Lizzy reached for the kettle of hot water a servant had left on a spider on the hearth. "I saw her last night."
"Did you?"
"She said to tell you goodbye." Lizzy poured the water, using the hem of her petticoat to protect her hand against the heat of the iron handle.
"Goodbye?" Julia's brow creased. "What do you mean, goodbye?"
"She went to Paris to marry the Frenchman."
Julia was nearly as shocked by her sister's lack of facial expression as of the news. "Married? And she didn't tell me?"
"You were with the earl, occupied. Mother didn't want to disturb you." Lizzy carried the teapot to the table and set it on a woven rag mat that protected the finish from the heat.
Julia raised her voice unconsciously. "And you didn't tell me until today?"
She raised a thin shoulder, her back to Julia. "Didn't think it mattered."
Julia opened her mouth to blurt, Didn't think it mattered?, but she restrained herself. Lizzy couldn't be held responsible for what she said and did right now.
Shaking her head, Julia left her bedchamber. "Mother married?" she said to herself as she descended the steps. "Incredible."
In the front hall, Julia crossed paths with Simeon. She did her best to avoid him whenever possible, but when she did see him she tried to remain cordial. Lizzy's presence in the house was too unstable not to. "Good noon day, my lord."
Simeon glanced up from the book he carried as he walked. A pair of glass and wire spectacles rested on the end of his nose. "Good noon. How are the preparations for the table linens coming? I want nothing left uncrested."
In less than a week the earl would be fifty. Since Christmas everyone had begun working in a frenzy to prepare for the ball he would throw in his own honor. "Well, my lord." She kept her eyes downcast, taking notice that his hands were so raw from washing that they were streaked with dry and oozing blood. "And the gallery. Will it be ready in time?"
"It had better be, else I'll be stringing up masons by their necks to adorn the walls."
Julia never flinched. After what Simeon had done to poor Amos, nothing he said could shock her. "I'm quite certain it will be completed by then, and just to your liking."
"We've already begun to hang some of the artwork. I should like you to take a turn later in the gallery and see if they're placed to their best advantage. You should consult me, of course, should you have a suggestion for change."
"Of course. Yes, my lord." She dipped a curtsy. That was enough conversation with her husband for one day. "Good day, my lord."
She started to walk off, but he stopped her.
"Wife?"
"Aye?" She turned around.
"Are you feeling well?"
Something in the way he said it made the hair on the back of her neck bristle. "Aye, fine, my lord."
He frowned and turned his head one way and then the other. "Just wondering. You look a little peaked." He closed his book, studying her thoughtfully. "You really should get that worthless cousin of mine to take you riding. The fresh air would do you good."
Julia touched her palm to her cheek and forced a smile. "I'm fine. Really. Good day, my lord." Then, before he could stop her again, she lifted her petticoats and made a hasty retreat.
What did he mean she was looking peaked? She patted both cheeks to bring color to them as she headed for the housekeeper's quarters where the linens were kept. Since when had Simeon begun taking notice of her appearance? What was he watching for? And why on earth did he bring Griffin into the conversation? Surely he didn't suspect she and Griffin were—
A sudden wave of nausea took Julia by surprise, and she gripped the cornerstone of the wall for support. Fighting the dizziness and nausea, she realized that she could no longer avoid the possibility of pregnancy. If she was pregnant, she didn't have much time. Waiting for Griffin to rescue her from her marriage wasn't going to work. She was going to have to come up with her own means of saving herself, Lizzy—she rested her hand on her abdomen—and her unborn child.
"A little to the right." Julia rested one hand on her hip, watching with a critical eye as the workmen lifted the precious Italian painting to the height she desired. "There. Excellent."
Although upon her initial arrival at Bassett Hall Simeon had made it plain that he didn't wish her to participate in the daily running of the house, he had begun to rely on her when he entertained. With his birthday ball only three days away, there was more than enough work for the housekeeper, and Simeon and Mr. Gordy spent most of their time locked in the library attending to whatever business it was her husband was so involved in. That left Julia with the task of seeing the new gallery completed.
