Love and Let Spy

by Shana Galen

  “You had better hope not.”

  She turned. “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t marry Griffyn, you will have to marry someone. We’ve been through this.”

  A clock chimed the hour, and Jane knew she was out of time. “I have a megrim. Would you make my excuses?”

  Her aunt sighed. “Of course.”

  Jane did not start for the stairs to the second floor when she left the drawing room. She made her way along the corridor, opened a door at the end, and slipped down the servants’ stairs. She waved at the kitchen maid and stepped outside. There was a well here and a small herb garden. The garden proper was on the other side of the house. Jane could easily slip out through the back gate and into the alley where the mews were housed. She started across the lawn but froze when she heard murmured voices.

  She almost ignored them and continued on, but something about the way they rose and fell drew her back. She pushed herself against the wall of the house, dropped down to pass under windows, and finally stopped beside the French doors of the morning room, which were open to the garden. In the light cast from a lamp, she could clearly see her uncle and Lady Edgeberry standing close together.

  She slid soundlessly behind a large potted tree and pushed back against the wall of the house, listening.

  “I don’t like to make threats,” Lady Edgeberry was saying. Her voice was not quite so cultured as it had been at dinner. Her dark dress melted into the shadows, and she was but a petite figure beside that of Jane’s uncle.

  “But you make them anyway,” Melbourne said.

  “Most women fall over themselves to attract Dominic’s attention. Your niece appears quite immune.”

  “I cannot force her to marry your son any more than you can force him.”

  “Do not worry about Dominic. He has reason to marry, as does Miss Bonde. Do not fail me, Melbourne, or I will make good on my promises.” She moved to return inside, but her uncle spoke before she could cross the threshold.

  “If women fall over themselves to attract Griffyn’s attention, why not choose one of them? Why do you want Jane to marry him?”

  She turned back. “Precisely because she does not fall over herself.” And she strode back into the house.

  Jane waited a moment to ensure the marchioness was gone, then stepped into view. Melbourne’s shoulders dropped. “I should have known you would be lurking somewhere.”

  “It’s what I do. Lurk. Creep. Scuttle.” She shrugged. “Care to explain that conversation?”

  “Not particularly.” A single lamp lit the room, and her uncle looked out of place among the frilly upholstery patterns and dainty chairs her aunt had chosen.

  “What does Lady Edgeberry have to hold over you?”

  “You can add interrogate to your list of vices.”

  “Skills. You taught me each and every one.”

  “Too well.” He ran a hand through his hair, and Jane watched in some amazement. Her uncle was distraught. She had never seen him so unless one of his agents was in danger. “I don’t like to tell you this, Jane.”

  Her spine prickled with unease. “I think you’d better.”

  “Lady Edgeberry and I were once lovers.”

  Jane stepped back, wishing she had stayed hidden in the garden. Oh, she did not want to hear this. She did not want to think about what her uncle did in the dark of the night. Her aunt and uncle had no children, and Jane preferred to believe that was because they had never consummated their union. She knew it was ridiculous, but it was easier than imagining them pawing each other the night before, when she caught them smiling secretively over breakfast.

  She cleared her throat. “Before or after…”

  “After.” He turned away from her, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m ashamed of what I did, Jane. Your aunt and I have had our difficulties, but I should not have strayed.” He turned back. “Titania was beautiful, seductive, a promising actress. Every man wanted her.”

  “Eh—” Bollocks! Why did she continually stumble into conversations like this tonight?

  “It was over within a few weeks. She met Edgeberry, and I realized I really did love your aunt.”

  “And you never told Lady Melbourne?” That was not like him. He did not avoid difficult situations. He faced them.

  “No, and I don’t want her to find out. She would never forgive me.”

  That was true to a point. Her aunt loved long and loyally, but if someone betrayed her, she could also punish the offender for years. She would not be persuaded this was a youthful mistake, but she would eventually forgive.

  Poor Melbourne. Poor her! Jane was going to have to marry Griffyn to keep the marchioness quiet.

  “Perhaps if I speak with Lady Edgeberry—”

  “It won’t do any good, Jane.” Melbourne moved closer to her, and she saw the weariness in his eyes. He looked as though he’d aged ten years. “She has made up her mind. She can be very persistent when she wants something. If you can’t marry Griffyn, tell me now. I want to speak to your aunt before she hears of this from Titania.”

  Jane stared at him. How could she marry Dominic Griffyn? And how could she not?

  “You will have to marry someone, Jane. Remember that. You cannot continue with the Barbican group if you do not. But I won’t force you to marry someone you cannot live with. It was my mistake, not yours, and you shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

  She took a breath. “Marrying him wouldn’t be so awful a price,” she finally admitted. “He is attractive.”

  Melbourne’s brows rose. “Is he?”

  “And he kisses well.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Does he now?”

  She could have said more, could have tortured him with tidbits of knowledge, but she did not want to discuss intimate matters with her uncle. She could talk to him about anything but that. Finally, she said, “I will think about it. Tell Lady Edgeberry I am considering.”

