Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [39]
Their gazes connected directly for a five count. For that brief spell they were not in Bedford Park or even England. They were in France on a damp night a little over two years ago, and acknowledging without words that Castleford was betraying his current lover and probably sending her to her death for the good of England.
They had never spoken of that business. If Latham had not returned to England, perhaps they never would have.
That night was in the past, and Castleford did not dwell on it. He had decided not to blame Albrighton for doing his duty as he saw it, just as Castleford had done his own in revealing what he had discovered to a man he knew to be an agent for the government. A man who was also a distant, old friend and who would know better than to congratulate His Grace for being so damned selfless and honorable.
“Latham can go to hell for all I care,” Castleford said. Mostly he did not want to care, because thoughts of the new Duke of Becksbridge conjured up a complicated emotion that strongly resembled guilt. About that night and about other things.
“It appears he has gone to court instead. And to visit the Earl Bathurst and Lord Liverpool.”
Albrighton clearly had something to say. Since the man rarely spoke plainly, when he did so it was usually worth hearing.
“I expect they sat and drank port and decried the disgraceful state of the realm,” Castleford said.
“I think it more likely they discussed the need to prepare for insurrection. If you made more calls on the best kind of people, you would appreciate just how worried your fellow peers are.”
“I do not have to endure calls to know. Talk of it is everywhere. I tire of hearing it. It bores me to death.”
“It is not the talking that might lead to deaths.”
Now, that was regrettably interesting. “Have you heard something that goes beyond talk? Do not get dodgy on me, Albrighton.”
“I only pick up pieces now, since I am officially severed from service to the government. Word of meetings drifts to me, though, from others who still know things.” He looked over and caught Castleford’s gaze again with his own. “There is talk of sending the army to Manchester for that demonstration planned next month.”
That was enough to make Castleford stop walking.
Hell and damnation. He had little interest in parliamentary sessions where peers droned on and on, but he prided himself on being aware of the real decisions, the ones made in private chambers. Mrs. Joyes had been distracting him too much if he had missed this. Quite likely he had been poking into her past in the War Office cellar today while ministers plotted something insane right above him.
One would think none of England’s government leaders were educated, from the way they turned stupid when they got together. Both common sense and experience said the presence of the army would not maintain order if a large demonstration in support of radical government reform took place but would only incite trouble.
“I thank you for sharing the gossip, Albrighton.”
They strolled on. Castleford pictured Latham at those meetings, basking in the attention. He saw Latham using his eloquence to make the oppression of free men’s rights sound reasonable and necessary.
“Have you seen Latham?” he asked.
“In passing. He did not recognize me,” Albrighton said.
“I doubt he will. You were only the man who handed his slave over to face the guillotine, after all. I am the one who told him to his face that I knew he had pulled the strings and had been treasonous for no more reason than his own amusement and a few francs.”
He was sure his voice did not falter as he spoke. Yet putting it into words, what had happened and its horrible conclusion, stuck in his throat as it emerged.
There had been no choice, of course. He often told himself that. But if ever his curiosity had led to unexpected results, that was the time. He had suspected soon enough that Marie was fleecing wealthy Englishmen