England's Assassin by Samantha Saxon

difficult to trace. Their issuing conversation combined with the additional information just provided by the Duke of Glenbroke would be enough to convey to his parents the events of Daniel’s departure with some semblance of accuracy. 
    That would not, however, explain why.
    His parents would demand to know why the heir apparent to the Earldom of DunDonell would do something so stupid, so careless as to run off to war.
    But he himself was not sure, or rather, unsure if he wished to divulge his suspicions.
    Daniel had been shocked, as everyone had, by Sarah Duhearst’s sudden marriage to the Duke of Glenbroke. But Seamus was beginning to believe that Daniel’s shock had been more in the line of desolation.
    His brother’s decline had begun shortly after Lady Duhearst’s unexpected nuptials and as they had been lifelong friends without even the hint of interest on Daniel’s part, no one had connected the two events.
    But Seamus knew his brother, knew that the things closest to his boisterous brother’s heart were held that much tighter to Daniel’s chest. Seamus knew that what Daniel needed to get over the girl was to face Sarah herself, to see the content duchess in her home with Glenbroke at her side. But he could not do that while in Paris, which is, no doubt, why he had volunteered for this little excursion. 
    “Bloody idiot,” Seamus muttered, not looking forward to witnessing his mother’s fear.
    He took a deep breath then blew out his tension with on quick puff as he banged twice against the black lacquered door.
    The door to the Earl of DunDonell’s townhouse was opened by his parent’s diminutive butler and Seamus stepped inside. “Afternoon Hopkins. Are my parent’s available?”
    “The earl and countess are taking tea in the small drawing room, my lord.”
    Damn.
    “Thank you, Hopkins. I’ll announce myself."
    “Very good, my lord.”
    Seamus walked silently to the small drawing room, all the while reviewing his stratagem for dealing with his parents. He knocked on the door and heard his father’s deep voice.
    “Come.”
    Seamus walked into the room and glanced from his father to his mother. The countess placed her embroidery on the small mahogany table in front of her and smiled brilliantly, saying, “Seamus!” with such enthusiasm that he felt a right bastard for not having visited more often.
    “Mother,” Seamus said, kissing her on the cheek and trying to avoid his father’s disapproving stare as the earl folded his newspaper and placed it on his lap.
    “Father.” Seamus bowed, his mother’s hand still on his shoulder as they turned to look at the enormous man as he rose from his chair.
    “Father, is it?” The earl’s bushy brown brows arched and Seamus felt his spine go rigid. “Tara, is this one of our offspring? Fer I do not recognize the lad?”
    “Malcolm, do stop teasin’ him.” His mother indicated a chair, her strawberry blonde hair and pale blue eyes shining as she offered, “Have a seat, Seamus, dear.”
    Seamus met his father’s amber eyes and knew that the man was far from jesting.
    “Yes,” his father resumed his seat. “Tell us what you have been up to fer the past nine months.”
    Seamus gave a polite smile, not about to tell his father that he had been living with his mistress, that he had been happily researching ancient manuscripts in the quieter corners of the west end. He hated the obligations of polite society and as the second son had been allowed to pursue his interests unencumbered by the responsibilities of position.
    But if something were to happen to Daniel, he would have to endure the responsibilities… and the pain.
    “I’ve discovered Daniel’s location.” His parent’s stared at him expectantly, far too practical to waste words on questions they knew would be answered. “He’s in Paris.”
    His mother sat back, her subtle intake of breath more devastating a reaction than another lady’s fainting dead away.
    “He has volunteered for