by Gayle Callen
“Where’s home?”
“Her brother’s estate is just outside Misterton, in northern Nottinghamshire.”
“How do you know she’s going there?”
“Why drive right by, when you can refresh yourself in comfortable surroundings? As for how long she’s staying, that I don’t know.”
“What about her henchmen?”
“We’ve seen nothing so far, which has us worried. Something is bound to happen soon. If these men know we’re nearby, they’ll be watching over Julia closely.”
“I wish this were over,” Will said, pacing toward the hearth and leaning a hand against the marble mantel. “I’m anxious to bring Jane to her father.”
“I thought you wanted her all to yourself?”
Will ran a hand down his tired face. “It’s not working out as I’d planned—or hoped.”
Sam gave him a sympathetic smile, but before he could speak, they both heard a man’s voice outside the door, then a woman very close by, answering.
It was Jane, and she was out on the gallery. Will could only imagine what she’d think of their conversation. There was a soft knock, and he gave a heavy sigh. Sam glanced questioningly at him.
“You let her in,” Will said, walking to the far side of the room, where he couldn’t be seen. “No need to have strangers think she’s entering a man’s room.”
Jane smiled nervously at the servant, wishing he would leave, but knowing he wanted to see her safely inside. The night was dark and brisk for August, and the gallery seemed to sag at the far end. She knocked on the door again, wondering why William wasn’t answering when she knew he was inside.
The door opened and she looked up—
—into the face of a woman.
Chapter 20
Jane’s mouth sagged open, and the possibility of coherent speech fled. Whatever she’d imagined happening, it had not been this. Some unspeakably painful emotion settled like a hard ball in her stomach.
“Jane, my dear,” said the woman in a low, husky voice, “do come in.”
She had no choice. The servant was watching her, and she herself felt a grim curiosity that had to be appeased. With a patently false smile, she stepped inside, and the woman closed the door behind her.
Jane saw William sitting on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, Killer using his thigh as a pillow. William’s smile looked…pained. She glared at him, then back at the woman.
“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” the woman said, sticking out a rather large hand.
“Don’t be cruel.” William set the dog aside and walked toward them warily. “Jane, this is Sam Sherryngton.”
“Short for Samantha?” she said, turning to stare up at the woman, allowing her hand to be clasped.
But suddenly the woman straightened. A deep breath expanded her shoulders and waist until she seemed quite—mannish.
“Short for Samuel,” he said in a suddenly deep voice, lifting his hands to remove a wig.
His hair was a dark, rust-colored brown, plastered to his head with sweat. She gaped as he ran his hands through it.
“That is so much better,” he said. “I don’t know how you ladies stand so much hair piled on your heads.”
Trying to recover her balance, Jane looked him up and down. She could have sworn that she—he was a woman just a moment before, but now it seemed hard to imagine. His face was thin, yes, but he had rather rugged cheekbones—with twin spots of rouge. He’d done something with his eyes that had made the lashes seem fuller. She glanced wide-eyed at William, who grinned.
“Sam was the old man at the campfire last night.”
“Oh.” She’d already shaken his hand, so she politely said, “How do you do, Mr. Sherryngton?”
Both men started to laugh, but she only frowned at them.
“And what are you doing here, Jane?” William finally asked.
“I heard voices,” she admitted. “I am tired of lies, so I decided to listen.”
“You mean eavesdrop,” he said.
“If you’d like to call it that,” she answered coolly. “I prefer to think of it as self-protection.”
Sam grinned at William. “I like her, Will. She can be just as fiery as her sister.”
William groaned, Sam paled beneath his face paint, and once again Jane found herself gaping like a dead fish.
“I heard you say the name Charlotte,” she said hoarsely, “but I had no idea you meant—my sister? She’s not in London? Who’s Nick? And did you say they were nearby?” She knew her voice rose sharply, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Jane, slow down.” William tried to put his arm around her.
She pushed him away. “Don’t you dare touch me, not after I’ve caught you in another lie!”
Sam looked helplessly between them. “I’m sorry.”
Though William remained close, he didn’t try to touch her again. “I told you I could not tell you everything for your own protection, Jane, not to mention my oath to the government.”
“But are you really talking about my sister?”
“Yes. Remember the ball she went to, the reason she couldn’t travel with us? She somehow overheard Nick’s conversation setting this mission up. She misunderstood and thought he was a traitor. He couldn’t just let her tell everyone, so he…brought her with him.”
“You mean kidnapped.”
William shrugged.
“How could they possibly have ended up at the same ball together?”
He looked down, then at the door, avoiding her eyes—which she narrowed with suspicion.
With a sigh, he said, “I made sure she was invited to the ball.”
“What?”
“I knew a maid would be easier to handle than your sister. I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.”
“And if you wouldn’t have manipulated the situation,” she said faintly, “Charlotte would be safe from this—Nick person.”
“But she’d be with us, which is hardly any safer.”
Jane’s thoughts were whirling as she imagined her proper sister, so newly out of mourning, stolen from everything she knew. “Oh my God, I must go to her.”
