A Lady's Secret Weapon (11 page)

Dear Ethan,

Teddy said I could ride with you in Hyde Park. Bastian brought Guinevere to London. Mama said to ask when you are available. Guinevere and I thought this morning at ten would be a brilliant time.

Your forever friend,

Sophie Ashcroft

PS—Bastian thought you might still be sleeping at ten. If so, I’m available at ten thirty.

Ethan stared at the missive, knowing instinctively that Somerton, also known as Bastian, was behind this miracle turnaround of Teddy’s response. He dropped the small square of paper on his desk and glanced up at the clock. Nine thirty. Contrary to what Somerton supposed, Ethan had been up since seven contemplating his next reconnaissance of Abbingale.

Now that he had a feel for Abbingale’s daytime activities, it was time to see what they were about at night. He mentally catalogued his repertoire of disguises and decided on black. Simple, uncomplicated black attire.

By being himself, he could move about more freely—something he was quite keen on given his faux pas yesterday. He could not recall the last time he had made such a telling mistake. Mistakes like that got people killed. But the haunted expression Miss Hunt wore when she’d exited the boys’ home made him forget all of his training and experience. He had reacted with a swiftness that hadn’t stopped to consider logic or reasoning. His only thought—to protect. A laughable notion, considering Miss Hunt traveled nowhere without her two strapping footmen in tow.

Then he recalled the odd episode in his study yesterday. Not the shock and dismay she had displayed when he’d thanked her for caring for him. Though her dismay seemed a little out of proportion for such a revelation. No, the moment that returned to his mind again and again was the way she’d recoiled from him. Her face, white and frozen with trepidation. It was not his size she had feared, but his taking control, his caging her within his embrace. His stomach roiled with thoughts of what her reaction might mean.

He could not even allow himself to enjoy the euphoria of discovery. He’d found her. His mousy little nursemaid, who wasn’t so little after all. When the time was right, he would thank her more properly for taking care of him and then set about annoying her every minute of the day until she revealed her cloaked companion’s identity. Although she would like to think so, she was not completely immune to his charm. He had only to relive their kiss to know the truth of it.

Dear God, she had the sweetest mouth. He could have kissed her for hours and have not tired of her response. And her body. Never had a woman fit so perfectly against his large frame. Most times, he worried he would crush his lover, which forced him to hold back his passions—if there had been any to begin with. In the last couple years, there had been none. With Sydney, he sensed that she would be as demanding as he in bed. And she would have been, he was sure of it, if not for the fear. A breath shuddered from between his lips.

The last thing he wanted to do was take Sydney Hunt to his bed to coax information from her. No, when they met skin to skin, he would not have espionage on his mind. The only thing on his mind would be Sydney. Only Sydney, and how he could make her forget the fear.

He checked the clock again and gritted his teeth. Nine forty. Enough time to collect his horse and make it to Somerton House at the appointed hour. Why Sophie Ashcroft had taken a liking to him, he didn’t know. But he had already disappointed her once this week. He couldn’t bear doing so again.

As for Miss Hunt’s past, he stored away that particular mystery for later. Now, he must entertain a miniature banshee who was determined to treat him like an uncle, of sorts. He rotated his head to the left, enjoying the satisfying crackle of vertebrae. Then did the same to the right before rising.

Horses. In the next twenty minutes, he had to come up with enough questions about horses to fill an hour’s worth of time. If he were conversing with an adult, the task would not be too onerous. But a seven-year-old girl? He groaned. No doubt they would spend the entire time chatting about pretty colors and perfect names.

Somehow he would make Somerton pay for his interference. Well, he would once he started speaking to the man again. His mentor’s lack of faith in his abilities still boiled in his gut like sour stew.

When he entered the entry hall, he found Tanner hovering in his usual spot. “I’m off to Somerton House now.”

“Of course, my lord. Your mount’s out front.”

“How did you know I’d need my horse?”

Tanner smiled. “We’re paid to anticipate your needs.”

“Or Rucker enclosed a note along with Sophie’s.”

“That too, my lord.”

