by Anne Stuart
"I wasn't worried," she said with chilly dignity.
"Though if! thought it would keep you out of trouble, I'd be tempted."
Elizabeth's hot temper flared. "Of course that would be the only reason why you could possibly want to," she shot back. "Well, don't worry, Captain. You won't be forced into seducing such a veritable antidote. After all, you've sacrificed so much for your country already." She stormed toward the door, with Fraser just behind her.
"Lizzie," he said, vastly amused, "don't be absurd. You know there's nothing I'd like better than to—"
He had just managed to grab her arm, pulling her back against him, when the door was flung open. Standing there like an avenging angel was Adolphus, this time attired in pale lavender, with Lady Elfreda and Rupert St. Ives directly behind him.
It was a colorful tableau: Elizabeth, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining with rage, Fraser in his towel with his arm around her, and Adolphus staring at the two of them in horror as Lady Elfreda, an expression of malicious triumph on her raddled face, looked on with ill-concealed delight.
But it was Rupert who took the offensive, his normally tanned face pale with rage. "What is the meaning of this, Fraser? Take your hands off Miss Traherne at once!" he thundered, before Adolphus could do more than stare, gasping for breath like a landed perch.
Fraser released her arm with deliberate, insolent leisure- liness. The anger in the air was like electricity, and the danger was very real. The two men were hard, implacable enemies, and she had somehow put herself in the middle of them, giving them the excuse they so badly wanted to kill each other.
She reached out and threaded her arm through Rupert's uniform-clad one, feeling the muscles bunched in fury beneath her hand. She knew perfectly well that Lady Elfreda would deny the errand that had sent her into such a contretemps, and her fertile brain was working feverishly.
"Don't be absurd, Rupert," she said with an airy laugh. "It's my fault entirely. I was rushing around, trying to get ready for the service, and I stumbled into the wrong room. We're right next door, you know, and I never had a terribly good sense of direction. Believe me, both Captain Fraser and I were terribly embarrassed, and I think the sooner we let the poor man put some clothes on, the happier everyone will be." Except me, she thought belatedly, still hopelessly fascinated with his beautiful chest.
"Don't you be absurd, Elizabeth," Rupert snarled.
"This man has been taking advantage of you, and I mean to see—"
"Rupert!" she shrieked, as Michael took a threatening step toward him.
"I would suggest, St. Ives, that you take that insult back," he said, his voice a silken menace. "Miss Traherne is hardly likely to submit to being ravished without putting up a fight, and she is, as you can see, looking charmingly intact."
"I'm ashamed of you, Rupert, for suspecting such a thing," she said in a high, breathless voice. "And I am certain Jeremy would be too. Now you come along with me to chapel while I read you a thundering scold for having such a wretched mind." She tugged at his sturdy figure, and after one last, bitter glance at Fraser's saturnine face, he followed her. When they were out of earshot, she could feel the tensed muscles relax.
"You don't fool me for a moment, Elizabeth," he said with grim amusement.
"Whatever do you mean? If you're going to suggest that I actually did anything with that insufferable, rude—"
"I know you didn't. And I beg pardon for thinking such a thing, even for a moment. The trouble is, I know what sort Fraser is."
"You also know what sort I am," she said stiffly.
"I do indeed. And I know you aren't the addle-brained widgeon you just did a very creditable imitation of. So I can only presume you are trying to protect Fraser. And I wonder why."
"I am not trying to protect him. But I also don't want you skewering him for something he didn't do," she shot back.
"He's earned it many times over for other crimes. Not the least of which is his current traitorous activities."
"What makes you think he's a traitor?" she demanded. "He's been a loyal soldier for years. Why should he turn bad?"
Rupert shrugged his massive shoulders. "It's the same old story. He was passed over for a promotion, a promotion I won't deny he more than deserved. That made him bitter, and his gaming debts made him vulnerable to offers of French assistance."
"Do you have any proof of this?" she asked hotly.
