Unmasking the Spy

by Janet Kent

  Ian refolded the note and tucked it inside his waistcoat. He crossed to the bell pull and gave the rope a firm tug. He shook his head, almost unable to believe he was really going to leave Heatherley on the command of four terse sentences. If only he didn’t owe Caspian his life.

  London. Damn.

  ###

  Alicia chewed her lower lip. Her maid had come and gone. She had been dressed in her light pink gown with its deep rose ribbon, her hair styled in an elegant chignon, everything just so for what seemed like hours. The first rays of light filtered through her window and across her lap, but the sight of the Saturday-morning sun did little to salve the long, sleepless night or her relentless sense of trepidation.

  If he and Papa agreed to settle the marriage contract terms today, Louis would be her only hope for a husband. Well, without inviting scandal.

  She stood with sudden resolve. She had avoided confrontation for long enough. It was time to stop waiting for life to happen, and to play a hand in the cards it dealt. Time to discover exactly how quickly fate intended to spring an unwanted wedding.

  Alicia strode through her door to the staircase and began to descend. She heard the voices before she had taken her third step.

  “I am unconvinced indulgence is wise.”

  The thin whine of her cousin’s shrill voice reached Alicia’s ear, and her foot froze four inches above the next step. When she did not immediately hear her father respond, she imagined him about to enlist help in convincing a recalcitrant daughter to wed.

  “Alicia’s willingness in this matter is imperative, Louis. The church demands it.”

  Alicia allowed her hovering foot to descend the final inches to the next step.

  Willingly marry Louis. Hah. Such naivety might mark her as a hopeless romantic – but she’d always thought one or both of them would have found true love by now, and thus be already married… to someone other than each other.

  True, she’d never had a flock of suitors from which to choose, although she lacked neither looks nor money. She possessed a reasonable dowry, and people often gasped at the extraordinary likeness she shared with her mother, whose willowy beauty and dimpled smile became legendary the moment she first set foot in London. Sometimes, she wondered if the resemblance exacerbated her father’s animosity toward her.

  “Willingness,” Louis repeated. He let loose with a high-pitched cackle. “Hardly a consideration.”

  Alicia gripped the banister until the skin over her knuckles stretched white.

  “Courtship is a mere formality,” soothed Chadwick. “You can see the wisdom of adhering to custom, at least in society’s eyes. How about one month? And should she decide sooner that you suit–”

  “Certainly I can persuade a slip of a girl. Look at me!” Louis’ voice rose to a crescendo.

  Alicia peered over the banister and bared her teeth at the tops of two familiar heads. If she were a boy, she’d spit on them. Instead, she slowly inched down two more steps, and the curve of the staircase brought their shadows into view.

  “Excellent.” The superior tone in her father’s voice rankled. A formality, indeed. Courtship should be… courtship! “She will be delighted to hear that you will be escorting her about like a proper suitor.”

  Like a suitor, but not really a suitor. Not a true, smitten, no-coercion-necessary suitor.

  She crouched and peered between the gilded rails. Although not unhandsome, Louis still sported the same frizzy red hair and hadn’t lost the extra stone or two he had gained over the past months while he’d been abed recuperating from broken legs. The latest fashions swathed his tall frame and his squinty blue eyes focused sharply on her father. The omnipresent odor of his cloying cologne wafted from his waving hands.

  Papa strummed his fingers together. “Best you begin taking her to balls as soon as possible. The month will fly by.”

  Louis’ elbows jutted akimbo as he slapped his fists to his waist and took a step closer to her father. “What’s this? I will not cart her to some crush every single night for a month.”

  Alicia rested her face against the bars and tried not to feel slighted. Who would want to waste time wooing an unwilling wife? No matter. She didn’t want him anyway.

  Chadwick shrugged one shoulder as if he were bored. “Every other night, then.”

  Louis stared at him in disbelief.

