A Scandalous Secret: Spies and Lovers

by Trentham, Laura

  Garrick didn’t say what he was thinking. No matter the state of her hands, Mrs. Leighton wouldn’t make another bonnet.

  “Will they show mercy?” she asked.

  Garrick wasn’t sure who “they” referred to. Sir Hawkins? The magistrate? Garrick felt none of the compassion Victoria struggled with. Mrs. Leighton had sentenced Victoria to die. “She’ll get what she deserves.”

  The woods were growing sparser, and a dark gray tower of the house came into view. Victoria had gone limp in his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder. He shook her slightly, and she roused, her eyes heavy-lidded.

  “You can’t go to sleep, sweetheart.”

  “But I’m so tired.”

  “I know, but it could be dangerous.” Head wounds were tricky and unpredictable. He lengthened his stride and ignored the burn in his shoulders and arms. He would carry her back to London if he must.

  She touched his cheek, drawing his gaze to hers. “Am I truly your sweetheart?”

  The terror and fury of the past hour had stripped away any pretense. “You’re my love. My life.”

  She blinked slowly and smiled before slipping back into a stupor. A shot of fear quickened his steps. He cleared the trees and jogged across the lawn toward the front of the house.

  A footman met him on the graveled drive. “Sir! Is that the missing lady?”

  Garrick was out of breath. “Summon a physician. Bring hot water, clean cloth, and smelling salts to Miss Hawkins’s room. Find her father, Sir Hawkins, and send him up.”

  The footman nodded and scampered off. Garrick clattered into the house. Several ladies emerged from the drawing room, Lady Eleanor included.

  “Oh, Victoria!” Lady Eleanor cried before half collapsing in her mother’s arms. “I must see her.”

  Garrick had not the time nor patience to deal with hysterical young women. He ignored the crowd and took the steps two at a time, finally reaching Victoria’s room. He lay her on the bed and made a quick examination of her head. The contusion was swelling outward, which he knew from experience was a positive sign.

  A wide-eyed maid hustled in with a basin of steamy water, clean white linen, and a kit with a small supply of medicines. She set it on the stand next to the bed. Garrick nodded his thanks and uncorked the smelling salts.

  One pass of the vial under Victoria’s nose roused her. She took his wrist and pushed the vial away, but didn’t immediately release him. Her grip was reassuringly strong. “Where am I?”

  “In your room at Barclay Manor. You’re safe.”

  “I was safe the moment you found me.”

  Her words were like arrows shot straight into his heart. He had survived loss, and he would survive losing her, but he would walk the earth a ghost. Victoria would always have the best of him.

  The door banged open, and Sir and Lady Hawkins strode toward the bed. Garrick extricated himself and stepped aside, stoppering the smelling salts.

  “My darling girl.” Lady Hawkins sat on the edge of the bed and kissed Victoria’s cheek.

  Sir Hawkins joined Garrick. “We found the woman. What happened to the brother?”

  “You’ll find his body at the edge of the ravine to the west of the estate.”

  Sir Hawkins inhaled sharply. “We’ll retrieve it. Good work.”

  “Taking Victoria was an error, sir. They wanted Lady Eleanor from the start.”

  “I gathered as much from the woman’s rambling.” Sir Hawkins chuffed. It wasn’t a laugh but a sound full of irony. “I’ve always feared someone would exact revenge because of what I have done. I never imagined danger coming from a different source.”

  “Victoria is safe now.”

  Lady Hawkins was doing most of the talking, but Victoria had propped herself on the pillows and was answering in a whisper.

  “She’ll recover,” Garrick added.

  “Thanks to you, lad.” Sir Hawkins clapped him on the shoulder and went to join his wife at Victoria’s bedside.

  Garrick had been dismissed as any servant would be. He backed toward the door. All the fear and fury of the day had drained away, leaving him bereft of any emotion. The emptiness threatened to drag him under. He’d only felt this way one other time. After his parents had died and the village shunned him. He’d survived that heartbreak. He would survive this one too.

  But not without getting rip-roaring drunk.

  Victoria’s quiet voice stopped him with his hand on the latch of the door. “Thomas, don’t go. Stay with me.”