"We're getting it. In the meantime, you keep out of his rooms and out of his way. He'll be a dangerous man when cornered, you mark my word. Jeremy would never forgive me if anything happened to you."
"Nothing's going to happen to me. Not at Captain Fraser's hands, at any rate," she said with great certainty as they reached the chapel door. Rupert looked down at her, a troubled expression on his grim face, but he said nothing as he led her inside.
Elizabeth had sat through more painful services, but not many. Usually she was responsible for a goodly part of the sermon each week delivered in Sumner's thundering tones. But her brother, disdaining her advice, had chosen for his text "Esau, my brother, is a hairy man, and I am a smooth man." As Elizabeth sat demurely in the front pew of the small family chapel, she was fully aware of Adolphus's fulminating gaze, Lady Elfreda's unruffled good cheer, and the various bored expressions on those around her as they listened to her brother drone on and on. Every now and then Rupert would gaze down at her perplexedly, and she reached out and patted his strong hand reassuringly. As if he were another brother, she realized with a start of surprise.
Neither Brenna nor the contessa was anywhere in sight, and Elizabeth only hoped they hadn't murdered each other in a jealous rage over her brother. But considering the contessa's eventual destination last night, it seemed likely she wouldn't care. Fraser had likewise decided to avoid holy worship that morning, unless Adolphus had already speared him with a sword to avenge her tarnished honor. Surprisingly enough, she giggled again, incurring Sumner's disapproving glare.
Elizabeth had a strong sense of self-preservation, and she knew full well that the only thing that would stop the various people eager to upbraid her would be Sir Maurice. He was viewed by all present as something akin to the Prince Regent himself, albeit a trifle more distinguished. Adolphus bowed to his every pronouncement with flattering raptness, Fraser was politely deferential, Sir Henry Hatchett and Rupert were respectful, and Lady Elfreda viewed him with an awe that seemed almost to border on fear. After last night Elizabeth hesitated to place herself in reach of those hard, encroaching fingers and that mountainous stomach, but there was no help for it. Without a doubt no one would dare accost her for her behavior in the presence of the redoubtable general.
Therefore, once the interminable service was over, she darted up to Sir Maurice and with amazing temerity wove her arm through his, smiling up at him confidingly.
"I haven't had any chance to talk with you again," she said with a coy simper. "I am so honored to be present at a houseparty with one of our most distinguished heroes. You must tell me all about your favorite battles."
The lecherous look he cast her would have panicked a less determined creature than Elizabeth. "You're the filly young Fraser has his eye on, eh? What game is it you're playing, m'dear?"
This was unpromising, but the look on Adolphus's moon face was decidedly dangerous, and Elizabeth persevered. "I expect we seem like silly, brainless creatures to a great soldier such as yourself," she continued valiantly, determined not to let him abandon her to the wolves. "But truly, I am fascinated by warfare and espionage and the like. I expect you've known a great many French agents."
He turned to stare at her slowly out of his dark, cruel eyes, and Elizabeth was vaguely aware that she had put her foot in it this time.
"Young lady, you shouldn't be worrying your pretty little head about such stuff. That's men's business, not for the weaker sex," he admonished sharply, and removed her hand from his arm with finality before turning his short, sturdy back on her. Elizabeth couldn't control a li
ttle shiver of relief. There was something about the man that unnerved her.
"Don't mind him." The contessa materialized by her side, looking surprisingly well rested considering her nighttime perambulations. "He doesn't care for intelligent females, I'm afraid."
"With you being the exception?" Elizabeth found herself saying, and then blushed. When would she learn to control her unruly tongue? "I beg your pardon. I had no right to say such a thing."
"That's perfectly all right. I take it as a compliment," the contessa said, her good humor unimpaired. "It's quite true that the general and I are more than friends, so why should I mind a little plain speaking? As a matter of fact, I prefer it. Why are Sir Adolphus and the old dragon staring at you so furiously? And the handsome Captain St. Ives is deep in conversation with your so-charming brother. The looks they keep casting your way are not encouraging."
"They caught me in Michael's room this morning," she confessed with a trace of defiance.