  “Come now, Louis. We agreed on ‘soon’ – we never said ‘immediately’. A month makes little difference.” Chadwick tilted his head at Louis. “If not a month, then a couple of weeks, so none can say there was no semblance of courtship. I will withhold my official permission until two Saturdays from today, after which we will still have plenty of time for determining settlement arrangements. You can procure the license the following Monday.”

  Alicia gaped. How did her reprieve shrink so quickly?

  A skeletal figure emerged from the shadowy hall. Great-aunt Beatrix hobbled past them, her crooked frame bent over her cane. “I’ll chaperone Alicia to soirees myself,” she announced with a quaver. “She deserves a chance for love.”

  At first, Louis didn’t change expression. After a moment, he nodded to himself. He stroked his cravat with one hand and left the other perched on his hip. “Every other night for two weeks?” he asked Chadwick.

  Her father shrugged. “No more than that.”

  Great-aunt Beatrix shivered and clutched her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders. She nodded to Chadwick, ignored Louis, and shuffled down the corridor and around a corner without looking back.

  Alicia sank to one knee on the step, gripping the banister. Why on earth was Louis going through with this? If only he’d found a wife by now, he would not be forced to look for one in her. She must disabuse him of the notion immediately.

  Louis cocked his head to one side and pursed his lips. “I suppose there is a ball this very night that we absolutely must attend?”

  “Yes, of course,” answered Alicia automatically.

  She rose to her feet when both heads swiveled up in her direction. Alicia wanted to kick herself for speaking such thoughtless words and betraying her blatant eavesdropping. She was definitely going to have to work on her spying.

  “That is,” Alicia continued in a rush, “I accepted the Montgomery’s dinner invitation some time ago, and it would be horribly rude for me not to attend. As I planned to go with friends, Louis need not accompany me. The hostess isn’t even expecting him…” Alicia trailed off.

  Her father blinked at her and then cast his gaze to the ceiling. He was probably wishing he’d beaten her after all.

  Louis sniffed and tossed his head. “Eight o’clock, then. Be ready.”

  Alicia watched through narrowed eyes as he inclined his head to her father and left. Apparently, his legs had healed well enough to enable his signature foppish mince.

  Her father turned to look at her, but before her eyes could meet his, Alicia snatched up her skirts and spun on her toes to race back up the stairs. She had until eight o’clock to work on her plan.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ian Morrissey lounged against a decorative column and wondered how long he had to suffer the stifling whirlwind of people. He reached in his waistcoat to pull out his watch. Half past ten. He would much rather be home, looking for an innocent country miss to settle down with, maybe raise a family – not playing the fancy for this town of vipers. If Caspian didn’t show in the next quarter hour, he’d retrieve his coach and leave London for the last time.

  “Boo.”

  Ian was unsurprised to discover Caspian had materialized at his side. “Invisible as ever, I see. Is the hostess even aware you are a guest in her home?”

  Caspian smiled, a tiny dimple in his left cheek the only thing that interrupted his otherwise bland looks. “Come, let’s slip out to the gardens for a moment.”

  Rather than being a curse to Caspian’s everyman persona, the dimple afforded him an ageless quality, so that witnesses never could quite describe him in years or in looks.
He was of average height and average build, with brownish hair and brownish eyes, with clothes that were neither dowdy enough nor fancy enough to cause any notice, and a mind that amazed the mightiest of men, making him an indispensable agent in his particular branch of the government. A branch of the government Ian had been only too pleased to divorce when Napoleon fell.

  “Well, what’s the problem?” he groused, folding his arms across his chest. “You said it’s a personal favor?”

  “I’m doing lovely, old friend, thank you for your kind inquiry.” Caspian smiled impishly. “Now, on to business, shall we?”

  At Ian’s raised eyebrow, Caspian’s expression turned serious. “During the war, I admired your courage and tenacity both on the battlefield and behind the scenes doing, shall we say, more delicate work. To this day, I also respect your mind, which I hereby request to take advantage of. As a friend.”

  Ian uncrossed his arms. Caspian had better have a good reason for luring him here. Ian would have been glad to give advice from Heatherley.

