A Lady's Vanishing Choices (10 page)

She shivered and her whole body hummed with tension. Every nerve tingled alive to his nearness, to the hard timbre of his voice, and to his caress that seemed to touch her with fire.
What is he on about? Will he kiss me? Do I want him too?

He waited with raised brows. “No answer?” After a long pause, he continued, “Of course not. My brother is susceptible. Keep your spells for someone who will know how to deal with your bewitching charms.” He pulled her into a firm embrace and brushed a feather light kiss on her lips.

Bethany didn’t immediately reject him. She couldn’t. Not thinking to end the kiss or fight his close embrace, she could only feel. Yes, she wanted to taste his lips.

“You go to a man’s head like fine wine, even mine,” he whispered, kissing her again more deeply.

She never realized a kiss could affect even her breathing. His tongue nudged her lips apart to delve inside, to taste, to penetrate and explore the sweet recesses of her mouth, plunging and retreating, inviting her to reciprocate. Her tongue tentatively touched his. When he drew back, she stood dazed, eyes wide, silent in his embrace for a long, breathless minute.

When she gathered the remnants of her aplomb, she jerked free and slapped his face. In the ominous silence that followed, she stared up at him with her fingers against her lips.

He gazed down into her eyes, his expression controlled. A cynical smile touched his lips. “I apologize.”

She turned and ran toward the light inside. When she reached the doorway, she flung a heated remark over her shoulder. “Make Perry stay away from me if you’re so concerned for him.”

Without another backward glance, she shuddered and entered the house. She could still feel the strength of his arms, the pressure of his lips on hers, and the answering stir of her blood that his kiss had summoned.
Blast.
Her hand trembled when she raked a wisp of hair off her brow.

If she’d known how devastating his kiss would be, she would have fought with everything in her being to have avoided this party tonight, and his kiss. She’d strived to stifle her attraction to him unsuccessfully. Finding the warning kiss humiliating, simply because it had been a warning, had sent her senses reeling. She longed to be held in his strong arms as a desirable woman, to be loved and cherished by him. Gasping, she froze in place.
I’m insane. I don’t want his love. To be loved by him would be
totally devastating.

Gertrude met her at the door and malice gleamed in her eyes. “Exactly where have you been young lady?”

“Only on the balcony for a breath of fresh air. I felt faint with the heat.”

“A likely story.” Gertrude’s features stiffened and she gritted out, “You’re trying to gain attention again. You are far more ill than one imagined and, in future, you shall be left at home to garner your strength. As your family, we must guard you from yourself and a disgrace of your own making. You and I shall retire. I’ll send the carriage back for Littleton and Eleanor. Come along.”

Disappearing outside had been a grave error in judgment
.
This could well be her last appearance in society, just when she had started to spread her wings to fly. Perhaps this consequence was
what Royce intended all along?

“Littleton shall be informed of your behavior,” Gertrude snapped and grabbed her by the arm.

Chapter 12

Frustrated, Royce slapped the banister with the palm of his hand. Well, that encounter certainly had been a mistake from start to finish.

His first miscalculation had been following Sir Frank Blair’s servant out into the night.
Blair, one of the blasted spies I have the privilege of hosting. Him and his nosey servants.
Only this afternoon, Royce spied the man shuffling through private papers on the desk in his study.
Am I being investigated as well, or is the servant in league with the traitor?
He needed the answer.

Then Bethany had appeared on the balcony, raising his suspicions. Her hasty exit from the ballroom, practically on the heels of the servant, set off alarm bells. He remained still, waiting to see what she would do. She headed in his direction, possibly to wait for her cohort. How could he have resisted finding out her destination?

Blister it.
He hadn’t wanted to find her guilty of treason, or of meeting with the servant, but why else had she venture out into the semi-darkness of the balcony? A well brought up young lady would never act in such a disreputable fashion. However, hoyden had exactly described his impression of her when she nearly ran him off the lane in a wildly careening gig.