A delicately shaped eyebrow rose. "Did they, indeed? This sounds most promising. I suggest we go for a drive and escape from their overwatchful eyes. Then you can tell me all about it."
Elizabeth looked at her flawless beauty, the warm, friendly smile, and remembered Wat Simpkin and the midnight strolls. "I would love it. It won't take me a minute to get my pelisse."
"I'll come with you," the contessa offered. "That way no one can give you the bear jawing they're obviously longing for." She smiled up at Elizabeth's superior height. "And we can pour out our girlish hearts and give each other much good advice, I don't doubt."
"I'll do my best," Elizabeth said, determined to learn more than she would offer.
It was obvious the contessa had the same object in mind. "I am certain you will," she replied in dulcet tones.
Chapter 15
It had turned into quite a lovely day. As Elizabeth, attired in a walking dress of green merino that set off her sherry-colored eyes and chestnut hair to perfection, seated herself next to the contessa, she had to stifle a slight twinge of disappointment that Michael Fraser was nowhere about to admire her toilette.
It was through a kind fate that they had managed to avoid Sumner's condemning figure bearing down on them as they left the house, and his large, expressive blue eyes had a petulant expression in them as he turned and murmured something in an aggrieved tone to Rupert St. Ives, who scarcely looked more conciliatory. Rupert shook his head, placing a restraining hand on Sumner's well-muscled arm, and responded to Elizabeth's saucy little wave with a curt nod that nevertheless revealed a great deal of admiration in his cool, hazel eyes. But it was too late, my dear Rupert, she thought sadly as she climbed into the landau. At the age of seventeen there would have been nothing she would have liked better than to have excited such admiration from her brother's mature and glamorous friend. But now he merely seemed like a somewhat staid older brother. Her romantic fantasy was wrapped up elsewhere.
It was a beautiful spring day. Small puffs of white clouds were off in the horizon, the green grass had a delicious damp smell, promising new growth, and daffodils were out in the park. It made midnight excursions and French spies and ghastly executions seem a figment of a fevered imagination, far more fanciful than any French novel Elizabeth had ever read. But the mature and possibly dangerous woman beside her was real, and so was the danger to her brother Jeremy and others.
Elizabeth had little doubt the contessa was offering to divert her in order to give her confederate, whoever he really was, time to search the castle for that incriminating list of spies. But Sir Henry was alive on all counts, Rupert was even more suspicious than she was, and a famous soldier such as Sir Maurice with the cold, cynical eyes wouldn't let anything past him. She leaned back against the squabs and viewed the bright day gloomily.
"You look rather down in the dumps," the contessa observed, handling the reins with a deft expertise that Elizabeth admired. "Has young Fraser been difficult?"
Elizabeth jumped, startled, and gave the contessa a brilliant false smile. "Why should Captain Fraser have any effect on my state of mind?" she questioned brightly. "I was merely worried about Brenna and my brother," she added pointedly.
The contessa smiled with unimpaired good humor. "You needn't worry, Sumner saw me disappear with Adolphus last night and has decided I'm beyond saving. I'm sure, if you just leave well enough alone, your brother and Miss O'Shea will arrive at a mutually satisfactory understanding before the weekend is out. Sumner has had his fling and will be the better husband for it."
"It must be convenient for your conscience to believe that," Elizabeth said with some asperity, remembering Brenna's miserable green eyes.
"I have no conscience, Miss Traherne." She laughed. "I've knocked about this world for far too long and been in far too many tight places to allow myself the luxury of one. But then, I doubt I ever had one in the first place. One doesn't when one is brought up in Billingsgate."
"Billingsgate?" Elizabeth echoed, thinking she must have misunderstood.
"You wouldn't know it to listen to me now, would you? I was born Lonnie Castle to a Billingsgate fishwife and some sailor she couldn't even remember. I learned to fend for myself early on, aided and abetted by certain generous gentlemen who helped me with my accent and manners. By the time I was twenty, I was no longer Lonnie Castle of London but the Contessa Leonora di Castello, and I haven't looked back once."