As his butler strode away, Ethan experienced a pang of guilt. Why had it taken a ruse for him to realize Tanner needed help? The old retainer had served the deBeaus well over the years, and how had Ethan repaid his faithful service? He had reduced his staff to the point where Tanner acted the butler, footman, valet, and who knew what else. With Miss Hunt’s help, he’d be able to rectify his mistake, and soon.

The moment he closed the door, a familiar voice said, “Going somewhere, Danforth?”

Ethan glanced around to find the Marquess of Shevington alighting from his carriage. Seeing his friend during the day—again—shocked him so badly that all he could manage was a disbelieving stare.

“Your mouth is agape, Danforth. It’s not complimentary.”

“What induced you to venture out mid-morning? Must be something dire for you to brave running into nannies and babies.”

“You should never try to be humorous before the midday meal,” Shev said. “It doesn’t take hold.” He paused while a stable lad delivered Ethan’s mount. “Do you have a social engagement?”

“Yes. I am to meet a young lady for a ride in the park.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Doubtful. She’s seven.”

A look of horror crossed Shev’s face. “My condolences, old man.”

“You would like her,” Ethan said, feeling protective. “As a matter of fact, she reminds me a lot of you. Care to walk with me to Somerton House?”

“Walk?” Shev asked as if the act were a foreign notion. “Why don’t you tie your mount to the back of my carriage and then we can avoid such exertions.”

“Come. The exercise will do you good, and you can astonish me with the reason for your visit as we stroll.”

The marquess released a groan of resignation. “Taylor,” he said to his coachman. “Drive on to Somerton House. I’ll trudge along behind.”

“Yes, sir.”

A snap of the reins sent the marquess’s carriage lurching forward. Ethan motioned to the stable lad holding his horse to follow. In order to make his appointment with Sophie Ashcroft, he would have to set a brisk pace. Knowing Sophie, she’d probably had her pixie face plastered against the front window since dispatching her invitation. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that patience was not one of the girl’s virtues. A characteristic they both shared.

“What can I do for you, Shev?”

“Perhaps I am here to help you.”

“Are you?”

The marquess smiled. “Yes and no. I have both a favor to ask of you and an invitation. Which would you like to hear first?”

“I have a feeling neither is going to be enjoyable. Let us start with the worst of it.”

“Your dear sister Cora is in France, is she not?”

Ethan’s humor drained away. “Not any longer. She returned to England not long ago.”

“I see.” A note of disappointment tinged the marquess’s words. “Then you may forget the favor.”

“Do you need to contact someone there?” Ethan asked, despite his better judgment. After what they went through to bring Cora home, he had an aversion to all things French.

Shev waved a negligent hand in the air. “It’s nothing. An idle curiosity that will be forgotten within the hour.”

“You’re sure?” Ethan studied the pensive expression his friend could not quite mask.

“Quite. Now let us get on with the excessively bad news.”

“I thought we had decided to save the best for last.”

“And have you dread our entire conversation?” Shev asked in mock indignation. “I am not so callous as that, Danforth.”

“Spill it.”

“Mother is having a dinner party tonight, and one of her gentlemen guests can no longer attend. Her table now has an uneven number of ladies versus gentlemen. You have come through for her before, and she’s hoping you would be willing to do so again.”

Ethan adored Shev’s mother. Spending time in Lady Shevington’s company was both a blessing and a curse. In many ways, she reminded him of the mother he had lost years ago. A strong, intelligent woman dedicated to her family and generous to others. “You know I would do anything for your mother,” Ethan said. “But the timing is not convenient.”

“I was afraid that might be the case. Normally, I would not press the issue, but this evening is special to her and I would like to ease her mind.”

“What is so special about this dinner?”

“You might recall that my mother did not come from aristocratic stock,” Shev said. “She has invited many of her childhood friends and their families to dine tonight. Some of them she has not seen in years.”

“Is there no one else you can ask?” The question was irrelevant, for Ethan could never say no to Lady Shevington. She had been far too good to him over the years, asking nothing in return—except the occasional evening of the numbers.

“No one other than Helsford, and I have not seen him about town for some time.”

That’s because he’s too busy assuming his new role as Chief of the Nexus.
“I’ll be there, Shev. What time?”