  Caspian stifled a sneeze. Ian sniffed the air – not roses, something else. He’d never been adept at deciphering flower scents. But spring was almost here, and any moment the garden might fill with couples spilling from the ballroom. Caspian glanced along the path to ensure their seclusion, and then refocused his eyes on Ian.

  “This particular inquiry is much different from those days. Jewels have been stolen from several influential families. Seven or more thefts over just as many months.”

  Caspian paused to withdraw a cigar from his vest pocket. He held one out to Ian, who shook his head impatiently. Caspian shrugged, lit the end, and took a swift puff before continuing. His words unfurled from his mouth in curly tufts of smoke.

  “At the request of certain parties, I have followed the trail to London, but haven’t determined the mastermind.”

  With a wave of his hand, Caspian indicated a stone bench, but Ian merely propped a foot on top and waited for more information.

  “It has become personal,” Caspian continued, “now that the latest victim is my sister. The items are family heirlooms of emotional value beyond price. She returned to Plymouth to rest until the matter has been resolved. I must visit her frequently, or I would stay and investigate further myself. I can check in with you from time to time, if you were willing to help.”

  Ian considered the details. “Have you a suspect?”

  Caspian nodded. “I do. Lord Chadwick.”

  Ian slid his foot from the bench and straightened to attention. The name sounded familiar. “The Baron?”

  It was Caspian’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “You know him?”

  Ian shook his head. His more bookish sister had once mentioned Chadwick as an expert in antiquities and an avid reader. “Only by name. A collection of amazing pieces, right?”

  Caspian smiled faintly. “More so, perhaps, than they ought to be.”

  Ian inclined his head. “I see.” He glanced around the Montgomery’s garden. The garden at Heatherley was better. Greener. Fuller. More inviting. “I understand having a sister in an emotional state may prevent you from staying in London until the matter is resolved. But couldn’t you ask help from someone already in town?”

  Caspian puffed pensively on his cigar. “I hesitated to involve you at all, knowing as I do about the delicate matter in your past.”

  Ian’s muscles tensed. Damn Caspian for bringing up memories best kept buried. “So the charges are false, then. Tell me what you know.”

  Caspian stifled a sneeze. “Excuse me.” He brought out a handkerchief to dab at his nose and refolded it laboriously before tucking it back inside his vest. “The most curious thing is the note.”

  Ian frowned. “Note?”

  “From an anonymous informant. And if it were truly a one-man operation – with a few thieves and riffraff thrown in, mind you – I would be singularly unlikely to receive such a note.”

  “And this note indicated Lord Chadwick as sole perpetrator of the plot?”

  Three perfectly formed smoke rings shot from Caspian’s lips. “Precisely.”

  Ian crossed his arms. “Either Lord Chadwick has an accomplice who wants to see him punished and for reasons unknown feels secure in the knowledge that Chadwick will never retaliate in kind–”

  “Or the note is a false accusation, and we are about to convict the wrong man,” Caspian finished, drawing quickly on his cigar and refusing to meet Ian’s eyes.

  Ian stilled. “About to convict?”

  “Unfortunately. Judged only by the victims of the thefts. The matter must be cleared up as quickly as possible. They are out for blood. As the Season will be well underway by April, having so many people present would cause a far greater scandal than necessary. I was to capture him this weekend. The victims will be patient for another month if I can persuade you to assist in this inquiry.

  “I can hardly assume Lord Chadwick’s guilt based on nothing more than an unsigned missive. And as Chadwick is not without family of his own…”

  Very well. So much for settling down with an uncomplicated country lass. At any rate, not until at least April - unless he could prove Chadwick’s innocence sooner. Ian released a harried sigh.

  “Fine. I will make a preliminary search of Chadwick House tomorrow night.”

  Caspian’s cigar bobbed between his teeth. “Excellent.”

  Ian stretched his back. “Are there any particular avenues into his life that I should explore besides Chadwick House?”

