After that first night, he’d spent the rest of the week looking for her out of the corner of his eye. Hoping—against his better judgment—that she’d make another appearance. She hadn’t, much to his displeasure, though he refused to wonder why she had anything to do with his pleasure.
Thoughts of her should have mustered hot anger and outrage—she had accosted him, after all. Instead, it made a different kind of heat gather in his belly—just the memory of those glittering eyes, shining with dangerous intent and intrigue, made a fire gather in his blood. It was new and wholly unexpected, this interest.
And he welcomed it heartily.
He shook himself, readjusting his cravat so it was as straight as a pin. It wouldn’t do to appear unpolished in the presence of his staid and fusty brother, the duke. While Richard had been learning to play with wooden swords by the large oak tree out behind their manor house, Justin had been learning to be a duke. Dull, that.
He peered out the carriage window, taking in the familiar sights of Brooks Street, on his way to visit his brother and sister-in-law. His brother had sent a message asking for his attendance at afternoon tea, but Richard knew it would be more an inquisition about the country party than a pleasant repast. He was surprised it had taken his brother this long to summon him.
He must be overwrought with the impending arrival of his heir; he is usually so prompt with his summons. It made sense that his brother would be consumed with worry for his wife and their unborn child. Justin needed no other issues to worry over.
But should he tell his brother about the woman? His answer was immediate and guttural. While she’d obviously been up to no good, sneaking around as she’d been, his brother had nothing to do with it. Then again, Richard had also been sneaking around—looking for the maid, and then following her when she’d aroused his suspicions.
That’s not the only thing she aroused.
He bit back a curse, thankful that his aunt had deigned to visit her other nephew later, rejecting his offer of a ride. He would be a poor conversationalist at the moment.
His mind, unable to stray far from thoughts of Berta, immediately trailed back to that topic. That woman at the party, whoever she was, must’ve accomplished whatever it was he’d disrupted when he’d come upon her. Why else had she completely disappeared? From what he could tell—not that he’d spent more than a few hours looking for her, surreptitiously, of course—she’d left after that first night. And what had she been doing? That next morning, the earl had seemed agitated, pale, distracted. Of course, Richard wondered if his maid had been the cause.
His maid? No. He couldn’t think of her like that. She’d been a criminal, posing as the earl’s maid to gain entrance to his house. But for what purpose? Had she stolen something so important it turned the earl from carefree host to grousing bear in the span of a single evening?
Probably.
There was no other reason for her to have held a knife to his throat and threatened unpleasantness if he spoke of her poking around the earl’s study. He could still feel her dagger point, just below his chin. He could still remember the feel of her curves, pressed against his back. He would never forget the warmth of her breath against his flesh, like feathers brushing along his spine.
And her eyes…blue flames surrounded by a fan of inky lashes.
The carriage came to a halt outside his brother’s townhome, a tall, stately house with pillars, climbing ivy, and all the ostentatious touches one expected of the Duke of Gwynys’s London home. Before he could step out of the carriage, his brother appeared, walking down the steps with a harried look on his face.
“What ho? What’s the hurry, Justin?” Richard called, exiting the carriage and watching as his brother skittered to a stop just in front of him.
“She forced me from my own home,” Justin grumbled, and Richard could easily assume which “she” he was referring to.
“Lara is one of the sweetest women I know; why ever would she do that?”
Justin harrumphed, tipping his chin up. “She says I have been hovering too much, that I need to give her some space away from all my ‘mother-henning,’” he drawled incredulously. “What does that even mean?”
Richard barely held back his bark of laughter. “It means, dear brother, that you have made yourself a nuisance to your already overwrought wife.”
Justin peered at him as if he’d never heard such words before. “Balderdash. I have done nothing but see to her every need— That is my duty as her husband and the father of our child.”
He wouldn’t know; he’d never given thought to being a father. Or even marrying, for that matter. With his brother married and producing heirs for the dukedom, Richard could live as he wished without the noose of matrimony choking him.