“Eight.”

Ethan glanced ahead and noted that they were only a few houses away from his destination. A familiar churning began in the pit of his stomach. What were the odds of him striding inside, snatching up Sophie, and escaping to the park without coming face-to-face with Somerton?

Zero. None. Naught.

They paused beside Shev’s carriage. “See there.” Ethan strove for a bit of levity. “You walked briskly for nearly a quarter hour and didn’t have to stop once because of a stitch in your side.”

A footman jumped off the back of the marquess’s carriage, scrambling to open the door and set the steps down. Shev placed a foot on the bottom step. “I bravely ignored the horrible cramp in my right calf.” His brows drew together. “What the devil is that atrocious noise?”

Ethan cocked his head and listened. “It’s a bird, Shev.”

“Well, make it stop.” His friend rubbed his temple. “All this walking and squinting against the sun has given me a megrim. One more piercing tweet from that feathered beast and my head will splinter in two.”

Waving the marquess inside, Ethan said, “You’ve been upright too long. Go home and get some sleep before your mother’s dinner party. She won’t be pleased if you arrive looking like a dissipated sot.”

After Ethan closed the carriage door, Shev nodded toward Somerton House. “There’s a ginger-haired creature bouncing in the window. Good day, Danforth.”

Sure enough, Ethan turned his back on his departing friend and found Sophie Ashcroft jumping up and down and waving at him. Before he knew what was happening, his lips curled into an answering smile and he waved back, which then prompted her to dash off. His smile faded and he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed him acting the fool. The moment his gaze completed its sweep of the area, shame crept into his cheeks. What did he care if Somerton’s neighbors saw him waving like a schoolboy to the girl? Few could withstand such an enthusiastic welcome.

Despite her father’s frequent and long absences prior to his murder, Sophie appeared to be a joyful child, always nattering on about inconsequential things and flitting from one interesting object to the next. She reminded him of a butterfly, but without the delicacy. Ethan wondered if she would ever learn the reason behind her deceased father’s sacrifices and, as a consequence, her sacrifices. He shrugged off the thought. Whatever Catherine Ashcroft and Somerton decided to tell the child about her father’s role in the conflict with France would no doubt be the right thing for Sophie.

The entrance door swept open. “Ethan, you made it.” Sophie barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She tilted her head up, revealing pretty blue eyes. “Guinevere will be so happy.”

He tapped her nose. “And what of you?”

She sent him a broad grin. “Mama said the park will be full of horses.”

“Yes, indeed. In all the various shades and sizes.” Ethan motioned to the entrance hall. “Shall we collect your nurse?”

“I need a new one.”

Ethan blinked. “A new what?”

“Nurse,” Sophie said. “Mrs. Denton retired. Mama said it’s time for me to have a governess, anyway.”

“Good morning, Lord Danforth,” Catherine Ashcroft said. “You received Sophie’s invitation, I see.” Her warm smile broadened in much the same way as her daughter’s.

“She could not have timed its arrival any better,” he said. The girl in question beamed with delight at his praise. “Sophie mentioned that she has no nurse to join us.”

“True,” Catherine said. “Now that things have settled down into a normal rhythm, I’ll begin the search for a governess.” She hugged her daughter to her side. “My little girl is growing up.”

Unbidden, an image of Miss Hunt materialized in his mind. He wondered if her services extended to governesses.

“If you’re amenable, my lord,” Catherine said, “I thought I would join you and Sophie.”

“What of Somerton?”

“He left a little while ago to attend some business at the Foreign Office.”

Relief swept through Ethan. Not only would he not have to entertain Sophie for an hour by himself, he was saved from an awkward meeting with Somerton. His mood improved by volumes. He glanced down at Sophie, who vibrated with the need to be off. Not unlike a thoroughbred at the starting gate.

“Then let us dally no longer,” Ethan said. “I’m sure Guinevere is more than ready to stretch her legs.”

“Splendid!” Sophie bolted for the door, leaving her mama and Ethan to follow at a more sedate pace.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Catherine said, pulling on her gloves.

“You’re welcome. I think. What have I done to deserve your thanks?”