Dominic were only socially acquainted. Dominic sheathed his sword and clapped his hat on his head, then glanced into the mirror by the desk to adjust it to his satisfaction. Malton dressed soberly and behaved responsibly. Dominic did what he liked. Released from army discipline, he’d enjoyed spreading his wings once he got to town. As the heir to a wealthy and influential title, he was in great demand.
He had no doubt that was why Malton had invited him to meet his sisters. Dominic was not a philanderer, more a card player and a man who enjoyed all forms of entertainment, respectable and decidedly otherwise. However, he never toyed with society ladies. They might expect more than he was prepared to give them.
Malton and Dominic walked out of the offices into glorious sunshine. Dominic glanced up. “A pretty day, is it not?”
Malton nodded curtly. “Indeed, sir. Spring is well advanced, although last month it seemed as if it would never arrive.”
They walked down Horse Guards in the direction of Bond Street. Up St. James’s Street, with its burgeoning clubs, and past the palace, where the Royal Standard fluttering from the gatehouse proclaimed the King was in residence. A rare event, since his majesty preferred the more modest comforts Kensington Palace had to offer.
Dominic remarked as such to Malton and received a nod in return.
“I believe his majesty wished to greet the Ambassador of France. He’ll scuttle back to Kensington as soon as he can.” Malton smiled. “I do not begrudge him his comforts. The longer we can keep him healthy the better, would you not agree?”
Sounding him out, no doubt. “Indeed.” Dominic had no hesitation in concurring. “It gives the Prince of Wales more time to mature into his role. I fear a king still in his minority could cause problems for the government.”
“He is a promising child, but I fear far too ready to listen to his mother’s