A Spy's Honor (10 page)

“Yes, Lord John is back.” Claire sighed. Even here, she couldn’t get away from him. But she could change the subject. “I was surprised to hear you had come to Town.”

Mrs. Cahill popped up, smoothing back her golden brown locks. “The Season is about to begin. Mr. Cahill and I didn’t want to miss the fun. Stephen was such a killjoy last year, claiming we must remain in mourning for that old codger we didn’t even know.”

“Stephen’s decision was most respectful. Lord Kensworth,
from whom he inherited the title
, had only died a few months prior.” Mrs. Cahill knew this, but she insisted on bringing it up every chance she got. “David came as well?”

“Yes, though he only intends to stay a few days.” Mrs. Cahill examined her fingernails. “You know he much prefers the rough society of Wakebourne.”

David, the youngest of the brothers at twenty-one, did enjoy the country pursuits of hunting, fishing and riding above all else, but Claire wouldn’t call the neighborhood around Wakebourne, Stephen’s Hertfordshire estate, rough. He had made many friends and oftentimes stayed away from the estate for days at a time. Still, Claire preferred his rustic yet enthusiastic company to the cold rudeness of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Cahill.

The tea and Stephen arrived at the same time. “Ah, two of my favorite things, refreshments and pretty ladies!”

He bowed toward both of them, but Mrs. Cahill paid him scant attention. She had already descended upon the biscuits. Claire smiled at Stephen and waited for Mrs. Cahill to pour.

“I’ll have sugar, no cream, Lady Claire,” the other woman commanded once she had swallowed her biscuit.

Claire bit back a sigh and poured a dish for each of them. She didn’t like doing Mrs. Cahill’s bidding, but she also did not want to start a fracas.

Stephen lounged in a wing chair, looking every inch as if he had been born into the aristocracy when in fact he most definitely had not. He was a distant relative of the former viscount, and his branch of the family had fallen on difficult times. But with his finely cut blue wool coat, shiny Hessians and chiseled jawbone, his appearance certainly did credit to the viscountcy. Many in the
ton
hadn’t given him a second look for their daughters, but Claire didn’t give a fig about his less than noble upbringing, and fortunately Allerton hadn’t been so high in the instep either.

He smiled at Claire as he asked, “How was your family dinner last night?”

She barely kept a grimace from her face. “Everyone was in great spirits.”

“And where has the prodigal son been?”

What had she been thinking? Of course Stephen would want to talk about John. His return was
the
big family news. She would have been better off locking herself in her room for the whole day. How could she possibly even answer? She didn’t know where John had been, but she’d bet a sovereign it wasn’t Greece.

So she circumvented the question. “Since I truly hope you are coming to dinner this evening, you can ask him yourself.”

Stephen arched his blond eyebrows. “I thought we were attending the Garretts’ rout tonight?”

“Yes, yes!” Claire almost choked in relief as the words rushed from her mouth. “I had completely forgotten.” She would be gone from Allerton House all evening! A small prayer of thanksgiving was appropriate.

“Good morning, all.” Robert Cahill, as big and as blond as her future husband, greeted them as he strode into the room and made a beeline for the sofa on which his wife reclined. “Do you know, Mrs. Cahill, I believe your life will be made much easier when Lady Claire is moved in here at last.”

There was always the possibility he meant Claire would be welcome female company, but unfortunately she knew Stephen’s brother better than that.

Mrs. Cahill smiled at her husband, her eyes shining. “How so, Mr. Cahill?”

“You will no longer be required to chaperone at all hours.”

Stephen sat up and leaned forward. “Robert, if you cannot be civil—”

“Did I offend?” His brother shrugged a massive shoulder. “I merely meant things will be more convenient for all involved.”

“If you are inconvenienced here, you may set up your own establishment at any time,” Stephen snapped. “Now, if you will excuse us, I must speak with Claire.”

He tilted his head toward the rain-splashed window and stood. Claire joined him there, glad to be away from the others. She couldn’t help feeling a small twinge of guilt, for she did shamelessly use Mrs. Cahill to see Stephen. Then again, Mrs. Cahill could refuse to see her anytime she chose.

