A Most Mysterious Gentleman (#1 Sweet Nineteenth Series) VERY SLOW UPDATES

AMMG ~27~

Thank- you guys for your patience and your comments and votes! I often miss the stupid things and you guys are so helpful for pointing it out.

As I've mentioned (hopefully before) I do not edit my chapters before putting them on wattpad. When I revise this, the plot will change slightly, and hopefully plot holes will be ironed out, as well as character issues! This will be when I edit things.

I'm always looking for a small team to help me in the meanwhile, so message me/ comment if you think you could help little small time writer me! Thanks and I love you guys!! <3

Amy 

Henry was getting decidedly irritated with everyone and everything in the stuffy green study. 

The words on the papers were drifting around and around his head. Obviously there had been the so called 'treasonous' ones, but they had been easily proven false with hand writing samples and confirmations by the 'suppliers' of the poison. Thankfully the Earl and the Duke were more settled about his status as a glorified spy. 

Time was ticking and the chances of getting Rosalie back safe was shortening and shortening. The elder Duke seemed to be doing nothing but praying and telling everyone who would listen that she would be back soon. No one had the heart to tell him otherwise.

The words had been checked for codes, there were none as far as the Home Office could tell him. His underground men were checking all over the country for Rosalie, but so far she hadn't been seen by anyone, even with the price they were offering for information. 

Sighing, he rose to clear his head, and perhaps a short ride back into the village to try to glean any more information would help. 

Leaving a note for his valet, he walked briskly down the stable yard, pausing every so often to admire the Earl's horseflesh. Upon getting to his stallion, he beckoned the small ginger stable boy. 

The boy peered up at him, large green eyes round with innocence. "Ye' Henry?" 

Henry started at looked in shock at the small boy's impertinence but felt too drained to be angry. Even some of his most difficult missions had not involved a mourning father and himself being so massively affected by the outcome.

But how did the boy even know his name?

Flashes of recognition came to him of the boy's familiarity with him at the Trent estate. "What's your name boy?"

"Freddie."

So this was the boy who Rosalie had spoken fondly of. 

He bent down to the boy's eye level. "How do you know my name?"

"Me Bruv'ver. Me last name 'tis Castle Millord."

Henry searched through his mind, trying to pick a familiarity with the name. None came.

"I'm not sure I understand Freddie? Is it supposed to mean something?"

"Me bruv'ver, well 'e knows George don't he?"

Henry was getting more tired by the moment. "And who is George?" 

"Well he's your valet in't he?"

He gaped at him, not in truth expecting that answer at all. 

Dragging the small boy by the collar into his valet's room, he looked where upon where his valet was sat polishing some of Henry's finest Hessians.

"Sit!" Henry barked at Freddie and gestured to the wooden chair. 

He locked the door and thundered towards who he thought was his friend and even partner in trouble. 

Brushing him aside, Stephen walked towards the boy and patted him lightly on the back. "Freddie! How are you doing old chap? How's John?"

Freddie jumped on him, squeezing him into a tight hug. "'E misses you like."

Stephen laughed and Henry sat heavily down on the bed holding his head in his hands. "I don't understand."

Freddie, now perched on Stephen's lap, gave him a toothy smile.

"Me bruvver an' George are friends."

At Henry's frustrated face, Stephen explained. "Before I was recruited to be your partner as part of the Home Office, I was a Bowstreet Spy. I assume that's why the Home Office let me in so easily and didn't doubt my background. I worked on a case against the group called the 'Spenceans', a nasty group and an even nastier mission. My actual name is George Edwards. Because this case was so important I was made to change my name to protect the mission and the contacts I made within the group. To have them know I was working with a Duke would have been me out of the group."

Henry sighed and lay back onto the bed. "Carry on." 

"They were inspired by a man called Thomas Spence, a radical who wanted to abolish aristocracy and landlords. His ideas were founded in democracy and freedom to the people, and working against the idea that a name can purely open all doors."

Henry flinched at the passionate tone his friend was taking, and immediately began to mourn the friendship he thought he had with him. If he had hated his name so much, did he like him? He was like a brother, and the loss of that he would mourn deeply. The only person he'd ever been close to, his family.

Stephen, or George as it seemed, carried on. "Spence died six years ago, and ever since the group has been getting larger and more radicalised. Where it used to be peaceful talks, plots of violence have started. That's why I was to infiltrate the groups, to get this information before anything happened."

"John Castle, Freddie's brother was key to one of their violent acts. He witnessed it, and when it was bought up in court, he was brought as witness. We grew close because of this. The group knew he'd seen what they'd done and were planning to kill him, and I needed to keep him safe and speak against those ideas."

Stephen sighed and his voice grew lower. "At the trial everything was perfect until he was called as witness. He made his statement fine, but because he'd done criminal acts himself, his statements were dismissed and the group was let go. I managed to get him to a countryside cottage to keep him safe from the group who were angered and spoiling for a fight. As a result I was tasked of looking after his little brother."

"So he can't be seen in the city?"

"No- this group, now named the 'Spencean Philathropists' has sources and spies everywhere. They're getting worse, not just planning on hurting or maiming, but group deaths and such." His voice was troubled. "You were my perfect cover for these missions, and it's why I applied to work with you with the home office. The Spenceans would think I was a double agent for them, when in fact I suppose I am a triple agent for the Bowstreet Runners."

"Do you think this affair has anything to do with the events of late?"

"Oh, I'm assured it is. Two high members of the peerage, mulitple kidnappings and mystery letters? Sounds like them. I'm worried because I don't know what it means, and I should be informed. If they're planning an attack, we'll be blind."