“You can’t,” William said softly, “not right now.”
“Don’t you dare say that!”
As she advanced on William, Sam backed quickly out of her way.
“My sister is a gentle, proper woman. She must be terrified. She needs me!”
“Jane,” Sam began, but when she glared at him, he amended, “Miss Whittington, I think you are underestimating your sister. She has handled herself—and Nick—quite well. She thought she was protecting her country by trying to escape and turn him in.”
“She tried to escape?” Jane said incredulously. “Charlotte?”
“Almost succeeded once or twice. She’s been quite a handful to Nick. Frankly, it’s been good to see him so nonplussed.”
Though he sounded sincere, she knew better than to believe either one of them. “I need to see for myself. You will take me to her.”
“I’ve told you that’s impossible,” William said.
This time when he tried to touch her, she hit him in the arm with her fist. “That is not acceptable! I will see my sister immediately!”
“Jane—”
Sam stepped between them, his skirt brushing against hers. “Will, I might be able to arrange something, especially if Julia is heading for home. It would be brief, probably tomorrow night. Nick and Charlotte are not so far away. We can pick a meeting place.”
Though William looked worried, Jane gave him a smug smile. “Sam can be reasonable. It’s a shame you’re not. Why does everything hinge on a woman named—” She stumbled to a halt and once again felt like an ignorant fool. She stared at William until he reddened. “Julia Reed? You’re following her? Is that why we went to Langley Manor?”
He nodded. Sam groaned and clapped his hands over his face as he realized what he’d revealed.
“Has
this entire estate hunt been a lie?” she asked with despair.
“No!” William gripped her upper arms. “I want to purchase a new estate. That’s why Nick thought I’d be perfect to…get myself invited to Kelthorpe’s.”
“Why are you following Julia?”
The two men looked at each other with grim gazes, and Jane felt almost sick with the building tension.
“What has she done?” she whispered when they didn’t immediately speak.
William took her hand, and this time she allowed it. “She betrayed British troop strength in Afghanistan to the Russians. Thousands of men died because of it.”
“I—I can’t believe that,” she said, feeling light-headed, almost grateful when William put his arm around her. In her mind she saw Julia—graceful, confident, so knowledgeable and well traveled. “Are you certain?”
“We have proof,” Sam said in a solemn voice. “We’ll take her into custody soon. I shouldn’t tell you any more—I shouldn’t have spilled even that. Forgive me, Will.”
Feeling adrift, Jane sank into a chair and stared at Sam as he turned to the mirror to don his wig. She watched in dull fascination as he literally became a woman again in every mannerism and movement, as if he put on another identity, another body.
As William escorted Sam to the door, she realized that William had been doing the same thing with his foppish dandy imitation. Since she’d known him, he’d been trying to be another person.
After Sam left, William came and squatted down in front of her. When he took her hands between his, he felt so warm, and she knew it was because she’d become icy cold.
“We agreed on a place and time to meet tomorrow night,” he said softly. “As long as everything goes smoothly, you’ll be able to see your sister for a few minutes.”
“Minutes?”
“I can’t promise more. We seem to have lost Julia’s men, but by bringing us all together, we increase the danger.”
“I—” She broke off, surprised to feel tears flood her eyes. “I need to see Charlotte, William.”
“I know.” He smoothed her skirt down over her knees. “I’m sorry for all of this.”
She nodded, too overwhelmed for more words. Julia Reed was a traitor to England.
He seemed to understand. Very gently, he cupped her head and pulled her to lean against his chest. She started to cry, clutching his shirt, knowing she was dampening his garments, but unable to stop. He stroked her hair and murmured words she couldn’t hear. Nothing was as it seemed, yet she felt strangely safe within the circle of his arms.
And that frightened her more than any revelation tonight. She pushed away from him, using both hands to wipe her cheeks. He handed her a handkerchief.
“I’ll go now,” she said, rising to her feet, although she felt wobbly.
“Must you? We could talk.” He grimaced. “Not that I can say much.”
“No, I’m—I’m tired. I can’t think anymore.”
“Then don’t. Try to sleep and keep confident that we’ll be able to see your sister tomorrow.”
She stared up into his concerned eyes and again felt an achy, tender feeling move through her. “But you won’t sleep, will you?”
He smiled. “Eventually. And after keeping watch on the camp last night, I feel like I’ll sleep before my head touches the pillow.”
He was lying. But she nodded and allowed him to check the gallery before he escorted her next door. She tried to smile at him, but it was a lame effort. He cupped her cheek briefly, searching her eyes until she closed her door.
But sleep didn’t come easily to her, either. She lay there, staring at the vague shadows thrown on the ceiling by the courtyard lanterns. William was so silent next door that she wondered if he was even there—or maybe he finally was sleeping. She knew he wouldn’t leave her unprotected.