His second mistake had been kissing Bethany, and it had gained him nothing but discomfort. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing of his body. He couldn’t allow a simple kiss to distract him from his purpose
.

He glanced at the door where she disappeared and rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Confound the woman.”

She had him tied in knots, leaping from one disaster to another. Mysteries followed closely on her heels. Mysteries he must solve. Why had someone attempted to put a period to her life by running her down with a gig?
Tonight, when she followed the servant outside, she ran straight into trouble—me.

Royce emitted a savage oath under his breath and groaned while her image floated in his mind’s eye. The becoming style in which she’d fashioned her hair exposed the finely sculpted planes of her face, her high cheekbones and very fine eyes, drawing his gaze to her soft mouth, so close, so alluring.

He simply couldn’t deny the temptation her moist lips had offered, and the kiss knocked him sideways. A singing sensation exploded around him, and he nearly burst into flames. He hadn’t counted on her having such an effect on him, or he never would have kissed her.

Why lie? Certainly he would have kissed her. He couldn’t resist.
The sweetness of her soft body when she yielded had set him in a spin—still had his senses reeling, even now.

Remember, she may be involved in treason.

Against his will, Royce found his protective instincts surfacing. Perhaps she had been misled, tempted to escape her situation. There could be a hundred other reasons for her actions. She was more than likely misguided, instead of guilty. That must be the way of it.

Clenching his teeth against the ill luck that had allowed her to attend his soirée, he muttered to himself, “If only she hadn’t shown to such advantage in that lovely gown, I would have avoided that kiss.”

He couldn’t afford to allow his emotions to lead his head. Although he must discover everything possible about the curst Littletons, Bethany had turned into his
stumbling block
.
Worse yet, tonight Perry had been enthralled by her enhanced appearance, her grace, even her shyness.
Blister it.

Royce shook his head, more determined than ever to step between her and his brother. He certainly couldn’t stomach Bethany as his sister-in-law.
No, indeed.
Wise enough not to tread on dangerous ground, he planned to see that a marriage between those two never happened.
One look from those big eyes would be his undoing
.

Hopkins must be the one to spy on her. After all, he’s a spy and he’d be willing enough, but would it answer?

Uncertain of exactly what he hoped to achieve by following her inside, he stepped back toward the ballroom. When he entered, he glanced around, but Bethany had vanished from sight. His soul-searching moments out on the balcony allowed plenty of time for her to disappear. He bit back a savage curse and tightened his lips.

With a purposeful stride, he stepped into the adjoining room, surveying each person in turn, and he noted Sir Blair talking to his servant. Perhaps he’d best tip the nod to Sir Blair as to his man’s suspicious behavior.

At his approach, Eleanor glided into his path. “You remembered our dance, after all. When you fled the scene, as it were, my hopes were dashed.”

“Beg pardon. I stepped out to blow a cloud.”

“Mother objects to such a nasty habit.” Eleanor giggled and pouted up at him. “Personally, I don’t mind the smell of a fine cigar.”

Of all the inconvenient times to catch him out, this was the worst
.
Gathering his gentlemanly aplomb around him like a cloak, Royce smiled, bowed, and guided her into the swirl of dancing figures. Even with her blonde curls, her appeal to his senses had faded, replaced by another pair of eyes and soft lips. It wasn’t Eleanor’s fault he lost interest. He flexed his jaw in contempt for himself, but he continued thinking of Bethany, even with the lovely Eleanor in his arms.

What am I doing? If anything happens to Bethany, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I must focus on what’s important instead of guarding myself against her. I am attracted, more than attracted. I must help her, protect her from whatever is threatening her.
If she was guilty of abetting a traitor, could he bring her off safely? If he managed such a feat, he intended to marry her, to give her mind another direction.
I must speak to Perry, but not tonight.

