by Gaelen Foley
She was silent for a moment. “I’m not going. I’d like you and Jack to take Thomas there so his grandparents can see him, but I just can’t—face them today.”
“Of course, that’s no trouble, but are you feeling ill, milady?” the old woman asked in concern.
“No, thank you. It’s just—if my mother were to say one wrong word to me today, I don’t know what I might do. She’s sure to ask why I didn’t bring Lord Falconridge with me again.” Tears suddenly welled in her eyes to speak his name aloud.
“Oh, my dear mistress.” The nurse put Thomas down on the floor. He ran off to play. The old woman eased into the chair beside her. “Do you want to tell your old Busby what’s the matter?”
She succumbed to a sniffle. “Lord Falconridge and I had a falling-out last night.”
“Dear me, no,” the old nurse said with compassion wreathing her wrinkled face. “But all lovers quarrel eventually, my lady. If he hurt you, I’m sure he will apologize. Anyone can see the earl dotes on you. I’m sure he’d never knowingly do you any harm.”
She looked at Mrs. Busby uncertainly, hoping she was right.
The old woman patted her hand. “There, there, milady. Jack and I will take Master Thomas today so you and your gentleman can patch things up.”
Fresh tears rushed into her eyes at the old servant’s kindness. “Thank you, Mrs. Busby.”
Thomas had toddled back into the room. Seeing her tears, he climbed on her lap and touched her face. “Mama, you sad?”
“I’m all right, darling.” She hugged him for a moment, then pressed a tender kiss to his downy head. “There now, off you go. Let’s put your shoes on, Thomas. It’s almost time to go see your grandparents. Try not to break anything while you’re there, hmm?”
As she put him down, a knock sounded on the door with a firm triple beat that reached them from the foyer.
Mara’s gaze flew to meet Mrs. Busby’s.
The old nurse smiled reassuringly. “He’s early.”
Mara nodded and got up from her chair, glancing into the mirror over the fireplace while Mrs. Busby took Thomas away, mouthing a silent “good luck” over her shoulder.
Mara nodded in gratitude while Reese marched to the front door.
Another brisk trio of knocks resounded through the front half of the house.
Mara abandoned the thought of having her butler tell him she was not at home. He wouldn’t believe it anyway. Quickly arranging herself in the yellow armchair by the empty hearth, she brushed the pale green skirts of her day dress neatly into place. She folded her hands in her lap so he would not see them trembling.
“My lady: Lord Falconridge,” her butler announced a moment later, showing him into the parlor.
Jordan strode in with his shoulders squared and his chiseled jaw set at a resolute angle. He halted two steps into the room and offered her a very correct bow.
Mara greeted him with a dignified nod; Reese withdrew.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Wistfulness and dismay seemed to fill the room, flowing back and forth between them.
“Thank you for seeing me,” he clipped out.
She nodded, only wondering why the blackguard had to be so handsome. She could not help admiring his lean, athletic body in spite of herself as he turned around to shut the door.
It closed with a discreet click, and he faced her once more. Truly, his striking good looks made it all the harder to stay angry at him. Did he know how that indigo morning coat and the light blue stripe of his waistcoat beneath it brought out the ice blue beauty of his eyes? Or that the tight fawn breeches that clung to his thighs made her fight the urge to squirm in her chair with the memory of his body covering hers? His black boots gleamed as he paced restlessly into the room.
“I came to say I’m sorry.”
She nodded with cool caution. “A good start. But you’re going to have to do better than that.”
A flicker of surprise passed across his chiseled face. Then he dropped his gaze and drew off his gloves. He seemed to search for words.
“What is going on, Jordan? Please. I’m not a fool. Whatever it is, just tell me. Is there someone else?”
“No!” he said in surprise. “Of course not.”
Relief eased some of the tension from her posture. “Then what is it you’ve been keeping from me?”
He gazed at her for a long moment. “I want to tell you. I can’t lie to you anymore. But I have to ask you first, do you love me?”
Mara let out a small, impatient sigh as Jordan searched her face. Now, this wasn’t fair. Why should she be the first to make this profound concession when he was the one in the wrong? But looking into his blue eyes, she knew true love did not keep score.
“You know I do, you cad. Though not quite so much at the moment,” she muttered wryly.
He stared at her in tender thanks, the trace of a smile softening his face. “I can see why.”
She shook her head at him. “I gave myself to you completely, Jordan. Are you ever planning on doing the same?”
“I’d like to do that now,” he replied with a taut nod. Then he began to pace.
Mara watched him avidly. “Very well. I’m listening.”
With an array of tangled emotions visible on his face, he paused to pick up one of Thomas’s abandoned blocks, which he placed gently on the table.
“Er, Mara?”
“Yes, Jordan?” she urged him softly.
He stopped and looked into her eyes. “I am not exactly a diplomat,” he said. “I’m a spy.”
Mara held her breath and tried not to look astonished. “I see.”
