A Lady's Secret Weapon (21 page)

The hotheaded viscount finally made an appearance. This was the side of him that had led many, including his family and superiors, on one merry chase after another.

“Men of privilege and wealth,” she said in her calmest voice. “Men who care for nothing but their own comforts and desires. Men who abuse their staff and then abandon them to a miserable fate. In sum, the aristocracy, my lord, of which you are a member.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he started pacing again. “Do not think to lump me in with the profligates of my class.”

“Tell me, when was the last time you took up a cause within the House of Lords?”

“You appear to know about a great many things you shouldn’t. Perhaps you already have an answer for the question.”

Sydney did not allow herself to be baited by his petulant comment. She let her silence unfold into an unspoken reprimand.

“I have been somewhat preoccupied of late,” he said, when the silence stretched. “I haven’t had much time for political squabbling.”

“Ah, but effective political debate, or squabbling as you term it, is the backbone, the very marrow, of this great country. Without it, without you, the people have no voice.”

He stared at her long and hard, his eyes burning with thoughts of an inner demon. Angling his head away, he transferred his tortured gaze to the window. “I rarely win an argument with my sister, and I don’t seem to be faring any better with you,” he said with unexpected candor. “How persuasive do you think I’d be in a chamber full of seasoned debaters?”

“Are you implying Cora and I are less fearsome than the House of Lords?”

“Less fearsome? No. More heart, yes.”

Despite the voice of caution echoing between her ears, she said, “Ethan, you’re passionate about everything you do. Passion paired with charm and persistence is a winning, or, if you’d prefer, a deadly, combination.”

With aching slowness, he transferred his attention from the window to her. “Is it, indeed?”

Years of carnal knowledge entered his gaze, transforming his tortured countenance to one of warmth and hunger. She felt the power of his need, all the way to her feminine center. Anticipation. Fear. Unadulterated desire wove its tantalizing tentacles between every muscle, every nerve ending, every dream she possessed.

“Do not think to try to seduce me,” she said. “My life is complicated enough.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated. Only pleasurable.”

“I see you consider the two exclusive of each other.” She poured every ounce of conviction into her next words. “They are not.”

“I assure you, they can be. With the proper guidance.”

“Are you offering your services?”

“If I were?”

Sydney’s toes hung over the precipice of a very bad decision. The businesswoman in her recognized the danger he presented. She did not share her affections often, and never on the level he was suggesting. Despite his assurances, she could lose her heart to this man, especially if she became intimate with him.

On the other hand, she was so tired of being alone. If spending an evening or two in the arms of an accomplished lover could assuage the burdensome emotion, why not learn from one so experienced?

She slid her toes toward the edge another inch. “I would want to know the rules.”

The darkness behind his eyes swirled into a storm. Unfolding his arms, he strode to her. His brawny frame seemed to grow larger and more formidable with each step. She found herself pressing her spine deeper into the chair’s cushioned back. Even while her mind grew annoyed with her body’s subtle act of submission, she gathered herself to do far worse.

“The rules?” he asked. “As in a numbered list?”

Her shoulders squared the slightest bit. “Perhaps not something so formal, but there must be some type of code you mentally tick off.”

He knelt in front of her, his muscular legs spread into a wide vee, cradling her. “Do you take nothing for chance?”

“No.”

He skimmed the back of one finger along her cheek. “My rules were formed by habit, which have now settled into instinct.”

“How many do you have?”

“Perhaps five.”

Five.
She opened her mouth to speak, but had to draw in a breath of much-needed air first. “Instinct Rule Number One?”

The corner of his mouth curled up into a roguish smile. “Never feel with your mind, only your body.”

“My mind?”

“Yes.” He braced his free hand on her chair. “Do not think about the warmth of your lover’s skin against yours, nor the tenderness of his touch. Feel it, enjoy it, but do not think on it. If you do, the memory will soon be etched on your mind and will grow life. And then you will yearn for it, yearn for your lover.” His fingers began an erotic journey. They skimmed down her neck. “Yearning begets need.” Traced over her throat. “Need begets emotion.” And slid up the other side, cupping her cheek. “Emotion begets complication.”

The more he told her not to think about the beauty he designed against her flesh, the more she concentrated on his seductive path. “Number two?” she asked through a shuddering breath.

“Lean forward.”