Royce squared his shoulders and continued to act the host for the remainder of the evening, dancing, conversing with one and all, while he kept a constant eye out for Bethany. She failed to reappear, and the rest of the soirée seemed to drag on forever.

His ability as a spy seemed to have withered away. Nothing had been proven about Bethany one way or the other, and he’d gathered no further information on Lady Littleton either. Sir Blair’s servant had met someone on the grounds, but he’d only been absent for a short while. Royce hoped John and Sir Blair had more success. They were the officials in this game he no longer wanted to play.

Royce managed to corner Sir Blair. He watched every expression closely and not a flicker of playing a different game crossed Sir Blair’s face. “Blair, am I under suspicion and being investigated as well?”

“Certainly not, as far as I’m aware. What’s the problem?”

Royce rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Earlier today, I caught your man glancing at some private papers on my desk. I didn’t allow him to see me. Tonight I watched him slip outside onto the grounds. I followed, but could find no trace of him. I don’t know if it means anything or not, but why the snooping?”

“Indeed? It’s a curst thing when one can’t control or trust what’s under one’s very nose. I shall relieve him of his most sensitive duties until he is investigated.”

“That would be wise.” Royce avoided the dance floor for what was left of the evening and surveyed each guest, watching for anything suspicious. Finally carriages lined up outside the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Royce stared after the departing guests and thoughtfully closed the door on the last visitor. “I think that went well enough.”

Sara sank into a nearby chair. “The party was a smashing success. Quite delightful.” She brushed back a fallen lock of hair. “There were not too many wall-flowers, thanks to all of you gentlemen.” She smiled around at her husband, her cousins, and Charles.

Perry grinned and executed a neat bow in her direction. “Glad to be of service. I enjoy doing the pretty for adoring females. I like to see their eyes glaze over with pleasure.” He grinned. “But I am a little disgruntled. Bethany seems to have disappeared. I looked for her, but couldn’t find her.”

Sara sniffed and with a disgusted huff, she said, “Poor girl. Her aunt seems to take pleasure in giving her a scold. Lady Littleton caught her coming from the balcony and acted as if she is ruined for life. No longer than a few minutes, I dare say. And her aunt drags her off home. It’s disgraceful.”

Royce bit back a groan. Had he been the cause of a disagreement with her aunt? No.
She followed him outside, or stepped out for a breath of fresh air
.
He avoided deliberately linking her to the servant, but he couldn’t keep it from flashing into his mind.

“Bethany is my cousin and I don’t care to see her mistreated.”

Royce rocked back on his heels. “Your cousin. Why didn’t you mention that bit a little earlier, as in when you first discovered she is one of my neighbors?”

“I was only a child when she went to live with her uncle, and I didn’t remember. But I could never forget her eyes.”

Royce couldn’t keep the caustic note from his voice. “And your point?”

Sara erupted, “I’m certain my Uncle Phillip is her true guardian and not that awful Arthur Littleton.”

Chapter 13

Freddy gulped as he eyed Aunt Gertrude. He couldn’t imagine what she wanted of him. Some tedious task, no doubt. Furniture wax assaulted his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He allowed a small grimace to pass as a greeting.

She smiled her usual condescending stretch of the lips and waved him to a seat. “Freddy, the very person I have need of. So fortunate you chose to visit today.”

The old bat. She thinks I fear her. Little does she know about my true dealings with her kind, maw worms all, milling their way through society with contempt for us lesser beings.

He raised his brows. “And how may I be of service, dear aunt?”

“First, you may refrain from trying to turn me up sweet. I’m not easily gulled. So let us be frank. There is a certain mutual acquaintance, shall we say. I must contact him. You shall take a message to him for me.”

“Aunt.” He shook his head and drew his brows together in a frown. “What can you mean? And if the message is so urgent it requires immediate delivery, why do you not have one of your servants deliver it?”

She cleared her throat. “Discretion, my dear fellow. I don’t wish to involve a mere servant. No more beating about the bush. You must carry a message to the Frenchman for me.”

