Page 25 of The Untamed Heart

“Hell and the devil!” he exclaimed, and rushed after him.

To his surprise, Lucius seemed to know where he was going. No doubt he’d committed the entire layout of the massive place to memory. More surprisingly, people seemed to know who he was. Yet if the prime minister had consulted him over the design of a fort, perhaps he was a regular visitor. The fearful and rather horrified way they gazed at Lucius as he passed confirmed this theory.

Their boots rang out upon stone floors worn smooth by decades of use, and all around them were lofty ceilings and echoing corridors. The place was a rabbit warren, and Sherry could only trust Lucius knew where they needed to be.

There were several moments when Sherry expected to be stopped and challenged, when soldiers on guard ought to have demanded their business. Yet they took one look at Lucius and let him through without a word. They might have stopped Sherry if not for Lucius’s terse, “He’s with me.”

Sherry considered that and wondered just how many pies Lucius had a finger in.

Clerks, some hefting great piles of book or papers, moved briskly between rooms with harried expressions, and uniformed officers glanced enquiringly at them as they passed. There was a weighty atmosphere of bureaucratic gravity that hung about the place and urged Sherry’s irreverent soul to say or do something out of turn. He buried the desire, suspecting that if Lucius was involved, they’d be in hot water soon enough without his help.

They strode into a dimly lit office, heavy with oak panelling. In the centre of the room was a large desk, neat but crammed from end to end with books and ledgers and stacks of papers. It lent the thin and rather stooped clerk behind it all an air of desperation that Sherry felt was likely accurate enough. His expression upon spying Lucius was one of undisguised horror, and a nervous tic began flickering beside his eye.

“L-Lord Darenth,” he said, in tones of repressed terror.

Lucius regarded the fellow with consternation. “Are you still here? I’d have thought they’d have got shot of you after the Traverse debacle.”

The fellow turned scarlet but put up his chin. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

“What, that you were incompetent? I imagine so,” Lucius replied with devastating sincerity.

“It was not my fault that the document was not properly filed!” the fellow said with growing agitation, darting anxious glances at Sheringham.

“Perhaps not, but if your filing system was more comprehensive—”

“I file everything in the precise location as demanded by my superiors,” he exclaimed hotly.

“Yes, but your superiors are idiots,” Lucius snapped, growing increasingly impatient.

“What my friend here is trying to say, in his usual appalling fashion,” Sheringham said smoothly, stepping into the breach before Lucius lobbed the fellow out of the nearest window, “is that we are sorry to trouble you—”

“No, it isn’t!”

“That we are sorry to trouble you,” Sheringham repeated, louder this time as he glared Lucius into silence, “but we would be deeply grateful for your assistance. It is a… delicate matter, you understand, and the utmost discretion is required. I know we can rely upon you to aid us. By the way, I’m Sheringham. You must excuse Darenth’s eccentricities. Genius has its quirks, you know.”

“Apparently,” the fellow said, sending an expression of frigid dislike in Lucius’s direction before turning back to Sherry. He unbent enough to bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Sheringham. I am Giles Prufrock.”

“Mr Prufrock, we are looking into a rather troubling rumour on behalf of a friend of ours, Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Hamilton.”

“Hamilton,” the fellow said, brightening. “An excellent soldier. A hero.”

“Indeed, we could not agree more. The thing is, someone is trying to blacken his name, and we intend to find out who that is. Will you help us, Mr Prufrock? I believe your aid may be invaluable.”

Lucius snorted with disgust, but Sheringham ignored him, using all his not inconsiderable charm upon the clerk.

“I would be honoured to help the colonel,” Mr Prufrock said with quiet dignity. “And you,” he added, before shooting Lucius a venomous glare. He turned back to Sheringham and asked politely, “How may I be of service?”

Chapter 8

A Delightful Distraction

Little Valentine, East Sussex, 23rd September 1816

“Marcus!”

Marcus turned as the voice hailed him, only to see Hawkney riding across the promenade on a huge black stallion.

Marcus nodded and greeted the horse, who snuffled at his pockets. “Good morning, Sultan,” he said, rubbing the beast’s velvety nose. “Hawkney, how do?”