The June Bride Conspiracy (The Spy Matchmaker Book 2)

by Regina Scott

  “My heart’s not in it,” Allister replied with a sigh. “I can’t run the risk of anything happening to Joanna.”

  “It still could, you know,” Davis reminded him. “Daremier denies sending the note or the scarab. But someone sent them.”

  Allister stiffened. “You think he’s lying? Or is there someone else?” When Davis did not answer, he ran his hand back through his hair in despair. “Curse it all, Davy, I’m a mess. Look at me—I can’t think, I can’t act. All I know is, if I lose Joanna, I might as well lose my life.”

  Davis regarded him fixedly, then he barked out a laugh. “Daremier is right. I don’t know what it is about you, my lad, but I can’t torture you either. I sent the note and the candy, Trev.”

  Allister started. “What?”

  “I sent those things to Joanna,” Davis repeated, though he had the good sense to step back as he avoided Allister’s outraged glare. “I had a friend write for me so you wouldn’t recognize the hand. And I was the one you nearly caught in Hyde Park.”

  He could not grasp the idea. “Why?” Allister demanded. “What could you possibly hope to gain by it?”

  Davis shrugged. “I knew you admired the chit, but I couldn’t really believe it was love. I thought you were smarting over losing Daremier. I thought if you were presented with a mystery, you’d rise to the occasion. Instead, you just sank deeper. If this is love, my friend, it isn’t very inspiring.”

  “On the contrary,” Allister told him, “I find it quite illuminating.” He cocked his head and eyed his partner. “I ought to plant you a facer, but instead I’ll thank you. I wasn’t sure whether I was running away either. Now I know. It’s love, Davy. She understands everything about me, and she isn’t afraid of it. In fact, I wonder whether she wouldn’t make a better agent than I ever was. She’s sharp and sweet and passionate. I can’t imagine a life without her. The excitement, the adventure, none of this will be worth anything if it costs me Joanna. I’m ready to live a normal life.”

  Davis nodded. “So I gathered. Which is why I must remind you of the scarab. Someone sent it. I know I didn’t, and it looks as if Daremier didn’t either. You haven’t found our villain yet, Trev. If you love Joanna, you can’t quit until we know she’s safe.”

  –

  Joanna wanted so badly to unburden herself to her mother, but she knew she could not do so without giving everything away. Her mother had no idea of her involvement with Lord Hastings and his men. She had been careful to make everything appear normal, telling her mother she was going shopping with Allister for household items for their future home. But now that Allister had so much as admitted he was going to continue his dangerous work, she didn’t know what to do.

  She had lost. She had tried to show him she could be part of his world, but still he shut her out. She had made progress. Certainly his declaration in the carriage was proof of that. Yet he was unwilling to leave the excitement behind. She could not compete with his work after all. The villain had been caught—she had no mystery left to make her attractive. She had fought the battle and lost, and she had no other strategy to help her win the war.

  Her mother’s cheerful attitude did nothing to help. Lady Lindby bustled about the house finishing the wedding preparations, chattering happily all the while. Joanna packed up her trousseau, wondering whether she would ever have the opportunity to wear it. Her glance fell on the diamond ring again, glinting in the candlelight. It should be a symbol of their love. It was only a piece of stone, as cold as her heart. She was so lost in her misery that her mother had to speak twice before she realized she was being questioned.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said. “I guess I was woolgathering.”

  “That’s to be expected, dear,” her mother replied with a smile. “Lord Trevithan is a handsome fellow. And so considerate.”

  Joanna managed a smile. “Yes, he is. What did you want to ask me?”

  “Oh, nothing. I merely wished to tell you that your friend Miss Welch is waiting in the sitting room. Cream or honey?”

  “She takes sugar in her tea,” Joanna told her mother. “Copious amounts. Please have Dames bring us a tray.”

  She found Jenny pacing about the little room, her grey skirts whipping about her legs. She nearly ran to meet Joanna. “It’s all right. He’s alone.”

