A Husband's Wicked Ways

by Jane Feather

  “It is, indeed, ma’am.” He kissed her fingertips. “How enchanting you look.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She smiled her little simpering smile and allowed him to usher her down to the street, where her own horse and Jemmy’s cob awaited them.

  “Is your groom to accompany us?” Don Antonio looked a little put-out as Jemmy knelt to offer his palm to help Aurelia mount.

  “But of course, sir. Is it not the custom in Spain for ladies to be escorted by their own household on public outings?” Her voice was bland, her smile all innocent inquiry, even as her eyes darted up the street looking for the bodyguard. But, of course, he was nowhere to be seen. Greville’s men worked in the shadows, but he was there. Greville did not make promises he would not keep.

  “It certainly is, but our social rules are rather stricter than yours,” Don Antonio said. “Or that, at least, has been my impression, Lady Falconer.”

  “Maybe so. But my husband is somewhat old-fashioned. He would look askance if I rode unaccompanied with a male acquaintance without a groom.”

  “I see.” Don Antonio brought his horse up beside hers. “You are perhaps a nervous rider. In such a case, I quite understand your husband’s need to provide you with trustworthy escort.”

  “You have the right of it, sir,” Aurelia said with an anxious little titter. “Indeed, my husband is overly protective, I believe. But I confess I am not the most confident of riders, and I do believe the horse guesses it.”

  “I shall watch your mount very carefully, ma’am. Have no fear.” He gave her his chilly smile.

  He still couldn’t be certain what she was. Was she Falconer’s partner as well as his wife? But why a man as formidable as Falconer would fall for a woman who, in the Spaniard’s opinion, had little out of the ordinary to recommend her was a question beyond answering. Although men did do the strangest things when it came to love and lust. He’d known several brilliant men who’d fallen helplessly into the toils of a woman who seemed to offer nothing more than a pleasant and undemanding personality, and a certain flair in the bedchamber.

  It was not impossible that this was the case. Not impossible but highly unlikely. Either way, it mattered little. Whether she was merely lover or partner, or lover and partner, she could prove a useful tool in his fight with the asp.

  They turned into the park through the Stanhope Gate and he set himself to be charming.

  • • •

  Greville arrived at Mount Street with Lyra just before five, the appointed hour for the schoolroom to cease the day’s activities. Cornelia was coming downstairs as he was admitted and greeted him with surprise.

  “Greville, this is unusual.”

  “Aurelia had some errands to run,” he explained. “She had promised Franny that she could show off Lyra to Stevie and Susannah. So I volunteered my services.”

  Cornelia laughed. “Always wise to keep promises to Franny. The consequences of failure can be painful.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Greville replied somewhat aridly.

  Cornelia looked at him with an arrested expression. “Forgive me, but do I detect a note of disapproval?”

  He stepped back from the brink just in time, raising his hands in disclaimer. “I have no experience with children and am in no position to have an opinion, ma’am.”

  Cornelia looked as if she would have said more, but then decided to take her own step back. She called to a hovering footman, “Will you take the dog up to the schoolroom, please, Gavin. The children are waiting for her.”

  The footman looked doubtfully at the massive hound, who returned the look with calm benignity. “How should I do that, m’lady?”

  Greville said something quietly, and immediately Lyra rose and padded to the stairs. The footman went after her and they disappeared into the upper reaches of the house.

  “Will you come into the drawing room, Greville?” Cornelia invited, unable to disguise the slight chill remaining in her voice.

  “Thank you, but I was wondering if your husband was in? There’s something I wished to discuss with him.”

  “He’s in the library. I’ll take you to him.” Cornelia led the way to the back of the house, knocked briefly on the door, and put her head around. “Greville would like to speak with you, Harry. He’s come to fetch Franny.”

  Harry rose from behind his desk and greeted Greville warmly. “Come in. Let me offer you a glass of claret. It’s unusual for you to be doing nursemaid duty.”

  “It is. But Aurelia had conflicting plans. I had no plans, so…” An easy shrug completed the sentence, and Greville took the proffered glass of claret with a nod of thanks.