  “There is, perhaps, one. And it involves your favorite disguise.” Caspian was grinning again. “How did you phrase it? Oh yes, ‘playing the dandy to empty-headed fortune-hunters.’ This particular one does not seem to fit your description as such.” Caspian stubbed out his cigar. “Come, I arranged to have you introduced to her.”

  ###

  Steeling herself as she glanced about the ballroom, Alicia planned to be everything Louis hated. Since he prided himself on his dandyism, she would hit him where it hurt.

  She put her scheme into motion the moment that Louis giggled in her ear. “It is so good to be fashionable, cousin,” he tittered. “I’m sure everyone is admiring me even now.”

  She studied him with a critical gaze. “I don’t think so, Louis. Your waterfall is leaning a bit to the left. Perhaps the ladies are looking at that.”

  Wide-eyed with horror, Louis gasped. His hands flew up and adjusted his cravat, bending and straightening the intricate folds. “And now?” he asked, craning his head upwards as if to give her a better view.

  Alicia shook her head. “Too much. Now it tilts to the right.”

  Several minuscule adjustments later, Louis leaned backward, the index finger of each hand pointing at his neck. What was straight as could be when he first reached her side, now tilted in a precarious angle. Alicia nodded.

  “Much better, Louis. Although it seems you’ve tamped down your cravat during the straightening process. It’s a bit flat. Perhaps if you…?”

  Louis immediately set to plumping and fluffing the crooked cravat, destroying what little crispness its lines still contained in his haste to fix the imagined faults. The cravat now exploded from his neck in a big, shapeless pouf of wrinkled linen.

  “Now, cousin?”

  “It suits you,” Alicia replied. “You both carry the same sort of style.”

  Louis preened, running his hands down his waistcoat and smiling into the distance.

  “Although,” Alicia began, touching her fingers to her chin.

  “What? What?” Louis hopped from foot to foot, shielding his cravat with his hands and casting furtive glances about the room, lest he be seen in less than perfect glamour.

  “I find men’s fashion tedious myself, of course, but there does seem to be something still not the thing. Perhaps a mirror would help?”

  He huffed and clapped a hand to his forehead in frustration. He pivoted on his toes and stomped off in the direction of the retiring rooms.

  Alicia smiled
to herself. When it came to how Society viewed him, Louis’ ego was legendary. Surely he wouldn’t want to pledge himself to a termagant bent on criticizing his every button and crease. In particular, not one who professed to have no interest in men’s fashion.

  For her, fashion ranked much lower than love. While tender emotions mattered little to Louis, to Alicia love was everything. She wished she could believe she had a chance of achieving such a lofty goal in two short weeks. She feared having to settle for someone less than perfect, but if she met a man better than Louis who showed a modicum of interest, would she be forced to compromise some of her beliefs? No. She’d been raised an optimist, and she would not give up her dreams of a caring relationship without a fight.

  First, she needed an appropriate suitor. Second, she must make him notice her, fall madly in love, and propose marriage within the next two weeks. How hard could it be?

  “Miss Kinsey?”

  Startled, Alicia turned to see Lady Montgomery. Wonderful, now she was even being improper by accident. She hoped Lady Montgomery hadn’t been standing there long, watching her stare off into space.

  “Why, Lady Montgomery,” Alicia said, with what she hoped was an easy smile. “I am having a lovely time.”

  “Thank you,” Lady Montgomery replied, pleased. “May I present you to Mr. Ian Morrissey?”

  Alicia smiled again. “Of course.” She turned to look at Lady Montgomery’s companion and her heart stopped.

  He cut a powerful figure. Wide chest. Broad shoulders. Sculpted mouth. Straight, patrician nose with a tiny scar along the bridge. And the longest, darkest eyelashes she’d ever seen framed around a pair of intense blue eyes, which were just completing a slow perusal of their own. Her heart restarted with a flurry of frantic beats.

  He stared at her with the precise expression she imagined on her own face. He must have found her just as enticing as she found him. And he had caught her looking! This might be the moment that would break her record of almost twenty-one years without swooning.