6. Savior

6

SAVIOR

I couldn’t help but smile when Sullivan walked away. It was astonishing how similar she was to the girl I remembered. Not physically, of course, but in the way she said what she thought and could be relentless when she wanted to know something. Obviously, the mark of a good reporter. A profession I’d been guarded with most of my life, even before I was hired at SIS.

Knowing I wanted to go into intelligence meant, as the then-Marquess of Ravenscroft, I had to maintain a low profile. When my father passed away prematurely three years ago and I became the Duke of Ashcroft, it became doubly important that I keep my likeness out of the press as much as possible.

Con—more than even SIS—stayed on top of any potential sightings of me and had images and reports disappear moments after they went live. Not just for me but for himself, Tag, and Gus too.

Years ago, Con created what he called the Data Center, a place dedicated to safeguarding the privacy of his clients. It wasn’t his only business. He also owned an ultra-elite private membership club, which provided high-adventure experiences to those who paid millions of pounds to join. Added to that was a whiskey distillery and a renewable-energy collaborative.

I didn’t kid myself into thinking he’d given up some of his morally gray holdings. I kept my distance from them, and Con respected my desire to. The one I had made use of and planned to again today was a subsidiary of the Data Center dedicated to collecting information about anyone doing business in the United Kingdom.

Last night, after Sullivan retired to the bedroom, I’d sent him a message, asking that he dig up everything he could on Eric Weber and Tower-Meridian.

When he responded this morning, he suggested we meet, which raised the question of where.

I wasn’t prepared to read Sullivan in on my true identity as the Duke of Ashcroft, the roles my closest friends played, or even for her to meet them. Which meant the obvious place for us to get together, other than the cottage, was the castle, made impossible by my uncle’s arrival yesterday.

When I posed the question back to Con, he suggested Tag’s place might be best. I was still mulling over whether that would work when Gus approached.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, squeezing my shoulder.

I smiled. “As much as I shouldn’t be the one you’re asking that of, I have to admit, I’m at odds with my own life presently.”

Gus chuckled. “The lone wolf has no idea what to do with himself. Or better put, what to do with the woman currently under his protection.”

He was right about me being a lone wolf. It had been months since I even saw him, Con, or Tag, and then it had been for the latter’s father’s funeral. I was rarely the first person to reach out to any of them, and when they contacted me, I typically took a long time to respond.

“Con said he wants to meet.”

Gus nodded. “Have you heard from Typhon?”

I rolled my shoulders. “I have, and the news isn’t good.”

When he looked off in the distance, I knew he’d spoken to him as well.

“While she vehemently denies fabricating the order to take Sullivan out along with the gunman, the evidence is piling up against Periscope. I anticipate the nail in the coffin, so to speak, will come from Con.”

“It already has,” said Gus.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Why, though?”

“Con suggested we let her lead us to the answer.”

My eyes widened. “How?”

“By allowing her to believe she’s in the clear and is still your handler, but making the Weber investigation her main focus.”

The plan made sense. “Right. Now, what are your thoughts on meeting at Tag’s?” I asked.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. Brose left a few minutes ago and said he wouldn’t be returning until tomorrow or the next day.”

I breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone. I just wished it wasn’t temporary. “I don’t understand why he insists on spending the holidays here. It isn’t like we do anything.”

As Gus knew, the only reason I visited around this time of year was to give my thanks, personally deliver bonuses, and give the staff that maintained the main residence and grounds them the rest of the season off to spend with their families. That alone made Brose’s visits more curious. He typically expected to be waited on hand and foot but was left to fend for himself when the staff was on holiday themselves.

“By the way, I intend to inform your mother that this year is no different than any other as far as closing shop through the end of the year.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, shaking his head. “She’ll not listen as long as there is a guest on the premises.”

“Sullivan’s hardly a guest,” I muttered.

“I’ll leave you to argue that point.” He motioned toward the loch. “Do you have time for a walk?”

“Of course.”

We took the trail to the far side of the island and stepped inside the cottage I hadn’t visited in years prior to this morning.

“It’s coming along,” I commented, looking around the space that appeared to have been gutted on the inside. “You never said why you proposed this place be fixed up.”

“It wasn’t my idea. It was my mum’s.”

“Ah. Does she want to live in it, then?”

Gus shook his head. “I don’t believe she does, and when I questioned her about why she made the request, she launched into a ten-minute monologue about how she’s never asked for anything in all the years she’s worked here.”

“You know I’d never begrudge her anything, but don’t you find it odd?” I asked.

“Very much so. Her second request is even more puzzling.”

I raised a brow. “Go on.”

“She asked that one room be left untouched—your grandfather’s study.”

He motioned me to the closed door, and when I opened it and stepped inside, I swore I could smell pipe tobacco. I hadn’t set foot in here since I was sixteen, when he passed away, but I remembered this room being his sanctuary. He always said there was no place on the entire estate that had a better view of the loch—even from the castle.

Approaching the bookcases, I ran my hands along the spines, recalling I’d done the same as a child. “Look at this,” I said, picking up a framed photo. “Is this you and me?” I asked.

Gus studied it with scrunched eyes. “I think it is.”

“I’ve never noticed it before.”

He shook his head. “Neither have I. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of the two of us.”

I perused the rest of the room as though it was a time capsule. “My grandmother died before I was born,” I said, picking up a photo of her from the desk.

“She was a beautiful woman,” Gus said, looking over my shoulder. “As was your mum.”

It was sad that both women died so young. Not just the two of them, but my father was only fifty when he passed—three years after my mother had.

“Out of your parents and grandparents, your paternal grandfather was the only one who lived beyond his fifties,” Gus commented.

“Right,” I said, returning the photo to the desk and noticing there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere on its surface. In fact, there wasn’t any on the bookshelves either. It had been thirteen years since anyone had lived in the cottage. Surely, it hadn’t been cleaned on a regular basis over the course of all those years.

“When we meet, Con can give us an idea of how long it will be before construction is complete, and then you can make a decision about where to stay,” Gus added.

“Pardon? I didn’t follow.”

Gus had wandered out of the office. “You and Sullivan could stay here rather than in the smaller cottage.”

He made a good point. However, based on the way it looked presently, it would be quite some time before it was inhabitable.

“Con and Tag are here,” he said, looking at his mobile.

“Let them know we’ll meet them in my office.”

Gus nodded, knowing I spoke of the one I kept in the castle.

“Have you come to any decisions about revealing your title to Sullivan?” he asked on our walk back.

“The longer we’re at Ashcroft, the more difficult it will be to keep it a secret. Especially with Brose’s arrival.” I stopped walking and put my hands on my hips. “This is my bloody home. Why is it I don’t feel as though I can tell my uncle he isn’t welcome to descend on the place as though it’s his?”

Gus chuckled. “Only you can answer that question, Ash.”

“We could always refurbish his suite of rooms. In fact, you could pull the crew from the cottage and have them start work this afternoon.”

“We could do. And it would certainly be far easier than simply confronting him.”

“Sod off,” I muttered.