by Anne Stuart
Elizabeth's curiosity was piqued. "What son of thing? Did he run off with his commander's wife, sell secrets to the French, seduce a duchess?" she questioned flippantly.
"I believe he was suspected of being a traitor," Adolphus whispered importantly. "But they couldn't prove a thing, so they had to settle for putting him in a post where he couldn't do any harm. Uncle Maurice hasn't many duties left to him in these last few months before he retires, and I doubt he'd have anything to do with military secrets of great importance. By the time he retires and Fraser gets reassigned, they should be able to get any proof they might need."
"Proof of what?" she inquired in a suitably hushed tone.
"I don't precisely know," Adolphus admitted fretfully, not liking to be in the dark any better than the inquisitive Elizabeth did. "Whether or not he's to be trusted, I suppose. More than one brave agent of our country has met his end by the traitor's hand. If there's any truth to the rumors surrounding Fraser, then he's a direct threat to people like your brother Jeremy. I would suggest you avoid him at all costs. There was no way I could keep him from coming, and of course it may all be a tempest in a teapot. He's a handsome enough devil," he added with a trace of envy in his voice. "You'd better keep an eye out for any blandishments, Cousin. Uncle Maurice should be able to keep things under control, and a friend of his from the Foreign Office is expected. We should be safe enough." He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, as if he expected the villainous Fraser to appear with knife in hand.
Elizabeth's interest was well and truly caught by this time. "But why would he change sides? After having served king and country so well and truly for so long?"
Adolphus shrugged his thick shoulders, sending his highly starched shirt points into his ears with a sharp jab that caused tears of pain to start in those pale blue eyes. "Who can say what dark forces drive such men to desperate measures?" he intoned. "We can only guess at the tragic circumstances that affected him so—"
A small spurt of laughter from Elizabeth's tightly compressed lips drew his ruminations to an abrupt halt, and the expression in her golden-brown eyes was merry. "I never knew you were such a romantic, Adolphus! Michael Fraser sounds positively Byronic. I am quite looking forward to meeting this desperate traitor, tormented as he is by unspeakable horrors. Particularly if he's as devilishly handsome as you say he is."
Adolphus drew himself up, affronted. "You may very well laugh, Elizabeth, but I advise you to be careful. One man is dead already, do not forget, and I gather from friends of mine that the situation could still be dangerous."
Elizabeth's levity vanished abruptly. "A man dead?" she echoed. "You don't mean that French sailor?"
"Certain people think he was more than a mere sailor intent on smuggling laces and brandy," Adolphus announced. "The more I think about it, the more I am afraid that I may have been a bit hasty in ruling it death by misadventure. But then, as justice of the peace I have a great deal on my mind and can't be expected to be overly suspicious.
Chapter 3
As Elizabeth dressed for dinner that evening, she couldn't help but wonder why she was lavishing such special care on her toilette. She had been agreeably surprised by her choice of rooms this visit. Instead of the cramped little cubbyhole she'd endured on previous occasions, this time some kind hand (certainly not Lady Elfreda's or Brenna's) had given her a bright, airy room at the front of the house, complete with warm fire and a steaming hip bath awaiting her. On second thought, it might have been Lady Elfreda's poisonous touch. The room was as far away from Adolphus's master suite as could be managed, probably close to half a mile in this rambling place, Elizabeth thought gratefully. The baron's bulging blue eyes had a decidedly ravening look to them this time, a look Elizabeth couldn't fail to interpret; the farther away she was from his pudgy, grasping fingers, the better.
Surveying herself in the mirror, she could find no grievous fault, though perhaps she would have been wiser to have chosen something a bit less flattering. The high- waisted dress made the most of her elegant figure, and if it was a warm rose instead of her favorite green, well, she had enough sense to know that Brenna O'Shea had always chosen green for herself, and Elizabeth couldn't hope to outshine her diminutive beauty. At least the gown was silk, not the insipid muslins she'd been doomed to wear for the last five years, muslins that did absolutely nothing for her somewhat opulent beauty, she thought dismally. But at the age of twenty-three she had decided she was well and truly on the shelf enough to indulge in silk, and indulge she had. As a matter of fact, it was only the knowledge of four exceedingly elegant new dresses hanging in her closet that had persuaded her to acquiesce in this dismal weekend.
