by Anne Stuart
"I beg your pardon?"
"Listen, Contessa." Mr. Simpkin edged closer to Elizabeth, who uneasily stood her ground. "You're here at Winfields to find the list of English agents LeBoeuf hid before anyone else does. Not to have a good time. Didn't our friend explain it to you?"
"Well, he didn't really have much time," Elizabeth said vaguely.
"Was there ever such an ill-managed piece of work?" Wat demanded of the cloudless sky, which forebore to answer him. He turned back to the false contessa. "Haven't ye wondered why ye should be coming down at this unlikely time, in the beginning of the London season and all?"
"Well, yes, I did."
"And he didn't tell you we need that paper before anyone else finds it?" he demanded patiendy. "The list of English agents active in France right now. You can imagine how they'd like to get hold of that. They'd pay a pretty penny for that sort of information."
"I suppose they would. Where is it?"
"That's the problem, missus. No one knew but LeBoeuf, and I'm afraid he died before he had the chance to tell. And maybe the man that LeBoeuf came here to meet, whoever he is. No one tells me anything, but Mr. Fredericks says the government has a good idea who he is, and they're planning on catching him in the act when he finds the papers. Of course, we have to find where the papers are first. Those papers are worth their weight in gold, and who's to know if we sell them to the highest bidder? Certainly not Fredericks."
Elizabeth hesitated. "It sounds attractive."
"I knew ye were a downy one the moment I laid eyes on ye," said Wat, spitting for emphasis.
"Does the man know they suspect him?" she inquired, wondering who "he" was and hoping oddly that it wasn't Michael Fraser.
"Don't think so. Sir Henry here yet?"
"He's due by teatime," Elizabeth replied vaguely, her mind turning cartwheels.
"Keep an eye out for him. And tell himself to be very careful. The man's got eyes in his head."
"You mean—"
"No names," he interrupted, peering about him. "You never know who might overhear. We can both guess who it is they're suspecting."
No, we can't, Elizabeth wailed inwardly. "But what should I do?"
"Keep looking for that paper. We need to find it before the traitor does. Failing that, keep your eyes peeled and do nothing. Just tell our friend what I've told you. Sir Henry is determined to catch the traitor with the information in hand this time. Tell him that I'll be down at Starfield Cove as we arranged, and Fredericks will be with me. If he still wants to talk with us, we'll be waiting. Otherwise, it's in his hands, and I wish him all the luck."
"But who . . ."
The gentleman in the moleskin trousers disappeared back into the underbrush. Elizabeth beat about ineffectually, but the gnomelike creature had vanished.
"Damn," she said, enjoying the sound of the word out where no one could hear her. If she ever gained her freedom from Sumner, she'd make it a practice to swear out loud every chance she got.
Wat Simpkin was nowhere in sight, and Elizabeth cursed again in frustration. All this talk of "our friend" and "himself" and "he" and "traitors" and "agents," and she had no way of sorting through Wat Simpkin's garbled message and knowing who played which role. Of only one thing could she be certain. There was a highly dangerous list of English agents hidden somewhere in this moldering old place, a list that might very well contain her brother Jeremy's name. If the traitor found it before the combined forces representing the British government did, his life might very well be forfeit.
Sir Henry was coming to catch the traitor red-handed. The contessa's role in all this was highly suspect, and heaven only knew who the traitor might be. Fraser was the logical choice, but something inside Elizabeth rebelled at the thought. There was only one thing she could do: make her way down to Starfield Cove this afternoon and see what she could see. Presuming that the mysterious Mr. Fredericks worked for the British government and not the French, presuming that the message intended for the contessa somehow reached "himself," presuming that she could somehow make some sense of this tangled mess.
But whether she liked it or not, things didn't look good for the grim and silent Captain Fraser, who was already far too curious about the dead sailor. Chances were, it was those well-shaped hands that had precipitated poor LeBoeuf's departure, though with what purpose Elizabeth couldn't guess. She shuddered at the memory, less endowed with pluck than Mrs. Kingpin supposed.
