To Tame a Rogue

by Aston, Alexa

  But she doubted she would ever forgive him.

  Looking at him, she said, “I think what’s important is for you to forgive yourself.”

  He startled and she knew this man lived with guilt every day. That was punishment enough.

  “I’ve tried,” he said haltingly. “I’ve gone over and over in my mind the events of that day. What I could have done differently. If my actions would have changed anything. Finally, I had to make peace with what happened. I haven’t forgiven myself, Lady Covington, but I’ve moved on. It took months to regain my physical strength. To heal both inside and outside. I still live with regret but it no longer dominates my every waking thought. To me, that’s progress.”

  Then he got an odd look on his face. “Oh, no.” Anguish overcame him. “No,” he said more firmly. “It can’t be.”

  The door opened and Sir Paxton Morris walked in.

  “I see you’ve met your new partner, Nicholson.”

  Chapter Seven

  Burke growled at Morris. “No.”

  “Yes,” the older man replied calmly. “That is, if Lady Covington agrees.”

  “Agrees to what?” she asked warily, looking back and forth between the two men.

  “Come, let’s have a seat and discuss it.”

  “No,” Burke said, knowing he sounded like a petulant child. “There’s to be no discussion.”

  Morris sighed. “Didn’t you tell me you were ready to do anything for the crown? That I could assign you wherever and you would—”

  “It’s different now,” he said stubbornly.

  “Because Lady Covington is involved?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you stop talking about me as if I’m not even in the room?” the countess suddenly demanded, her vivid blue eyes flashing with anger. “We’ll all sit,” she ordered. “Sir Paxton will tell me why I’m here and I’ll either accept or reject his offer. If I accept it, then I’ll address your objections, Mr. Nicholson.”

  With that, she moved to the chairs in front of the desk and seated herself. Her eyebrows arched and both men meekly took a spot on either side of the desk, Morris behind it and Burke next to her, slouching slightly.

  Lady Covington looked him directly in the eye and said, “I would appreciate if you would remain quiet while Sir Paxton speaks with me. No voicing your objections. No whining about broken agreements. Can you do that, Mr. Nicholson?”

  “I can,” he said, thinking how well she’d taken charge of the situation and how in control she seemed.

  She would be one hell of a partner. If she accepted Morris’ offer. If she agreed to work with Burke.

  Morris had already laid out what he wanted from Burke and he’d readily agreed to everything. He was eager to get back in the game and do whatever he could to serve his country.

  But he hadn’t known that Gemma Covington was the woman he would work with. She had to hate him, knowing he’d caused her husband’s death. How could she look him in his one good eye and pledge to do whatever was asked of her? She would be thinking the entire time that he’d gotten her husband killed.

  And he might do the same to her.

  “You may continue, Sir Paxton,” the countess said regally, her features composed.

  “You are finished with your mourning period, Lady Covington, and I assume that you will partake in events of the Season again. Am I correct in my assumptions?”

  “Yes. I’ve received some invitations and have responded affirmatively to a handful.”

  “I’d like you to go to as many events as you’re invited to,” Morris told her.

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because there is a traitor in the War Office,” he said bluntly. “I’ve accumulated tidbits and hearsay and I think Fouché has turned someone high up—and that turncoat has recruited others from the nobility to the French cause.”

  Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Bonaparte’s Minister of Police, a man who dealt mainly in intelligence and espionage. “You’re telling me that a French spy network has been created in London and its leader serves in our War Office.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “How can I help?” she said swiftly, causing Burke’s heart to pound uncomfortably. “And would I be allowed to continue my other work?”

  “What other work?” he asked, sitting up.

  Her reply was to glare at him. Burke sat back like a naughty schoolboy chastised by his tutor.

  “Tell him,” Morris encouraged. “Mr. Nicholson needs to know I haven’t plucked you from nowhere.”

  “Very well,” she said primly and faced him. “I have been decoding messages for the British government for over two years now. Quite successfully.”

  Shock ran through Burke. “You what?”

  “I, too, am an agent for the crown. As was my husband.” She gave him a smile. “Just like you, sir.”

  “Lady Covington has broken more codes than anyone on my staff,” Morris praised. “She has been instrumental in the government being able to send out erroneous dispatches. Countless foreign spies have been caught, thanks to receiving messages they thought were encrypted and from their handlers or others within their own network. Instead, they were sent from British spies using code Lady Covington deciphered, allowing for their capture. We’ve gathered quite a bit of useful information from those men.”

  Burke looked at Gemma Covington in a new light. “The Don said you had intelligence and courage. I see now how right he was.”

  She inclined her head, acknowledging his compliment.

  “Back to what I want,” Morris said. “I need you at as many ton events as possible, Countess. To listen in on conversations. To dance with some of the men I have suspicions about.” He paused. “And to go into their private quarters to look for traces of their involvement.”

  “I can do all of that myself,” she said confidently. “Why would I need to work with Mr. Nicholson?”

  “Because he is a trained field agent. And if you’re caught in someone’s residence in a room where you shouldn’t be, you can pretend you are having a tryst with him.”

  Burke saw the blush spread across her cheeks.