Her mind churned along as she replayed every hour she’d spent with Julia. She’d seen Sam and William become different people, and she knew Julia must be capable of the same thing, for never once had Julia betrayed anything out of the ordinary. But why would she do such a thing? Why betray her country—her family? She’d said her dowry was small, so the family must have lost their wealth through the years.
But was it worth treason?
Then her thoughts turned to Charlotte, and she imagined what her sister was going through. What kind of man was Nick to kidnap a woman and hold her against her will? She hadn’t told William, but she was determined to take Charlotte away. At least Jane could try to protect her sister.
No matter where her thoughts took her, they always came back to William. Sam had called him “Will” and it had seemed to fit the man, who was apparently not as formal as he’d once tried to appear. Will…
She considered the way he’d first behaved when she’d met him. Last night, he had claimed he’d needed to fit into her world and hadn’t known how else to do it. But…surely the man he was would have been just fine.
Unless this excuse was only partly the reason. Will’s foppish behavior had kept him distant from people, making him an amusing diversion rather than someone to be taken seriously—someone who could be hurt. He obviously struggled with his identity, for he was looking for an occupation rather than accepting himself for the gentleman he now was. Maybe he was struggling to find not just something to do with his life but who he was.
He’d been a soldier and a spy for thirteen years. It must have been difficult to come back to a life he’d never really experienced. He’d been almost desperate to make her a part of this life, though he hadn’t known her.
But the one clear thing she’d overheard was Will telling Sam that he was anxious to take her back to her father’s because nothing had worked out as he’d hoped.
Did that mean Will was giving up on her, on their future marriage?
Jane waited for a feeling of triumph, but it never came, only a rising sense of anxiety.
She didn’t want him to leave her.
Heavens above, she couldn’t imagine not seeing him anymore. And it wasn’t just his kisses, or what his hands could make her feel.
She realized that she didn’t want to go back to the life she’d lived. She wanted to be with him, verbally sparring, yet forever wanting his touch. It certainly wasn’t the adventure of traveling with him, or even the danger, but he had made her feel…alive. Aware, awake to the possibilities of a life with him in it.
Was she falling in love with him?
With a groan, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her head under the pillows. She refused to let herself love him, for regardless of the exciting life he’d led, he wanted to keep them isolated on a remote estate. He was forcing her life onto a path not of her choosing. If she did not marry him, was there anything they could share?
She couldn’t sleep, and she knew he was awake, too. They could talk. Perhaps she could figure things out just by making him aware of her problems. She remembered the way he had held her, asking nothing except to comfort her. He was a good man; he would listen.
Without giving herself any more time to think about her decision, Jane slipped out of bed and wrapped her dressing gown over her nightdress. She opened the door, looked both ways, and when she saw no one on the gallery, she hurried to Will’s door and knocked.
“Yes?” he said almost immediately from the other side.
“It’s me.”
The door opened and he stared at her. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, then slipped by him to go stand in front of the hearth and the glowing coals. He shut the door and turned to look at her. She could feel his uncertainty, his confusion. She felt them herself.
“Where’s Killer?” she asked, knowing it was just a way to delay things.
The dog appeared from behind his feet as Will studied her, then opened the door.
“Find Barlow, Killer. You need a little freedom tonight.”
“Won’t he—get lost?”
“It will definitely take him awhile to find Barlow. I
saw another dog in the yard earlier, and I’m certain it was female, by Killer’s reaction. He’ll have a good time tonight.”
“Oh.” She willed herself not to blush.
The dog trotted out onto the gallery, and Will closed the door.
Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “You must wonder why I’m here, Will.”
As he strolled toward her, he put his hands in his pockets. “Will?” he repeated, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.
She shrugged, blushed. “I heard Sam use it. It suits you.”
He stopped before her, a little too close for comfort, but she didn’t say anything. She saw his gaze take in what she was wearing, and suddenly she knew how she must look.
But she didn’t care. She allowed herself to explore this feeling of daring.
“Charlotte is very important to me,” she began tentatively.
Will blinked. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d seen her in his doorway, wearing so little. He tried to forget her clothing and concentrate on her words. “Of course she is. She’s your sister.”
“It’s not as easy as that. We’ve never seen things the same way. She is…much like my mother, very attuned to her position in society.”
“And you’ve been such a hoyden yourself,” he said dryly.
She almost smiled. “But I almost have been—at least according to the rules I grew up with. I never wanted what they had.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, wanting to hold her again because she looked so unsure, so…lost.
“A typical marriage, with nothing to do except attend the usual parties and dinners.”
He tried not to frown, wondering if she was leading up to something he wouldn’t like.
“My mother and Charlotte had that,” Jane whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“Charlotte married for the usual reasons: wealth, connections, even affection, at least on her part. But once she was married, I watched everything change. She had no say in her life anymore.”
“I wouldn’t do that—”
But she put up a hand to stop him, and he saw wonder in her face, as if her words were a new revelation to her.
“Her husband made every decision for her, as if she didn’t have a mind or know how to use it. It…changed her. I couldn’t live like that.” She hesitated, then met his gaze with defiance. “You’re like him, at least in this matter.”