Shana Galen (10 page)

“Do you know that man?” She clenched her fists as a new idea occurred to her. “Did you ask him to pretend to be a spy in order to fool me?”

“No.”

She raised a brow.

“Not exactly.”

“Explain, please.”

“I think it would be better if we discussed this at home.” He gestured at the guests milling about, several of whom were watching them curiously.

“Oh, why is that, Lord Spy? Do you need to protect your secret identity?”

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Would you lower your voice?” he said through a forced smile. Elinor doubted this display of false affection was fooling anyone. “I’ll explain everything in the carriage.”

“I am not going to leave. Lady Hollingshead needs me here. Not to mention, I haven’t seen Lady Ramsgate yet.” Her argument was ridiculous, but she didn’t care. Winn had obviously spied on her and manipulated her so she would look the fool. The last thing she wanted was to return home with him.

“Elinor, you are either going to come with me willingly or—” He broke off abruptly, his attention riveted on the Hollingsheads’ party. She followed his gaze and saw the so-called secret agent was back and walking quickly toward them.

“What’s this?” she asked. “Did you forget to pay him?”

“No.” He took her arm, his grip firm and almost painful. “Listen to me, Ellie, I don’t know what this is, but whatever happens, I need you to do as I say.”

“Am I supposed to believe this is all real?”

“Elinor, I don’t care what you believe. Just do as I say, understand?” Something in his tone made her look at him more closely. He was deadly serious. She had never before seen such an intense, serious expression on his face.

“What is going on?” She tried to back away, but he hauled her beside him just as the man she’d met earlier stepped before them.

“I need to speak with you, Baron.” The man’s blue eyes flicked to her. “In private.”

“I’m not leaving her alone until I know what this is about.”

“Very well. On my way out, I spotted an agent from the Maîtriser group coming in.”

Elinor frowned. The message meant nothing to her, but Winn’s hand on her tensed. “Are you certain?” Winn asked the man he’d called Blue.

Blue gave him a look.

“Did he spot you?”

Blue sighed. “Are there any other inane questions you wish to ask, or do you wish me to take the lead on this?”

Winn’s gaze shifted to her, and Elinor gave him a shaky smile. She could tell he was thinking of the best way to make her leave but she was not going anywhere. She was beginning to believe this Blue might really be a secret agent. Either that, or this was all an impossibly elaborate ruse designed to trick her. But why would Winn want to trick her? And why would Winn be involved with a secret agent? She did not believe for a moment his story that he was a spy. Winn? Winn liked to go on and on about ledgers and balances and crops. He was not a spy.

“Let me take her to safety and then—”

“There’s no time for that,” Blue hissed. “There he is.”

Elinor whipped her head to look, but Winn grabbed her chin and held it in place. “Not so obvious,” he said through clenched teeth. “We don’t want him to know we’re talking about him.”

“Why?”

“Because then he might decide to kill us.”

In the middle of the Hollingsheads’ garden party? She did not think so.

Winn took her arm and linked it with his. “Now, we three are going to go for a leisurely stroll to look at the daffodils.” He pointed to some bushes on the outskirts of the garden.

“Those are roses,” she pointed out.

“I don’t care. Just walk.”

She did not see how she had much choice. After all, Winn was pulling her along on one side, and the man he called Blue was prodding her on the other. Twilight was settling in, and once they reached the roses, Winn said, “Sorry.” He pushed her through them, and she belatedly raised her hands to protect her face from thorns. She was unable to protect her dress, however, and she heard the material rip when her skirts caught.

“Are you mad?” she yelled before he clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her into the shadows. The roses grew along a wall marking the perimeter of the Hollingsheads’ gardens, and she could feel the cool stone against her back. A moment later, Blue was beside her.

“There weren’t any brambles available? I don’t think my coat is completely shredded,” the spy quipped.

“I’m sure your tailor will appreciate the business.” Winn was still holding one hand over her mouth, and with the other he was parting the bushes and peering through the roses. Elinor yanked his hand down. He gave her a sharp look. “Not a word, or I’ll gag you.”

Her jaw dropped in outrage, but she didn’t dare voice her thoughts. He was looking at her fiercely, and she did not want to test whether he would actually follow through on the threat.

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said to Blue, his voice low and filled with authority. God help her, but he really did sound like a spy.

“Too late,” Blue, who was also peering through the roses, remarked. “He’s heading this way, and he’s bringing a friend.”

Both men were silent for a long moment, during which Elinor had the urge to look through those rose bushes herself. What, exactly, did they see?

“I don’t think he saw us,” Blue said.

“No.” Winn shook his head. “No, but I can scarce believe our good fortune.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we are not all as lucky as you, Blue.”