  “So . . . Mr. Nicholson would be my cover if that occurred. That we are having an affair.”

  “Yes, my lady. His job is to play the rogue. The womanizer. He’ll be wooing other women. Looking for information, as well. But he’ll also pretend to be involved with you. You’ll need to attend some parties together. Meet up at others. He is there to protect you while you both seek out information which will prove the traitors involved and the depth of their betrayal. We are talking about highly placed gentlemen in society, Lady Covington. The proof will have to be irrefutable.”

  She looked down at her folded hands for a good two minutes. Burke watched her the entire time, wanting her to say no. He thought the entire operation too dangerous for someone with no training. Yes, she might be highly intelligent sitting at a desk, working to decipher a code. Going out and taking the kind of risks Morris wanted her to take was an entirely different matter. The work was always dangerous and would be even more so for someone with her inexperience.

  And yet he couldn’t think of anyone else he’d want by his side more. No woman of his acquaintance possessed her savviness and quiet confidence. Her beauty would also be an asset as she worked to retrieve information. Men would brag to her. Be indiscreet. Lady Covington might very well obtain information that Burke couldn’t.

  “I’ll do it,” she said finally, determination in her voice.

  “It’s too dangerous,” he blurted out.

  She gazed at him coolly. “That’s what you’ll be there for, Mr. Nicholson. To make sure that danger doesn’t find me. And if it does? You’ll extricate me from it.”

  Left unsaid was that Burke hadn’t been able to do that for The Don.

  “All right,” he said gruffly and looked to Morris. “On one condition.”

  “Name it,” the spymaster said.

  “That she learns h
ow to defend herself.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Isn’t that something you can take care of?”

  “I can’t be everywhere with you all the time. If a situation arises, you need to know how to fire a gun. And how you can immobilize a man.” He glanced back to Morris.

  The spymaster nodded. “Go ahead. Get her ready. You have one week until the Season begins.”

  *

  Gemma didn’t know why she’d accepted Sir Paxton’s offer. Especially because it meant working with Burke Nicholson.

  How could she trust the man who got Rob killed?

  Sir Paxton said, “Mr. Smith is waiting for you in the drawing room. I need to get back to the War Office.” He smiled warmly at her. “Thank you again, Lady Covington. I knew you would be the right person for this assignment. You will never be recognized publicly—but know that your service to the king will be duly noted. I’ll receive regular reports from you. Mr. Smith will explain all of that.”

  He left and she looked to the man she would be closely working with. Even with the black eyepatch obscuring part of his face, Burke Nicholson was handsome as sin. Now that he’d recovered from whatever ordeal he’d survived in Spain, he’d filled out once again, doing more than justice to the superfine coat of dark blue and buff trousers he wore. He had thick, gorgeous hair that any woman would want to run her fingers through. High cheekbones and a strong jaw. Overall, he was an incredibly handsome man. The eyepatch gave him a rakish look, as if he were a pirate.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  Gemma left the room and found the butler who’d admitted her waiting outside.

  “If you’ll accompany me to the drawing room, my lady. Mr. Nicholson.”

  The servant deposited them there and she saw Mr. Smith was the unnamed man who’d come to her a few hours ago, inviting her to this meeting. Seeing her, he rose.

  “Lady Covington. I see you’ve accepted Sir Paxton’s offer.”

  “Yes. He said I could continue my other work. Since I will be active during the Season, I believe I can contribute even more to England’s war effort against Bonaparte.”

  “Don’t make light of it,” Smith warned. “You will be doing dangerous work.”

  “I told her and Morris that very thing,” her new partner said. “I insist she be taught to shoot.”

  The man nodded and retrieved a small case from a side table.

  “I anticipated your request, Mr. Nicholson.”

  He opened the case and Gemma saw a pair of pistols.

  “They’re so small. I can’t imagine a man using them.”

  “They are made for a woman,” Nicholson said. “Don’t let their size fool you, my lady. At close range, you can easily kill a man with one.”

  She shuddered. She hadn’t thought about that particular thing happening. If she were caught, though, it might come down to her firing upon someone. To protect not only herself—but England.

  “Manton’s would never allow a woman to practice there,” Mr. Smith said. “Besides, we want to keep Lady Covington’s role quiet. I have arranged to have you go to an estate on the outskirts of the city. You may teach the countess this afternoon and return when she needs more practice. You’ll find plenty of ammunition in the carriage.”

  “Is it the one I was promised?”

  “Yes, Mr. Nicholson,” Smith confirmed. “I’ve also arranged for your rented townhouse.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to Nicholson. “A cook and housekeeper have been hired. Also, a driver. I’m still working on other staff for you. A few maids and butler. A valet.”

  “Do I need all of that?”

  Gemma saw that Nicholson looked uncomfortable suddenly. She realized that without a title, he had no money of his own and that the government was paying for the townhouse and servants. Likely, the carriage, as well. She knew from what Lord C had shared with her that England was spending millions of pounds on their spy networks. Establishing Burke Nicholson into society was just part of the price that would help the former army officer gain access to the ton.

  And the possible spies that must be brought down.

