The slightly plump housekeeper dropped a curtsy after Royce presented her to Bethany. “Welcome, milady.”
Bethany nodded at her and all the other retainers as well.
“Please accompany my wife to the master’s suite and unpack for her.” He turned to Bethany. “I must see to my mail. We’ll dine when we change. I’m famished.”
The housekeeper seemed ageless and more than a little intimidating to Bethany as she led the way. Bethany followed her to the next landing where a young lad struggled up the backstairs with her cases. She showed him where she wanted her boxes and pointed out her immediate requirements to the housekeeper.
With a maid’s assistance, she donned a fresh gown and straightened her appearance before hastening down the stairs. She wanted to spend every possible, uninterrupted minute with Royce, to bask in his full attention and his approval. Before she reached the final step, the knocker sounded. The butler, with a stately tread, moved forward to open the door.
Much to Bethany’s dismay, Eleanor stepped inside with Freddy at her heels. Her gown of blue serge hardly held a wrinkle and every smooth curl belied her tragic bearing. She clasped her hands together and her voice held a whine. “Bethany, I’m completely undone, and I don’t know what to do.”
Alarmed, Bethany questioned, “Uncle Arthur or Aunt Gertrude?”
“No. They are perfectly fine.” Eleanor removed her bonnet and twitched a curl in place.
Bethany’s spirit sank all the way to her toes. Then what? She glanced at Freddy and managed a nod, trying to control the urge to shake Eleanor. Why couldn’t Freddy take care of her problems? He was her cousin as well. Bethany gritted her teeth and drew a deep breath. Why intrude on us here in London? Our first night.
Before she could speak, Royce joined the group. “Exactly what is the problem?”
Eleanor flew to his side and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with one gloved finger. “Oh, Royce. Pardon, I meant Lord Rivton. I’ve thought of you as Royce for so long.”
He smiled at her and acknowledged Freddy’s presence with a nod of greeting.
Annoyed, Bethany cleared her throat and called her cousin back to the topic. “Your problem, Eleanor.”
“Oh dear. This is so very awkward. I came to town to visit my aunt. You know, my mother’s sister. Freddy intended to come to London, so when the opportunity presented itself, I begged a ride. I must have mistaken the date on the invitation because her house is shut up. The caretaker said she went on a trip, and he doesn’t know when she may return. What shall I do?”
Royce patted her hand and said, “You must stay with us until other arrangements can be made.”
With thoughts of slapping her cousin, Bethany stared at Eleanor. Each fake tear she brushed away and each sigh she expelled reached down inside of Bethany, stirring up resentment. She recalled the lures Eleanor had once cast at Royce. Not so long ago either. Although everything within Bethany rebelled at the notion, she could do no less than echo her husband’s invitation. She unclenched her jaw and uttered, “Of course, Eleanor. We can’t very well abandon you in the street.”
“You are too kind. You have my undying gratitude.” Eleanor simpered and smiled up at Royce with her hand artfully placed at her throat.
“You see, you’ll be right and tight with Betha, just as I told you,” Freddy congratulated her with a grin. “I must be off.”
“Thank you, Freddy.” Eleanor kissed his cheek before he strode out the door. Amid her luggage, she turned back to Bethany with a satisfied smirk on her lips. “I must change my gown.”
Royce smiled and offered, “I’ll have dinner set back until you are ready.”
Not best pleased to witness Royce’s tender consideration of Eleanor’s plight, Bethany held her breath for a moment. His attitude brought his courtship of Eleanor to mind and Bethany’s stomach burned. Her pulse drummed with anger, and she fought against the urge to hurl something at his head. Pressing her lips together, she struggled for control. It was only due to his chivalrous instincts he’d offered for her. Regardless of the motive, he was married to her now. Her self-confidence had taken a blow, but she straightened her shoulders and calmly strolled into the parlor.
Royce joined her and paced the length of the patterned rug. “I suppose it is useless to expect her to hurry her toilette for the sake of others.”
“Totally useless,” Bethany stated and sank onto the sofa. The mantel clock had never ticked as loudly or the minutes dragged by so slowly. Dread tightened a coil in her stomach.
Finally Eleanor appeared in a devastatingly beautiful gown of yellow taffeta, more suitable for a ball, every hair in place, and a soft apology on her lips. “Please forgive me. Without my maid, I scrambled into my apparel as quickly as possible.”
Royce held out his arm and she grasped his elbow. He glanced around and waited for Bethany to take his other arm before escorting both ladies into the dining parlor.
Much to Bethany’s chagrin, Eleanor held center stage at dinner. If Bethany had dared to offer a word at the table at Littleton Manor, she’d been ordered to hold her tongue. Silence had always served her best, and old habits die hard. She wished she too had the ability to preside over a pleasant conversation of meaningless nothings.
Longing to attract Royce’s attention and to be a person to reckon with, Bethany sat in silence through the long, tedious meal. Completely out of charity with Royce for his courtesy to an annoying guest, Bethany narrowed her eyes. The polite smile he bestowed on her rankled, especially when weighed against the lavish amount of attention he heaped on Eleanor.
