Her Majesty’s Scoundrels

by Christy Carlyle

  Elliott wanted to curse his grandmother. Her color was good and the light still sparkled in her eyes as she’d left. He was certain she feigned feeling unwell so he and Sophia might have a chance to come to know each other better.

  He disliked disagreeing with his grandmother. But he didn’t care for another set of watchful eyes upon him either. Deflecting Sophia’s attention away from him and his activities should be something he did without a second thought. He was a spy, after all. His life was built on doing that very thing each and every day. But it was exhausting, especially of late. He needed the brief time he spent at home to be relaxing and free of pretending.

  A glance at the woman on his arm as they made their way to the dining room did not encourage relaxation.

  At the top of his mind was that kiss. As many women as he’d kissed over the years, the act was rarely memorable. But that kiss with Sophia had been stunning.

  The past few days had been busy, filled with meetings with fellow officers of British Intelligence, the prime minister, and his contacts in the seedier part of London. He’d met with his Uncle Daniel to chastise him for suggesting his grandmother have a companion, but it had been difficult to press his point when his uncle had commented on how happy his grandmother was now that she had Sophia.

  Despite all his activity, his most frequent thoughts had been of kissing Sophia. His mind drifted toward her no matter what he was doing. It was distracting.

  If he could chase her away, surely these thoughts would go as well.

  She looked less than pleased at being left alone with him. He was tempted to make an excuse and leave, but he had no doubt his grandmother would be displeased if he did so. That could not be easily dismissed. No, the coward’s way out wouldn’t be worth the aftermath.

  Perhaps if he behaved improperly, he could convince Sophia to quit, leaving his grandmother none the wiser.

  A footman stood near the entrance of the dining room, prepared to serve them. The table was set for two, making him believe his grandmother had never intended to dine with them.

  With his plan in mind, he realized the seating arrangement would never do as the place settings were at either end of the long, polished table.

  “Will you please move the settings together?” he asked the footman before flashing a smile at Sophia. “That will allow us to better converse.” He patted her hand as he escorted her to her chair.

  There it was—that subtle tightening of her lips that spoke volumes of her poor opinion of him. This was going to be easier than he thought. She’d be packing her bag this very night. He’d console his grandmother by taking her shopping or some other outing she’d enjoy.

  He gestured for the footman to pull out the chair for Sophia, watching as disapproval flashed across her face because he hadn’t seen her to her chair. Hiding a smile, he took his place at the end of the table beside her.

  The first course was served. Elliot watched as Sophia ate, her manners impeccable.

  “Lovely day, wasn’t it?” she asked. “We walked through the garden between visitors this afternoon.”

  He frowned. He’d grown used to her not speaking unless spoken to. What was she about?

  “Did you have a chance to enjoy it as well?” She held his gaze, her expression one of polite interest.

  “Briefly.” He bit his tongue before he mentioned anything about the many meetings he’d had. That would only make her curious as to why, and he couldn’t share that.

  “Mrs. Fairchild and two of her daughters came by. They are relations of mine and acquaintances of your grandmother. Do you know them?”

  He skimmed through his mental files until he recalled Mr. Fairchild. “I believe we’ve met. How are they related to you?”

  The conversation continued with Sophia surprising him with the topics she raised. She spoke intelligently of recent political events, popular books, and the ramifications of so many country dwellers moving to the city. He wasn’t certain when he’d had a more stimulating evening.

  “What did you think of The Seven Curses of London?” he asked.

  “The bookshop hasn’t yet received it.”

  “I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the curses.”

  Before he knew it, they were ready for dessert, and he had yet to make her uncomfortable in any way. What was wrong with him? Apparently, he was distracted even when he was with her.

  He drained his glass of wine and motioned for the footman to pour him another. That ought to upset her. Not that he intended to over imbibe. He merely wanted her to think he had.

  As the footman cleared away their dishes, Sophia turned toward him. He had no doubt she intended to make her excuses and retire for the evening. He wasn’t about to let her go yet.

  “Join me in the library,” he requested, giving her a grin that should surely set her lips twitching.

  Dismay flickered across her features.

  Perfect.

  He escorted her toward the library, where the fire burned cheerfully. After seeing her to the settee, he poured himself a drink, not bothering to offer her one. Surely that would be another black mark against him.

  Dangling the crystal glass from his fingers, he moved to the fire. “You and grandmother are attending another ball tomorrow evening?”

  “I believe she wanted to attend Lord and Lady Campbell’s ball.”

  “I hope to come as well. Perhaps we’ll have the chance to dance again.” He sat beside her and took her hand.

  “That’s kind of you, but I know how busy you are.”

  “Never too busy for my grandmother’s companion.” He set aside his glass and ran his fingers slowly along her arm until he reached the soft skin of her inner elbow. He circled his finger in a pattern, noting the slight tremor of her arm. He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I look forward to dancing with you again.”

  Rather than the concern he expected in her expression, she appeared perplexed. That was not the reaction for which he was hoping. She studied him as though searching for a solution to a puzzle, her hazel eyes curious. He had the unsettled feeling she saw past his façade.