“Do you?” He furrowed his brow, then glanced suspiciously toward the parlor door, as though he suspected someone of eavesdropping. “That’s the real reason I had to go twelve years ago, and why I could not write. I couldn’t tell you. I really shouldn’t be telling you now. But back then, especially, you were so young, so reckless, indiscreet. You know you were.” He paced again. “Given the danger, I didn’t dare. I was afraid you’d make a mistake that could have had disastrous consequences.”
Mara watched him in a state of shock—and yet she was strangely relieved. Finally, something made sense!
“I had to let you go—but I did mean to come back and see if you had settled down, in time.”
She did not know what to say to that.
“At any rate, much of my agency’s work was finished after Napoleon fell. I was called back to London. Some weeks ago,” he continued, “we became aware of a possible new threat to the Regent. We had cause to believe that an enemy agent had infiltrated the prince’s inner circle.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I was tasked with eliminating the threat, and last night I was this close”—he held up his finger and thumb an inch apart—“to breaking down my target when you walked in.”
“Albert?” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “That’s why I got so angry. I’m not excusing my temper, but frustration got the best of me, and I apologize for that. Getting to that point had taken so much effort, and when you walked in, the distraction provided him with an escape route. The chance was lost.
“It’s not your fault, of course,” he added. “You had no idea what you were walking into—and I can only imagine how bad it must’ve looked from your perspective. But it really wasn’t what it appeared. Little is, in my life,” he murmured ruefully. “I just hope you can understand. It’s been so difficult, having to conceal this from you all this time. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t have a choice. Until last night. Hurting you like that.” He shook his head with a hard look. “It isn’t worth it. I don’t want to lose you. When I saw your face last night after I yelled at you, I knew the time had finally come to trust you with the truth. And the truth is, I never needed time to sort out my feelings, Mara. I’m in love with you.”
Her heart pounded as he gazed at her from where he stood by the fireplace.
He heaved a weary sigh and pushed his hand thro
ugh his sandy hair. “I’ve been working like hell all week to complete the mission so my duty can stop coming between us. As soon as it’s finished, then we can finally be together again, without any danger to you or anyone else. I’ve missed you every day we’ve been apart. But for your own safety, I’ve been trying to keep you removed from it all.” He gazed at her with hope etched across his face and worry in his eyes. “At least now you know what’s really going on.”
“Oh, Jordan,” she murmured, staring at him, scarcely knowing what to think. It was a great deal to take in. And though his declaration of love warmed her, the rest of his revelations brought a chill.
She got up from the armchair and crossed to the window, shaken as she contemplated it.
Good God, her lover was a spy?
He stayed where he was, keeping a respectful, or perhaps a wary distance, letting her absorb it. But when she glanced back at him, he was still watching her.
Mara tried to think what to say. “I am—appalled that I interrupted something directly concerning the Regent’s safety. I’m truly sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
She shook her head dazedly. “This is rather astounding.”
“It’s also extremely confidential.”
“I can’t believe it. Is Albert really—?”
“Oh, yes. I caught him breaking into the Regent’s private office on the night of the ball at Carlton House.”
“In the library?” She furrowed her brow, taken aback.
He gave a cynical shrug. “I’m afraid your arrival at the bordello was not the first time you scared Albert away.”
She stared at him, the implications of his untruths starting to sink in. “You said you were waiting there for me.”
His expression began turning grim at her uneasy tone.
“So, you made love to me while you were lying through your teeth. Under false pretenses…”
But she wasn’t stopping there, and he knew it, for he closed his eyes as though to brace himself while she began piecing more of it together.
“You must know I care for you, Mara.”
“Wait a second…I’m the one who introduced you to the Regent. The day you brought the painting with me to Carlton House…oh, my God!” She reached out to steady herself on the nearest piece of furniture. He moved forward with a stricken stare to steady her, but she warded him off. “Don’t touch me!”
“Mara—”
“It was all a lie, wasn’t it? A trick.”
“No! Of course not!”
But how could she even believe a word out of his mouth?
Her heart was pounding. She felt ill. Tears of rage flooded her eyes as she stared at him in crushed betrayal.
“You need to leave. Get out of my house. And don’t come back.”
“Mara,” he whispered, as an all-too-real sheen of tears also dampened his ice blue eyes, but his cold heart had melted too late. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“You used me,” she choked out, remembering that day in Hyde Park, when he had come over to admire Thomas. “Bad enough that you used me to get in with the Regent and his friends. Even that I could have forgiven. But you used Thomas to get to me,” she ground out. “You used my son. You pretended to care about him!”
“I do care about him!” he cried.
She could not look at him. She could only shake her head. “I trusted you. And so did Thomas.”
Jordan had turned as pale as if someone had just stabbed him in the heart. “I would never hurt Thomas, and I would never hurt you.”
“Then tell me the truth!”
“I wanted to be with you!” he wrenched out. “You’re right, it was my mission—but it was the only way I could let myself be near you again. You don’t understand, Mara. There’s something wrong with me,” he choked out barely audibly. “I can’t bridge the gap. I’m so cut off from everyone. Please. You’re the only hope I’ve got. If you turn me away, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
“But I don’t even know you!”
“You know me,” he insisted in a low, strangled tone.