"See that one hung and we'll have to start again at daylight," she told the men.
"Aye, m'lady."
Julia walked to the windows. She had met Griffin in the great hall nearly an hour ago and told him she needed to talk to him. She'd done nothing for days but contemplate her possible situation. She'd come up with no definite plans yet, but her mind was sifting through the possibilities. Julia was hoping Griffin would join her here, where there would be witnesses to an innocent conversation she would have with her husband's cousin. After what Simeon had said the other day, she was hesitant to meet alone with him.
"There you are."
At the sound of Griffin's voice, Julia closed her eyes with relief. "My lord."
"My lady." He was dressed in a suit of the most obscene turquoise and yellow. A smile twitched on his face as if he could read her mind. "Like it?" He tugged on the sleeve of his doublet. "Just delivered. I'll be the envy of every man in London, won't I?"
"The envy of every parrot."
That boyish grin again.
Julia walked along the lead casement windows that ran the length of the gallery, drawing Griffin away from the workers, but still in plain sight.
"You needed me?" he asked softly.
"Aye . . ." She fiddled with the gold ring she wore beneath her clothing. Today it felt as if the metal burned. "I . . . I was wondering . . ." She glanced out the window, afraid her face might give away some of the emotions inside her. "Griffin, I need money and I have no one else to turn to."
"All right."
"Mother's run off with the Frenchman," she continued without really hearing him. "And what little dowry there was, Simeon invested with his goldsmith."
"How much?"
Still, she didn't hear him. "I imagine there would be some way for me to contact the goldsmith and see if I could remove some of the money. I should have been saving some of the household allowance Simeon gives me, but I just didn't think." She lifted one hand. "It didn't occur to me that I would need—"
"Yes, Julia," Griffin said firmly, taking the hand she gestured with.
Julia pulled away from him and glanced in the direction of the workers. Busy putting away their tools and ladders, they took no notice of her or Griffin.
She crossed her arms around her waist. "I'm sorry. This blessed ball has me on edge."
"I can have the money for you in a few days. How much? A hundred pounds. Two? I like everyone to think I live on an allowance from my wife, but I really have coin of my own. Lena's taken it upon herself to invest for me over the years."
"You don't even want to know what it's for?"
When she turned back to the dark windows, his blue-eyed gaze followed her. "Must be for a good cause. You'll tell me when you want to." He shrugged his broad shoulders and the yellow fringe on the epaulettes of his doublet shimmied. "I'm certain you have good reason."
"I don't need it now. Yet. But . . ."
Griffin glanced over his shoulder. The men hanging the artwork were retreating down the long gallery. At the other end, the masons were hard at work on the last wall. That wall would separate the room from a series of small storage areas and join the addition with the main house.
Griffin covered her hand on the window frame with his own. "Tell me what's wrong, Julia. I've been so busy I've barely had time
to talk with you in weeks, but that doesn't mean I don't think about you. It doesn't mean I don't care."
"Lizzy and I, we may have to . . . go."
The muscles of his jaw tensed. "Go? Go where? Julia, what's wrong?"
She had no plan yet to give Griffin, and she didn't want to tell him she suspected she was pregnant. She hadn't thought that far ahead. She just knew that when the time came she might have to flee, and would need money to book passage to somewhere far from Bassett Hall.
"Tell me," he said softly.
She wasn't ready to tell him. Not yet. And she still had weeks to make plans, months probably. By her calculations, if she were pregnant, she was only two months along. She still had time to plan, and Lizzy had time to get stronger. All those weeks in bed had made her so fragile that Julia feared moving her now would be the death of her.
Her gaze met his. "Could we not talk about it now?" She was begging him, and somehow he knew it.
After a pause that seemed endless, he nodded. "Not now, but soon." He wasn't asking her, he was telling her.
"Soon."
"But if you're in danger," he said quickly, "I could get you out tonight. I don't know how or where, but I could do it."
"No. There's time. Lizzy's just beginning to recover. I'd be afraid to move her just yet."