  Joanna blinked. “You begin to sound like my mother.”

  Jenny laughed. “Forgive me. I was just so excited I couldn’t wait to tell you. I asked my staff to ask the other servants about the matter. Lord Trevithan does not keep a mistress.”

  Joanna sank down on the sofa. “I’m afraid he does, actually.”

  Jenny’s face clouded as she sat beside her. “Oh, no! Who? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  She could not tell her friend everything. She’d given her word, and certainly Allister’s work required more secrecy than she’d realized. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say his heart will always lie elsewhere.”

  Jenny took her hands. “Then you must cry off. You cannot marry without love.”

  “Can’t I?” The question sounded pitiful even to her ears. “Oh, Jenny, I don’t know. I love him so. I only wish I could capture his attention.”

  Jenny’s eyes were pools of sorrow. “If you cannot, there is no hope for the rest of us. But I don’t understand. What is it that is taking him away from you?”

  Joanna pulled back. Here she’d been wanting someone to share her concerns, but she couldn’t bring Jenny into this. Even if she could have made herself abandon her promise to Allister and Davis Laughton, she didn’t like exposing her friend to danger.

  She started. Is this what Allister felt when he struggled to tell her of his other life? She’d thought it a lonely job. Now she saw how very isolating it must be, never to be himself around others, never to share his thoughts, his needs.

  Jenny was watching her. “You’ve thought of something.”

  Joanna nodded. “Yes. Perhaps I can see some of Allister’s side in the matter. But the problem still stands. He finds fulfillment in solving mysteries. I have no mystery left to offer him.”

  Jenny frowned, but Joanna’s mother sailed in just then, followed by Dames with the tea tray. “Did someone say mystery? I simply don’t know what became of it.”

  Jenny glanced from her to Joanna. “It?”

  Joanna edged forward on the sofa as Dames set the tray before her. She couldn’t tell Jenny everything, but she could at least tell her friend what her mother already knew. “Mother could not find the card that went with a strange wedding present we received. It was a dead bug.”

  Jenny recoiled. “A dead bug?”

  “Exactly what I said,” her mother agreed, seating herself across from them and spreading her lilac-colored skirts. “Lord Trevithan assured me that it came from his family, but I cannot think who would do such a thing.”

  Jenny shifted on the sofa, refusing the cup of tea Joanna offered her. “Was the thing about two inches long, black, with a jeweled pin in its back?”

  Joanna stared at her. “I didn’t actually see it. Allister thought it might upset me. Why, did you receive something of the kind?”

  “Not as a gift.” Jenny’s cheeks were reddening. “You see, scarab beetles were highly prized in antiquity. I had several shipped from that Egyptian expedition I’m sponsoring. One was made of ebony and inscribed on the base with the names of a king and his queen on the occasion of their marriage. I thought you would enjoy the historical significance.”

  Joanna’s hand seemed frozen on the teapot. “You sent me a dead bug for a wedding present?”

  Jenny nodded, squirming on her seat.

  “Goodness, was that what was in the package?” Her mother raised her eyebrows in obvious surprise. “Why would you have to ship to Egypt for a dead bug? You could certainly have found an English one for less trouble.”

  Jenny’s smile was tight. “Thank you for the thought, Lady Lindby. Oh, Joanna, I’m so sorry I worried you and Lord Trevithan. I never thoug
ht anyone would take it as a bad omen or any type of mystery.”

  “No, of course not,” Joanna murmured, setting down the pot at last lest her trembling hands betray her. If the insect had been an innocent gift, what about the comfits, the original note? Was the Skull innocent after all? Was this a mystery she could use to her advantage?

  Her stomach cramped. What was she thinking? Was she truly willing to hold Allister by deceit, to keep him in a constant state of worry if that meant she tied him to her side? Was this where her doubts had driven her?

  She had wondered why she had never met his friends. Now she knew he had been forced to rely on only a few intimates to stay alive. It was not that he was incapable of having friends, but that he had put his duty before the luxury. She had fretted that he hadn’t said he loved her, when he did all in his power to protect her. She had been afraid he would bore easily in their marriage and blamed him for that shortcoming. The problem was and always had been within her.

