Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (6 page)

Finally, Devlin pushed away from the sideboard where he was leaning and started across the room. He opened his mouth, but before he could get any words past his lips, the sound of a woman clearing her throat from the door interrupted them.

Tristan broke eye contact with Devlin to refocus on the door. His heart lodged in his throat as Meredith took a few steps inside. She looked from one man to the other with concern and a brief flash of what he thought was fearful recognition when her gaze fell on Devlin. Then it was gone, but of course it never could have existed. She probably only knew the bastard in passing. A lady would have no idea of the wickedness that was central to Augustine Devlin’s life.

Which meant Meredith had no idea of the dangerous lion’s den she was entering.

“There you are,” she said with a quick smile for Tristan. “The ladies were beginning to despair of your return.”

For an all too brief moment Tristan forgot about Devlin and the perilous tightrope he was walking. All he could see was Meredith. She brought light into the room, glorious light. It was in her hair, under her skin, in her smile. He was warmed by it, and yet she was a room away. If he touched her…

“Why don’t you introduce me to your charming friend?” Devlin shattered Tristan’s pleasant daydream with just a few words. “I have seen her at several events, but never had the pleasure of meeting her properly.”

Sudden, fierce protectiveness clenched Tristan’s chest. As with his mother, he had no desire to bring Meredith into the dark hole he’d dug for himself. He didn’t want Devlin to be aware of her at all. She was a variable he hadn’t included in his strategy.

“Lady Northam, may I present Mr. Augustine Devlin,” he said with uncontrollable stiffness in his voice. “He is an—an associate of mine.”

Meredith’s smile seemed to falter slightly, but then she stepped forward, hand outstretched. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Devlin.”

Devlin stepped closer and took her hand. Raising it to his lips, he pressed a kiss against the top and gave her a dashing smile. “I’m very pleased
to finally know the most popular lady in society.”

She gave a little laugh that grated on Tristan’s ears. Without thinking, he stepped between the two and offered his arm to her.

“Shall we join the others, then?” he asked.

Meredith did not take his arm as expected. Instead she backed toward the sidebar.

“Would you mind terribly if I had a little port first?” She glanced at Augustine with a smile. “It isn’t quite ladylike, but since my husband’s death, I’ve developed a liking for it. He left a good deal behind, and I took to having a glass after supper. Now it’s a habit I cannot seem to break myself of.”

Tristan gritted his teeth. Why was she being so damned friendly and charming? It didn’t matter that those qualities were part of her personality, he didn’t like her making herself so appealing to a man who could destroy her if he wished.

Devlin laughed. “I shall never reveal your unusual habit, I swear it on my life.”

Meredith didn’t wait for Tristan to agree or disagree with her request as she turned to the half-empty bottle of port and poured herself a small bit. She sipped it with an appraising look at the two men.

“You said you and Mr. Devlin were associates, did you not, my lord?”

Tristan’s chest clenched. He wanted, no, he
needed
to remove Meredith from Devlin’s presence. It was clear the other man was gaining interest in
her, but he couldn’t jeopardize the relationship he’d built with Devlin.

“My lord?” she repeated.

He jerked out a nod. “Y-Yes.”

“What business do you share?”

He snapped his gaze to hers, and she seemed surprised by the suddenness of the act. She raised a hand to her breast. “I’m always looking for new opportunities to invest my inheritance.”

Tristan glanced at Devlin, only to find him staring back with twinkling eyes and a quirked brow. Obviously the bastard found this situation amusing. Hatred burned in Tristan’s chest, and the constant anger that boiled just below his purposefully cool exterior burned even hotter, stoked, yet again, by Meredith.

“His lordship and I share a few endeavors, my lady. Trade. Shipping.” Devlin smiled thinly. “Art.”

She nodded. “It all sounds very intriguing. Perhaps when we return to London you can call on my man of affairs and discuss some of these ventures with us.”

Tristan took a step forward. “We should return to the others,” he said, louder than he had intended. Both Meredith and Devlin stared at him in surprise. He tempered his tone. “I’m sure we’re missed. Devlin, why don’t you go ahead? Lady Northam can finish her port and I’ll escort her back.”