  He turned around. Victoria held a hand out to him, parting Sir and Lady Hawkins, who had shifted to stare at him with very different expressions. Sir Hawkins with a contemplative purse of his lips, and Lady Hawkins with a disapproving frown. Garrick went to Victoria, taking her hand. It was still chilled. He rubbed it gently between his hands.

  Victoria smiled up at him. “I want Thomas by my side.”

  Lady Hawkins made a scoffing sound. “I will stay with you as long as you need, darling. I’m sure Garrick has other duties to attend.”

  Victoria laughed, then winced, and touched her bruised temple. “You misunderstand me.”

  “You have had a shock and should rest while we wait on the physician to arrive. No need to speak of things you may regret.” Lady Hawkins took Victoria’s wrist and pulled her hand free of Garrick’s hold.

  “Oh, Mother,” Victoria said in a voice laced with both sadness and humor.

  “Victoria is in love with Garrick, Agatha,” Sir Hawkins said. “And based on my observations, the feeling is mutual.”

  Garrick started around to face his benefactor and employer and mentor. As usual, Sir Hawkins’s face gave no hint as to his thoughts or feelings on the matter. He could very well be imagining running Garrick through with a sword.

  “How long have you known, sir?” Shock roughened Garrick’s voice.

  Sir Hawkins waved his hand about. “For years now. Of course, I recognized Victoria was besotted with you as a young girl, but it was only after her debut and none of the gentlemen sparked her interest that I realized her feelings were well and truly fixed on you.”

  Lady Hawkins plopped on the edge of the bed. “This is outrageous. You must send the young man away, Harold.”

  Sir Hawkins linked his hands behind his back and rocked slightly on his feet. “And you believe that will solve the problem?”

  “Once Victoria is married to Lord Percival—”

  “Never.” Victoria sounded like her father, decisive and unyielding. “I love Thomas. I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. I will marry him or no one. If, that is, he will have me?”

  She glanced at him through her lashes, and his knees wobbled. If her parents weren’t watching them—Lady Hawkins with daggers in her eyes and Sir Hawkins more thoughtfully—he would climb in bed with her, take her in his arms, and remain that way the rest of the day and night.

  Instead, he lay a hand over his heart as if he could rip it out and offer it to her. “I’ve always wanted you. I will do anything and everything in my power to protect you.”

  “If you want to protect her, you should allow her to marry someone more suitable,” Lady Hawkins said through clenched teeth.

  Sir Hawkins’s eyebrows quirked up. “I believe Garrick would be eminently suitable for Victoria.”

  “But the boy is an orphan with no prospects!”

  Garrick finally understood. Sir Hawkins hadn’t been trying to push him out, but set him up for this moment. “I am a man, not a boy, and I will be able to provide for Victoria, perhaps not as a peer might, but we will be comfortable.”

  “Garrick will be working directly for the Home Office starting in the new year. It is an important position, and he will be well compensated. His ascension has been no different than mine, and I was good enough for you, Agatha.”

  Lady Hawkins continued to ignore Garrick. “But you gained a knighthood and accolades and—”

  “Stop, Mother.” Victoria pushed herself to sitting and propped herself o
n a mound of pillows. “I will marry Thomas. My decision is final.”

  Lady Hawkins’s mouth pinched shut, then she spun around and stalked out the door.

  Sir Hawkins sighed and patted Victoria’s hand. “She’ll come around. I’ve had a bit more time—years, in fact—to come to terms with what I deemed a likely future.”

  “Sir, I should have formally asked for Victoria’s hand and—”

  “You have my blessing, of course.” Sir Hawkins looked to the fire in the grate, a pained expression flashing. “Is a speedy marriage necessary?”

  Victoria and Garrick exchanged a glance. Color flooded her face. Heat radiated off his neck, and he knew his cheeks were similarly red. Did they have no secrets left? He supposed this is what came from conducting a love affair under the nose of a spymaster.

  “Ah, yes. I believe a special license would be wise, sir.”

  Sir Hawkins made a sound of agreement. “The physician will be here soon. I shall leave the two of you alone, but the door remains open. Is that understood?”