  “Yes,” Mr. Smith said, his reply brokering no further discussion on the matter. “Your tailor should have delivered some of your new wardrobe this morning. The rest will be coming within the next week. It includes everything you should need for all of the upcoming social events.”

  “Speaking of those,” Nicholson said. “I’ve been away for a long time. I spent years in the army and then months buried in the country. No one knows I’m back in town. I don’t see how I’ll—”

  “It’s been taken care of,” Smith assured him. “You will find your invitations on the desk in your study. You’ll need to respond to them immediately. More will follow, I’m sure, once you make an appearance at the first few events of the Season. Remember, you are to be charming. Flirtatious. Affable. To both men and women. You’re a member of White’s now. Spend a good deal of time there. You’ll pick up more gossip at your club than at balls. You’ve been given the list. You know whom to flirt with—and which men are under suspicion.”

  “Will I have access to that list?” Gemma asked.

  “Yes, my lady.” Smith retrieved a sheet from the table and handed it to her. “For your eyes only. Don’t leave this out where a servant can see. Don’t discuss it with any of your friends or acquaintances.”

  She frowned at him. “I do possess common sense, you know. I’m not a fluffhead.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” Smith assured her. “Neither does Sir Paxton—or you wouldn’t be here.” He turned to Nicholson. “Your carriage awaits you. The driver knows your destination. I will act as a go-between for you both. Most of your reports will come through me to Sir Paxton. You are not to see him on your own under any circumstances.”

  “And what if you are a member of this spy network we are trying to bring down, Mr. Smith?” Gemma challenged. “You could filter whatever information we give you. Or simply not pass it along.”

  “Very astute of you, my lady. I assure you that Sir Paxton has total trust in me. Smith is not my name. It’s simply what you know me as. I work for the crown and have for some time now.” His gaze met hers. “I assure you that I want Bonaparte brought down as much as any Englishman does. For me, it’s personal.” He hesitated a moment and then said, “I lost my twin brother, thanks to Joseph Fouché. I’m heavily invested in seeing Bonaparte and all who support him brought to their knees. I know nothing will bring my brother back but I will claim my pound of flesh.” His eyes flashed with anger.

  Gemma said, “I believe you, Mr. Smith. I won’t be so trusting of any others, though.”

  “As it should be, Lady Covington. Right now, you may trust me—and Mr. Nicholson. Beyond that, I would question anyone and everything you hear, see, or are told.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gemma accompanied Burke Nicholson outside, where a magnificent carriage stood behind hers.

  “I see the War Department hasn’t spared any expense when it comes to establishing your cover. Those are Cleveland Bays, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Nicholson whistled. “They are, indeed. I never thought to possess horseflesh so fine. Well, I suppose I don’t own them. They’re the property of the crown. Not mine. When the war ends, I’ll have to give them back. The townhouse and servants, too.” He grinned. “I suppose they’ll let me keep at least some of my clothes. I’d hate to be left naked in the streets.”

  “That’s the kind of remark a rake would make,” she noted. “I see you are already into playing your assigned role. I suppose it’s not much of a stretch for you, Mr. Nicholson.”

  “I’ll admit that I’ve always had an eye for the ladies. Or they, for me. Part of my assignment is to get close to certain women. That will include the mistresses of some of the men on the list Smith gave us.”

  Gemma was itching to pull out the list she’d folded and placed in her reticule. She decided to review it during their carriage ride.


  “Let me speak to my driver a moment.” She walked toward Bosley, Nicholson on her heels. “Mr. Bosley, please let me see the responses I gave you earlier.”

  He opened the satchel and withdrew the sealed replies. Gemma flipped through them, handing some to Nicholson to hold. She returned a group to her driver.

  “These are to be delivered. The others are to be placed on my desk. I’ve changed my mind and will be accepting those invitations, as well, so I will need to change my responses.”

  She indicated for Nicholson to hand them over and saw Mr. Bosley place them in a separate side of the satchel.

  “I’m going to be gone for the rest of the day.”

  Her driver’s brows shot up and he glared at her companion.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Bosley. Mr. Nicholson will see me safely home.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure, my lady?”

  “Yes, I am. And I thank you for your concern. Mr. Nicholson is a war veteran. I will be perfectly fine in his company.”

  Bosley looked slightly mollified. “Yes, my lady.” To Nicholson, he said, “If you make one misstep with her, you’ll need another eyepatch.”

  “I admire loyalty, Bosley. I promise to take excellent care of Lady Covington.”

  With that, he took her arm and led Gemma to his waiting vehicle, handing her up and climbing in after her.

  She fingered the plush, expensive velvet. “I hope you’ll be worth it, Mr. Nicholson, and that you’ll provide results.”

  He shrugged. “Either I will or I won’t. I figure with you as my partner, I have a much better chance. You’re very clever, Gemma.”

  “I’d prefer you address me as Lady Covington,” she said stiffly.

  “And I will. In front of others. Except for the few times I supposedly slip and refer to you as Gemma. Those will be deliberate mistakes and let a small group of people know that we are . . . close. As for when we’re alone, we will be spending quite a bit of time together, from your training to going over information we’ve obtained and strategizing. I think it would be easier to be less formal.”