The sun-streaked chestnut hair was looped casually around her head, and the golden-brown eyes had a somewhat rueful expression. Given Lady Elfreda's overt enmity, Brenna's coolness, Sumner's self-absorption, and Adolphus's greedy paws, it was doubtless going to be a wretched time. The addition of the phenomenally stiff Sir Maurice and his villainous adjutant didn't sound much more promising. With a sigh and a longing thought toward dinner, she picked up her matching fan and moved with the air of a condemned prisoner to meet the rest of the houseparty.
So intent was she on her gloom and the distant scent of roast goose that she failed to notice that the previously deserted hall was no longer empty. Before she realized what shewas doing, she collided full force with a broad male chest.
"I beg your pardon," she said breathlessly as she felt her arms gripped by iron fingers. A moment later she found herself ruthlessly put aside. Her arms were released, and she looked up into the face of what could only be the traitorous Michael Fraser.
Not quite Byronic, she thought absently, rubbing her bruised arms. He was taller than she; perhaps not quite as tall as her brother, though his shoulders in the austere black evening jacket were a great deal broader. He had dark brown straight hair, dark blue eyes in a tanned, aloof face, high cheekbones, and a mouth that would have been alarmingly sensual had it not been for the grim line in which it was compressed. He stared down at Elizabeth for all the world as if she were an impertinent puppy.
"I'm sorry I ran into you," she said in her friendliest tones, smiling up at him. "I didn't expect anyone would be out here."
The smile that so often melted the hardest of hearts failed visibly to move this one, and he continued to stare down his well-shaped nose with cold hauteur. "My fault entirely," he said finally, completely without expression.
His voice was low-pitched and quite delightful, Elizabeth thought sadly. Spy or not, the man was a boor, just as she had suspected Sir Maurice's adjutant would be. Before she could make one last effort at civility, he moved away, disappearing into the room beside hers without a backward glance. The door shut firmly behind his tall, black figure, and Elizabeth uttered a short, sharp little word that would have horrified her proper brother.
"There you are, Elizabeth." Lady Elfreda greeted her in reproving tones when she finally reached the drawing room. "I had almost given you up. You never used to be so lamentably tardy. You remember my brother-in-law Maurice?"
There was nothing for the irritated Elizabeth to do but greet the aging soldier with a semblance of pleasure. Sir Maurice had never been a great favorite of hers. He was as short and stout as his sister-in-law was tall and thin, although they shared the same charm of manner and overwhelming family pride. He was also a desperate gamester and one of the hardest commanders the British Army had ever known. Adolphus was wont to boast of his uncle's excesses with a patronizing air, but the stories passed on to Elizabeth's unwilling ears from her brother Jeremy had given her a deep-seated horror of the man. As her eyes met his cruel little black ones, she could barely control a shudder of distaste.
"How pleasant to see you again, Miss Traherne. And looking lovelier than ever, I see. You do these old eyes good, I swear you do. Don't she, Dolph?" Sir Maurice's voice was curiously high-pitched and girlish, and unwillingly Elizabeth remembered the deep, slow tones of his secreta
ry.
"I've told Elizabeth so many times," Adolphus said jovially, coming forth and taking one of her hands possessively. She resisted the impulse to slap him with her fan across the knuckles. "Let me make you known to my uncle's friend. The Contessa Leonora di Castello, late of the Peninsula. Contessa, this is Elizabeth Traherne."
Elizabeth found herself looking down at the most beautiful woman she had seen in her entire life. Jet black hair in an upsweep framed a heart-shaped face of pure white skin, with a tiny nose, dark, dark eyes, and a rosebud mouth that pouted fetchingly at all the gentlemen within her radius. The extremely low-cut black décolletage proclaimed her a widow, and a dashing one at that. Elizabeth could almost hear Adolphus salivating beside her, and she greeted the contessa with real enthusiasm.
The contessa smiled sleepily up at her, professing herself delighted to meet another lovely young English lady. Those black eyes swept expressively toward Brenna's distant figure, and Elizabeth was amused to note the tiny pout on Brenna's lips. Sumner was as obviously fascinated by the contessa's lush charms as the other gentlemen, and Brenna hadn't expected to be eclipsed. If the Irish girl had ever been the slightest bit friendly, Elizabeth would have sympathized, but as it was she felt that Brenna was receiving her just deserts.