At last, and to her relief, the meal ended. Bethany laid her napkin aside. “I know you must be weary after your journey, Eleanor. I suggest an early night for all.”
Royce stood. “Indeed. I have much to do on the morrow.”
He escorted both ladies up the stairs and parted ways to enter his chamber.
Bethany donned her sleeping-robe after a quick wash and stalked over to the vanity. Several candles glittered in the mirror and about the chamber, displacing the darkness crouched in the corners. The mirror reflected the patterned, light green paper on the walls with dark green hangings at the windows. The vanity and curved mirror complimented the oak bedstead, spread with a white, embroidered coverlet. Disgruntled with Eleanor and the entire situation, nothing about the chamber or anything else pleased her, including the oak armoire that stood against the opposite wall.
She reached for the silver-backed brush to drag it through her hair with a savage motion. The excessive strength of each stroke did little to relieve her pent-up feelings. How she wished she could box her husband’s ears, and she longed to dash a full glass of red wine over Eleanor. Eleanor, with her blond loveliness, her artless chatter, and flirtatious ways, had no business using her charms on a married man. My married man.
She fumed, unable to control her reactions. I’m a jealous cat, but of all nights, why did she arrive tonight? Her feelings of ill-usage finally got the best of her and she threw the brush against the door just before Royce stepped though the opening.
He raised his brows and questioned her with a direct stare. Dressed in a robe, bare legs shone from his knees to his feet. His hands were hooked in the tie at the waist. “Is there a problem, my dear?”
She returned his stare with a glare and tightened her lips. “My hand must have slipped.” She tossed him a fake smile, barely curving her lips.
He moved behind her and cupped her shoulders in his hands. Leaning down, he brushed the long curls away from her neck and placed a kiss against her flesh. His hands drifted lower and she stiffened. Bounding up, she rejected his touch. She whirled to face him.
“No.” Her eyes sparked with heat. “I’m not in the mood.”
His expression darkened. “I can soon change that.” He reached for her again.
> She stepped back. “Do not.”
Without hesitation, he gathered her shoulders in his hands again. His eyes had narrowed. “Are you denying me?”
She remained stubbornly silent. Lowering her lashes to cover the thoughts mirrored in her too expressive eyes, she pleated her hands in front of her.
He lifted her chin with one finger. “Are you?”
She jerked her head away. “I—I have the headache.”
He raised his brows. “This headache wouldn’t have blonde hair and blue eyes, by any chance?”
“I wanted this to be a time for us—alone. I hate the way she makes sheep-eyes at you.” With an indignant glare, she continued, “Her tender smiles and softs sighs directed at you make me ill. And with your attention, you encourage her to go past the limit of what is pleasing.”
“I didn’t invite her to arrive on our doorstep. I can’t very well be rude to your cousin.”
“No, but was it necessary to stare into her eyes like a lovesick swain?” she snapped.
He laughed and ran his hands down her arms. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous, ha,” she refuted with her head thrown back.
He rammed his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Just because I’m a gentleman and paid a little attention to our guest is no reason for you to throw the hammer at me.”
She hesitated, glancing up at him from under her lashes. Was she being overly harsh and blaming him for his manners? Sighing, she lowered her voice. “Perhaps I am jealous.”
Draping one arm around her shoulders, he grinned. “I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He gently led her to the bed. Before they arrived at the other side of the room, he had managed to remove her gown and his own apparel. He sank onto the bed with her in his arms and slowly divested her of her remaining clothing, planting a kiss against her flesh with each movement.
His breath caressed her cheek, then her ear, setting her ablaze with longing. Shivers raced down her spine.
His tongue traced the swirl of her ear and nipped the lobe in a love bite. He rained delicate kisses down her jawline to her mouth, where he nudged inside her lips with his tongue, to explore, delve, and taste. He kissed her throat down to her breast.
She tingled, just beneath her skin, the whole entire length of her body. Every nerve prickled with heat, pooling in her loins. She couldn’t control her ragged breath or her heart hammering as if it might explode when he entered her.
With gentle strokes, he brought them both to the pentacle of delight where shooting stars exploded before the slow drift back down. He gathered her close, pulled the cover over them, and gently kissed her lips again.
“The blessed marriage bed with all its delights,” he whispered.
Bethany drifted to sleep with his words sounding in her ears. During the night she woke. The slight snore emitting from Royce’s throat sounded like a cat’s purr…a very large cat. She snuggled against him, warm and safe. Perhaps he was beginning to love her a little. With that thought, she drifted back to sleep.
On the seedy edge of London, Freddy ambled into the Red Rooster Tavern and headed for the taproom. Peeking around the door into the dim interior of the building, he glanced at the only patron in sight. The customer leaned against the bar with a glass in his hand, staring down into the content.
Freddy hated the odor of strong whisky mixed with ale permeating the place. He gulped in a breath of air, lowered his lids, and peered further into the room to locate the Frenchman. He headed toward the gentleman sprawled nonchalantly in a chair in the shadowy corner. Glasses and a bottle sat on the table before him. Freddy picked his way to the back of the taproom through the empty, scuffed tables with up-ended chairs atop them. Flopping down in a chair across from the Frenchman, he grabbed a glass. The Frenchman poured a measure of whiskey into the tumbler and settled back in his chair.