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  She laughed and gave him a hug. “I love you, Uncle. No need to thank me.”

  “Shall we go inside? Griffyn has already left. He said he wanted to rise early and travel to Edgeberry’s stables. You’re quite safe from him.” He offered his arm.

  She stepped back. “I have an appointment.”

  “Oh? Anything I should know about?”

  “Not yet. I’ll brief you in the morning.” She started for the back gate, waving at him over her shoulder.

  “Jane!” he called.

  She looked back.

  “Be careful. This one…he’s not like any other foe you’ve faced.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  She reached the gate, opened the latch, and stepped into the alley. The mews were just across the short lane, and she opened the door soundlessly, reached inside, and retrieved the sack she’d secreted there hours before. Standing in the shadows, she tied her skirts up and out of her way, discarded her slippers for a pair of sturdy half boots, and retrieved the dagger from her bodice. She’d had a sheath sewn along the wooden busk that ran the length of the center of her stays. The busk ensured she maintained good posture, not that she was likely to forget with a sharp dagger to prick her if she forgot to sit straight. Now she slipped the dagger into one of her boots and donned a black cape, pulling the hood over her bright hair. Jane stuffed the items she’d removed back into the sack and shoved it into the mews. She closed the door again, hearing the horses shuffle curiously, but otherwise disturbing nothing.

  She turned, and Dominic Griffyn stood before her.

  ***

  “This is interesting,” he said, scrutinizing her attire. “Is there a reason you don capes and sneak away from your cozy home each night?”

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her eyes flashing even under the shadow of the cape.

 
“What are you doing here?” he answered in kind.

  “I live here.”

  “This”—he pointed at the dirt lane—“is a street, not a residence.”

  She blew out a breath. “You are the most exasperating man. Go home. This does not concern you.”

  “That may be, but I’m curious.”

  “I assure you there is nothing of interest. You are supposed to be at home.” She actually gestured down the lane. It wasn’t even the direction of the Edgeberry town house, but he didn’t point that out.

  He crossed his arms. “I’ll go home.”

  “Good.”

  “If you tell me where you are going and why.”

  She pressed her hands together, threading her fingers. “I cannot. I would if I could, but I am sworn to secrecy.”

  “Then I’ll have to follow you.”

  “No!” She stepped close to him and took his hands in hers. She still wore her gloves, as did he, but somehow the contact between them was just as heated as it would have been had their skin been bare. He jerked his hands back.

  “Do not touch me.”

  “Do not follow me.” Then her eyes softened. “Please, Mr. Griffyn. Go home.”

  He actually wanted to give in to her. She was beautiful with her large blue-violet eyes pleading with him. He wanted to please her.

  But he wanted to follow her more.

  “Tell me what I want to know.”

  Her eyes turned stormy. “I can evade you, you know. I know how to lose a tail.”

  “Even a tail who yells out your name when he loses sight of you? Even a tail not afraid to wake the whole city to find you?”

  She tapped her foot. Clearly, she had not considered this tactic. Equally clearly, she was torn between giving up on her errand for the night or allowing him to accompany her. “It’s late,” she said. “I don’t have time to argue.” She began to walk, and he was so surprised it took him a moment to catch up to her.

  “If you come with me, you take your life in your hands.” She walked quickly and efficiently, making her way past the dark mews with a confidence that told him she had done this many times before.

  “That doesn’t sound promising.”

  “And I won’t answer your questions. No matter what happens.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You’ll be left with more questions than answers.”

  “Very well.”

  She scowled at him. “Do not say I didn’t warn you. When you end up dead, do not blame me.”

  “I shall come back as a spirit and haunt you.”

  “That’s amusing now. It won’t be if something goes wrong.”

  “What could go wrong?”

  “Nice try. End of discussion.” And it was. She began to run at an easy pace, and he was forced to run to keep up with her. She ran with sureness and speed, hesitating only when she reached a busy street. Then she slowed to a walk so as not to rouse suspicion. Once away from the bustle of carriages and young bucks making their way back to bachelor quarters, she began to run again. Gradually, he realized they were headed for the river.

  He smelled it before he saw it, and when they paused under a tree, he tried not to breathe too deeply. “Why…did…we…not…take…a…hack?” he finally managed.

  “I don’t want anyone…to know where…I am.” She was hardly out of breath, and he found himself impressed almost against his will. Growing up with brothers and among the boys at Eton, he had thought women frail creatures who needed to sit for long hours and be escorted when walking. But Miss Bonde was in far better physical condition than he. She was barely winded, while his lungs burned.

  “We’re going to the river?” The question might as well have been thrown into the wind. She ignored him and looked into the distance. He followed her gaze, attempting to see what, if anything, she searched for. Suddenly, for no reason he could discern, her stance changed, and he saw the glint of the dagger in her hand.

  “You the one they call Bonde?” a voice called out from the darkness of another tree.