  Victoria and Garrick spoke at the same time. “Yes, sir.”

  When they were finally alone, Garrick perched on the edge of the bed and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She grabbed it and pressed a kiss to his palm.

  “That was the most courageous thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he murmured.

  “Getting myself abducted?” she asked quizzically.

  “Standing up to your mother. For me. I’m humbled, and I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret the decision.”

  “The only regret I have is not declaring myself earlier.”

  Garrick chuckled. “If I’d had any hope of being welcomed as an acceptable suitor, I would have offered myself two years ago. The time we’ve wasted.”

  “No, not wasted. It happened just as it should have.” She drew him closer and snuggled into his chest. “Now tell me about this opportunity at the Home Office.”

  He half reclined, propping one leg on the bed and leaving the other on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was enough to appease the laws of propriety or not, but they had already broken so many he decided it didn’t matter. “Your father informed me yesterday I’m to transition into a new position. I assumed he was fobbing me off because he’d become aware of my inappropriate feelings for you.”

  “It seems it was just the opposite.” She yawned.

  “That he’s known for so long…” Garrick shook his head in wonder at the twists and turns. Every life was full of hope and hardship and joy. Sometimes at the same time, and sometimes one grew out of another. He and Victoria would no doubt encounter hardships, but they would face them together. It had been a long time since he wasn’t alone.

  A knock on the doorjamb had Garrick bolting off the bed. A portly man with steel-gray hair and side whiskers came inside carrying a black bag. “Miss Hawkins. My name is Dr. Calhoun. I hear you’ve had quite an adventure.”

  “Yes, Doctor, but I’m feeling better.”

  “Let’s examine you then.” Dr. Calhoun glanced Garrick’s direction with a raised brow.

  “Uh, let me fetch Lady Hawkins, shall I?” Garrick backed out of the room without providing an answer. Lady Hawkins descended on him like a proverbial hawk before he was even two steps down the hall.

  “The physician has arrived, I hear.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Garrick stepped aside so she could pass.

  She came to an abrupt stop and turned back to him. “I do not approve, but Harold tells me I must accept your union with my daughter.”

  “I love her. I will protect her.” He didn’t flinch away from the woman’s eviscerating stare.

  Garrick had always thought Sir and Lady Hawkins an odd match, but no longer. Underneath the gracious facade she presented to the lords and ladies she wooed was tempered metal, hard and unbreakable.

  Her jaw twitched but lost its crushing intensity. “I wanted something different for Victoria than I found. I wanted her not to worry about her husband at every turn. I wanted her to marry a man unacquainted with death and danger.”

  Garrick’s breath caught. He hadn’t considered the cost to Victoria.

  “But then again, I suppose she was always too opinionated and adventurous for any of the gentlemen here.” Lady Hawkins disappeared into Victoria’s room.

  While they hadn’t made peace, it seemed they’d reached a truce.

  He loitered outside the door until the physician exited. “How is she?”

  The man spared Garrick nothing more than a glance. “She’ll have a headache and is covered in scrapes and bruises, but she’s young and strong and will be right soon enough. I’ve advised her to keep to her bed tonight. I’m afraid she’ll miss the Christmas Eve celebrations.”

  Garrick nodded and poked his head around the doorjamb. Victoria was sitting on the side of the bed, and Lady Hawkins was urging her back under the covers.

  “I’m not a delicate flower, Mother. I won’t wilt.”

  “The doctor ordered you to rest.”

  “I’m fine.” Victoria spotted Garrick in the doorway and favored him with a smile that made him want to kiss her. “Tell her, Thomas. I’ll sit on a chair in the corner, but there’s no reason for me to miss tonight’s fun. Will someone please order me a bath?”

  Garrick joined Lady Hawkins. Victoria’s dress was filthy and ripped, and she was still too pale for his liking. “I agree with your mother, actually. Although a bath and change of clothes is in order.”

  Lady Hawkins smiled at him like a coconspirator, and he could see his estimation in her eyes rise. “I’ll find the housekeeper.”