Devlin smiled broadly, ever amused, and gave
Meredith a low bow. “I look forward to speaking to you again, my lady.”

“As do I,” she said with a nod.

Tristan followed behind as Devlin left the room. He shut the door behind the other man, barely resisting the urge to slam it.

When he turned back, Meredith was staring at him with wide eyes. She set her port on the closest table and said, “My lord, the door. We should not—”

He ignored her protest to propriety and crossed the room in a few long paces. She seemed surprised by his sudden advance and took a step back, but the sideboard was directly behind her and he pinned her in. Her lips parted, but deep within her eyes, hidden behind the surprise, a flicker of desire lit there. Tristan nearly forgot himself as he watched that flicker flame higher.

“My lord,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Meredith, Augustine Devlin is not a man you want to involve yourself with.”

Her brow wrinkled. “But you said he was an associate of yours. Surely if you trust him in business—”

“No!” He shook his head violently. “Believe me, you do not want him interested in you. You don’t want him involved in your money or your life.”

“I don’t understand. If you believe him to be untrustworthy, why do you work with him?”

He hesitated. He had a sudden, powerful urge to explain everything to her. To tell her secrets he’d kept from everyone important to him for nearly two years.

He shook that desire off. It would only endanger her and expose his plans. It could be disastrous.

“Tristan,” she whispered, and the sound of his given name from her mouth shocked and thrilled him. How he wanted to make her cry out his name. Scream his name. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

He stared at her, face upturned and eyes filled with concern and hope. Hope for him. It had been so long since he felt hope himself, he almost didn’t recognize it.

“I could help you.” Her voice broke. “If you only tell me what troubles you.”

She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body. His nostrils were filled with the gentle scent of her skin. Every sense was bombarded by her presence and the desire that assault created was overwhelming.

With a trembling hand, he cupped her cheek. She seemed as surprised by the action as he was, but did not pull away. She stared up at him, dewy eyes alive with the desire that had been a mere flicker a few moments earlier. Tristan could no longer deny himself. He dipped his head and claimed her mouth.

Meredith parted her lips and melted into Tristan’s kiss. He pressed her so close that it almost seemed they were one body, one shared, throbbing heartbeat that echoed in her head. She could do nothing but clutch his arms, cling to him as she was bombarded by sensations.

He tasted faintly of port, with a hint of mint in the background. His mouth was so hot against her skin that she wouldn’t have been surprised if she were branded by his touch. Her lips certainly felt burned as his tongue swiped over them, filled her and demanded that she respond to every stroke.

She obeyed his silent order more than willingly, no matter how hard her rational mind tried to rein her in, tried to remind her that kissing a suspect was against protocol and common sense. She couldn’t hear that inner voice over the roar of desire coursing through her blood. Control spiraled away, lost in a sea of need.

Certainly, she had been kissed before, but never like this. This was possession, claiming, and she wanted nothing more than to surrender.

Surrender to a potential traitor.

That sharp, shocking thought drove her from him. She shrugged out of his embrace and stepped back as she raised one trembling hand to her swollen, hot mouth. With effort, she forced herself to look into his eyes. He stared back evenly, his gaze smoldering green fire. There was no doubt he
wanted her back in his arms as much as she wanted to be there.

If she hadn’t been investigating him, she would have given in to that desire. But she was.

She had no choice but to gather her quaking emotions. Forget how much she was affected by his touch and use his reactions against him. Use the kiss to get more information. Now was the perfect time to demand facts about his relationship with Augustine Devlin, to press him about the painting or his reasons for being involved in such questionable activities.

Instead, her only desire was to throw herself back into his arms. Worse yet, let him lead her even further. Past mere kisses, past his warm embrace, all the way to his bed. Consequences to her assignment and sanity be damned.

“Meredith,” he whispered. Even at such close distance, his voice barely carried as he awaited her response.

One she seemed incapable of making when she was still shaking from his kiss. She could hardly force herself to remember her case, let alone press it at this opportune moment.

“I—I must go,” she stammered as she turned her back to him and went for the door. “I find myself suddenly tired. Good evening, my lord.”