"Julia." Griffin seemed to be debating whether or not to tell her something. Finally he conceded to his inner turmoil. "We've made progress. Letters have been distributed asking for financial support and otherwise. Not only do they plan to kill our king, but replace him immediately with their own."
Julia's eyes widened. "You know who it is?"
He scowled. "No, but we're close. He's becoming impatient. His own foolishness may lead us right to him."
"Is . . . is Simeon involved?"
"Julia—"
"Never mind." She lifted her palms. "Don't tell me. No false hope today. I couldn't bear it."
He sighed and stared out the window. Darkness was settling in on the city, and the glass reflected his own image. "I want to hold you so badly. I want to—"
"Shhh," she whispered, running her fingers over the freshly painted window frame. "There'll be time enough for that later."
"Time enough. Years."
"Years," she repeated with a smile.
"Tonight, will you come?" He beckoned her with a glistening light in his eyes.
"No. Not tonight. It's not safe."
"Tomorrow night?"
She hesitated.
"The night after?"
"It's foolish to take chances," she whispered. "Now go on. I need to check the progress on the west wall. His lordship will give birth to kittens if the wall isn't done by the night after next."
Griffin eyed the wall. "They may finish it, but it certainly won't be dry."
"I've convinced him that we can hang velvet draperies to shield the unplastered stone. The rail's already been hung from the ceiling. Green and white draperies, of course."
Griffin broke into a grin as he walked away. "The St. Martin colors, of course."
The two laughed as they parted, and for the briefest moment all seemed to be right in the world.
Lizzy sat in the darkness on the top step of the servant's back staircase. She didn't know how long she'd been there. She'd never been really good with time, and since Amos had gone, time hadn't really mattered anymore.
Lizzy supposed she should get up and go back down the hallway to her apartments, before Drusilla sounded an alarm and sent an army of footmen searching for her. Julia was downstairs with the earl, dining, making plans for the big ball. Lizzy just wanted to get away from Drusilla and her mother-henning. She just wanted to be alone.
A fat tear ran down Lizzy's cheek. She was so lonely without Amos. She missed him so much that her tummy hurt all the time. The earl . . . it was his fault Amos was gone. His fault Amos was dead. If Lizzy knew how to shoot a pistol, if she knew where to get one, she'd take that pistol and shoot him right between his ugly, garlic eyes. Lizzy wasn't silly enough to think that would bring Amos back, but seeing the Earl of St. Martin's blood all over his clean floor might make her feel better.
Lizzy wiped at her tear, but another ran down her other cheek. It wasn't fair. She loved Amos so much. She hadn't done anything wrong. Amos hadn't done anything wrong. He wanted to marry her.
It was a moment before Lizzy realized someone was watching her from behind. She glanced over her shoulder. It was Mr. Gordy. He was always watching her.
Lizzy folded her hands in her lap. Drusilla had dressed her for bed in her sleeping gown, but Lizzy had put on her night rail before she'd slipped out of the bedchamber. She didn't care if Gordy saw her in her sleeping clothes. She didn't care who saw her. It would just give Drusilla one more thing to ramble about.
"Lady Elizabeth?"
It was the first time he had ever spoken to her when he was watching her. Usually he just stared.
"Yes?" Lizzy sniffed and wiped at her tears with the back of her hand.
"Are you all right, Lady Elizabeth?" As always he sounded funny, like there was too much starch in his breeches. That's why Lizzy figured he always stood so straight. He couldn't bend.
"I'm all right," Lizzy said.
She heard him walk hesitantly toward her, but Lizzy wasn't afraid. There was nothing left in the world to be afraid of. The worst thing that could ever happen to her had already happened.
"Miss Elizabeth, you cry too much."
She sniffed again. "I can't help it. I'm sad."
He was very close to her now. "Why? Why are you sad?"
Lizzy's lower lip trembled. "You know why."
Mr. Gordy was quiet for a moment. He looked around to see if anyone was coming. "Could . . . would you mind if I sat beside you, m'lady?"
She scooted over a little on the step. "Sit if you like. I never saw you sit. You must get tired."