  Victoria flopped backward. “I can’t believe you betrayed me.”

  Garrick stifled a smile and leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders. “All the commotion of a party will only exacerbate the pain in your head. You’ve been through a trying experience today. You need to recover.”

  Her chin wobbled. “I don’t want to be stuck in my room. Alone. I keep reliving it. What if you hadn’t found me?”

  Garrick should have seen through her bravado. “You won’t be alone. I care not for parties and won’t leave your side. Would you like visitors? Lady Eleanor, perhaps?”

  “Yes, please,” she said. “Thank you.”

  She clutched at his jacket and drew him down to her. He gave her what they both wanted—and what she needed—a kiss. Not a kiss of seduction, but a promise. He would keep her safe and protect her, but he would also give her freedom.

  Chapter 12

  Victoria didn’t want to admit her mother and Thomas had been right. She was drained and sore, and her head ached. The notion of lacing up her stays and getting pins stuck into her scalp to listen to subpar pianoforte playing made her shudder. After bathing and slipping on a night rail and dressing gown, she settled into a comfy armchair in front of the fire.

  Eleanor entered with mincing steps and burst into tears when she saw Victoria.

  Victoria rose, put an arm around her friend’s shoulders, and drew her toward a second chair. “Come now. I don’t look that ghastly, do I?”

  “I’m so sorry this happened, and all because of me.” Eleanor wailed the last word.

  “It wasn’t your fault. I mostly blame Mrs. Leighton, but Lord Berkwith deserves a portion of the fault. It seems as though he was stringing Mrs. Leighton along in order to continue enjoying her favors.”

  Eleanor pulled out a delicately embroidered handkerchief to daub at her eyes and nose. Victoria had never seen anyone cry more genteelly. Victoria cried like she did most things—with gusto. Her nose ran and turned red, and her eyes swelled.

  Victoria corralled her wandering thoughts. “Where is Lord Berkwith?”

  “He was called away before dawn. A sick aunt.” The forlorn note in Eleanor’s voice made Victoria shake her head.

  “Don’t tell me your feelings are still engaged? After everything he has done?”

  “You told me yourself you thought he truly care
d about me.” Eleanor wouldn’t look at her.

  “Yes, but not more than he cares about himself. Or your dowry. If not for that, he wouldn’t give you a second glance.” Victoria’s ordeal had stripped away her tact when it came to Lord Berkwith.

  Eleanor gasped. “That’s a terribly unkind thing to say.”

  “You are lovely and kind and will make some gentleman a wonderful wife. I’m just not certain Lord Berkwith deserves you.”

  Eleanor rose and fiddled with the handkerchief. She was dressed in a ruby red dress that highlighted her creamy complexion and golden-brown hair. “I’m very much afraid that I love him.”

  Victoria’s headache grew worse with the pronouncement. She rose and stilled Eleanor’s hands with her own. “After all I have endured, will you grant me a boon?”

  Eleanor clutched at Victoria, the tears glimmering in her eyes only enhancing the blue. “Anything that’s in my power.”

  “Give London one more season. If at the end you are still in love with Berkwith—and he with you—then you’ll have my blessing.” Victoria was counting on Lord Berkwith hying off with an easier mark before then. Better Eleanor suffer a broken heart than a lifetime stuck with a charming bounder.

  Eleanor’s reluctance was written plainly on her face. “I suppose a few months won’t make a difference, will they? It will give Lord Berkwith more time to win over my parents.”

  “Exactly.” A soft rap sounded on the door. “Come in.”

  Thomas stepped through the door and left it ajar.

  Eleanor inclined her head. “Mr. Garrick. Thank you for rescuing my dear friend.”

  Thomas’s eyebrows quirked up, but his face remained impassive and intimidating. He didn’t reply.

  Before he could say something even less tactful than what Eleanor had already heard, Victoria led her toward the door. “Go have fun. It’s yuletide, and you’re missing all the games and food. You should see if Lord Percival requires a partner.”

  Laughter and the off-key tinkle of piano keys drifted up the stairs. Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at Thomas, then leaned closer to whisper in Victoria’s ear, “Will you be all right with him?”