Heart pounding, she angled toward him, feeling the skin around her stitches stretch. At that precise moment, she would have ripped them all out if that’s what it took to hear his next words.

His thumb swept a caress over her cheek. “Kiss to stimulate your lover’s arousal, not his affections.”

The moment his lush, warm lips nuzzled the underside of her jaw, Sydney’s eyes fluttered shut. She wanted this so badly. Had probably wanted it since the morning he opened his eyes inside the dockside warehouse.

Even then, with his swollen face, split lip, and bruised ribs, she had experienced an unnerving attraction to this man. He seemed broken in more ways than just his body. In the depths of his beautiful eyes, she saw resilience combined with vulnerability, determination with disappointment, and fear with murderous intent. The volatile mix had made her ache to take him into her arms and soothe it all away.

So, when Ethan’s magical lips descended to the hollow of her throat, she could no longer recount the reasons to refuse herself this small moment of ecstasy.

“Arouse, my lord?” she asked in a voice not her own. “Is that what you’re trying to do, or is this merely a lesson?”

“Perhaps it is both. Shall I proceed?”

Time narrowed to a single pulse point on the proprietress’s throat while Ethan awaited her answer. The rhythmic thrust beneath her flesh kept him transfixed long past what was appropriate. He knew he should lift his gaze to hers, but something primal would not allow him to shift his focus from the truth pounding against the curve of her graceful neck.

After weeks of searching, he had finally found his cloaked savior—and his determined nurse. Never once had he considered them one and the same. His pain-induced mind had created a larger-than-life, godlike figure lurking beneath the black cloak. At least now he knew how his savior managed to haul him from the alleyway to the warehouse. Her two hulking footmen could move a small building if they set their minds to it.

He still didn’t know how he felt about the discovery. Last night, his overriding emotion was fear. When he saw Mac carrying her from the carriage into the agency, he was out of his mind with terror. He had struck a friend, not a foe. A woman, no less. A woman who had saved his life. A woman he was growing fonder of by the minute.

Then came the anger at her protectors, the betrayal over her silence, and finally a sense of wonder at her bravery. In the darkness, she had mentioned a business arrangement with Helsford, or, rather, the cryptographer. Did that mean she knew of the Nexus, or did her knowledge stop at Helsford’s special skill? One thing was for certain. If he found out that his friend had known his rescuer’s identity all along, he would rip off the cryptographer’s limbs one by one.

“Please do,” Sydney whispered, wrenching him from his contemplative silence.

When Ethan had thrown out the challenge of engaging in an uncomplicated affair, he never expected the staid and careful proprietress to accept. But she had, and her every act of surrender tore at his heart.

Could he take her to his bed, as he had countless others, and simply walk away? He feared he knew the answer and still could not bring himself to stop. Because he wanted to feel her flesh sliding against his with an almost unbearable need.

He cupped her other cheek. Soft and delicate. Courageous and intelligent. Humble and caring. He held it all in the palm of his hand.

“Shall we make this unforgettable?” He kissed the corner of her mouth.

Opening her wrap, she said, “It already is.” She turned her head until their lips slid into a union so perfect that the backs of his eyes stung with an unfamiliar emotion.

Groaning his approval, he increased the pressure of his lips and then softened them again. Over and over, he built her anticipation and, in return, his. He broke free to sample the vulnerable softness of her long, beautiful neck. The erratic pulse beneath his lips urged him lower and lower until he met the diaphanous barrier of her chemise. The backs of his fingers trailed along the same path as his mouth, not stopping at the fine linen barrier. They trailed over her generous bosom, pausing just before her straining peak.

He ached to take her breast in his mouth, twirl his tongue around her sensitive bud, and draw hard on it until she keened her pleasure. The need to taste her delicate flesh pounded between his ears, deafening him to reason. In less than three seconds, he could have his placard open, her chemise lifted, and his cock inside the slick warmth of her passage. A shudder of repressed passion racked his body, and Ethan nearly spilled right then and there.

Swallowing, he peered up at her. “Not only am I a cad, but I’m also a fool.”

She tunneled her fingers into the hair above his left ear. “No, Ethan. Never.” Arching her back, she brought the object of his torment ever closer to his mouth.

“You don’t understand. My c-control,” his voice cracked, “eludes me with you.”

