Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 126 - Hundred And TwentySix

Carcel stood in front of the tall mirror in his dressing room. His valet, a quiet man named Pierre, was brushing invisible lint from the shoulders of Carcel’s dinner jacket.

Carcel looked calm. His face was a mask of perfect noble detachment. But inside, his mind was working like the gears of a clock.

The door opened. Mr. Vance entered without knocking. This was a privilege only Vance had.

Carcel nodded to Pierre. "Leave us."

Pierre bowed and vanished into the side room.

Carcel turned to Vance. "Is she safe?"

"Miss Gladys is home," Vance reported. He stood by the door, his hands clasped behind his back. "She is shaken, but unharmed. My men intercepted the extraction team in the alley."

"And the men who attacked her?" Carcel asked. He adjusted his sapphire cufflinks.

"Hired muscle from the East End," Vance said dismissively. "They know nothing. They were paid by a middleman to grab the girl and the bag. They didn’t know who she was, and they certainly didn’t know she was under your protection."

"And the print shop?"

"That is the more interesting news," Vance said. He walked closer, lowering his voice. "I went to the shop myself after the incident. I watched through the window. After Miss Gladys left without handing over a manuscript, the apprentice—Parker—had a panic attack."

Carcel raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He started throwing things," Vance described. "He was tearing at his hair. Then, he wrote a note. He ran out the back door and put it in a dead drop—a loose brick in the wall behind the baker’s shop."

"Did you read the note?"

"I did," Vance said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper. He handed it to Carcel.

Carcel smoothed out the paper. The handwriting was messy, frantic.

She didn’t bring it. She suspects. I need more time. Please don’t hurt me. I will get it next time. I promise.

Carcel stared at the note. "He is terrified."

"He owes a lot of money to the wrong people," Vance explained. "The person funding this operation—Lady Priscilla, as we suspect—bought his debt. If he doesn’t deliver the manuscript, they will likely break his legs. Or worse."

Vance paused. "I can have Parker removed, Your Grace. I can have the constable arrest him for theft or conspiracy. We can shut down the print shop entirely and move the operation to the country."

Carcel walked to the fireplace. He held the scrap of paper near the flame, watching the edges curl and brown.

"No," Carcel said softly. " Why are you bringing this up again?"

Vance blinked. " But... But he can become a danger to Miss Gladys or even to Lady Ines. He can become desperate and hurt any of them in the future."

"He is the connection," Carcel corrected. He turned around, the firelight casting long shadows across his face. "If we arrest Parker, Priscilla will know we are onto her. She will cut ties. She will disappear back into the dark and find another way to attack Ines. A way we might not see coming. Parker is already exposed to us but Priscilla isn’t."

Carcel crumpled the note in his fist.

"Parker is already desperate," Carcel said. "And desperate men are useful. He is so afraid of his masters that he will do anything to please them. Including delivering a fake manuscript."

"You want to keep him in place," Vance realized. A small smile touched his lips. "You want to use him as the courier for the plan."

"It’s exactly as we planned before," Carcel said. "We will let Parker believe he has succeeded. We will let him steal the ’manuscript.’ We will let him deliver it to Priscilla. He will be our unwitting messenger."

Carcel walked back to the mirror. He looked at his reflection. He looked like a Duke—powerful, untouchable. But he felt like a general sending soldiers into battle.

"Vance," Carcel said.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Get a message to Miss Gladys," Carcel ordered. "Tell her the line is secure, but the method has changed. Tell her Ines will start writing the decoy. She has a week to get ready to be a bait again."

"And Parker?"

"Watch him," Carcel said coldly. "Don’t let him leave London. Don’t let him speak to anyone else. He is our asset now. He just doesn’t know it yet."

Vance nodded. "It will be done."

"And Vance?"

"Sir?"

"Make sure Parker wins a little at cards tonight," Carcel said, adjusting his cravat one last time. "Give him a little hope. A man with hope is easier to manipulate than a man with nothing left to lose."

Vance bowed. "You have a wicked mind, Your Grace."

"I am protecting my future wife," Carcel said, turning to the door. "For her, I would burn this entire city down. Manipulating one apprentice is a mercy."

He turned round slowly to face Vance, who was still standing quietly in the corner of the dressing room, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for dismissal.

Carcel spread his arms slightly, inviting inspection.

"How do I look?" Carcel asked. His voice was light, but his eyes were serious.

Vance stepped forward. He did not look at the clothes; he looked at the man wearing them. He saw the tension in Carcel’s jaw and the cold fire in his eyes. He saw a man who was ready to tear the world apart to save the woman he loved.

"Impeccable, Your Grace," Vance replied smoothly. "You look like a man without a care in the world."

Carcel’s lips quirked into a small, genuine smile. The coldness in his eyes melted away for a brief second, replaced by a warmth that only one person could summon.

"Good," Carcel said, picking up his gloves from the side table. He pulled the soft leather over his hands, tightening the fit around his fingers. "I’m having dinner with my Ines. I do not want her to see this side of me tonight, I believe she will be scared. I want her to see her husband."

He checked his pocket watch. He was on time. He was always on time.

"I will tell her the plan over dessert," Carcel continued, snapping the watch shut. "She needs to know the advancement of the plan."

Vance nodded once, a sharp, precise movement. "She will be relieved, Your Grace. Lady Ines is strong, but everyone needs to know the cavalry has arrived."

Carcel walked toward the door. As he passed Vance, he paused. He reached out and placed a firm hand on the spy’s shoulder. It was a heavy, grounding touch.

"Keep up the good work, Vance," Carcel said softly.

"I will not fail you," Vance promised.

Carcel gave a final nod and stepped out into the hallway. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, heavy and purposeful, fading away as he headed toward the staircase.

Vance remained in the dressing room. The silence rushed back in, filling the space Carcel had vacated. Vance turned slowly to look at the door that Carcel had just passed through.

The spy let out a long, slow breath. He walked over to the window and looked out at the darkening sky. He thought about the man who had just left. For years, since he came back from the war, Carcel Anderson had been the model of a gentleman—calm, responsible, perhaps a bit boring to the outside world. Lady Ines had soothed his edges. She had made him gentle. She had made him laugh.

But the people hunting Ines had made a grave calculation error. They thought they were hunting a writer. They did not realize they were provoking a predator.

Vance shook his head, a grim smile touching his lips.

"They have unknowingly let out the beast that Lady Ines had suppressed years ago," Vance whispered to the empty room. "And God help them when it finds them."