Her pace back to the house was a great deal slower, even with the wind at her back. What she should do, of course, would be to confront Sir Henry when he arrived and tell him everything she knew. And she might very well do just that. But not right away, she thought. She could at least give Michael Fraser time to prove himself. Couldn't she?
In the meantime she would use her time to good advantage and do her best to find that incriminating list of spies herself. After all, she was fully as bright as the devious contessa and, because of her almost-cousinship with Adolphus, far more familiar with Winfields and its environs. No one would think she had any knowledge that such an incriminating list existed, much less that she would be after it for herself.
It came as no surprise to her to see the contessa's black- clad figure on the terrace, watching her approach out of hooded eyes. "What a strange time for a walk, Miss Traherne," she said in silken tones. "I wouldn't have thought you would be out of bed so early, much less tramping around in the fields."
"Oh, I'm an early riser. I always enjoy going for a walk before anyone but the servants are up. You look as if you enjoy doing the same," she added, with a pointed look at the light pelisse and heavy veiling ready to be placed around the contessa's distinctive features.
Much to Elizabeth's respectful surprise, the contessa laughed lightly and unaffectedly, the warm chuckle in her throat a delightful sound on the morning air. "As a matter of fact, I confess I was about to do exactly that. I don't need much sleep. I retire late and rise early. Would you care to accompany me, Miss Traherne?"
Elizabeth mentally bowed before the more experienced schemer. "I've had enough for the time being, thank you. But I'm certain you'll enjoy yourself. Not a soul in sight, not even the gardeners. It's delightfully peaceful." With a nod and a smile, she passed the contessa and went back into the house. Had she looked back, she would have seen a speculative expression on the contessa's pale but beautiful face, and she would have felt less smug.
"There you are, my little pigeon!" Sir Adolphus greeted Elizabeth cheerfully from behind a mountain of food. "I thought you were still abed. How delightful that we should have such a beautiful companion to our bachelor breakfast, eh what, gentlemen?"
Sumner, equally engrossed in a positively gluttonous breakfast, responded with a muffled "mmphhnn." Michael Fraser looked at her steadily out of dark blue eyes, and Elizabeth stared right back, trying to see behind that politely distant face to the possible villainy beneath it.
"Miss Traherne is an addition to any situation, no matter how unusual," he said at last. His eyes were speaking of last night, and only by sheer force of will did Elizabeth keep from blushing.
"Hear, hear, Fraser, I would hardly call breakfast at Winfields an unusual situation," Adolphus said indulgently. "Why, I have it all the time. Pay no attention to young Fraser, Elizabeth. He's trying to turn your head with his odd sort of flattery. Does that work on the Continent, my boy? Our English girls aren't quite used to it, don't you know."
A brief, cold smile lit Fraser's dark face. "Oh, I have other ways of flirtation, Sir Adolphus. I'll be glad to give Miss Traherne a demonstration some time when we're alone."
Sumner choked on his cinnamon bun and glared up at Fraser. Before he could erupt, Adolphus broke in genially. "Oh, I wouldn't bother if I were you. Elizabeth is up to all rigs and fancies. She'll put a flea in your ear soon enough." He turned to Elizabeth with a great creaking of stays. "Wouldn't you, my dumpling?"
Elizabeth, thus adjured and not liking the term of endearment one bit, smiled sweetly
. "Oh, I have a heart of flint. Nothing could turn my head short of brute force."
"That is a possibility," murmured the captain. Fortunately, Elizabeth was directly behind him at the heavily laden sideboard, and only she could hear the provocative statement.
"What was that you said, Captain?" Sumner demanded suspiciously.
"Whatever it was, it set her to blushing," Adolphus observed maddeningly. "It isn't often someone can make Elizabeth blush. You'll have to tell me how you do it, Captain. In private, of course."
Elizabeth resisted the temptation of taking the silver bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs and turning it upside down on someone's head for the simple reason that she couldn't decide who deserved it the most: Sumner with his handsome face like a thundercloud, Adolphus with his self-satisfied smirk in the midst of his great moon face, or the totally infuriating Captain Fraser.