Without waiting for an answer, she fled the room and up the backstairs to the guest chambers. Her unseeing eyes somehow led her to her
room where she slammed the door and leaned back. Her breath came in heaving gasps and her body trembled as she relived that forbidden kiss over and over again.

Covering her face, she crossed the room to sit beside the roaring fire. Its heat was nothing compared to the one Tristan sparked low in her belly. That flame had nothing to do with her investigation either. The kiss had been purely personal.

Which was exactly why she could never let it happen again. No matter how useful a private relationship with her target could be. And no matter how much she longed for just one more stolen moment in his arms.

M
eredith smoothed her gown as she took one last glance in the mirror. She smiled at her lady’s maid.

“Thank you, Rebecca, that’s lovely.”

The girl bobbed out a curtsey before she left Meredith with only her troubled thoughts. A night’s distance from Tristan’s shocking, searing kiss was hardly enough to forget, but it had helped considerably. It
couldn’t
have been as fantastic as she remembered. Her reaction had been part girlish surrender to a man she once had a
tendre
for and part surprise that things had progressed so far.

At least, that was what she told herself during the long, sleepless night.

But today was a new day. The case she was investigating would be her only focus from now on. Not kissing and not guilt. Only the case.

She sighed with satisfaction. Already an encoded letter was on its way to Emily and Ana, filled with questions about Edmund Archer’s death and inquiries on the specifics of any legitimate business Tristan had with Augustine Devlin. Her friends would also compose a field report on her behalf for Charlie and Lady M.

She frowned as she turned from her mirror and slowly made her way toward the dining room. The party would be having a late breakfast before the day’s events. Her mind turned on Tristan’s reaction to her conversation with Devlin. He’d warned her off the man who was behind so many dark and dangerous schemes, so he knew the threat Devlin posed. Yet he continued to work with, and perhaps
for
the man. Even if he took no pleasure in the association, there was a deeper connection than merely business.

And she couldn’t ignore Devlin’s wry comment about the two of them being involved in “art” together.

“Art theft, more likely,” she muttered before she put on a false smile and strolled into the dining room.

“Ah, Lady Northam.” One of the women motioned her over to the breakfast nook where the others were gathering steaming plates of food and milling about for morning gossip and flirtation.

Meredith’s heart gave a queer ache. For them, it was so easy. There was nothing keeping any of these couples from doing whatever their hearts desired. For the first time in a long time, she regretted her duty.

“Good morning,” she said weakly.

“Are you feeling better, my dear?” the woman who had called her over asked as she patted Meredith’s arm. She was the mother of one of the debutantes. A kind contributor to Meredith’s charitable works, she was one of the few “mamas” in the group who wasn’t lobbying outright for Tristan to turn his attention to her daughter alone.

“Thank you, Lady Conville,” Meredith said and forced a brighter smile. “It was nothing but a slight headache. I’m sure it was brought on by travel.”

The woman searched her face. “Are you certain? You look very pale, without your usual spark.”

Meredith started. Normally she was able to hide her emotions and put up a glittering facade no matter what her troubles. If Lady Conville saw her worries, it would rouse suspicion and questions in others. Too many would not do. She liked being the one to ask, not answer.

Straightening her spine, Meredith laughed.
“You’re kind, but I feel very well today.” She motioned across the room to a young lady sipping tea. “Your daughter looks lovely. How old is she now?”

Lady Conville’s focus faded at the mention of her child. “Eighteen years just last month.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief. “She’s the last of my children. When I marry her away, I will have no one left, I’m afraid.”

Meredith relaxed as she fell into comfortable habits. No troubling emotions were required for this exchange. “But then you’ll soon have grandchildren and all will be right again.”

Her ladyship’s eyes lit up in delight and they fell into pleasant conversation as they ate their breakfast.

Meredith glanced around while she finished her last few bites. The only people missing were Tristan and his mother. The rest of the party was there, their talk growing louder as the plates emptied and were cleared away. Even Augustine Devlin was among the chattering crowd. He nodded to her in recognition as he talked to another man who looked far too stupid to be involved in any plots.

“I wonder what we could be doing today?” one young lady asked, loudly enough that the rest of the table was included in her conversation.

“A picnic,” came a voice from the door.