“Then set it free.” She hooked her fingers over the neckline of her chemise and pulled it low until one perfect mound was exposed. Her fingers curled into the back of his head, and Ethan was lost.

His hand traveled up her rib cage to the underside of her breast, pleased with how she overflowed his large palm. Then his mouth covered her engorged nub, and they both groaned their satisfaction. Her skin was spun from the most exquisite silk, a cool layer of perfection covering molten desire. He inhaled her feminine scent, memorized the texture of her unblemished skin, and trembled against the telling sounds of her passion.

“I have longed to feel you in my arms,” she whispered around harsh breaths.

“As have I.” He retraced his path back up to her lips. Hours. He could spend hours learning every curve and valley of her body, locating every unexplored nook of her mouth.

She skimmed her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. The gesture was equal parts intimate and innocent, and Ethan found himself on the verge of consuming her entirely.

But, in that one simple motion, something reached into the haze of his desire and grasped the last cord of rational thought. She was an innocent. He knew it to the depths of his debauched soul. How she had managed to protect something so precious, given her predilection for dangerous activities and unsavory people, he knew not. She had, though, and she was handing the invaluable gift to him. The realization encased his body in a slab of ice.

He did not deserve such a rich offering. For more years than he wished to count, he had used his body to swindle information from wives and mistresses of powerful men. Good God, did he even know how to make love for pleasure, and pleasure alone? Even if he did, he could not do so with this woman. She deserved far better than the likes of him. A boudoir spy.

And, if all of that wasn’t reason enough to halt this madness, she had sustained a nearly life-ending injury. One delivered by his hand.

With an almost crushing reluctance, he ended the kiss, removed his shaking hands, and sat back on his heels. His nails bit into his palms. After a moment, she opened her eyes, languid and filled with unspent desire. The sight nearly sent him back into her arms. Instead, he managed a smile. “You’re lovely, Sydney. Truly lovely.”

The compliment seemed to shake the languorous hunger from her features. She fixed her chemise, pulled her wrap closed, and folded her hands together in her lap. “A rather vapid c-commentary,” she said, with a slight catch in her throat, “on my ability to stimulate your arousal.”

He wanted to touch her, to reassure her, though he feared making matters worse. “Vapid? My words were not meant to diminish your effect on me. You did quite well in stimulating my interest, I assure you.”

Her attention flicked downward, causing his gut to clench. “Don’t believe me, sweet Sydney? Allow me to show you.”

Rising up on his knees, he watched her expression and knew the exact moment the material of his buckskin breeches grew taut over his painful erection. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.

To make sure she never doubted her power over him, he caressed his pulsing manhood with one long upward stroke and then squeezed. “This is all you, Sydney. All you.”

“If you want me, why did you stop?”

“And run the risk of hurting you more?” He laid his hand on the knee of her injured leg. “I couldn’t.”

The hard click of her swallow reached his ears. He glanced at her and noted tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve upset you. My sister was right. I have the finesse of a battering ram.” Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he once again cradled her cheek within his palm. “Do not cry, I beg you.”

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and pressed into his warmth. Tears filled her lowered lashes until they became too heavy and a fall of liquid pearls dripped onto her cheeks.

“No, Ethan. You did not upset me. Quite the opposite.” She lifted her lids. “You’ve begun to heal my soul.”

Ethan located Helsford at their club on St. James Street.

As he meandered his way through Brooks’s, he searched the exclusive gentlemen’s club for his friend’s familiar queue of long, dark hair. Leave it to Helsford to retain the old ways when men all around him were favoring a shorter, more elegant cut.

He still hadn’t decided how he would broach the subject of Sydney’s connection to Helsford without it looking like she had betrayed a confidence. In the dark alleyway, she had used her partnership with Helsford as a means of keeping everyone calm. She couldn’t have known Ethan would identify her minutes later. After his aborted seduction in her sitting room this morning and her astounding revelation, he hadn’t had the heart to press her on the subject of why she had kept her alternate identity from him.

Though, with a cooler mind, it didn’t take him long to guess at her reasoning. She had no way of knowing how he would react to the news of a woman aiding the Nexus. Would he reveal her secret? Force her to stop? Tell her father? Kill her for knowing too much? Set about destroying her business? He suspected her reticence had something to do with the latter.

The Hunt Agency was everything to her. She had gained independence through her business and provided a much-needed safe haven for her service clients. If she lost the agency, she would not be the only one affected. Something in her past drove her efforts. Drove her to help those who had been wronged by wealthy, narcissistic men.