"And now where is Captain Fraser? This younger generation obviously fails to hold punctuality in the esteem we once did, eh, Maurice? Cook will be in despair," Lady Elfreda announced with a cheerful laugh. "You'll never keep him here at this rate, Dolph. He's threatened to leave you any time now."
"Pierre won't leave me until I'm ready to let him go," Adolphus said, unruffled, tearing his gaze away from the deep valley between the contessa's magnificent breasts. "And if I'm not mistaken, here is Captain Fraser."
Here he was indeed, Elizabeth thought. That same grim, haughty figure entered the room, the dark blue eyes sweeping over the inhabitants like a commander reviewing the battlefield. From the speed with which that dark glance passed over her, she guessed that she rated somewhere between a broken cannon and a winded nag.
"Miss Traherne, allow me to introduce to you my uncle's current adjutant, Captain Michael Fraser, late of the Ninth Battalion. Fraser, this is my cousin, Miss Elizabeth Traherne. Fraser's been with Uncle Maurice for the past six months, and lucky you are to have him, eh, Uncle?"
The jovial tone in Adolphus's voice was at a strange variance with his earlier warnings, and Elizabeth stole a perplexed glance up at his bland, puffy face before nodding coolly at the unfriendly Captain Fraser. But Fraser's dark eyes, seemingly so uninterested in her charms, hadn't missed that quizzical expression, she realized with dismay, and he was watching Adolphus with a trace of the same curiosity, a bitter little smile lingering around his hard mouth.
Elizabeth was surprised to note that Lady Elfreda and she shared the same low opinion of the chilly young man. "Well, since Captain Fraser has decided to rejoin us, perhaps we might go in to dinner before the goose is entirely ruined?" Again Lady Elfreda emitted that high-pitched laugh before she held out a commanding arm to her brother-in-law, an arm he dutifully accepted.
Goose, thought Elizabeth, her spirits brightening. She was so fond of goose, particularly stuffed with grapes. Her spirits dropped again when she realized who her dinner partner would be.
It went without saying that Adolphus would accompany the ranking female guest, the vibrant contessa, into the dining hall. Sumner could never be relegated to escorting his sister, and the look on Brenna O'Shea's face was that of a cat that had just swallowed a bowl of cream as she clasped Sumner's stalwart arm possessively. Fraser stood staring at her, the distant planes of his face unreadable in the flickering candlelight. Once more irritation rose within Elizabeth's breast.
She was used to hearing herself described as a very pretty young woman, one of the dashing Trahernes. She was therefore quite unused to a complete lack of reaction to her most charming wiles. As she looked up for a long, silent moment into Michael Fraser's dark, handsome face, pique combined with the memory of the baron's warning, and her worry over the absent Jeremy finished the job. The smile left her lips and eyes abruptly.
"Elizabeth!" Lady Elfreda's stentorian bellow echoed through the hall, and Elizabeth jumped nervously.
"You needn't accept my arm," Fraser said suddenly in that voice that had the uncanny knack of tickling Elizabeth's nerve endings. "I am not considered the most desirable dinner partner." The thought seemed to move him not one whit, and Elizabeth hardened herself to any latent sympathy.
"Well," she said brightly, taking his arm and following him out toward the immense dining hall, "if you will become a spy and a traitor, what would you expect? Though I would presume that being Sir Maurice's adjutant is punishment enough for any crime, no matter how treasonous." She waited calmly for the storm to erupt.
A strange sound emanated from the upright figure beside her, one that she might almost have suspected was a smothered laugh. But when she peeked up at him, the tanned face was as expressionless as before.
"I would suggest, Miss Traherne, that you not believe everything you hear. And that you certainly not repeat it."
"Oh, then you're not a spy?" She contrived to sound disappointed. "I was counting on you to liven up this rather dull weekend. I've never met a spy before." Except my own brother, she thought belatedly.