Meredith froze as the comfort she had regained
fled. She knew that deep, sensuous voice anywhere. Tristan. Indeed, when she looked up, he stood in the entryway, his mother on his arm. He looked around the crowd, barely sparing her a second glance.

“And then kite flying,” he continued.

Meredith nodded in time with the other guests and murmured, “How lovely.”

It was lovely, but somehow she couldn’t think about that. She could only wonder what Tristan thought as his gaze fell on her. He hardly acknowledged her, let alone behaved like a man who had kissed her senseless less than twelve hours before. But then, hadn’t that always been his way? After he saved her that night so long ago in the pub, he had pushed her away, far away. She winced at the pain that memory brought up. But it proved that Tristan had always been hotter than fire, then colder than ice when it came to her. It made gauging him all the more difficult.

He smiled, but there was little warmth in the expression. As always, it seemed he was simply going through the motions of a host, not truly relating to his guests.

“If we gather outside in half an hour, we can begin our day.”

Loud agreement echoed as the gathering began to depart to their various chambers for final preparation. Meredith attempted to put herself in the middle of the crowd to avoid contact with Tristan,
but in the shuffle she was pushed to the doorway beside him.

As she passed by, he looked at her. “Lady Northam?”

She held her breath. “Yes, my lord?”

“Perhaps you’ll find a moment to speak with me today?” His calm, almost flat voice betrayed nothing of his feelings.

She swallowed past her suddenly dry throat. Despite the fact that she needed to keep up contact with Tristan for her investigation, the idea of spending time in his company made her quiver. And she
never
quivered.

“Y-Yes. Of course.”

He nodded once as Meredith moved away, and she couldn’t help but notice the broad smile on Lady Carmichael’s face. Her legs felt unsteady as she trailed behind the others up the wide staircase to the guest quarters.

As she entered her chamber, she muttered, “Pull yourself together, girl.”

Her lady’s maid cocked her head as she came into Meredith’s dressing room. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“Nothing,” she said with a wince.

But as the maid made the final preparations for her outing, Meredith couldn’t help but think of all the possible outcomes of an afternoon with Tristan. One thing was certain: While there were many scenarios that were good for her case, none
were good for her heart, which was increasingly demanding that she follow its desires.

Meredith stood at the end of the lake, staring up at the swaying branches of a tall willow tree. Her sketch pad clutched in her hand, it appeared she was innocently drawing while the others in the party mulled about.

Of course, she couldn’t have cared less about the tree. It could have pulled its roots from the ground and skulked three paces to the left and she wouldn’t have noticed. Her position gave her the perfect opportunity to watch Tristan.

He was sitting on one of the picnic blankets, savoring the last of a sumptuous luncheon with Violet Conville, Lady Conville’s daughter. The same one her ladyship had lamented marrying off earlier in the day. Normally, Meredith found no fault with the young lady. Of all the debutantes of the current season, Violet was the least frivolous and irritating. In fact, she had a serious, intelligent air that made her very appealing.

Meredith had actually once mused she would make an excellent addition to The Society, if only she were a widow. An unmarried lady could never be expected to investigate the darkest underbelly of the Empire. She didn’t have the freedom to move about without a watchful escort, for one. And there were certain things a woman didn’t understand until she had experienced a wedding night.

At the moment, however, all Meredith’s prior considerations for the young lady’s attributes were gone. She could have scratched her eyes out and never thought twice about it. Her conversation with Tristan looked so comfortable. Violet was from a good family, exactly the kind of young lady who would make a perfect marchioness.

Meredith jumped as her sketching pencil snapped against the notepad in her hand, tearing a hole in the paper. Carefully, she unclenched her fist.

Jealous? Was she actually jealous that a man she suspected of
treason
was spending time with another woman? It was utterly ridiculous. They had shared one burning kiss. It was a mistake.

So why did it keep popping into her mind? When she closed her eyes, why could she feel the pressure of Tristan’s lips against hers? Taste the heady flavor of his mouth as it moved so slowly, so sensuously, against her lips, awakening dark, forbidden desires she thought she’d buried…

With a start, she flipped her notepad closed and jammed it and her broken pencil into her pelisse pocket. She had to stop thinking about Tristan as a man and remember he was a suspect. These strange, powerful desires must be extinguished.

