A Spy's Honor (2 page)

A movement near his middle caught her attention. He pulled aside his grey coat and gestured at his waistcoat.

An ordinary black waistcoat…with tiny stars embroidered in peach-colored silk.

She lifted her lashes and spied the slightest curve of his lips. A flush of heat flowered in her stomach and spread outward to her skin.

“It suits you, Lady Claire.”

Not the most effusive or poetic compliment, but then the only compliments she ever heard were the ones from Allerton directed at her sister. The sincerity in Lord John’s voice stoked that simmering fire within her and she found herself smiling up at him.

“Thank you for the dance,” she said.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I was honored.”

No, he was
honorable,
and she was an idiot to have questioned his motives. On an impulse, she laid her hand upon his sleeve. “Do you know Lord Landry?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know Lord Scarlet-Cravat from Lord Padded-Calf.”

Claire giggled and squeezed his arm. “Oh that’s simple enough. Lord Scarlet-Cravat is married to the former Miss Diamond-of-the-First-Water, who was once wooed most arduously by Lord Padded-Calf until his mother’s third cousin twice removed caught his eye and set his heart aflame.”

That bit of nonsense earned her a full-blown smile, and stupidly enough her heart basked in the warmth of his delight.

“Claire.”

The coldness of her father’s voice froze every ounce of enjoyment she’d been able to scrape up in the last twenty minutes. She whisked her hand off Lord John’s arm and faced her parent, who swept a hand toward the man by his side. “May I present Lord Landry?”

Oh, to refuse. She would not, however, cause a stir at her sister’s wedding ball.

Claire curtsied and scrutinized the man her father wanted her to marry. Lord Landry was ancient. Perhaps not literally, but to her sight he was. His brown hair had gone grey at the temples and tiny lines shot away from his eyes like spokes on a carriage wheel. Those eyes, a dark grayish blue, held no life. They weren’t serious and introspective like Lord John’s but simply…bleak. Was that what one had to look forward to after the age of forty?

She roused herself and introduced Lord John to the older man. Landry spared him a glance and then eyed Claire again. “I assume you are enjoying the festivities?”

She had been until her father turned up with his scheme. “Yes. I’m happy to share in the joy of my sister’s wedding.”

“My own sister and I don’t entertain much. I’ve better uses for my time and funds.”

Bleak indeed. Claire’s ever-present romantic hopes began to fade. They’d become too full-blown anyway, especially after the whirlwind courtship of her sister and the duke. “I see. May I ask what sort of pursuits you do find worthwhile, my lord?” Beside her, Lord John shifted and his arm settled just behind hers. Claire caught another whiff of that delicious almond soap.

Landry flicked his gaze over her, lingering on her neck of all things. “I have my amusements.”

Though the words were innocent, Claire shivered.

“What ho! All the family together, how perfect,” Allerton exclaimed as he, Emily and his mother the dowager duchess joined their circle. “I have had as much dancing and congratulating as I can tolerate and now I intend to whisk my wife off on our honeymoon.”

“Ah, before you go”—Claire’s father straightened his spine and spoke slowly, probably trying to appear sober—“might I introduce Lord Landry? He has asked my permission to court Claire.”

Though already acquainted with the dowager, Landry was quickly introduced to Allerton and Emily.

“I look forward to furthering our acquaintance,” said the duke.

“We’ll have you to dinner as soon as we return,” offered the new duchess. And then the two were wishing everyone farewell, starting with the dowager and Claire’s father.

Claire glanced up at John, who gave her a sympathetic look as if he too knew what it was like to be forever pushed to the background. Claire couldn’t entirely blame Allerton and Emily for their eagerness to be off, but once again she was being left behind. This time by her sister, and this time with the prospect of a virtual stranger awkwardly courting her at her father’s behest. And who knew how soon her father would be gallivanting off once more?

Emily embraced her and whispered, “Oh, Claire, how exciting that you might have a wedding to announce when we come back!”

When Emily abruptly released her and turned, Claire was left a little off balance. John placed a steadying hand on her back. Allerton then swooped in and kissed her cheek, which normally would have made her blush fiercely, but John hadn’t removed his hand and his touch sent a delicious shiver up her spine.