  “Yes. Are you Applewhite?”

  “I thought you were coming alone.”

  She glanced at Dominic over her shoulder and scowled. “Change of plan.”

  “You’re late.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “And you talk too much. Will you take me to the warehouse, or must I find it myself?”

  “Oh, I’ll take you,” the man said, emerging from the dark. Dominic couldn’t manage a good look at him. His hat had been pulled low on his brow, and he wore his coat collar high to protect him from the chill in the air. “You agents are all the same,” he grumbled. “In a hurry to die.”

  Agents? Dominic thought as he followed the man closer to the river and along its edge. What sort of agent was she? Customs agent? Was she inspecting illegal cargo? It made no sense. Women did not work as customs agents.

  A row of warehouses came into view. At this time of night, they appeared deserted. Tugs designed to transport goods from the large vessels in the crowded river to the riverside wharves stood as dark sentries on the Thames’s murky waters. In the distance the newly constructed Millbank Prison loomed over them all.

  “I thought there was a shipment arriving tonight.”

  Applewhite shrugged and spit. “I only know what I heard. The wind or tide might have been against them. Made it slow going.”

  “Is Foncé here?”

  “Shh!” Applewhite grabbed her hand, and Dominic stepped in immediately and shoved the man back.

  “Do not touch her.”

  Miss Bonde gave him an amused look and turned her attention back to Applewhite.

  “I’m trying to save her life. Those that speak that name aloud don’t live long.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Has the man in question arrived yet?”

  “No.” He pointed to a warehouse painted putrid yellow. “That’s the one. When you step inside—”

  “You’re not coming with us?” she asked.

  “That wasn’t the deal. The deal was I show you the warehouse. Wolf isn’t paying enough for me to stay.”

  Something that looked like concern flickered in her eyes and was gone. “When I step inside…” she prodded.

  “Stay to the right. There’s a stairwell. Take it to the second floor. There’s an office no one uses up there. It has a view of the floor on one side and the river on the other. Good luck to you.” With a tip of his hat, he was gone.

  For a long moment, she didn’t move. Dominic waited for her to say this was all some sort of hoax, but she seemed to be studying the warehouse.

  “You’re not actually going inside,” he said.

  She glanced at him as though she’d forgotten he was present. “You’d better wait here. Stay hidden. I don’t trust this.”

  “Then we should return home. I’ll escort you.” He reached for her arm, but she shook him off.

  “I’m not going home, and I don’t need an escort.” She flashed the dagger. “I’m going in, and it would be immensely helpful to me if I did not have to worry about you.”

  “I suppose I’m not going to be very helpful then. I’m coming with you.”

  She shook her head at him, and he felt her annoyance. Hell, he was annoyed with himself. Why the devil was he doing this? He was no knight in shining armor. What did he care if she wanted to traipse about London in the middle of the night or hide in old warehouses? It was nothing new to her—that much was obvious. He should have gone home tonight instead of waiting to see what she’d do. But now that he had, he couldn’t leave her. He felt responsible for her somehow. After all, she was his betrothed—or she would be if he ever asked for her hand.

  And he certainly wasn’t doing that until he knew something of her secrets.

  “I thought you were a rogue who cared nothing for Society or its rules.”
r />   He nodded. “Apt description.”

  “Then act like one! Abandon me. Leave me to fend for myself. Say something truly despicable and stomp off to some brothel or other.”

  “All good choices, but I’m staying right here.”

  “I hate you,” she seethed. “You are no better than the rest of the gentlemen.” She said the word as though it was a curse.

  “It occurs to me, Miss Bonde, that if you want me to leave and I accommodate, that is actually the more gentlemanly act. If I stay where I am not wanted, I act much more the disreputable rogue.”

  She gave him a disgusted look and shook her head.

  “Are we going inside?” he asked.

  “I am going inside. You can go to the devil.” She started for the warehouse, but when he made to follow, she turned and put a hand on his chest, which he allowed. This time. “Follow me. Step where I step. Do what I do.”

  He looked down at her, so stern and serious. She was actually giving him orders.

  “If you ruin this mission for me, I will personally see you flogged.”

  “How wonderfully fifteenth century.”

  She held up a finger and jabbed it at his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

  He had the strangest impulse to kiss her right then. Why he should be attracted to her, he couldn’t say. Why he wanted to kiss her, when he never kissed, he could not fathom. Miss Bonde was annoying the hell out of him. The one thing he could not tolerate was being ordered about—by a man or woman. But there was something about the way she did so that made his blood thrum. He might have kissed her then, too, if something she’d said didn’t niggle at his mind. Mission.

  She moved forward again, keeping to the shadows as a cat might. She really was rather good at this, and he followed her as best he could. He was neither as sleek or small as she, but he thought he did a tolerable job of slinking. They reached the warehouse, and she stopped to stand on tiptoes and peer into one of the grimy windows. Her eyes barely cleared the casement, and he leaned close to whisper, “Would you like me to lift you?”