Live as you wish? What happiness has that wrought?
“I cannot advise you, but I can provide you with company during your exile,” he remarked, pulling the brim of his hat down to shade his face from the afternoon sun. “We can walk— A brisk walk will take your mind off your troubles, at least for a while.”
Justin appeared to be thinking on it, rubbing his chest over his heart and furrowing his brow. He looked truly troubled.
“I suppose a walk would at least give me something to do besides stand on my own doorstep and stare at the door,” he grumbled, and Richard grinned.
Turning northward, Richard began walking, and when Justin caught up to him, they settled into a pleasant silence—as brothers can. Finally, his brother brought up the topic Richard had been expecting.
“How did you fare at Banebridge’s party?”
“It was ridiculously tedious, as you well have guessed,” he replied, refusing to give thought to the one person who’d made a few short hours the most interesting of his life.
“Aunt Margaret said you seemed preoccupied throughout the week,” Justin intoned, his gaze sweeping over his brother’s face.
“It was nothing more than boredom, Justin,” he lied. “You know how I despise false faces and watered-down brandy.”
Justin smirked. “Don’t we all?”
They continued their silent stroll until they came to a corner bustling with muslin, parasols, shopping bags, and chattering women. Stopping just outside a rather popular haberdashery—one his own aunt crowed about just last week—he nearly collided with another group of women pouring from the shop door.
“Your Grace,” a breathy voice called from the midst of the fray, and both he and his brother looked to see who’d spoken. It was a tall, thin woman in a bright yellow dress, which matched the bright yellow hat on her silver and black hair. She was surrounded by beauteous ebony-haired women—all in different sizes, and he could only assume they were her daughters.
“Lady Gadstoke, what a pleasure it is to see you,” Justin remarked, making an elegant bow. Lady Gadstoke turned her gaze on Richard. “Richard, may I introduce you to Lady Gadstoke. My lady, this is my scamp of a younger brother, the Right Honorable Lord Richard Downing.”
All eyes focused on him, he bowed at the waist and offered the handsome woman a smile. “I am happy to meet you, my lady.” He had heard of Gadstoke, Devon Daring, in passing.
“Richard, her ladyship’s husband, Lord Gadstoke, is a boisterous voice in the House of Lords. Since his return, we’ve had many diverting conversations while standing about, waiting for the meetings to begin.”
Lady Gadstoke chuckled. “Lord Gadstoke is a boisterous voice in our house as well.”
“And not just boisterous—angry, too,” the littlest Daring spouted, her face shining with playfulness.
“Faith, mind your manners,” one of the other Darings, a mirror image of the woman standing to her right, snapped. The younger Miss Daring had the audacity to grin at her sister.
With a sharp look at the group gathered beside her, Lady Gadstoke offered, “My lords, may I present to you my daughters, Faith, Grace, Honoria, Verity, and— Goodness, where is Victoria?” As each young lady offered him practiced curtseys,
Lady Gadstoke turned toward the shop door, her nose scrunching up in displeasure.
Richard took in the sight before him—four women, dressed to the nines, grinning at him as if he were the best thing since satin ribbons.
“Ladies,” Justin intoned, bowing once again. The ladies, once again, dipped well-practiced curtseys. “This is my brother, Lord Richard.”
The littlest Daring stepped forward, her green-blue eyes much too piercing for one so young. “Are you really a duke?” she asked Justin, who chuckled.
“Indeed, I am.”
Lady Gadstoke huffed and stared down at her daughter. “Of course he is, dear.”
Faith shrugged. “How am I to know unless I ask? Papa always says to ask questions.”
She who seemed to be the next oldest took her sister by the elbow. “Yes, but I don’t think he meant ‘questions with obvious answers.’”
The two other sisters, who were unmistakably twins, laughed into their fans, a pretty sound that made Richard grin.
Allowing his curiosity its way, he tipped his head and asked, “Did I hear my brother say your husband recently returned?”
She nodded curtly. “You did. We’ve all just arrived back in England after our sojourn in China.”