  The door closed softly behind Cornelia, and Harry looked a question at his visitor. “Your visit is not purely social, I take it.”

  “No.” Greville took the seat his host waved him to. “You offered your assistance and now I have a simple question for you. I ask that you answer it without asking for details, which I am not at this point in a position to give.”

  “Ask away.” Harry sipped his claret and kept his intense curiosity in check.

  “If I should need you to take Franny at a moment’s notice…I may not even have time to bring her to you…can you guarantee to do it?”

  “Yes,” Harry said calmly. “Is that all?”

  “Yes.” Greville drank deeply of his wine. “I thank you.”

  “No need.” Harry swirled the wine in his glass thoughtfully. “Can I assume that the dog is trained to protect Franny as well as Aurelia?”

  “Yes. But she can’t be in both places at once.”

  Harry nodded. “Forgive me, Falconer, but I must say one thing. If you allow anything to happen to Aurelia or Franny, you will answer for it to me.”

  Greville gave a short laugh. “Have no fear, there’s nothing you could do to me, Bonham, that I will not already have done to myself.” He stood up. “It’s our business. You know the rules, you know the risks as well as I do. And believe me, Aurelia knows them, too. And that, my friend, is all I am going to say.”

  Greville set his glass down and walked to the door. “I must take Franny home before it gets dark.”

  “One minute, Falconer.” Harry spoke sharply. “I need you to clarify just one point.”

  Greville paused, his hand on the door. “Yes?”

  “Are you implying that Aurelia is working with you?”

  “She has been pretty well from the first moment I met her. Aurelia is my partner, and she knows what she’s doing. Good afternoon, Bonham.” Greville opened the door and left the library.

  Harry blew out his cheeks on a noisy exhale. He had suspected it, but had resisted the knowledge. As much, he recognized ruefully, because it pointed up his own failings in that regard. If he’d trusted Cornelia with the truth of his work, she and her son would not have become unwittingly and so nearly catastrophically involved. And he knew Alex Prokov would say the same about Livia. Prokov owed his life to his wife’s courage and determination. If Aurelia shared those characteristics with her friends, and of course she did, then who were they to wax indignant that she willingly partnered her husband in his work?

  But where did the marriage come into it? That would be Cornelia’s first question, he knew. Was the marriage merely part of what they were working on together? Or was there more to it?

  Harry hoped fervently for Aurelia’s sake that it was the latter.

  • • •

  By the time Don Antonio and Aurelia were in sight of her house on South Audley Street at the end of their ride in the park, the Spaniard was ready to wring his companion’s neck. She was a most accomplished flirt and the worst kind of tease. Every flattering advance he had made, she had turned aside with a suggestive smile and a conflicting murmur of maidenly distress. She led him on as she pushed him away, and her stream of inconsequential chatter, interspersed with an irritating titter, was driving him insane. She had given him absolutely nothing, and he had the infuriating conviction that she had been enjoying herself most
definitely at his expense.

  “What a delightful ride, Don Antonio,” she said as they drew rein outside the house. “And you are such an entertaining companion.” The simper and the titter were cleverly restrained this time, with just the inviting up-from-under look from those deep brown eyes.

  “May I return the compliment, ma’am,” he said, lying through his teeth. “And may I dare to believe that you would agree to another such excursion?”

  “If you would dare to ask me, sir,” she returned with a wicked smile that had none of the simper about it.

  Oh, she was good, he thought. Very, very good. She knew exactly when to leaven the demure ingenue with the knowing sophisticate. If confusing her escort was her intention, she was an expert at the game. And if he had not had his own game to play, he might have enjoyed beating her at hers. But he would have his own back soon enough, and that victory would be particularly sweet.

  “Perhaps something a little more daring than a ride in Hyde Park?” he suggested with a flirtatious smile of his own. “I do believe, my lady, that you are not in the least a nervous rider.” He wagged a mock reproving finger at her.