Freddy gasped. “Frenchman? What could you mean? I know no Frenchman. At least, not a special one. They abound in today’s society, but I’m afraid that is all I know.”

“Do not be so disobliging, Freddy. You know perfectly well to whom I am referring. He let drop a little information. Accidently, you understand.” Her smile hardened and became predatory. “You are his go between. I doubt he realized he was giving away a secret. I demand you carry a message to him at once.”

“But, Aunt,” he stammered.

“No buts. Here is the message. I’m certain you know where to find him. I do not and cannot mount a search. I’ll be discovered.”

Freddy dropped his chin. When she had that look in her eye and her lips thinned in a straight line, there was no gainsaying her.

“Very well.” He threw his head back. “How did you become involved with the Frenchman?”

“That’s none of your affair. Now, don’t linger. I need this message delivered soonest.”

A short while later, Freddy left the house and urged his mount onward, cutting through the fields and over-grown bushes, straight towards the forest. He didn’t particularly care for the profusion of snowdrops hovering at the edge of the clearing, or the tall grasses of the meadow brushing against his horse’s legs. He wished his curst aunt at the devil along with her messages. Pale sunlight danced through the budding foliage of spring, shading the pathway from full sun, which he considered a small blessing. He didn’t wish sweat to ruin his favorite jacket.

He furtively glanced over his shoulder, certain he’d left every witness far behind, but he didn’t relish the thought of anyone noting the direction he had taken or the path he had chosen to follow. Traveling for over three quarters of an hour, he arrived at his destination. He let out a string of curses when he viewed a horse tied in front of the old, thatched-roofed shack of waddle. Disgruntled to find the Frenchman already at the shack, he hunched his shoulders.

Freddy strode into the derelict cottage with his saddlebags over one shoulder. Sun streamed through the broken window and the partially caved in roof. Dust danced in the beams of light, settling over the grime covering a rickety chair and table in the middle of the mud floor.

The Frenchman glanced up from his papers and gold coins scattered on the table before him. He nonchalantly leaned back in his chair and stared at Freddy with a dissatisfied frown. “You’re late, Agent.”

The Frenchman always called him Agent, to belittle him, no doubt. He was sick of everyone picking on him. Even Aunt Gertrude, with all her foibles, made him sound a maw worm.

Freddy retuned his frown with a glower. Throwing his leather bags on the table, he plopped down in a less than sturdy chair. “I had the deuce of a time of it. Trying to escape notice, hiding like a dashed schoolboy avoiding his tutor. No sense in it. No one in that household would care or even notice when I come and go, except that antiquated old fidget of a butler.”

“Caution, Agent,” the Frenchman advised with a level stare. “I call the tune.”

Freddy threw up one hand. “I’m not disputing that. I sent the ol’ sod about his business with a flea in his ear.”

“Agent, I’ve warned you not to make a stir. Just ease along in the background.” The Frenchman mocked, “It’s what you do best.”

Freddy fired up. “And what would you do without me? You mock me with the name Agent. Besides, no one is here to care if you call me by my name or not. I’m quite tired of it,” Freddy announced in a belligerent tone.

“No need to take a pet. Control your emotions the way I do, calm and collected.” The Frenchman grinned. “Besides, Agent suits you. We want no real names used here or abroad,” he warned. “Remember, we all have superiors, both here and in France.”

“As you say.” Freddy shrugged and concluded with a grimace, “Very well, gentleman and agent it shall be.”

“Now show me what you have.” The Frenchman reached and drew the saddlebags across the table.

Freddy snatched the bags back to rest in front of him and unbuckled the straps. “That’s for me to do.”

“Not all that much but still—a little.” Freddy giggled and picked some more papers from the satchel. “Government coves, ripe for a bribe—sympathizers and the like. The when and where of the latest secret meeting place. An invitation to a ball and dinner where dignitaries shall abound. A house party, no less. And by the way, your contact sent a message.” He handed his aunt’s note to the Frenchman.