Allerton patted his brother on the shoulder. “Don’t get so caught up in your work that you forget to visit Gentleman Jackson’s every day. Oh, and upon my return, little brother, remind me to speak to you further about that offer from Lord Castlereagh.”

At last the dowager duchess herded the bride and groom off; the two of them were free to leave on their wedding trip while the rest of the family had to remain at the ball to entertain the guests through the last few dances and the midnight supper. Claire tried to look anywhere but at Lord Landry or her father.

“Well, Landry, you’d better ask her to dance, right eh? You know how these young girls are.”

Claire wanted to melt into the wall. Landry looked as if he’d rather walk through eight inches of sheep dung than dance with her but dutifully held out his hand. Claire shrank away, bumping into Lord John.

“I-I’m afraid Lady Claire is promised to my cousin for the next dance,” he said, his voice almost too soft to hear.

“Well then—,” her father began.

“And my friend Mr. Dutton has asked for the next dance after that.” His words were more confident now, slightly louder. “Then we are to the supper dance, and Allerton specifically asked me to partner with Lady Claire for that and take her in to supper.”

Annoyance crept across her father’s bleary face but Lord John had played the winning card. No one could possibly gainsay Allerton’s wishes, their host and a powerful duke to boot.

Landry bowed and stepped back. “I give way to youth and enthusiasm.” Then he disappeared into the crowd before Claire could blink.

“You should mind your own business, boy,” her father barked. “She’s talked about nothing
but
marriage all Season long. I found her a husband and she hasn’t shown an ounce of gratitude.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “It needed to be done. I have traveling plans.”

He stumbled away, still muttering, and Lord John held out his arm. “I’d best introduce you to my cousin.”

Claire looked up at him and saw the same powerlessness she was feeling reflected in his eyes. Yet, he’d stood up for her, had pushed back at her father. Yes, he’d helped her. Though he didn’t look like one, he was definitely a knight errant. “Thank you. Thank you for…coming to my aid.”

She spent the next hour dancing with first John’s cousin and then his friend. Both were pleasant fellows who didn’t seem to mind in the least being called on to partner Claire. This, along with the dancing itself, helped to restore her mood, and able to think more rationally she told herself all would turn out right in the end. If she didn’t find Lord Landry suitable over the next few weeks, Emily and Allerton would put a stop to her father’s scheme when they returned. She couldn’t be forced to marry the baron, after all.

After a trip to the retiring salon, Claire realized she was late for the supper dance, so she set off in search of Lord John. She’d enjoyed his company far more than she’d thought she would.

“Lady Claire.” Lord Landry slid up beside her, offering his arm. “Do accompany me on a turn around the room.”

She
would rather wade through sheep dung. However, she must give him a chance, for he might very well be the only man who ever wanted to marry her, even if he did only have an interest in her dowry.

“You may escort me to Lord John, for the supper dance has already begun,” she offered. “Your partner must wonder where you are as well.”

He shrugged and led her around the outskirts of the room in an uncomfortable silence. Claire didn’t like the smell of him or the way he breathed. She scanned the rapidly thinning crowd for Lord John, but before she spied him Lord Landry veered off into a corridor.

“My lord!” Claire tried to plant her feet, but he clamped down on her arm so tightly she could only skitter along beside him. “Sir, please unhand me. What will everyone think?”

He turned another corner, his breath quickening. Shadows enveloped them. “I hardly care. If we are caught out, our marriage will be that much more expected.”

He stopped suddenly and shoved her against the wall. Even in the dim light she could see his eyes were no longer dull and lifeless.

He held her in an iron grip with one hand, and with his other he reached up and pinched the back of her arm. She cried out.

“Yes, that’s it. Show me how much it hurts.” He did it again, harder, and pressed in on her.

This time when she yelped in pain, he covered her mouth with his. He continued to pinch her, swallowing her screams with his rough kisses. Tears streamed down her face as he ground against her.

When she yanked her arm free and shoved against his throat, he pulled back, smirking. “Oh, yes, you’ll do nicely.”

