Page 1 of A Relentless Rake

Prologue

The Armory, London

June 1817

“Thank you both for joining me.” Clayton Elliot, undersecretary for the Home Office, stood in the center of the Armory’s main octagonal room and nodded grimly at the two men with him.

He’d called this predawn meeting here because he wanted to ensure the secrecy of what he intended to reveal to them. No one would be able to eavesdrop through the thick stone walls where iron doors and twin portcullises guarded the only way in and out. He no longer trusted anyone who worked for the Home Office, Bow Street, Whitehall, Parliament…anyone.

Well, anyone except for the men of the Armory.

Even the two men standing with him hadn’t been told the reason they’d been found and brought here with less than an hour’s notice. But these two men would guard themselves. Their dislike of each other would ensure it.

That was why he’d picked them. Alexander Sinclair and Nathaniel Reed, the Earl of St James and a captain in the Horse Guards…the rightful heir and his bastard half brother. The two men would monitor each other closely to make certain the other did his part, and the blood-born rivalry between them would ensure they put forth only their fiercest effort so neither man would be seen as lesser than his half brother.

Just as Clayton was certain that neither man would have shown up if he’d known the other would be here.

“Damned early for a social call, don’t you think?” St James bit out, not bothering to hide his irritation. “What’s this about?”

Alexander Sinclair hadn’t yet been to bed, and his evening clothes still stank of cigar smoke, cheap port, and cheaper women from the King Street gambling hell where he’d been retrieved. He’d been raised to be an earl, with all the privileges that rank and wealth provided, yet he disdained English society and did his best to remain outside it. But Clayton had served with him on the Continent and knew how deeply his patriotism ran, how finely honed his fighting skills. Someone more devoted to crown and country would be hard to find.

Unless it was the man standing beside him.

The hero of the Battle of Toulouse, Nate Reed was currently a captain in the Horse Guards, although Clayton was certain he’d receive many more promotions in the years to come. As tall and broad as his older half brother, Reed possessed a haunted look that had been present as long as Clayton had known him. He was here because he was a good soldier who followed orders.

Reed and St James would work well together.Ifthey didn’t kill each other first.

“England needs your help,” Clayton told them solemnly. “Per special request from the Home Secretary himself.”

The two men exchanged puzzled glances. Clayton didn’t blame them. Lord Sidmouth, Secretary of the Home Office, had half the government at his disposal to call on for help. He didn’t need them.

Until now.

“As you know,” Clayton continued, “two days ago, an explosion tore through the Admiralty Club.”

Neither man registered a reaction, although both had certainly heard the news about the explosion that killed Viscount Waverly and injured dozens more. All of London had been talking about it.

“The new gas lighting they’d put in.” St James offered the gossip that had sped through all the gentleman’s clubs and Westminster in the past forty-eight hours. “The lines hadn’t been properly bled, fumes had built up. When a footman lit a sconce, he sent the place up.”

Clayton leveled a solemn look on the earl. “That’s the story that Sidmouth wants everyone to believe.”

Nate Reed frowned. “And the truth?”

“The explosion was intentional.” Clayton blew out a hard breath at the memory of the carnage. He’d been among the first to arrive at the Admiralty and spent the next three hours digging bodies out of the rubble. Thank God only one man had been killed. “Explosives were set off deliberately in an attempt to assassinate the prime minister.”

“Good God,” Reed muttered.

“Fortunately, Lord Liverpool had been delayed.” Only by sheer luck. An apple cart had overturned in the Mall and stopped traffic. Liverpool had been stepping down from his carriage in front of the club when the explosives detonated. “We believe another attack will be planned unless we stop it. One that might very well succeed.”

St James cursed softly beneath his breath. Liverpool was close friends with the Sinclair family. “Who did this?”

Clayton crossed his arms, leaned back against the arm of a leather sofa, and said gravely, “All evidence points to Scepter.”

The criminal organization had pledged itself to overthrowing the monarchy. It had wrapped its tentacles around men at all levels of society and in the government, blackmailing and murdering anyone who stood in its way, including the men of the Armory and their families.

And what better way to start a revolution than by assassinating the prime minister?

During the past six months, Scepter had placed into government positions more than enough of their own men and those they could control through blackmail to easily replace Liverpool with one of their own and with resounding cries of support throughout the empire…enough support to turn even more public opinion against the mad king and his debauched sons, seize power, and end the monarchy. A second Glorious Revolution. Who would be able to stop them? As the recent riots had proven, the regent lacked the strength and spine to put down a rebellion of any substantial size. It was up to the men of the Armory to save him.