Sumner and Adolphus obviously had tried to outdo themselves in piggery when they helped themselves to the breakfast buffet. Elizabeth, who by this time had completely digested the preprandial cinnamon buns and after her brisk walk was completely ravenous, was about to load her plate in a similar fashion when she espied Fraser's ascetic meal. A piece of dried toast, partially eaten, and a cup of black coffee seemed enough for the noble captain. Sighing, Elizabeth helped herself to a solitary piece of toast, poured herself a cup of coffee without her usual lashings of cream and sugar, and took her place at the table.
"Is that all you're going to eat?" demanded Sumner with the usual tact of brothers.
"I had something earlier," she said between her teeth. "This will be quite sufficient."
"It never was before, no matter what you'd eaten previously," Sumner replied, taking leave to doubt her. "You must be slimming again. I would have thought you'd wait till we got home to try and take off a bit of weight. You must have a maggot in your brain."
Elizabeth, goaded past endurance, kicked her brother sharply under the table. Unfortunately, she hit Captain Fraser instead, who jerked with a muttered curse and turned to stare at her out of amazed eyes.
"I beg your pardon," she said breathlessly, turning even rosier. "I thought that was my brother's leg."
"Tried to kick me, did you?" Sumner sniffed. "I've warned you about that, my girl. Serves you right that you got Captain Fraser instead."
"I hardly think so," Fraser said in his slow, deep voice.
"Well, you wouldn't," Sumner observed amiably. "I tell you, Fraser, you're lucky you don't have a sister. They're mean as snakes and the very devil to live with."
"As a matter of fact, I have three sisters," Michael said evenly. "All as charming as your lovely sister."
"You think her charming, eh?" Sumner demanded through grilled kidneys. "Try living with her."
Michael bowed. "I would be most honored, but I doubt the lady would be agreeable."
To Michael's obvious surprise, Elizabeth greeted this with an uncontrolled chuckle. Doing her best to keep a straight face, she glared at her unrepentant brother. "Before you go offering me about, Sumner, I would suggest you ask my opinion. Charming as Captain Fraser may be, I would still prefer to live with Miss Biddleford."
"Your old governess?" Adolphus blurted in tones of deepest horror. "Jeremy would never hear of it! Absolutely out of the question, my dear. Think what people would say; a young creature like yourself setting up housekeeping like a veritable antidote. You ain't at your last prayers yet. Three and twenty ain't such a great age, you know. Many ladies have married later and still had a full life."
Elizabeth didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Not that she should care that Adolphus and Sumner were painting her as a plump old maid to Michael Fraser. The opinion of a spy and a traitor, or at the very least a rude young man, could hardly matter to her. She gave Adolphus a steely look. "How sweet of you to say so, Adolphus," she said affably. "And I assure you, if you decided to fast for several months and wore tighter corsets, you might still be able to find yourself a bride at the advanced age of forty."
Adolphus's smile never left his face, though the pale blue eyes narrowed, and Sumner laughed through the grilled kidneys. "Warned you, didn't I, Dolph?" he chuckled. "Tongue on the girl like a viper. I pity the poor fool that makes her an offer. What do you think, Fraser?"
By this time Elizabeth was completely miserable, wondering if she had been too sharp with Adolphus and wondering if her brother had deliberately set out to paint her in such an unflattering light. Staring numbly down at her dried-up toast, she felt a gentle kick on her ankle that could only have come from Fraser's Hessian-shod toe. She looked up, and he smiled at her, a completely dazzling smile that left her staring at him like a complete fool.
"I pity the man who wouldn't make her an offer," he said. And Elizabeth, throwing twenty-three years of caution to the wind, smiled back.
Chapter 8
"Just where do you think you are going, young lady?"
Lady Elfreda's piercing tones echoed through the massive hallway, rattling the random suits of armor and causing the baronial pennants far overhead to waft in the breeze. "And in your riding habit? After a full luncheon, a lady usually requires at least an hour's rest on her bed. Brenna and that contessa creature are resting up for this evening's festivities. Or had you forgotten we're having a few couples in for dancing and cards?"