  She had never believed herself worthy of his love.

  “Will you excuse me a moment?” she murmured, rising. Jenny watched her out of the room with troubled eyes.

  Joanna climbed the stairs, paced the short corridor that ran past the upstairs bedchambers. She had always been shy, concerned she might break some social rule, afraid of what others would think of her. Somewhere along the line that shyness had grown into something more, a doubt, a worry. It had been her excuse not to interact with others at balls and soirees, a reason to keep people at a distance. Besides Jenny and a few other lady friends, Allister was the only one she’d let close enough. And, deep down, she’d been afraid he wouldn’t care for her. He’d had to spend the last ten years hiding behind a mask, only to let her see the man behind it.

  Time he saw the woman behind hers.

  Jenny was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Joanna came down. Her friend took her hands, gazed into her eyes. “Have I offended you, Joanna?”

  “Never,” Joanna assured her. “You meant it for a kindness, something to celebrate my happiness. I cannot tell you just now how very important it was to ensuring that happiness, but I hope to be able to explain more to you soon. Thank you, Jenny. I’m so glad you’re my friend.” She put her arms around her, held her close a moment. When she drew back, Jenny’s eyes were watery once again.

  “The feeling is quite mutual, I assure you,” she told Joanna. “And I will be waiting to hear the full story.”

  Joanna just hoped the story had a happy ending.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By the time Allister joined Joanna and her mother that evening, Joanna had devised a plan and put it into action. He had shown his true colors. It was time she showed hers. She would do something clever to show him she understood his life and to give him a chance to freely admit he loved her, just as she was. If instead he rejected her, she would know this marriage was not meant to be.

  It took little to convince her mother to leave her alone with him. It took less to encourage him to talk about the Skull.

  “I spoke with the villain,” he admitted as they sat together on the sofa. “The result is not satisfactory.”

  Joanna swallowed. Though he did not seem pleased, still she sensed a finality. “Then you will continue your work.”

  He nodded. “I have little choice. However, I want you to know that one part of the mystery has been solved. It appears that the Skull did not send the note or the candy, nor did he watch us in the park. I am satisfied that the person responsible poses no danger.”

  Joanna drew back from him. “Then you know the culprit?”

  His gaze committed to nothing. “As I said, he poses no danger.”

  He. Immediately her mind sorted through possibilities. “I thought we ruled out Robbie Whattling.”

  “Not Whattling.”

  “But someone I know.”

  He blew out a breath. “Will you not be satisfied with my assessment?”

  Perhaps once, when she allowed herself to hide from the world. “I trust your assessment. I would simply like to be warned if someone I know can be so devious.”

  He chuckled. “Most people I know can be that devious.”

  She put her nose in the air. “Then you know the wrong people, my lord.”

  “I can believe that, having met you.”

  She wanted to warm to the look in his eyes, but she knew she must remain resolute, about this and her plan. “You refuse to tell me, then?”

  “I would not want you to take him in dislike,” he said, leaning back. “He meant well.”

  “Meant well? He tried to force us apart!”

  “Because he thought Britain needed me.”

  Perhaps she needed him more. Immediately her heart chided her. They were so close to defeating the Corsican monster. If Allister could help, how could she hinder him? She dropped her gaze. “I see.”

  “Joanna,” he murmured, forcing her gaze up once more. His smile was tender. “I would not leave your side, even for Britain. But we still have the matter of the gift. There is reason to suspect that it originated from a different, possibly hostile source. I cannot leave you in danger.” He rose, and she tensed to hear his decision.

  When he spoke, the words were worse than she could have imagined. “Therefore,” he said, “I have no choice but to postpone our wedding.”

  She had feared it was coming, but the verdict still stunned her. Her fingers tightened around each other in her lap, squeezing the diamond until it cut into her skin. He could be acting out of concern for her safety, or he could be acting out of a desire to end their connection. She almost told him the truth; that would have been easy. She had to make him see her for who she was, for what she offered. She had to follow through on her plan.