“How can I? You’re a fraud, a liar! The smooth perfection, the gentlemanly front—it’s all a façade! Who are you beneath it? Right now, I have no idea! And I’m not even sure I want to know.”
He looked away. She saw that she had skewered him, but this did not lessen her hurt.
Reeling, she struggled for equilibrium. “I’m sure men like you have their own kind of honor—” She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and steeled herself. “But I don’t want to be around it. And I don’t want it around my son.”
He held her in an agonized stare. “You cannot mean this,” he whispered.
“Go.”
Jordan stood frozen for a heartbeat, staring at her, as though he half expected her to reverse herself.
She stood her ground, her chest heaving.
Visibly stunned, he lowered his gaze, then he picked up his gloves and walked stiffly toward the doorway of the parlor.
Mara willed herself to stop shaking, to no avail.
He paused as though to say something in parting, but he thought better of it and marched out of the room without a word, his shoulders rigid, his head held high like a good soldier. He stalked across the entrance hall and stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him with a quiet click that echoed through the house with a terrible finality.
The second he was gone, Mara crumbled. Sobs racked her frame. Tears poured from her eyes. It had all been nothing but illusion. Just a giant lie.
Her idol had used her for pleasure and convenience, the man she had trusted, looked up to, adored. She wept bitterly to have been so taken in, though he was an expert at such things. How many times had she assured herself that she could trust him? She felt like such a fool.
At least she had not been duped by an amateur. Nonetheless, she cursed herself.
Only the most naïve of fools could manage to lose her heart twice to a man who did not even have one to offer in return.
Chapter 18
The only thing Jordan knew how to do in that moment was to keep moving, focus on the task at hand.
That afternoon he arrived at the Holyfield estate dressed all in black, with his men in their battle gear ready to take Albert into custody.
Sergeant Parker, Findlay, and a few of the others who knew that Dresden Bloodwell was to blame for Mercer’s death had joined him, hungry for revenge.
When they descended on the duke’s estate, Jordan was the first off his horse, stalking to the front door with hellfire in his eyes. By God, his blood oath to the Order had already cost him more than he would ever have willingly agreed to pay at the outset if he’d known.
If Albert balked in the slightest, he was going to get a thrashing. He was in no mood for this today. Banging his fist on the door, Jordan sent a taut glance over his shoulder at his men and waved them into position.
When the door opened, a slim butler as fastidious as his master lifted his eyebrows. “May I help you, sir?”
“I’m here for Holyfield.”
“His Grace is not available. You’ll have to make an appointment—I say!” the butler exclaimed as Jordan planted his hand on the front door and pushed his way in, shoving the smaller man aside. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Fetch your master. Now.” Jordan’s glance swept the cavernous entrance hall with its checkerboard floor of black and white marble.
“His Grace is not at home! Who are you? How dare you intrude in this barbarous fashion?” he cried as Jordan’s men followed him into the home, and contrarily, several of Albert’s footmen came running into the hall.
“Stand down!” Jordan barked at them. Then he glanced coldly at the butler. “I am Lord Falconridge. I played cards with His Grace last night. I saw what sort of condition he was in by the end of the evening, and let’s just say, I wanted to make sure he got home safely.”
The butler eyed the line of Jordan’s scowling, black-clad soldie
rs and clearly found his explanation less than convincing. “Of course he got home safely. I let him in myself!”
“Good. Then where is he now?”
The butler backed away with a pugnacious glare. “He has not yet arisen for the day! You must leave now, my lord. This intrusion is quite beyond the pale!”
Jordan nodded at his men. “Search the house.”
As Parker and his mates advanced into the entrance hall, Albert’s footmen yelled warnings for them to come no closer. The clamor grew louder as a few more arrived bringing weapons, ranging from an old blunderbuss to a handy shovel.
“Halt!” Jordan barked at his men as the threat of bloodshed loomed.
When his men paused, the footmen quieted as well.
“All of you, listen to me!” Jordan commanded, turning to the frightened butler. “The duke is wanted for treason. We are here to take him into custody.”
“What?” the butler breathed. “This cannot be!”
“Oh, yes, it can. We have cause to believe the duke used his position close to the Regent to deliver secret intelligence into the hands of England’s enemies.”
His servants gasped.
“As deplorable as the charges are against your master, I am not wholly unsympathetic to his plight. Though I have orders to collect him, I intend to do my best to keep him safe. The fact is, there are worse men than me searching for him,” Jordan informed them. “If you care for your master, you will tell me where he is. Unless you wish to be considered as being in collusion with him? Hiding him from justice at this point would be a crime.”
The servants glanced uneasily at each other.
“Do you have any sort of official papers for your claim?” the butler attempted.
Jordan merely gave him an ominous look.
The little fellow swallowed hard. “He should be in his chambers. The footmen carried him up there last night when he arrived home in the, er, condition you mentioned, and he has not yet made his first appearance of the day.”
“You will not object if we go and wake him, then.”
“Er, no, sir, as you wish.” The butler nodded to the footmen to let them pass.
Jordan strode toward the stairs, his men following. The butler hurried along after them, and directed them to a door off the third-floor corridor behind which, he said, lay His Grace’s bedchamber.