Elinor heard the low rumble of men’s voices approaching and guessed that the man they’d been watching was coming their way. Winn’s arm slid around her waist, and she felt his warm breath tickle her ear. “Not a word, do you hear me? Not a sound, or we are all dead.”

She swallowed, fear rippling through her. What was going on? She had thought she wanted excitement and adventure, but she had not bargained on the danger. She had not considered she might be risking her life, that she might never see her daughters again.

She covered her mouth. Was this why Winn had sent the girls away? To keep them safe from whomever was on the other side of those roses?

“You’re fine,” Winn whispered, his voice oddly reassuring, considering he’d just told her she could die at any moment. “I’m right here.” Winn stiffened, and Elinor heard one of the men on the other side of the roses speaking.

“What time is he due to arrive?”

“Any moment. He’s capricious at best.”

“If he does not make an appearance, my employer will not be pleased.” There was more than a hint of a threat in the man’s voice. Elinor crouched back in the shadows, and Winn squeezed her hand. She had not even realized he was holding it.

“I never promised to serve him on a platter. I said you would gain access. You are here.”

“And he is not.”

“Give him time. He likes to make a grand appearance. And when he does, he’ll demand all the attention. You won’t be able to squeeze near him.”

The other man chuckled long and low. “Leave that to me.”

Elinor’s nostrils burned with the smell of cheroot smoke that lingered and then faded away. A moment later, Winn spoke, his voice low. “The prince?”

“Who better fits that description?” Blue answered.

“Before we jump to conclusions, I’d like to see whether Prinny even received an invitation.”

“He did,” Elinor said. Both men turned to look at her. She shrugged. “Lady Hollingshead is my friend, and she was very excited about the prince attending. It was all she could speak of the last time I saw her. But you don’t mean to say—”

“I’ll go directly,” Blue interrupted her. Elinor watched in amazement as he scaled the wall and disappeared from sight.

“Where is he going?” she asked.

“To stop the prince from attending.”

She blinked. “He knows Prinny?”

Winn considered. “I think it’s more of a case of the prince knows him.”

“Oh.” She brushed a rose petal from her cheek. “Lady Hollingshead will be so disappointed.”

“She’ll feel worse if the prince regent is assassinated in her garden.”

“And just how can you be certain that’s what those men were discussing? And what is this Maîtriser group?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Because you are a spy.”

He inclined his head.

“Bastard.” Before she could even think what she was doing, she’d slapped him hard across the face. With her arms in front of her face, she tore her way through the roses, past the guests, past Lady Ramsgate, who called after her, and out into the night.

Winn stood in the shadows of the roses and felt the full sting of the slap. It had not hurt him, not literally, but it had hurt his pride. He’d lied to her. She was entitled to her anger and outrage. But he’d always thought if she ever realized his secret, she’d be proud and pleased. She’d understand the reason for the deception.

Clearly, he’d been deceiving himself.

He would have liked to have gone after her, but it was futile. He couldn’t offer explanations—none that would satisfy her, at any rate. Why even try? And so he followed Blue over the stone wall, grunting with effort. How the hell did Blue make these feats appear so easy? A few moments later, Winn flagged a hackney and headed for the offices of the Barbican group.

His town house was dark and quiet when he arrived home several hours later. It was early for Elinor to have retired, but he remembered the girls were at his mother’s house. Without their company, she had probably taken dinner in her room and stayed there. No doubt she wanted to avoid him. He was not going to allow that.

He went to his room, dismissed his valet, and knocked perfunctorily on the door adjoining their rooms. He did not wait for an answer, merely opened the door and entered. The room was dark, but he could smell the smoke from her recently extinguished candle and see the tension in the outline of her form on the bed. “I know you’re not asleep,” he said.

“Did you deduce that with your powerful spying skills, or did you ask the servants?” she retorted.

Sarcasm. He had not anticipated that. He approached the bed, and because he did not want to stand over her, sat down beside her. “We should discuss this.”

Her back was to him, and she angled her shoulder away. “I do not want to hear anything you have to say. You’ve lied to me for years. Why should I believe anything you have to say now?”

Why should she? And why should he even make any effort? They could go on as before. In fact, it would be easier for both of them. He would no longer have to lie.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her, and he’d been married long enough to know he’d have to make amends. “I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

She laughed, a short bitter laugh. “Why not?”

Because he desired her now—not just her body, but all that she symbolized—family, home, love, and—very well, he wanted her body too. “I’m trying to make this right,” he said finally.

She rolled onto her back, and in the light from the hearth, he could see her dark eyes watching him. Her hair, gloriously long and thick now that it was uncoiled, tumbled like a silk skein over her pillow. “Are you? And what if I do not want your amends? What if I plan to run away with Mr. Trollope?”

Winn glared at her. “That nincompoop? He’s not even a real spy.”