The muscles were iron hard beneath her hand, and for a moment Elizabeth regretted her rash tongue. "I have little doubt," he said after a long, tense moment, "that this weekend will be rather too lively. Even for a bored young social butterfly like yourself."
The censure was obvious in that deep voice, and the thought of her dutiful, active life as a whirl of social pleasures forced a chuckle from Elizabeth. "Then I will have to content myself to wait for the fireworks," she said cheerfully. "I am quite looking forward to it." She chuckled again as she caught his sour glance down at her.
Chapter 4
Despite the succulent goose stuffed with grapes, the grilled lake trout meunière, the Stilton soufflé, boiled mutton, and twelve vegetables, Elizabeth did not enjoy her dinner. Indeed, it was not to be wondered at, with a silent, disapproving dinner partner such as Michael Fraser on one side, an overly charming brother on the other, and a stern Lady Eifreda opposite watching her every move like a hawk. As a result, Elizabeth spilled soup on her new silk dress, choked on the goose, and ran out of forks far too soon.
There was nowhere she could turn for help. Adolphus's attention was firmly fixed on the contessa's remarkable cleavage; Sumner, above noticing such things, was nevertheless entranced by that lady's monosyllabic wit; and Brenna was struggling wildly to catch whatever dregs of Sumner's wandering attention might be available, her sharp green eyes daring Elizabeth to interfere. Elizabeth was never one to refuse a challenge, but in this case she felt not only unequal to the task of diverting Adolphus and Sumner but completely unwilling. If only the large, dark figure beside her were a little more lively, she could find it in her heart to be content.
She was halfway through a strawberry tan when she realized that all eyes were on her. Every plate was empty except hers, and every mouth was still as they patiently waited for her to finish her dessert. Swallowing in a suddenly dry throat, Elizabeth began to cough, choking into her damask napkin until her face turned scarlet and tears streamed from her eyes. Two smart thwacks between her vulnerable shoulder blades, much harder than was actually necessary, and she regained her composure.
"Thank you," she gasped to the silent captain, her brown eyes flashing her opinion of the force of his blows.
"Are you quite finished, Elizabeth?" Lady Elfreda questioned archly as she rose from her seat by Adolphus. "I am certain the gentlemen would appreciate some time to themselves. Adolphus, my pet, you must see to raising Sumner's stipend. It would seem that they scarcely have enough to eat, though one wouldn't think so, looking at dear Elizabeth. Come along." And with that lightly spoken denunciation, Lady Elfreda swept from the room, a smirking Brenna in her wak
e, while the contessa, aided to her feet by three helpful pairs of hands, languidly followed.
Elizabeth's face was pink with embarrassment and the aftermath of her choking fit. Tossing her head back, she leaned over the table, snatched up two apples, and sauntered after the ladies, biting into one of them with deliberate grace. As she closed the door behind her, she heard a laugh, one that she failed to recognize, and wondered if Michael Fraser was human after all.
"Come sit by me, Miss Traherne." The contessa patted the silken sofa in an inviting gesture. "I would like to get to know you better. Our gracious hostess has dragged the little Irish girl off somewhere, so we can be comfortable for a few moments until the dragon returns,hein?"
Without hesitation Elizabeth offered the dazzling contessa one of her pilfered apples and plopped herself down beside her. "She is a bit of a tartar, isn't she?" she questioned cheerfully. "I dread having to come here, but Sumner will insist, and since it is only a few times a year, I suppose I can bear it for his sake."
"But why does she dislike you so much?" the lady questioned with great interest. "Me she hates because I am foreign, but you are the perfect young English lady. I would think you would be quite unexceptionable."
"Little do you know. Lady Elfreda is terrified that Adolphus means to make me his bride. I can't very well set her mind at rest by telling her I'd rather marry a dead slug, so instead I have to put up with her insults." Elizabeth took another bite of her apple, enjoying both the taste and the satisfying crunch.
"I wouldn't think it would be such a bad thing to be married to Sir Adolphus. After all, he is very rich, very important, and not bad looking if you do not mind a large man. One could do a great deal worse," she mused, pleating her black chiffon skirts thoughtfully.
Elizabeth watched her out of narrowed eyes, fascinated. "I wish you all the luck in the world, Contessa. You may have him with my blessing. That is . . ." she stumbled, blushing.