  “I understand, Allister,” she said quietly, reaching into the pocket of her gown. “And I think you should see this.” She handed him a note. “It was left on the hall table this afternoon. The perpetrator asks you to meet at midnight tonight or our future happiness is in jeopardy.”

  Once more a light sprang to his eyes, and she nearly cried out. Was this truly more important to him than she’d ever be?

  He took the note from her, scanned the words. Then his head came up, chin hard. “Very well. I’ll meet with the villain. But I promise you, Joanna. This ends tonight.”

  That was what she feared.

  –

  The arrangements were quickly made. Lord Hastings and his men were too good at this sort of thing to do anything else. Yet every silent movement, every hushed word, seemed to shout at Allister, and all of it said that Joanna was at risk.

  “This is it, then,” Davis hissed as they waited in an alley just across from the churchyard a scant quarter hour before midnight. “We have men surrounding the place. Whoever is doing this won’t get away this time.”

  “You’d better be right,” Allister murmured, watching the dark shadows among the moonlit gravestones. “I can’t take much more of this. You should have seen Joanna’s face when I told her we had to postpone the wedding. I couldn’t have hurt her more if I’d struck her.”

  “Surely she understands the necessity,” Davis replied. “You’re trying to save her life.”

  “She understands,” Allister said. “She’s too intelligent not to understand. Too brave as well. She wanted to come with me tonight.”

  Davis chuckled. “Pluck to the backbone, that one. You’ve found yourself a gem, Allister.”

  “And I know it. To think I proposed to a beauty and found so much more. I cannot lose her, Davy.”

  Davis gripped his shoulder. “You won’t. I promise. I should never have interfered. From now on, I follow his lordship’s direction. Nothing like a spy playing matchmaker.”

  “Hst.” The sharp sound brought them both to the alert. A moment later and a climbing boy darted into their hiding place in the alley.

  “Look lively, me lords,” he proclaimed in an excited whisper. “Someone’s entered the churchyard from the High Street side. ‘I
s lordship says go now.”

  Allister nodded, moving easily out of the alley toward the cemetery. How many times had he done this over the years, crossed the space knowing he might never return? It could have been a dinner party for the Duke of Milan, the fall threshing in Normandy, a crowded tavern in Portsmouth. The place or occasion didn’t matter. In fact, they all tended to run together. Only this time was different.

  This time was for Joanna.

  He slipped through the wrought-iron gate, giving it an extra push to make sure it squeaked loudly enough to be heard by the occupants, living and dead. He strolled casually through the tombstones and monuments, every sense tuned. The faintest of breezes set the trees to rustling and caressed his cheek. A cat darted away from his approach. The musty odor of fresh-turned earth clung to the air. He could taste the dampness on his tongue.

  A cloaked figure waited for him in the shadow of the church’s cross. There was no answering rush in his blood. He felt only determination as he approached it. Tonight the game would end, one way or the other. He would not return from this churchyard without knowing Joanna was safe.

  He stopped within five feet of the creature and bowed, keeping his eyes trained on the slender figure. His mind sifted through the faces and physiques of his adversaries, trying to find a match.

  “Good evening,” he said. “As you can see, I’ve come as you asked.”

  “Are you alone?” the figure rasped out.

  Allister frowned. He should know that voice. It surely belonged to a woman, though it was deepened and rough-edged. Not Lydia Montgomery—the form was too slender. Who else was involved?

  He decided not to lie, evading the question instead. “Shall we get down to it?”

  “Are you in a hurry to return to your work?”

  He circled to the right, and she circled with him. Her head was down enough that no moonlight trickled past the hood. “Not particularly. Surely you’ve heard I’m retiring.”

  “Why?”

  Why indeed? Davis had been partially right. He’d grown tired of the game. But it was more than that. He no longer wanted to be this person. He wanted more—a wife, children, a home. The rest meant nothing.