Ethan’s stride slowed. Could that be what happened to her mother all those years ago? Something awful must have occurred for Sydney not to carry her natural father’s surname. Then he recalled the reason behind her family’s attendance at the Marchioness of Shevington’s dinner party. Sydney’s mother had been a childhood friend of the marchioness’s, a woman born of humble beginnings.

Had Mrs. Pratt been in service? The connection—all the connections—made perfect sense. Sydney’s damning words returned.

Men
who
care
for
nothing
but
their
own
comforts
and
desires. Men who abuse their staff and then abandon them to a miserable fate. In sum, the aristocracy, my lord, of which you are
a member.

How had her mother been wronged? He focused his attention on Sydney’s one comment—
Men
who
abuse
their
staff
and
then
abandon
them
to
a
miserable
fate.
Ethan’s growing elation of piecing together Sydney’s past deflated as the answer became all too clear.

As with so many domestic female servants, Mrs. Pratt must have been the victim of her employer’s lust. Hadn’t Sydney referred to herself as a bastard spinster during their first meeting? Uncovering her mother’s awful secret answered another one of his questions. He now had an idea of what Sydney had survived during the first years of her life. Poverty, ridicule, hopelessness, and a host of other conditions too terrible to contemplate.

No wonder she felt compelled to help others. She remembered. Remembered what it was like to have nothing. Nothing until an act of kindness from one caring individual changed everything. In Sydney and her mother’s case, the act of kindness arrived in the form of Jonathan Pratt.

“Danforth, why are you standing in the middle of the room, looking equal parts murderous and miserable?”

Ethan glanced around Brooks’s drawing room to find it empty except for Helsford, who peered at him above the morning paper. “I was contemplating what I’m going to do to our missing baron when we find him.”

“And the misery?”

“Somerton probably won’t allow it.”

“Ahh, that would explain it. Were you looking for me or someone else?”

Ethan sagged into an adjacent chair, picking up the yellow-and-white-veined marble paperweight. “You.”

Helsford folded the paper and tossed it on a table before leveling his black, unfathomable eyes on him.

“What can you tell me about your informant?”

If anything, Helsford’s face became even more inscrutable.

“An interesting question. Especially since we make it a rule not to discuss our informants.”

“Yes, in most circumstances. I agree it is best not to reveal the details about them. Once we break an informant’s confidence, their trust is lost to us forever.”

“I predict that you’re going to ask me to make an exception.”

Ethan nodded. “For the one who knows you as a cryptographer.”

“You have met, then.”

“The individual I met mentioned a casual business arrangement, so I could only guess as to what that meant.”

“A rather one-sided arrangement, I’m afraid. Specter occasionally solicited news about Somerton, but that’s been the extent of our sharing.”

“Somerton? You did not find that odd?”

“Of course I did. However, the questions ventured no deeper than inquiring about his health.”

Ethan tucked that bit of information away. “Specter, you say?”

“It’s the name I use to summon him,” Helsford said. “I write
Specter
on a piece of paper and place it in any one of a dozen locations throughout the city. A few hours later would find us standing in a dark alcove, one of his choosing.”

“Can you give me the barest of descriptions?”

“Tall, raspy yet menacing voice, hooded cloak.”

Lifting his brow, Ethan asked, “Have you never seen Specter?”

One corner of his friend’s mouth quirked up. “No.”

“How do you know it’s a
him
, then?”

Helsford thought about it for a second. “I suppose I don’t, though I was never given a reason to suspect he was a she.”

“Nor she a he.”

His friend released a wry smile. “True. What do you know?”

This time, it was Ethan’s turn to hesitate.

“Danforth, I’ve given you details about my most valuable spy.” Helsford’s tone was laced with a subtle warning. “I expect the favor to be returned.”

For the first time in days, Ethan allowed himself to view his friend as something other than an adversary for the Chief of the Nexus position. Helsford had the same strength of will and implacable resolve as Somerton. He did not allow his temper, nor his emotions, to guide his decision or actions. The only difference he could see between the two agents was Helsford had a line he would not cross and, as far as Ethan could determine, Somerton had none. Is that what it took to be an effective chief? The ability to command anything—for the greater good? If so, few he knew could live up to Somerton’s standard, but Helsford came closer to the ideal than Ethan.