“Lord Gadstoke has been working tirelessly as our ambassador to the Orient,” Justin provided.
“We were all born there,” Miss Faith supplied, grinning.
“Oh? How marvelous.”
The girl beamed, bobbing with youthful energy. “We are marvelous. Just wait until you see—”
“Blast it,” came a new voice, one that drew everyone’s attention to the shop door, where an absolutely beautiful woman was standing, staring down at the point of her slipper peeking out from beneath her deep green walking dress. “Seems I stepped in—”
“Victoria!” Lady Gadstoke snapped. And with that, the newly arrived woman glanced up, right at him.
Her bright, sapphire gaze pierced him to the marrow.
His breath caught, and everything within him screeched to a halt. He’d know those eyes anywhere, and the flash of shock in her eyes told him she knew him, too.
Berta.
If she was as shocked to see him as he was to see her, she covered it admirably, pulling her gaze from his face to look at her mother.
“Mother,” the woman said, her voice husky.
Her mother sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly, as if to prepare herself. “I would like to introduce you to His Grace the Duke of Gwynys and his brother, Lord Richard Downing.”
Victoria Daring turned to Justin and gave a beautifully graceful curtsey. “Your Grace,” she drawled. Justin bowed, then turned to Richard.
Gathering his wits, he offered her a stiff bow, not once taking his gaze from her face.
“Lord Richard,” Victoria said, her tone smooth and hard, like flint.
It took all his self-control to keep from pulling her aside to ask what the hell she was about. Instead, he simply took a step closer, reached out, and took her hand in his, bowing over it. Her long-fingered hand was warm, her glove doing nothing to hide the suppleness beneath it. What he wouldn’t give to know the softness, to touch it…with his lips.
“Lady Victoria…I cannot help but feel that we have met before.” He knew he was poking a feral cat, but he couldn’t help himself. She intrigued him as no one had before, and he’d be damned if he let this moment pass without learning just a little more about Lady Victoria Daring.
She stiffened, pulling her hand from his grasp. “I am afraid you are mistaken, Lord Richard. I am sure I would remember having met you before,” she drawled, her eyes as impenetrable and unreadable as ice. “I never forget a face.”
A half smile curled his lips—the she-devil. “And I could never forget eyes as striking as yours.”
She lifted a single black eyebrow. “And have you seen eyes like mine before?” she asked, staring at him unabashedly. Damn, but she had steel in her spine.
He liked it. He liked her—for all the trouble that would bring.
“Yes, I have. At a party, just this week past.”
She stiffened, her body giving her away. A triumphant smile played at his lips, and she noticed it, her eyes flashing.
“Perhaps it was a doppelganger, then?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” she offered, taking a step back to allow her mother to draw closer.
“Now that we’ve all met, I would love to invite you to our home for dinner—perhaps tomorrow evening? And, of course, I will invite your aunt, Lady Ashbury. We are longtime friends from our days at school,” Lady Gadstoke said, her expression hopeful.
Justin cleared his throat to, no doubt, reject the offer, but Richard couldn’t fathom not going to visit the Darings. Visit Lady Victoria Daring.
“We gladly accept,” he answered before Justin could utter a word. He’d deal with his brother’s vitriol later.
Victoria’s perfectly shaped lips pulled downward, just a tad, and something fluttered deep within him.
Was that a thrill that just raced through him? His current mood was certainly a change from just the week before…before he’d collided with “Berta.” No, he certainly wasn’t bored any longer.
Lady Gadstoke clapped. “Splendid. We will send our address later today.”
Justin seemed tongue-tied, and Richard still couldn’t pull his attention from the tall, gorgeous woman standing there, not bothering to avoid his gaze. She was a bold one, her piercing blue eyes not giving anything away. It was no wonder she could hold a dagger to a man’s throat.
After another few moments of inane pleasantries, the women climbed into their carriage and departed, leaving a grumbling duke and a stunned Richard watching after them.