With a scowl, she tore her gaze away from Tristan and Violet and scanned the crowd. She found Augustine Devlin. Sitting away from the main group on a low hill overlooking the lake, he observed the scene with as much focused intent as she.

His gaze was currently pointed in the same direction hers had been. Tristan. Devlin watched their host’s every move with an unreadable expression. What did he see when he looked at Tristan? An ally? A threat? When she interrupted them the night before, their conversation hadn’t seemed particularly friendly.

Perhaps Tristan was actually a barrier to whatever plans Devlin was making. Her heart soared with that thought, then sank when she remembered all the evidence against Tristan. And how desperate he was every time she delved too closely into his affairs.

Devlin turned his head and caught her eye. She jolted. She’d been so preoccupied she had forgotten herself. Now Devlin saw her attention. Judging from the way he nodded in her direction, he marked her interest.

With a quick wave of recognition, Meredith broke their stare and headed toward the main group, but she felt Devlin’s piercing eyes on her with every step.

“Lord Carmichael, did you say there would be kite flying today?” she asked with what she hoped was an airy tone that didn’t reflect her turbulent emotions.

Tristan had gotten to his feet while she was distracted by Devlin and turned toward her with a smile just as false as her own. For a brief moment she wondered what it would be like if they
removed their public masks and simply stood before each other as who they truly were.

“Yes, Lady Northam, that’s correct.”

He nodded toward the footmen who had been attending to the group, and the men brought forth a few large chests. Once opened, they revealed kites made from all variety of colorful fabric, bright ribbons trailed from their tails and balls of string had already been attached.

“The weather is perfect for this, Tristan!” Lady Carmichael beamed as she watched the younger women and men take their pick of the kites. “What a grand idea it was to fly them.”

Meredith glanced at Tristan with surprise. She never would have guessed he picked this activity to share with his guests. Yet the smallest hint of a real smile tilted the corner of his lips when a few of the more eager guests launched their kites into the sky and filled the breezy air with soaring, swooping fabric and dangling tails.

She drew one of the remaining kites from the rapidly emptying trunks and smoothed its blue ribbon carefully. “Will you join us, my lord?”

Tristan stiffened at the sound of her voice. “No, I prefer watching. But do enjoy yourself.”

Their eyes met and Meredith found herself pulled in, but then he glanced away. Without another word, she backed into the open area and lifted her kite to the breeze. After a bit of finagling, it caught on an updraft and swooped into the sky.

She watched the child’s toy soar and a rare sense of peace engulfed her. Her lifestyle didn’t allow many quiet moments, but there was something about watching the effortless grace of the kite that let her forget, if only for a moment, the strange emotions this case evoked.

“Perfect.”

Tristan’s voice pushed that calming sensation away. Her body came to immediate attention. She felt him move closer, was aware of every breath he drew, the heat of his body. Aware of
him,
in every way.

“I haven’t flown kites since I was a girl.” She struggled with each word to keep her tone light and casual. “Probably since those summers you came to visit my cousins.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the soaring toy as she released more string and let it fly higher. She couldn’t help but notice the faraway look in his eye, as if he envied the freedom he saw above.

“Do you still keep in contact with my cousin Henry?”

“No,” he said quietly, his gaze flitting to her.

She shrugged. Cutting himself off from his friends was sometimes a first sign that a man of society had become involved in something dangerous or sinister, but in this case she wasn’t sure. Henry had never been unkind to her, but she’d found him to be quite stupid. Since his marriage, he had grown enormously fat and lazy as well.
She couldn’t imagine that Tristan, with his intelligent, quiet manner, would have anything in common with his old friend.

Still, it was worth pursuing, if only to see his reaction.

“That’s unfortunate.” She tugged the kite string and let it turn in the air. “You were very close, if I recall. I hope there was no falling out.”

Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “No falling out, I simply—”

He stopped and her intuition tingled. She stopped fiddling with the kite and looked at him. His eyes were dark with clearly pained emotions. He looked trapped, and an urge to help him filled her, just as it had last night.