  His smile gave Aurelia the shivers. It was trying to be inviting, and yet she found it utterly repugnant. She batted her eyelashes. “What are you suggesting, Don Antonio?”

  “Richmond. Where better for a springtime ride? The trees will be in blossom, the horse chestnuts ablaze with their candles, bluebells in all the dells.”

  Aurelia managed with difficulty to produce a light laugh. “How poetic you are, sir. I could believe you to be very familiar with our English spring.”

  “I read your English poets,” he said with an assumption of sincerity, leaning over to touch her gloved hand. “I admire your English culture as much as I understand you admire mine.”

  Here she heard just the edge of the knife beneath the gentle banter. “I do, indeed, Don Antonio.” She slipped her hand out from his. “But it is quite unlike the English. There’s a certain darkness to it, a touch of melancholy, don’t you think?”

  He smiled again. “If you would permit me, my lady, I could show you aspects of our culture where there is only light and pleasure.”

  “And perhaps I will, sir,” Aurelia said lightly. “A ride in Richmond sounds delightful.” She beckoned Jemmy, who had dismounted and was waiting at the bottom of the steps for her signal. He came hurrying over but not before Don Antonio had dismounted and was standing at her stirrup to help her down.

  She accepted his hand, but as soon as her foot touched the pavement, she stepped away from him. “My thanks, Don Antonio, for a most pleasant excursion.”

  He took her hand and bowed over it. “Will you ride with me again tomorrow, Lady Falconer?”

  “Sir, I may not,” she said, trying for another light laugh. “What would the world say if they saw me ride in the park with you on two consecutive days? We do have our rules, you know. They may not be as strict as yours, but one breaks them at one’s peril.”

  He gave her an accepting bow. “I understand. But you will consider the ride in Richmond?”

  “With pleasure, Don Antonio.” She gave him her hand.

  He raised it to his lips. “Then I will call upon you tomorrow to arrange the date, ma’am.”

  “I look forward to it, Don Antonio.” She took back her hand, smiled once, then went swiftly up the steps to her front door, her key already in her hand. She had it open before Don Antonio had remounted, and she was inside with the door firmly closed before he had nudged his horse into motion.

  She stood for a moment, leaning against the door at her back, absorbing the familiar atmosphere of her home, the scent of beeswax and lavender, the peaceful glow of the oil lamps, the knowledge of people, her people, moving about the rooms and corridors of the house.

  Franny was upstairs in the nursery. She headed for the stairs, taking them at a run, barely hearing Greville’s voice in the hall, calling her name.

  • • •

  Greville followed Aurelia up to the nursery. He was on her heels as she greeted Franny, who, bathed and in her nightgown, was eating her supper of bread and milk sweetened with honey, and regaling Daisy with details of Lyra’s splendid performance in the Mount Street schoolroom.

  “Susannah couldn’t believe her eyes, Daisy, when he told Lyra to lie down, an’ she did, an’ then when he told her to, she held up a paw to shake hands…it was amazin’, really…” Franny accepted her mother’s kiss. “Really amazin’, Mama, you should have—” The rest of the sentence was lost in a mouthful from the porringer.

  “I’m sure it was, sweetie,” Aurelia said, gazing hungrily at her daughter. She wanted to enfold her, to hold her tightly against her, but Franny would find such a sudden and untimely impulse both strange and alarming.

  “Lyra’s not a pet, Franny.” Greville spoke from behind Aurelia and she turned, wondering why she hadn’t sensed his arrival. “Today was the only time I’ll ask her to do tricks for you. She’s a working dog, as we explained to you.”

  “All right,” Franny said peaceably, taking another heaping spoonful. “Are you goin’ to read me a story, Mama?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Aurelia welcomed the routine duty with open arms. “When you’ve finished your supper.” She looked up at Greville, who still stood beside the door. “Did you see Nell when you went to Mount Street?”

  “Briefly. I had a word with Bonham.”

  She looked at him. “Really? What kind of word?”

  He smiled. “Just a word, Aurelia…Come to the library when you’re ready. Good night, Franny.” He bent over the child and kissed her brow, then left the nursery.