"I haven't forgotten, and I'm looking forward to it enormously," Elizabeth answered, lying blithely. "So much so, in fact, that I know I couldn't possibly sleep a wink if I were to lie down, so I thought I might go for a ride this afternoon. Just down to the sea and back."
"We don't have any suitable horses for a lady to ride," Lady Eifreda said sternly, her tone suggesting that the term "lady" was only a matter of courtesy.
Elizabeth slapped her riding crop against her heavy lavender skirts in mock dismay. "Oh, what a shame. I suppose I shall have to make do with a walk in the garden with Adolphus. It's turned into such a lovely day, and you know what they say: spring is the most romantic time of year."
"Of course, there's always the new mare Adolphus brought for Brenna," Lady Elfreda said immediately. "A trifle restive, perhaps. I don't know if you're enough of a horsewoman to manage her." The milky blue eyes gleamed beneath the crepelike lids.
Elizabeth rose to the bait as swiftly as Lady Elfreda had. "I would think that if Brenna can manage, I certainly could."
Lady Elfreda permitted herself a small smile. "No doubt. Inform the groom that I told you to ride Lacey. I am certain you'll have an entertaining ride."
The groom, however, had his doubts, as did Elizabeth when she espied the high-strung, nervous creature that danced about in the cobbled stableyard while the poor lad tried to saddle her.
"She's not the world's best-tempered beast, Miss Traherne," he said apologetically. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have another one? We've any number of gender mounts more suitable for a lady."
"Not according to Lady Elfreda," Elizabeth said wryly. "Never mind. If she thinks I'm up to riding Lacey, I certainly wouldn't want to prove her wrong. Ah . . . has anyone else gone out riding today?" She tried to keep her voice casually interested.
The boy scratched his tousled head. "Not as far as I know, miss. Not yet, at least. Will ye be wanting me to come with ye?"
"Not today, thank you. You needn't worry. I'm used to taking care of myself, and I don't intend to go far. Just down to the sea." She hesitated for a moment. "If you wouldn't mind, don't mention to anyone that I've gone out. I'm not in the mood for company, and I wouldn't want anyone to think they had to catch up with me."
"Very good, miss. Mum's the word."
Lacey proved to be as much of a handful as Elizabeth had expected. Fortunately, the three dashing Trahernes were as noted for their horsemanship as for their good looks. Once out in the open countryside, she gave Lacey her head, and they raced across the stubbled fields at a spanking pace, the wind whipping through her hair and sending it streaming along behind her. Once a hoyden, always a hoyden, she thought with no real
regret, giving herself up to the sheer pleasure of the sunny day, the wind in her face, and the feel of a strong, beautiful animal beneath her.
Starfield Cove was a reasonable distance from Winfields, a distance that seemed far shorter on Lacey's back. Steep hills led down to the rocky shore, crisscrossed with rough pathways better suited to goats than human beings. A few scraggly pines provided a doubtful shelter, but the rock formations, which doubtless had shielded smugglers in the past and would do so again, would provide admirable cover for an inquisitive young lady. Tethering the exhausted and somewhat quieter Lacey at a good distance, she made her way down the sloping pathway, the pebbles rolling beneath her riding boots and several times threatening to send her plunging downward into the sea.
Stopping about halfway down, she found a comfortable spot behind a large outcropping of rock. It couldn't have been a better spot, with a perfect view of the shoreline. The only disadvantage was the distance to the sea for her myopic eyes, but then, she didn't care to be in the traitors' laps. The spot was both sunny and covered with soft, cushiony moss, and the headlong dash to the sea had tired her. Elizabeth, curling up against the rock to wait for her prey, fell sound asleep.
* * *
"What in God's name are you doing here?"
The voice broke through her pleasant dreams, and her eyes flew open to view the object of those reveries, albeit looking a great deal more grim and unfriendly than he had a few moments ago when Elizabeth had been in the arms of Morpheus. She stared up at Michael Fraser out of sleepy eyes, uncomfortably aware of her unbound hair, the two buttons undone at the top of her prim lavender habit, and her unexplainable presence.