She shot up. “I didn’t want to marry a spy! I wanted to marry a husband, and it seems I married a man who pretended he would be a husband when he was really a spy. So maybe this time I shall try a man who pretends to be a spy, and he will end up being a husband.” She moved to climb out of the bed, but he grabbed her wrist and hauled her back down.

“
I
am your husband. Do not forget that.”

“Why not? You forget whenever it suits you.”

“I’ve never forgotten. Not for a moment. I’ve always been faithful to you.” Her hair brushed against his arm, making his skin come alive.

“Am I supposed to believe that? You’ve never wanted me.”

He heard the pain. She had hidden it well, but he knew he’d hurt her. No more. “I want you now.” He yanked her against him. “Desperately.” And he closed his mouth over hers and took possession. How dare she speak of leaving him? Did she think he would allow her to go? She was his wife, the mother of his children. Yes, he would be the first to admit he’d made mistakes, but he was ready to rectify them. Anger surged in him, but he knew that beneath the anger, the emotion he did not want to admit was fear. He feared he was too late. He was losing her.

But not without a fight. And since she was a woman and his wife, he couldn’t fight her with fists or knives. He would have to fight her with passion. Winn pulled her close, pressing her body against his. She burned his skin, even through the fabric of their clothing. She was so unbelievably warm. He remembered that about her. On the few occasions he’d slept in her bed, she’d kept him as warm as any fire.

Holding her close, he could feel the softness of her breasts press against his chest, the silk of her hair dance across his forearm, and he wrapped a hand in the thick ribbon and claimed her. He slanted his mouth over hers, opening her to him. She moaned, and the rigidity in her body melted away. She had never been able to resist him. He’d always loved that about her, the way she always wanted him, the way she responded eagerly to his every touch or caress. He was ashamed to admit he never thought much of her pleasure in the early years of their marriage. Initially, he’d been a young, impatient lover. And then—there was really no excuse. But he was no untried youth now and he knew her body and her needs well enough to anticipate what would please her. He would give her an experience she would not soon forget. He wanted to claim her, brand her as his own.

He stroked her tongue with his own, suckling it, all the while moving his free hand up her back. When he reached the neck of her chemise, he tugged it, loosening the strings so it fell off one shoulder. That shoulder shone pale and round and tempting in the flickering firelight. He dragged his mouth from hers and kissed the smooth skin, trailing his lips to her collarbone, and feeling her shiver at his touch. He pulled her gently down onto the pillow, released her hair, and using his teeth, tugged the bodice of her chemise down, revealing, inch by inch, the fullness of her breasts.

She was half-bared to him now, and he wondered if he’d ever truly looked at her, ever truly appreciated her beauty. Because she
was
beautiful. Her body was round and full, her breasts filling his hands, her nipples hardening against his palms. He touched his mouth to them, surprised by the silky softness. Were all women so soft? It had been years, before his marriage, since he’d been with another woman. He could not even remember. Ellie was all he could think of now. Ellie was all he wanted.

He took one nipple in his mouth, and she moaned loudly. Rolling the hard nub with his tongue, he gently sucked and tugged until she was moving restlessly beneath him. His hands slid down, the urge to feel the heat at her core so strong that though he feared he moved too fast, he could not resist. One hand cupped the curve of her hip, and he felt her hand, which had been clenching his shoulder, glide down to grasp it.

“Stop.”

Winn did not think he could have heard her correctly. Surely she did not mean what she said. She was breathing as hard as he, her voice equally hoarse, her skin flushed with arousal. He dragged her chemise up her legs, and she clutched his hand. “No. Stop.”

There was no mistaking the order in her voice that time. She meant it. He looked up at her, saw the hardness in her gaze.

“What is it?”

“Do you think this changes anything?” She gestured to the two of them, their bodies tangled among the rumpled sheets. “Do you think this will make me forgive you for all the lies, all the deceptions?”

He pulled away from her and watched as she yanked her chemise back up to cover her nakedness. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I’ve asked for nothing.
You
came to
me
.”

He stood, raked a hand through his hair. She was telling the truth. She had never asked or demanded anything from him. “Perhaps you should have asked for something.”

“And what good would that have done?” She rose, wrapping some sort of shawl lying at the end of her bed around her shoulders. “One thing you never lied about were your feelings. You never said you loved me. You never said you wanted me.”

“I want you now.” He felt like an idiot saying the words. Why should he have to try and convince her he wanted her? Hadn’t he showed her quite clearly a moment before?

“Why? Because you feel threatened by another man?”

“No.” But he realized that must be exactly how it appeared to her. He glanced at her face, at her dubious expression. “Listen.” He crossed to her, took her shoulders. He looked down at her, having forgotten how much shorter than he she was, how petite and feminine. “I will admit I was not pleased to find out about this Trollope fellow, but I’ve been thinking about you—about our marriage—for some time.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Go on.”