“What was that, you cur? You know very well that I am not taking invitations. Lara is much too close to term, and I dread being away from her, even now.” Justin’s face was pinched, his eyes stony.
Richard rubbed at the back of his neck, his own surprise at his actions mingling with the guilt his brother’s words aroused.
His only excuse was that he hadn’t been thinking—or at least he hadn’t been thinking about anything other than getting Victoria Daring alone and discovering why she’d attended the Banebridge ball, dressed as a maid. And what she was really doing in the earl’s study. Though she was a lady born, it could very well be that Lady Victoria Daring was a criminal…
“I wasn’t thinking,” he replied honestly.
“I can see that,” Justin grumbled, turning on his heel to stride, purposefully, back the way they had come. “And do not think I didn’t notice how you stared at the girl—Lady Victoria Daring.”
“I thought I recognized her, that is all.” Not an untruth.
His brother didn’t pause in his hurried steps. “And did you?”
“No. She wasn’t who I thought she was.” Another truth. Victoria Daring was the daughter of an earl… So what made her disguise herself as a maid?
Curiosity ate at him, even as his mind whirled with questions just begging for answers. The first one being…why was he so concerned over this woman? Certainly, he cared about her well-being—as he would anyone.
But why did the need to watch over her beat at him like a hammer?
…
“Victoria, why ever was he looking at you like that?” Faith asked, her curious eyes dancing.
Vic brushed invisible lint from her lap and continued to watch the people along the street as the carriage rolled on. “Whatever do you mean? Who, dear?”
She knew very well who. Him. Richard Downing. A man who was much too handsome for his own good, and much too nosy for his own sake.
Also, the possibility that he could be a criminal never strayed from her thoughts. When she’d returned from Clouster Hall, she’d kept the incident with Richard to herself, and not just because she had no tangible evidence of her guilt, but also because she feared placing blame on the shoulders of someone who could be innocent. If he was innocent.
All are innocent until their guilt is proven.
It was just rotten luck that found them together on that street corner, but the worst thing about the whole debacle was that the dratted man had recognized her. How was it possible? When they’d met again, she’d been without costume, wig, and spectacles, and she’d wiped off the pencil-drawn mole from just below her mouth. And her accent had been utterly different than the one she’d used as Berta. Despite all that, she couldn’t mistake that knowing twinkle in his dashed golden eyes, nor the devilish curling of his lips. He’d been toying with her; taking her hand and speaking about her striking eyes as if he cared a whit about something as common as her eye color.
His knowing the truth could very well jeopardize her newly minted position within their organization—could jeopardize the entire organization they had so painstakingly built. She fought back a groan of frustrated disbelief. This couldn’t be happening—her very first solo operation and she’d been uncovered. What could she do to rectify this blunder?
She’d just have to dissuade him of his notion that they knew one another. She’d been brilliantly disguised; it would be a relatively simple thing to act as though he were mistaken— She’d already said so. Yes, it was better to just ignore him, his eyes, his lips, and the tingling all those things incited in her belly.
What could he do anyway, other than remark about how similar her eyes were to those of a maid he once saw at a party? No one would believe a word of it. Besides that, if he mentioned her subterfuge, he’d be opening himself up to speculation. If he were the one responsible for the blackmail letter, he’d only be unveiling his own deeds.
A smile played at her lips. He may have thought he knew her, but he hadn’t the slightest idea just how flimsy his knowledge was.
Faith pouted. “The man, Lord Richard, was most certainly staring at you,” she continued. “He was ogling you as though you grew a second head—and it was purple.”
Honoria laughed. “Faith is correct, Vic. Downing was most certainly staring at you.”
Shrugging, she met her sister’s gaze. “He must have thought me too forward. I was rather…ineloquent when I burst into the conversation.” She’d been purchasing the hat her mother demanded she wear to the Algrens’ garden party when she’d felt something sticky on her shoe. She’d meant to comment on it once she reached her family. Unfortunately for her, she’d stepped into something else altogether.
A Lady Never Tells (Women of Daring) Page 6