Mr. Gordy folded his long legs stiffly and came to rest beside her. She glanced sideways at him.
"Tell me why you are sad, Lady Elizabeth."
She twisted her hands in her night robe. "Because"—sniff—"my Amos is dead. The earl had my Amos killed because he touched me." Another tear trickled down her cheek.
"Lady Elizabeth, if I told you a secret . . ." He breathed deeply, as if he were out of breath. "If I told you a secret, could you keep it a secret forever?"
She glanced at him with interest. "A secret about Amos?"
He nodded solemnly. "A secret that would make you stop crying. I'd do anything to make you stop crying. You don't eat, you don't sleep, you just cry. But you have to swear. If you told—"
She shook her head wildly. "Oh, I wouldn't tell." She ran one finger over her compressed lips. "Swear," she mumbled from her closed mouth.
Mr. Gordy stared down the dark stairwell. "He's not dead, Lady Elizabeth."
Lizzy's mouth flew open. Her heart fluttered. She felt like somebody had lifted something heavy off her chest. But then she frowned. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? People lie to me all the time."
"I would not lie to you. Not you. Not ever."
"How do you know he's not dead?" she whispered, trying hard not to squeal with happiness.
"Because the earl told me to do it, and I didn't. I didn't because I knew it would hurt you," he breathed.
"Where is he?" Lizzy clasped the secretary's arm.
He stared into her eyes. "At a farmhouse in Essex, milking cows."
She scrunched up her nose and giggled as she released his arm. "Amos hates cows."
"Cows are better than an early grave."
"Amos is alive and milking cows," Lizzy said to herself. "My Amos is alive."
"I must go before I'm missed."
He started to get up, but Lizzy grabbed his arm and pulled him back down so that she could look him squarely in the face. "This isn't a trick."
"No. But he cannot come back. He can never come back, else the earl will find out and kill Amos himself."
She nodded grave
ly. "I'm not stupid. I know he can't come back."
Gordy smiled. Lizzy never remembered seeing him smile before.
"I'm glad you're not sad anymore," he whispered.
"Thank you." Then she kissed Mr. Gordy on his smooth-shaven cheek.
Gordy stretched out his long legs and rose from the stair tread. Lizzy watched him as he disappeared down the hall, his hand on his cheek where she'd kissed him.
"Amos is alive," she whispered to herself. "He's alive, and now I just have to find him!"
Chapter Twenty-four
Griffin rolled over and buried his face in the warm, soft cleft between Julia's breasts. "Wife," he called her.
She laughed and ran her fingers through his hair, making his scalp tingle . . . his entire body tingle. "Husband," she said.
Griffin breathed deeply. The dream was so real. He could smell her hair. He could feel her hands.
"Griffin . . . Griffin, "she whispered in his ear.
"Griffin?"
He opened his eyes, but she was still there. He squinted in the darkness. "Julia?"
"Shhh," she whispered. The room was so dark he could barely see her, but he could smell her hair, he could feel her warmth. "Move over, it's cold," she told him.
Still not quite awake and a little confused, Griffin slid over in his bed. Charlie meowed in protest. "Sorry." He pushed the cat off the bed. "Checkmate. My woman takes your cat."
Charlie scurried under the bed.
Julia slipped naked under the counterpane, and he drew her into his arms. "I was just dreaming about you." He closed his eyes and nuzzled her neck.
"Were you?" Her lips were warm on his.
"I wasn't expecting you." He kissed her earlobe, her neck. "When I asked the other day, you said you wouldn't come."
"Want me to leave?"
She made a move to go, but he grabbed her and pulled her back. "No. Never." He pressed his mouth to the ridge of her collarbone. "I'm just pleasantly surprised."
"I know I said I wouldn't come. It really is dangerous." She laid her cheek on his chest. "But I couldn't help myself. All night I lay in bed beside my sister unable to sleep. I had to come." She ran her hand over his shoulder. "I don't know how much longer I can stay at Bassett Hall. How much longer we can be together."
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 24