Elizabeth was silenced for only a moment. "Why are you telling me this?" she demanded suspiciously.
"I thought we should be honest with each other. Too much is riding on the outcome of this weekend's work. The future of this country, a country I'm surprisingly fond of, and my own personal future. I want to live a more settled existence, and I've decided Sir Adolphus will suit me just fine."
"Does he agree?" she questioned curiously.
"Oh, I have little doubt that he will. I have a way with men," the contessa murmured with a humble smile.
"I wish you all the luck in the world," said Elizabeth. "What can I do to further your success?"
"Don't care for him much yourself, do you? That's all right. He's a generous sort, full of juice, and that's the sort of gentleman I find most appealing. Not that I don't admire broad shoulders and a rakish air, but I learned long ago that Michael Fraser isn't for the likes of me."
Elizabeth's profound depression settled back over her. "Nor for me, either."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that. He's paid you far more attention than I've ever seen him waste on a young lady in the seven years I've known him. Of course, he was married to that tiresome Marianne for part of that time, but the fever carried her off quite fortuitously."
"Fever?" Elizabeth echoed. "I thought it was childbirth."
"Not with Marianne. She made certain her life wouldn't be cluttered up with the little creatures. I have little doubt the fever that carried her off was brought on by getting rid of one. Not that I disapprove of such drastic measures in certain circumstances, but she carried it too far. She really was the most wretched creature. Always whining and complaining when Michael was around and then casting those sly blue eyes at anything in pants when his back was turned. He should have known better than to have married to please his family. Even they agreed it was a miserable mistake."
"Blue eyes?" Elizabeth echoed, remembering Lady Elfreda's words.
"Blond-haired, blue-eyed, no bigger than a minute. One of those fragile, clinging types, always weeping and complaining."
"But Lady Elfreda said she looked exactly like me!"
"Haven't you learned by now that you cannot trust a word that old harridan has to say? I can't imagine two creatures more dissimilar than you and Marianne. You can be sure that Michael knows the difference." She cast a questioning look out of her saucy eyes. "But what I'm more interested in right now, my dear Elizabeth, is what Wat Simpkin had to say to you when you pretended to be me yesterday morning."
Elizabeth hesitated but then decided that frankness might avail her of more information. "
I didn't pretend to be you. He merely jumped to that conclusion."
"A matter of semantics," she replied, dismissing Elizabeth's words airily. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"Why don't you ask him?" Elizabeth countered.
"Because he's disappeared. I suppose he realized his mistake and didn't care to be around for the consequences. Or perhaps our mutual friend Fredericks got rid of him. Or he might have decided, quite righty, that his services are no longer required. Whatever, he's gone, and it's up to you to tell me how indiscreet he's been."
Elizabeth wavered for only a moment. The contessa had been more than frank so far, and her only hope of learning more seemed to demand an equal frankness. "He told me that a French agent named LeBoeuf had hidden a list of English agents active in France right now somewhere at Winfields and that one of the guests there is a French agent determined to retrieve that information, no matter what the cost. He didn't tell me who, but he did say that the government suspected the culprit. And I gather you might want to find the paper first and sell it to the government. Or to Napoleon?"
"Never. Wat Simpkin didn't know my reputation very well if he thought I'd get involved in that sort of stuff. I'm out for myself first of all, but elastic as my sense of morality is, it doesn't include selling out my country. Did he tell you where the paper was hidden?"
"He didn't seem to know. Do you?"
"Haven't the foggiest. At this point I presume only our friend the spy knows."
"Do you mean Michael Fraser?" Elizabeth's voice was surprisingly strong as she asked the question she dreaded to hear answered.
A small smile curved the contessa's ripe red lips. "You'd like me to tell you, wouldn't you? And do you know what would happen if you were to find out that the spy is Michael Fraser or some other member of this jolly little houseparty? You would probably not survive another hour. The person we're dealing with is cunning, desperate, and quite, quite ruthless. It would mean nothing to him to kill you."