Panic stole her breath away. Then a commotion at the end of the hall captured her attention. A man, humming loudly to himself, weaved his way down the passage. He bumped into a table, nearly knocking over a vase, and cursed.

“Father!” Oh, thank goodness. Claire steadied her wobbly legs and rushed to him. “Lord Landry just molested me!”

That brute stepped forward, shaking his head. “I was, perhaps, a little overeager for our forthcoming nuptials. I apologize.”

Claire’s father struggled to focus on her. “’S’all right, girl. Nothin’ wrong with a man stealing a kiss from his intended.”

“But, he hurt me!”

“He’s jus’ excited,” her father said, patting her arm.

“Indeed I am,” Landry replied. “I’ll have the special license the day after tomorrow, and you’ll have your three thousand pounds.” He winked at Claire and sauntered away.

“Father?” What kind of nightmare had she awoken in? He meant to
sell
her to Landry?

“You’ll marry. Day after tomorrow. Need the money.” He belched. “Got travel plans.” With that, he stumbled past her.

Claire cried out in desperation and ran the other way.

***

She dashed straight into his arms. John grasped her shoulders, helping Claire Talbot regain her balance as she raised her tear-stained face.

“Oh, John, you must help me. He… He…” She choked and couldn’t finish.

John fished out his handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. “Hush. I heard. You don’t have to say any more. I’ll make it right. I will.” His heart thumped wildly at such a bold promise, but he couldn’t bear to see her so cut up.

He’d been looking for Lady Claire when he saw Landry steer her off into this darkened part of the house. He had followed, arriving just behind Lord Bradwell. A frustrating ineptness at confrontation had prevented him from stepping in. He had a hard enough time figuring out what to say when emotions weren’t running so high.

Putting a hand to her back, he guided her into the nearby silver salon. Faint moonlight shone through the high windows, and Claire sank onto the closest chair and sniffled.

She was such a pretty girl. He’d been intrigued by her ever since he’d met her two weeks ago but hadn’t been able to say more than a few words at a time to her. Until tonight. Until he’d witnessed her father’s abominable treatment of her.

John crouched in front of her and skimmed his finger along her lower jaw, catching tears. Damn Landry. And Bradwell. Her father should be calling the baron out, not excusing his behavior.

“I just wanted to find my True Love and settle down to a charmed life. Now I must marry a monster. Where is Allerton when I need him?” She brought her hands to her face, exposing the bruises beginning to form on the back of her arm.

Hot anger seared through John. He shot to his feet and paced in front of her. Allerton
would
have known what to do—and would have done it with confidence that his every command would be followed. Such was the life of a duke. But John’s brother was gone and would be for the next five weeks. That left him, a poor substitute. Still, he claimed the same steadfast, capable father as Allerton. Some of that blood must flow through his veins. At least that’s what his brother had muttered over and over again as he’d tried to shape John into a “more formidable man.”

There was only one thing such a man could do when faced with a lady in distress. John secured his spectacles more firmly on his nose, took her hand, and helped her up.

His heartbeat faltered when her gaze connected with his. He inhaled a deep breath and said on a rushed exhale, “No, my lady, you will not marry Lord Landry. You can marry me. We can head to Gretna Green this night.” He broke eye contact before adding, “I am afraid you are not getting the love match you had hoped for, but I can offer you the protection of marriage.”

“Oh my! I never expected…” Her husky voice sent an errant thrill along his spine and drew his gaze upward. The top of her head barely reached his cravat, so she tilted her head and he was grateful to see her eyes shining with hope
.
“You do me a great honor. I should have known Allerton’s brother would be just as generous and noble as he.”

Such effusions should have made him uncomfortable, but he
liked
how she gazed up at him with those adoring brown eyes, as if he were the most heroic man on earth.

She grabbed his hands. “An elopement. How adventurous. And scandalous!”

Oh Lord.
Scandalous.
Who knew how Allerton would react if John swept Emily’s sister off to Scotland for a clandestine wedding? Allerton’s name had once been synonymous with scandal, but now…now that he’d found a wife to love John’s brother seemed less tolerant of outrageous behavior.