“Well?”
“Never mind politeness,” Freddy sneered.
“I’m warning you,” the Frenchman hissed. His cold, dark eyes held a deadly glint. “My patience is nearly at an end, Agent.”
Freddy held up one hand. “No sense in getting into a pucker, Gentleman—if you will.” He continued in a lowered voice. “I searched the entire place, every drawer, everything. I was nearly caught too.”
“What?”
“A parlor maid came looking for me. I flirted with her earlier, and she was most obliging,” Freddy finished with a grin. “I dropped a hint in the housekeeper’s ear, so likely the maid will be turned off.” He sniggered. “She’ll probably be blamed for everything.”
“Get to the point,” the Frenchman demanded with an exasperated sigh.
“I found his papers. No names were mentioned and the memorandum wasn’t there either. Never expected it to be, so no loss.” Freddy swallowed a sip of whiskey and coughed, wiping his mouth with a linen handkerchief. “A warning, if you please. Officials are searching high and low for your sister.”
The Frenchman gave a cold laugh. “My half-sister, to be exact, but let ‘em search. The authorities will never find her. I’m above half too clever for those blokes. I buried her name with a body. Joliet is no more. She now has another.”
“I say, that is clever.”
“Enough of that.” The Frenchman waved dismissively. “You need to make another attempt to locate that memorandum. It’s vitally important.”
“I realize that. Gentleman, since that is what you prefer to be called. Don’t be concerned. I plan to make another trip to the Horse Guards while I’m in town.”
“Don’t try to antagonize me.” The Frenchman flung his head back and shot a withering stare at Freddy. “Be very cautious when next you appear at the Horse Guards.”
“Posh. I’ve been running tame at their headquarters for the last ten years. Nobody thinks anything of it.” He thinks he’s so superior. Still, perhaps I should heed him. Freddy forced out a chuckle. “I have always admired their jack-o-dandy uniforms, you know. Nothing is going to happen.” He lowered his voice and glanced around. “Even if I snag that memorandum, what’s to stop the military from changing plans?”
The Frenchman smiled with a grimace of his lips. “Changing the launch site and date of thousands of troops would be close to impossible—and costly. Wellington won’t risk it.”
After thinking on it for a moment, Freddy gave a curt nod. “Consider it done. I have an idea where the memorandum is kept. Probably somewhere in the same location I collected the list of the half English, half French agents undercover for the crown.”
“Don’t be too cocksure. Be cautious.” A heated expression flared in the Frenchman’s eyes. “That damn list of traitors. Half English, half French. Half foolish is my take on the blighters. At any rate, it is in code. I have someone decoding it even now. I hope this memorandum we’re searching for isn’t in the same condition.”
“Waste of precious time. When I have the thing, I’ll leave it in our usual hiding place.” Freddy stood to his feet. “I’ll let you know when we meet in a week or perhaps a little longer.”
He saluted the Frenchman with his glass, gulped another swallow, and strode to the exit.
Chapter 25
The next morning John and Sara arrived at the Rivton’s place in London with much fanfare and a mountain of boxes and trunks.
Sara swept into the house and hugged Bethany. “I do apologize for intruding on your bride trip, but we received word John is urgently needed in town. Upon arrival, we discovered our lodging has developed a leak in the ceiling. It’s under repair.”
“You are most welcome at any time,” Royce assured her. “John, let us retire to my library. Allow the ladies to catch up on all the on-dits floating about the town while we enjoy a chat.”
Sara sniffed. “Off with you, then. I know how
you two enjoy a good coze.” After the men left, she turned to Bethany. “Thank you for receiving us at such an awkward time.”
“Nonsense,” Bethany said with a hollow laugh. “The more the merrier.” She only hoped her disappointment didn’t show on her face. Here was another thing to separate her from her husband. Defeat stirred through her and, with an inward sigh, she forced her fingers to uncurl.
Sara drew a deep breath and her voice held a defensive tone. “We could stay at a hotel, but John needed to consult with Royce.”
Bethany reached for Sara’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Forgive me for my churlish attitude. It isn’t your visit. You are always more than welcome.” She allowed a wicked grin to surface. “But you shall pay for your presence by helping me entertain our other guest, Eleanor. She arrived a single day before you.”
Sara snorted, “How droll. One big, happy family under a single roof again. At least, she shall be one of the crowd instead of the sole, honored guest.”
Bethany raised her brows. “How did you know?”
“I know Royce. He is a gentleman, through and through. How else would he treat your cousin?”
John and Royce entered the library behind a servant. He placed a fresh pot of steaming coffee on a side table and exited with a bow.
“I love the smell of hot coffee.” Royce poured and passed a cup to John before sinking into his wingback chair. “I thought you were fixed at the hall. What has happened?”
With his brows furrowed, John sat forward and explained, “I left Sir Blair in charge. The Prime Minter wanted me here in London.” He hesitated and he lowered his voice to a deep, intense level. “The list I mentioned to you—it’s missing. That’s to say nothing of the traitor.”
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