“You will make a good chief,” Ethan said, surprising himself.

Helsford blinked, uncomprehending. “Are you privy to information I am not?”

Ethan frowned. “Somerton has not asked you to assume the chief’s position yet?”

“No, why would he?”

“Because you are his chosen replacement.” Ethan said the words with care, even though Helsford’s reaction indicated that Somerton had not approached his friend yet about the position. Why was Somerton waiting? The sooner Somerton appointed a replacement, the faster everyone would settle in to the new routine.

“He told you this?” Helsford asked.

“Yes, last Thursday.”

“So long ago,” Helsford mused. “Is that why you’ve been in such a foul mood?”

“You make me sound petulant.”

“Or very disappointed.”

“I had waited a long time for the opportunity.” Ethan heard the defeated tone in his voice. “And then it was gone. My reaction to the news had nothing to do with you.”

“News that never materialized.” His friend’s voice held a new intensity. “I wonder why?”

Ethan waved off the question. “He’s waiting for the right time. Latymer still eludes us, and this issue with Abbingale complicates everything.”

“Why discuss my appointment with you? Do not take offense, but I would think it would be more appropriate to discuss the issue of my appointment with Superintendent Reeves.”

He knew Helsford was right and that his irritation over the comment was unreasonable. But rational thought did not stop him from biting back. “Once he received my blessing, he was going to speak with the head of the Alien Office next.”

“Dammit, Danforth. Did Somerton know how badly you wanted the chief’s position?”

“How could he not? I’ve spent the last decade proving to him that I could step into the position.”

“But did you
tell
him?”

“Of course not. How would I have gone about informing him of my interest?
Say, Chief, when you’re ready to move on, I’d like your position
.”

Helsford’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say to him when he asked for your blessing?”

Ethan glanced away, not wanting to relive the painful memory. “I told him you would not disappoint him.”

“You told him—” Helsford leaned forward in his seat, propping his forearms on his knees. “Did you not think to challenge him on his decision? Did you not try to fight for what you wanted?”

Angry now, Ethan said, “At the expense of my friend? No. Never.”

“And that’s why you’ll never be chief.”

The verbal blow struck with a vehemence that knocked Ethan off-balance. “What did you say?”

“He was testing you, Danforth.”

Ethan blinked, fighting back the strange layer of fog that had settled on his mind. “Testing me?”

“To see how badly you wanted the position.”

“What about you?”

“Somerton knows where I stand on the subject. After his promotion, I made it clear that I had no desire to lead the Nexus.”

“So, it was all a damned lie? How he preferred Cora, but she was too damaged, so he picked you. Though he thought you might be too distracted by your concern for my sister. That’s why he wanted to discuss your appointment with me. I knew you best, he said. Did I think you’d be a liability to the Nexus? he asked.” Ethan shot to his feet and threw the paperweight as hard as he could against the far wall. The heavy marble sank deep. “Who the hell does the bastard think he is to meddle with our minds in this way?”

Rising, Helsford said, “Someone who knows what it takes to lead the Nexus and retain a modicum of his humanity. You have too much heart, my friend. Be glad you escaped.”

Ethan barely heard Helsford’s words. His mind was stuck in a web of humiliation and despair. What would he do now? Knowing the extent of Somerton’s duplicity changed everything. He wished he could purge the last quarter hour from existence, for he could no longer blame Somerton for losing the position. That honor belonged to him, and him alone.

“I must go.” Ethan swung around and made for the exit.

Helsford said, “I haven’t forgotten about Specter. You owe me details.”

“Tomorrow.” It was the only answer he could manage. He needed to clear his head, escape the painful reminders. What he wouldn’t give to sink inside a willing body right now. A woman who didn’t mind it rough and without pleasantries. An image surfaced, with Sydney beneath him, her legs splayed wide and her body rocking with each of his powerful thrusts.

If only she were ready for such an invasion. He wouldn’t stop there, though. Once their bodies had recovered, he would love her again. The next time slow and purposeful. He would make her come first with his mouth and then with his cock, but not until she begged for release.

“Danforth.” A new, familiar voice intruded. “I’m glad to have caught up with you.”

Halting mid-stride, Ethan peered into hard, crystalline eyes. Eyes he’d hoped not to see for a long while.

“Somerton.”