  Aurelia stayed with her daughter for the best part of an hour, oddly reluctant to bring the bedtime rituals to a close, and when she finally left the nursery, she went to her own bedchamber before going downstairs.

  She exchanged her riding habit for a casual robe of Indian muslin suitable for a quiet evening at home and went down to the library.

  Greville was standing at the desk shuffling through a sheaf of papers, and he spun around instantly at the sound of the door opening. “Oh, there you are. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you.” His dark, intent gaze searched her countenance. “You look tired.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “I am a little. I don’t find Don Antonio’s company in the least restful.”

  “No, I imagine not.” He leaned back on his hands, which were planted on the desk behind him, and continued to scrutinize her countenance until she began to feel he was actually reading her mind. “So,” he said after a minute, “aren’t you going to tell me about it?”

  “There’s not much to tell.” She sat down in a corner of the sofa, leaning back against the cushions. “We rode in the park, did the circuit three times, I think. I never saw the bodyguard.”

  “You wouldn’t. The man knows his job. Go on.”

  “We flirted.” She shrugged again. “He didn’t say anything of interest. In fact he barely mentioned Spain or his countrymen. If I brought the subject up, he deflected it, turned it back on me.”

  Greville nodded. “It’s only to be expected. Vasquez is a master.”

  She grimaced. “I can believe that. His surface is smooth as silk, and as slippery as oiled leather, but every now and again there’s a hint of steel, of menace. I don’t think I’m imagining it.”

  “No, I’m sure you aren’t.” He pushed himself away from the desk and walked to the window that overlooked a narrow alley running at the back of the houses on South Audley Street. He moved the curtain aside and looked out into the darkness. The alley was deserted for the moment, but it occurred to him that this window would provide an intruder with easy and secluded access to the house. It would have to be secured. He should have thought of that sooner. It annoyed him to think that his vigilance was slipping.

  “He wants me to ride with him in Richmond Park,” Aurelia said.

  Greville turned back to the room, letting the curtain f
all shut behind him. “Most definitely not,” he declared with finality.

  Aurelia looked surprised. “Why ever not? I thought I was supposed to be cultivating him. Turning down invitations isn’t going to get me very far.”

  “There are some invitations you won’t accept. Richmond is too far and too secluded, and I can’t guarantee my man will be able to follow you undetected. You’ll see Vasquez only in town, and only in public places, Aurelia.”

  “I have a part to play, and I’ll play it as I see fit,” she said as flatly as he, her irritation at his tone flashing in her eyes.

  “You seem to be forgetting that you work for me.” His voice was suddenly rather soft. “I call the tunes here, and you play them.”

  “I thought we were partners,” she said tightly.

  “So we are, but it’s a partnership in which one of us is more equal than the other.”

  She looked at him in frowning silence for a moment before asking, “What exactly are you afraid of, Greville? Is there something about Don Antonio that you’re not telling me?”

  “You know all you need to know.” If he told her everything he knew about the Spaniard, she might inadvertently alert Don Antonio to that knowledge. Greville’s best chance of defeating Don Antonio at his own game lay in the other man’s assumption that the asp had no inkling of his real identity and thought they were playing a different game.

  But he also had to be absolutely certain that Aurelia would not put herself at risk by acting unilaterally.

  “I don’t want you to get overconfident,” he said carefully. “As we agreed, Don Antonio is a very dangerous man, and I don’t believe you’re ready to take him on alone. Even with a bodyguard. It’s easy to make mistakes. Just because you’ve had some small success at the very straightforward tasks I’ve set you doesn’t mean you can run before you can walk.”

  “Do you have any idea how insulting that is?” Aurelia demanded, getting to her feet.

  He sighed and tried to pick his way through the quicksand. “I don’t mean to insult you, Aurelia, but there are facts, and the most important one is that I call the tune. I’m not prepared to put you at risk. Do as I tell you, and you will be quite safe. For the moment all I need you to do is cultivate him while I try to find out what he’s up to. It’s as simple as that.”