He frowned. What else was he supposed to say? Perhaps if he changed the wording…? “I’ve wanted you for months,” he said.

“So you’re in love with me now?”

Winn hesitated. What did marriage have to do with love? No one married for love.

The hesitation cost him. She pulled away from him and shook her head. “Nothing has changed, and this time I will not allow you to come in, sweep me off my feet, and then leave again when the mood suits you.”

“I do not leave when struck by a mood. I have orders.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Speaking of which, don’t you have a prince to save?”

Winn scowled at her. “I have it under control.”

“Oh, good. I suppose it is only me you do not have under control, at the moment.”

It was as good an observation as any and irked him. “I do not want to control you.”

“Then what
do
you want from me? This?” She gestured to the bed. “Is that what you want?” She dropped her wrap and allowed the chemise to fall off her shoulders. Winn reached forward, catching the material before it could expose her.

“No. Not like that.”

“Then what do you want?”

He wasn’t certain how to answer. He had not really considered what he wanted. He wanted a wife and a family. But was it the reality he wanted or some fantasy? He looked at Elinor now, struck by the fact that the reality might be more work to obtain than he had considered.

“Since you seem at a loss for words, allow me to assist you,” she said. “You said you no longer wanted to lie. Why do we not begin by telling all of our secrets? You know mine. You discovered my flirtation with Mr. Trollope—and ended it quickly enough. Now, it’s your turn.”

Winn gritted his teeth. This was what men groused about in the hallowed halls of the gentlemen’s clubs—White’s and Brooks’s and their ilk. Women, it seemed, always wanted the impossible. “Elinor…”

She raised her brows. “Yes?”

She was going to make this as difficult as possible, obviously. “I cannot tell you my secrets. My business is highly confidential, and you do not have clearance—”

She shrugged as though this was exactly the answer she expected. “Well, that is that, then.” She brushed her hands together as though he were dirt and she were dusting him away.

“What is what?”

“We are at an impasse. You cannot give me what I want, and I cannot give you what you want.”

Winn was familiar with impasses. He was a master of dealing with impasses. “I’m certain we can find a way around this. Is there something else I can offer?”

“Besides yourself?” She shook her head. “I do not think so.”

Winn drew in a slow breath. Of course she would choose to interpret his statement as though he were keeping himself from her. “It is one aspect of my life I cannot share,” he said.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “Share something else about your life, then.”

Winn opened his mouth then snapped it shut again. Bloody hell! How had he fallen into this trap? “I…”

“Go ahead. Share something else.”

He sighed. Heavily. He could think of absolutely nothing else to tell her.

“That’s what I thought.” She crossed to the door adjoining their rooms. “Good night, my lord.”

Winn stared at the hazy rectangle of light cast from the lamp in his room. He knew when he was beaten—or, if not beaten, he knew when retreat was the best course of action. Retreat and retrench, Melbourne always said. Winn strode through the door, hearing it shut behind him.

He stared at his large, lonely bed. Retrenchment. Yes, that was what he needed.

***

Elinor had not slept well. She had not slept at all, truth be told, but why should she bother to tell the truth, even to herself? Winn did not seem to think it necessary. He seemed to think it perfectly acceptable to hide the fact that when he was away from her he had a completely different life. He was a spy, for God’s sake. He was protecting the Prince of Wales from assassination plots, and the rest of the country from God knew what else. They’d been married for fourteen years, and she’d never known. She, like a fool, had believed him when he’d said he was going to supervise the Keating estates. But what man spent that much time at his estates? He must have thought her the worst kind of fool. He must have laughed at her gullibility with each new lie he told.

She had known, when she threw down the gauntlet, how he would respond. Of course he could not tell her about his secret life. She knew something of spies from her reading, knew they had such codes of secrecy. But she wanted him to know how it felt to be in an impossible situation. He’d put her in one for years.

When slivers of sunlight peeked through her drawn curtains, she stopped pretending to sleep and rose. A good, hard ride was what she needed. She was not much of a horsewoman, but she enjoyed being outdoors. She would ride in the park nearby and clear her head. And perhaps if she was fortunate, Winn would find somewhere else to glower, and she would not have to see his dour expression at breakfast.

She summoned her maid, dressed, and made her way through the quiet house to the front door, where she waited for the groom Jacob to bring her a mount. Oh how she missed Caroline and Georgiana. She did not realize how often she had used them to assuage her loneliness. She did not realize, until they were away, how often they served as a buffer between Winn and herself. Now she was glad for the freedom to do as she pleased but also uncomfortable that she could not use her daughters to escape Winn.

She was afraid she would have to face him at some point, and knowing Winn—not that she did—that would be sooner rather than later.