A deadly glimpse of amusement lit the Frenchman’s dark eyes, sending a chill down Freddy’s back.

The Frenchman gave a satisfied smile. “Very good, my friend. Very good indeed.”

He slid a folded and sealed piece of foolscap toward the agent. “These are your new instructions.” He held Freddy’s weak gaze to emphasize his position of power. “The wax isn’t stamped with my seal. I misplaced the curst thing but that don’t signify. You’ve received them from my own hand.”

The cow-hearted fribble. He has no idea his usefulness is almost at an end. I would love to end it now, but his contacts are still valuable. The stupid little man is nothing but a whip-straw. The world would be a better place without him.

Freddy rose from his chair, tried to loosen his cravat with one finger, and announced, “I must get back.”

The Frenchman watched from the table while Freddy rode away.

“Do you think he’s stable enough to trust?” a voice came from behind the Frenchman.

The gentleman had a stern expression when he stepped into the room from his sheltered position behind a collapsed wall. He swiped at his receding hairline and patted his upper lip with a handkerchief. His shaggy brows were drawn in a frown, and his sharp eyes held doubt.

“Well, Sir. He is so cow-hearted, there’s no saying. I have a bloke installed in the stable to keep a close watch on him, so he’s safe enough.”

“See that you do keep watch, my boy,” the gentleman advised. “I see your opinion coincides with mine about the boy. It would never do for him to discover my identity.” He patted his brow with his handkerchief once again. “Personally, I never thought the boy had it in him—spying and all,” he uttered with a grimace. “An incurable piece of folly to use such a tool. Still I suppose it shall answer.” He inspected his surroundings and frowned. “This seems a curst dangerous spot to meet. Too near Birdelwood Manor to suit my taste.”

“Close enough to be convenient, but hidden. No one comes this way,” the Frenchman assured him with confidence.

“We’re nearing the end now, so hold steady,” his superior advised. He scooped up the satchel and strode to the door. “I must be off. I have a trusted courier ready to carry all of this to France and my contact.” He glanced from under his brows. “Do you think your tool can be trusted to secure that secret memorandum for us?”

“He certainly has access to places I don’t,” the Frenchman allowed, hearing the trace of bitterness in his own voice. “You could take the memorandum without involving him. Why don’t you?”

The gentleman’s eyes widened in alarm, and he waved his handkerchief as if to wipe away any threat. “No. No, none of that. My name can’t be linked with the disappearance of the memorandum or any of this.”

The Frenchman leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He shrugged. “It is astounding how he can flitter in and out of high places without the least concern about his presence.”

“That’s precisely why he may yet prove invaluable to us. Your lovely sister invited him to join us in our little games, I believe. Perhaps that was wise, after all. At first, I never thought the tone of his mind superior enough to serve us. It appears I was mistaken.”

The Frenchman acknowledged the statement with a slight nod.

The older gentleman raised his bushy brows and stared at him. “I don’t need to remind you that we must have that list of agents friendly to England. Bonaparte’s resurgence shall avail nothing if those infernal spies bring us down.”

“Agreed. I don’t know how a Frenchman, even half French, who could turn his back on France. It’s unthinkable.”

The older gentleman shrugged his shoulders. “They hope to hold on to their wealth here in England, and in France as well. Can’t blame the chaps.” He chortled. “Blunt is reason enough. What I’m after. Still, it’s dangerous to us. Every effort must be made to root them out.”

“Too true,” the Frenchman drawled.

“I’ll let you know when we’re to meet again.” With a cheery wave, the older gentleman trod out the broken door and rode away.

The Frenchman could barely control the urge to laugh laugh out loud, long and hard.
How true, how true, we are nearly at the end. Wonder how you’ll appreciate the evidence already stacked against you at the Horse Guards? You’ll receive the blame. I’ll have all the glory.”