  Frowning, he tried again. “Perhaps we can share another private moment afterward.”

  She glanced about. “We’re rather private now, aren’t we?”

  Her reminder only proved how much he was off his game. Why make promises for what might happen when he could do what he wanted now?

  “Yes, we are.” He leaned close, hoping to intimidate her into backing away. But once again, she seemed more curious than fearful.

  Why did she never act as he expected? It was maddening. Now, more than ever, he wanted to fluster her. To make her feel as out of sorts as he did.

  This sensation was precisely the reason he wanted her gone. He needed to focus on the information he’d gathered abroad and follow the leads he’d uncovered in recent days. He didn’t have time to worry over what she might be thinking or seeing.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, but he was surprised that true desire now prompted his movements.

  Before Sophia had come into his life, it had been a long time since he’d kissed a woman solely because he wanted to.

  “Sophia.” He caressed her arm as his lips neared hers. His eyes closed as he drew in her presence with his senses.

  Suddenly, she was gone.

  He opened his eyes to see she had risen to stand before the fireplace, facing the flames rather than him. While pleased he’d at last flustered her, he regretted her escape even more.

  “The balls are nice, but I also enjoy the musical performances.” Her quiet words took a moment to sink in as he was so focused on that almost kiss.

  He retrieved his glass and rose, taking advantage of her turned back to dump the drink into the potted plant near the sideboard. Then he took care to rattle the crystal stopper in the decanter as he poured another drink.

  His ploy worked, for when he turned back to her, she faced him, her gaze on his glass.

  He deliberately took a sip before
approaching her once more.

  “What of you?” she asked, obviously still trying to be a good conversationalist. No doubt his grandmother had told her to.

  “I appreciate some performances more than others.” He raised a brow as he moved closer, hoping to suggest he wasn’t referring to music or any other polite society event.

  “Such as?” Her head tilted slightly as though curious as to his answer.

  He reached her side and ran a finger over her shoulder and down her arm. “Such as the one playing right now.” He kept his voice low as he continued. “I wonder if you’ll let me closer.” He edged nearer. “If you’ll allow me to kiss you once more.”

  Sophia’s eyes grew wide. “Oh?” If he wasn’t mistaken, she sounded rather breathless.

  That made two of them.

  He tilted his head, ready to take her lips with his, wondering how far he might take this kiss. When her hand moved against his chest, his body tightened with anticipation, only to realize that hand was firmly pressed against him with an entirely different purpose than he’d wanted—to halt him.

  A glance at her face confirmed it. She was having none of this. She took a step back. Then another.

  “I’ve appreciated our time together this evening.” She looked deliberately at the drink he still held. “But I would like to check on your grandmother before the hour grows too late.”

  She dipped into a curtsy and was gone before he could think of a reason to protest.

  He scowled, realizing he didn’t care for the sensation of failure. Especially not at something he was supposed to be good at—playing the role of scoundrel.

  The enigmatic Miss Sophia Markham was proving to be more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. Damn if he didn’t look forward to their next encounter.

  Chapter Five

  Sophia woke the next morning, a knot of dread lodged in her stomach. She gave into her mood and tugged the covers over her head, not wanting to face the day.

  No doubt the earl intended to convince the countess to dismiss her based on her behavior last night. She’d tried to be friendly and interesting during supper, but the earl had deliberately attempted to provoke her.

  It confused her when he acted like such a scoundrel. How could that man be the same one who’d held his grandmother’s hand and declared his affection for her with no worry over how his behavior would be perceived? The man who had spoken to her of the stars and his travels had been different as well. Which man was true?

  His reputation was known far and wide and bandied about in polite society as a well-known fact. Who was she to wonder if it was a falsehood?

  Besides, what reason could he possibly have to encourage the rumors of his exploits? No advantage of doing so came to mind. If anything, she thought he’d prefer to act in a manner that would make his grandmother proud.

  Of course, Sophia knew the countess loved him dearly. They shared a special bond. It would take more than his outlandish behavior to dim their affection.

  With a sigh, she pushed back the covers. Lying here wondering if she needed to pack her bags wouldn’t change the outcome. Better to proceed with the day. Until she was dismissed, she had duties to attend to.

  Most of all, she wanted to find out how the countess fared. Sophia had looked in on her the previous night but the light was out in her room, suggesting she already slept.

  As Sophia dressed, she considered Elliott’s behavior throughout the past week. Something was off, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. Finally, it struck her. He didn’t act like a man whose sole purpose in life was to have a good time. Rather he moved through his days with determination, his thoughts seeming to be on weightier matters than whom he might ravish next or where to find the liveliest entertainment.

  If he were truly a rogue, wouldn’t he have followed her to her room last evening or tried to accost her in the middle of the night while she slept? She’d heard stories of maids and governesses who awoke in the dark of night to find the master of the house on top of them.