Stephen leaned casually against the wall but spoke bluntly, his eyes as green as moss-covered rocks. “Is there some history between you and Lord John?”

Claire shifted her gaze to the window beyond his shoulder. Nothing but girlish wishes and dreams on her part, which she was clearly past.

Pushing away from the wall, Stephen turned his back on the others and spoke in a low voice. “I saw the panic in your eyes when I entered the room. And the way he—”

She cut him off. “I wasn’t panicked. I was surprised.”

“What is he to you?”

Stephen and John would see each other. She’d best explain. “We’d best sit.”

With a sigh she sank onto the window seat. Stephen settled beside her. There wasn’t much room between them, but despite the closeness of his thigh and broad shoulder, her heart continued to beat normally. While the sandalwood scent of him was pleasant enough, it didn’t make her dizzy with—

She quashed those errant thoughts.

She glanced across the room to make certain Mr. and Mrs. Cahill were still absorbed in themselves and then plunged ahead. “In my first Season, my father arranged for me to marry Lord Landry in return for funds with which he would travel. I wasn’t keen about the idea from the beginning, but my father wouldn’t listen, not even after Landry assaulted me.”

Stephen took her hand.

“Allerton and Emily had already left on their wedding trip, so I could not turn to them for support.” She hesitated a fraction of a second. “Lord John came to me with a solution. He offered to marry me. He was very kind.”

Heroic and honorable. She herself had been young and stupid, thinking that he wanted her as much as she wanted him by the end of that trip. That was the brutal truth, and she should embrace it and carry on with her life. Stephen didn’t need all the awkward details.

“Indeed. I cannot help but respect such a gesture,” Stephen said. “But what happened? You obviously did not marry.”

Claire steeled herself. “We left for Scotland late that night.”

Recite the facts,
she told herself. But they’d shared their innermost thoughts until she could no longer keep her eyes open. They’d had so much in common, and despite John’s reserved personality she’d been charmed by his intellect and subtle humor—and the way he’d valiantly swept her off to Gretna Green.

“John’s mother discovered him gone, and after interrogating a footman she discovered our flight. She sent a messenger to Allerton, who had set off earlier with Emily, and he came after us.” She decided to skip over the part about the highwayman. At the time she’d been terribly disappointed in John’s lack of action, but they’d both been so young. How could she expect him to
not
be afraid when they’d had a pistol pointed at them? And who knew? If Allerton hadn’t arrived, perhaps John would have found a way to save the day.

Stephen squeezed her hand, and she offered a smile which could only be called lackluster. She hurried to finish her story.

“Once we explained what happened with Landry, the duke insisted we return home, and Allerton, being Allerton, told Landry that under no circumstances would I be marrying him.” She swallowed, feeling as if a marble were stuck in her throat. “After that, Lord John declared there was no reason we should wed. As no one knew of our escapade, our families agreed to keep it quiet, and Allerton informed my father I was going to reside with him and Emily from that day on.”

She couldn’t say anymore. Inside she felt cavernously empty, as she had then. John had had every right to cry off; he’d only been doing the honorable thing in offering for her in the first place. There had been no need to continue with their scheme. Except…she had thought there was a bond, a strong connection between them.

She had been wrong.

She sensed Stephen’s gaze on her, studying her, and his gentle voice seemed distant. “I must say I am surprised.”

Claire had no idea what surprised him, and she couldn’t focus enough to care at the moment. Sharing her story with Stephen hadn’t relieved her burden. After suppressing her memories and feelings for so many years, they now came rushing back, threatening to suffocate her.

Especially those kisses she and John had shared. In her starry-eyed wonder, she would have bet her come-out Season that he cared for her. That he could have easily fallen in love with her, as she had begun falling for him.

Then he had walked away.

A fortnight after that he had run away to the Continent, leaving her life completely. A few weeks later her father reverted to his restless self and sailed away to the West Indies, leaving all his responsibilities, including Claire, to others once again. She closed her eyes against the warm tears pooling there. The pain and humiliation of all those years ago squeezed in upon her.

