The Mayfair Affair by Tracy Grant Page B

iron control.
    "Feared it. It's another reason I was watching him." The strain cracked through the control in Raoul's voice as well.
    "Alistair knew about me. And Lord Harleton." Suzanne spread her fingers over the twilled sarcenet of her gown to still their trembling. "We knew it was a risk that others in the League did as well. It was probably folly to hope none of them did."
    "Quite." Raoul's voice was even but the look in his eyes reminded her of the time she'd been taken prisoner by a band of guerrilleros . Her memories were fragmented, but she could still hear his voice when he cut her bonds and lifted her in his arms, as incisive as ever but with such a raw note she scarcely recognized it. "But one can always hope. I was particularly afraid Trenchard would try to use it as vengeance against me. I'm sorry to have caught you up in this , querida ."
    She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "We're all too entangled as it is. But why make use of his hold on me now? Surely it might have proved useful in the past. Trenchard has hated you for years. Do you think he just learned?"
    "Possibly. But I think it's more likely Alistair held him in check."
    Malcolm frowned. "You think Alistair protected Suzette? No, I suppose he would. He wouldn't want the scandal for the family. That would trump however he felt about me."
    Suzanne swallowed. "What did Trenchard want me to do?"
    "You should see for yourself." Raoul reached inside his coat. "I'm surprised one of you didn't notice something was missing."
    "I did." Malcolm said. "But I saw no sign of your presence."
    "I'm relieved my skills are still so sharp. You aren't easy to deceive." He held out the letter.
    Absurd the way she hesitated to touch the cream laid paper. Reading the words wouldn't make it any more real. She forced her fingers to be steady as she carried it over to the library table and set it down in the light of the brace of candles, where she and Malcolm could read it together.
    My dear Mrs. Rannoch,
    Or should I say Mademoiselle Lescaut? It must be odd to go by the name of a man you married under false pretenses. The challenges of life under cover. I know a bit about that, though I've never attempted anything approaching the scale of your masquerade.
    No doubt you are surprised that I know. I won't waste time on the details of how I discovered the truth behind one of the most charming and improbable fairy tales among Mayfair marriages. You must have been aware of the risks you have run. That you have got away with it for as long as you have is something of a miracle. As an Englishman, my duty is clear. However, I would not be where I am did I not know how to put information to use. Were I simply to take your secret to my father-in-law, you would be ruined and your marriage destroyed, but I would have nothing to show for it save Carfax's thanks (and I can't even be sure of that). Instead, I offer you a trade. I am prepared to keep your secret in exchange for information. Carfax has a file entitled Notes from Smytheton. I can't be certain where he keeps it, but I would hazard a guess it's in his study. I'm sure it won't be the first time you've retrieved information from your husband's spymaster. Get the file for me and I will consider us even. At least for the present.
    Yours, etc.
    Trenchard
    Malcolm's fingers curled inwards. He lifted the paper and held it out to the candelabrum.
    "Darling, no!" Suzanne snatched it back.
    "For God's sake, Suzette, now we've read it—"
    "It's evidence. The last words of a murder victim."
    "I don't see anything in it to cast light on who murdered Trenchard."
    "You know as well as I do one can't see everything at this point in an investigation. If it wasn't to do with me, you wouldn't dream of destroying it."
    "Which leaves aside the question that it is to do with you."
    "Much as my impulse is to agree with Malcolm," Raoul said, "I can see Suzanne's logic."
    "You would." Malcolm glanced at him. "You trained her to be