  She couldn’t imagine Elliott doing any such thing. His careless acts—those he did without forethought—always reflected his kindness and respect for others. It was his deliberate movements, such as the way he’d advanced on her last night, that suggested improper behavior.

  With a shake of her head, she reminded herself that her opinion didn’t matter. She was a companion in this household. Not a guest. Not a relative. She was paid to be here, and she’d fare better if she could remember that.

  It had been her choice to become a companion. After living with the extremes of her mother’s broken-hearted existence and her aunt’s bitterness, she was certain this was the best option for her. She couldn’t risk being hurt and living as unhappily as they had.

  She glanced in the mirror to make certain she was presentable, tucked a loose curl of hair into her chignon, pinched her cheeks to help hide the fact she’d had a restless night, and left her room, hurrying down the stairs.

  Only to run directly into Elliott.

  He reached out to catch her, holding her bare arms.

  “I’m terribly sorry, my lord.”

  “I’m not.” His easy smile drew her notice, causing a slow heat to fill her.

  His green eyes were clear and he smelled wonderful—nothing like a man well into his cups the previous evening would smell.

  He continued to hold her lightly, and she couldn’t find it within her to step away. Not when he looked at her as if pleased to see her.

  That couldn’t be the case. She’d refused his advances last night when she knew he wanted her gone. Why wasn’t he angry or at least annoyed?

  As though aware of the questions circling her thoughts, the warmth in his gaze cooled as a layer of reserve shuttered his expression. He reached up to slowly run a finger along her cheek then down her neck. The corner of his mouth tilted up, but she recognized it to be a false smile.

  Why did he act this way?

  The answer came easily but still unwelcome—to convince her to leave.

  Disappointment filled her. Why did he want her gone so badly? Surely the little he’d become acquainted with her hadn’t made him dislike her that much.

  From what she could perceive in this moment, with the warmth of his finger trailing along her skin leaving tingles in its wake, she had two choices.

  She could either comply and leave, as he so obviously wanted her to do. Or she could choose not to let his forward behavior bother her. That would be easier said than done when his touch, his glances, his smiles—the genuine ones—set her heart racing.

  One fact at the heart of the matter guided her decision. She wanted this position. She adored the countess and enjoyed spending time with her. The older woman was so different from both her mother and her aunt. Sophia felt valued here, and the countess seemed to like her.

  For the first time in a long while, Sophia was happy. She had to find a way to stay in Elliott’s good graces so she could keep her position.

  “Are you going to see your grandmother?” With a bright smile, she stepped away from his finger, trying to ignore how bereft she felt without his touch. “That’s where I was going as well. May I accompany you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she moved down the hall, glancing over her shoulder to see him standing right where she’d left him. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course.” A frown now marred his brow.

  She turned to hide her smile, pleased she was keeping him off balance as much as he was her. Perhaps this day held more hope than she’d thought.

  Later that morning, Elliott considered each word carefully as he penned a message at the desk in his library to one of his associates.

  Writing down information was always a dangerous endeavor. One never knew who might intercept the message, yet it needed to contain enough details to be helpful. Meeting with each and every person with whom he needed to communicate wasn’t practical. He’d already been overextended in his activities since hi
s return home.

  That was surely the reason Sophia had gotten under his skin. He’d been thinking of her, and when she practically fell into his arms in the hall, he’d been delighted. But playing the role of rogue with her had become a chore as it required significant effort.

  Her reaction this morning had been surprising. She’d ignored his advances as though not bothered by them at all.

  He tapped the top of his desk, pondering the moment again, trying to focus on her odd reaction rather than the softness of her skin.

  No matter how he felt toward her, she remained a threat to his identity. The simplest way to remove that threat was to remove her. Unfortunately, that was proving to be far more difficult than he’d expected.

  Suddenly aware of a presence at the door, he looked up to find Codwell waiting patiently, holding a silver tray with a message. At Elliott’s nod, the butler walked to his desk and held out the tray. “This arrived for you, my lord.”

  The symbol on the front identified it as having been sent by Prime Minister Gladstone. “Thank you.” He took the missive reluctantly. He didn’t know what it contained, but no doubt it held either unwelcome news or additional work.

  Codwell had been with him long enough that he knew a few details of Elliott’s work. He never asked questions but occasionally offered bits of gossip and rumors that crossed his path from other households.

  If the ton realized what their servants knew and how often they shared it with others, they’d more closely guard their secrets. Didn’t they wonder what the footmen discussed as they waited for their lords and ladies at balls or what was whispered between maids who crossed each other’s paths on their daily jaunt to the market?

  It was impossible to hide everything, but Elliott did his best. He trusted Codwell and knew he could count on his discretion. Elliott had no doubt the servant knew who’d sent the message, regardless of who’d delivered it.

  “If I may mention a trivial matter, my lord?”

  Elliott looked up at Codwell’s request. “Of course.”

  “It might be best if you avoid pouring your drinks into the palm. The plant doesn’t care for it.” He nodded toward the pot Elliott had emptied his drink into the previous night.