“Claire.”

Stephen’s fingers swept lightly down her cheek and she gasped for air, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. As she opened her eyes she saw that he was on one knee in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just—”

“Hush. I didn’t mean to bring up such memories.”

He lowered his head, staring at the floor, and Claire eyed his blond, wavy locks and thick shoulders. In every way they were like chalk and cheese: John was dark-haired, lean, reserved. Stephen was blond, strapping, cheerful. She knew that was part of Stephen’s appeal; he was the opposite of John. More like Allerton, whom, she must admit, she had worshipped when she was younger.

“I think perhaps it was for the best.”

What?
Her mind refocused. “What are you talking about?”

Stephen rose and pulled her up as well. “If you had settled into that marriage of convenience with John, then I wouldn’t have the honor of spending the rest of my life with you.”

Claire smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. He was too sweet. But she needed to be alone. “Oh, Stephen. I’m so lucky to have you. I must be going, however, as I promised to take the children to the park.”

She said goodbye to the Cahills and followed Stephen into the entrance hall.

“He cares about you,” Stephen declared obscurely with a short nod.

“Who?”

“Lord John.”

She ignored the tiniest quiver in her chest and scoffed. “Stop being ridiculous! You do not even know him.” When Stephen opened his mouth as if to protest, she hurried on: “I want to marry
you
, Stephen.”

She did. Stephen knew how to laugh and enjoy himself. He kept her thoughts from turning maudlin. They enjoyed working together. Though she was not in love with him, she cared for him. He wasn’t going anywhere; his roots were firmly planted in England—in Hertfordshire, just miles from her sister’s home.

Regret did not even begin to describe how she felt about her decision to visit Stephen this morning. She would never forgive John if Stephen cried off.

He stared at her for a long moment, as though trying to read her thoughts, and Claire did not look away. What was there to hide? She had grown beyond her wishful thinking and romantic tendencies.

Stephen smiled, creating a dimple in his left cheek. “I cannot argue when you state your desire so clearly. I’m sorry if I distressed you.”

Her breath came more easily, and she smiled in return. “You can make it up to me by taking me for a drive in the park this afternoon.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He kissed the back of her hand, but then his expression grew serious. “It must be deuced awkward living in the same house with him.”

“Stephen,” she said. “It’s not as if John and I had made a love match. At the time we were immature and our heads were filled with the adventure of it all. But that was five years ago. Now, please, let the matter drop.”

He didn’t look as if he wanted to, but he was not as ill-mannered as his brother. “Very well,” he said. “I will fetch you at half past three.”

After a quick glance around the hall, he pulled her close and kissed her. Claire tried again not to be disappointed. She had to stop yearning for that heart-stopping, stomach-tingling sensation. Or maybe she was doing it all wrong.

They both drew back at the same time and stared at each other. She could not fathom the look in his green eyes, so with a soft goodbye she turned and left.

Chapter Eight

John surveyed the voluminous library of Allerton House, trying to remember where
Debrett’s Peerage
was located. He could have walked straight to the history shelf without hesitation; could have plucked a description of the Italian countryside from the shelf without even looking; could have found—in fact, did find—a novel Claire would like; but he didn’t have a clue where the aristocratic reference book was. Anyway, he pulled out the three small volumes of the novel.

“Oh, I…”

He turned to find Claire, flustered, standing in the doorway. They hadn’t seen much of each other over the last three days. She had made herself scarce—having a breakfast tray sent up in the mornings (he had enquired), calling on friends in the afternoons, attending various amusements in the evenings.

“Good morning,” he said while he looked his fill at her. Despite being kept busy with measurements and fittings with Weston, dance lessons with his mother and sister-in-law, and becoming acquainted with his nephew and niece, he had missed Claire. Missed her smile and her opinions. Missed the sight of her gowns clinging to her full curves. This day she wore a frothy pink dress that made her look temptingly sweet.

“I don’t need… I will come back later,” she said, her voice rigid and polite. She turned to go.

As fascinating as her derriere was, John didn’t want to see her leave. “Can you help me? I can’t find
Debrett’s
.”