Unmasking the Spy

by Janet Kent

  Alicia forced her face muscles to slacken and assumed the blandest expression possible.

  “Good evening, Alicia,” Louis said in his loud, high-pitched voice.

  Alicia wondered if long pauses represented a boring persona. She waited an extra minute before replying.

  “Good evening, Louis,” she answered in a monotone. “Isn’t the ballroom lovely?”

  Louis glanced around. “I was in the game-room and hadn’t really noticed.”

  Of course he hadn’t noticed. The wonders of gaming couldn’t compare to high ceilings, windowed walls, sparkling chandeliers lit with hundreds of candles, and the pure joy of music.

  She smoothed out her skirts. “Isn’t the game-room lovely?”

  Louis sniffed. “I was winning until they cheated.”

  Improbable. If anyone had cheated, a row would certainly have broken out. More likely, Louis turned sore loser and ran off to lick his wounds.

  “Cards are just lovely,” Alicia responded and rubbed her elbow.

  Louis looked at her elbow then refocused on her face. “You don’t know anything about it. I could’ve won money, and thanks to them, I didn’t.”

  Poor baby. Alicia doubted he played for much money. Louis wanted sympathy. No sense being empathetic, not if one wanted to make an unfavorable impression.

  Alicia counted the freckles dotting his pudgy cheeks. She reached thirty before she responded. “Money is pleasant.”

  “Money is more than pleasant. Money is the most important thing there is. You’re a girl – you know nothing about such matters.” He smirked at her.

  Alicia fingered a loose tendril of hair. She pulled the ringlet until it stretched in front of her face, causing her eyes to cross. She let go and the tendril sprang back into place. She rubbed her arm again.

  Louis watched the display as if mesmerized. “I suppose you’re alright by yourself then,” he said. “I’ll just go back to the game-room and find new players.”

  Excellent! Perhaps she had won already. Hopefully he went off and considered how dreadful a life he would have, leg-shackled to a wearisome wife. With any luck, he’d be reassessing the Season’s debs within a week’s time.

  “Players are useful,” she replied, lowering her eyes to hide the glow of triumph. She plucked at the lace on her sleeve.

  Louis hesitated for a brief moment before tipping his head and prancing back into the game room without another word.

  She grinned to herself as she walked toward her girlfriends. Success in less than two minutes. Score one for Alicia.

  ###

  Ian Morrissey paused two strides from his prey.

  Players are useful? What the hell did that mean? He shook his head. Miss Kinsey’s poker-wielding relative seemed to have all the sense in the family, for what that was worth. Just as well. A woman lacking sense would be more likely to tell him everything he needed to know.

  Stepping forward, he tried to catch her eye. “Miss Kinsey. How pleasant to see you here.”

  She started, then smiled. “Mr. Morrissey.” She dipped a little curtsy. “Have you been enjoying the weather?”

  Ian grit his teeth. Bother the rules of polite society and the chits who could speak of nothing more than the weather! “I found it refreshing. Have you enjoyed it yourself?”

  “Yes, quite.” She grinned at him. “Actually, no. I have not been out-of-doors much today.”

  Ian found himself smiling at her honesty. “Indoors all day?”

  “Sadly. And you?”

  Her bright hazel eyes sparkled with the candlelight. Tonight, her hair swept into an elegant chignon, although a few curls sprang free to frame her face. The light blue of her dress contrasted with the golden overtones in her hair. Ian wondered where her fiancé was and thanked the stars he wasn’t beside her. All the better for him to interrogate her in peace.

  “I was lucky enough to go riding,” he replied.

  Miss Kinsey began to circle the room. The lack of a crowd enabled him to accompany her side-by-side.

  “In Hyde Park? Your own horse?” she asked, appearing genuinely interested.

  Perhaps Miss Kinsey had a more agreeable personality than he credited her.

  “Rotten Row,” he confirmed. “A gorgeous gray.”

  She opened her mouth to respond when the chubby, redheaded man intercepted her. Tonight he wore a striped overcoat littered with tassels and an outraged expression.

  “What are you doing?” the peacock demanded.

  Miss Kinsey blinked. “Walking. It’s lovely. Have you been walking, too?”

  “Well, of course I walked. I walked over here didn’t I? I told you I was headed to the game room.” He tossed his head.

  Ian raised an eyebrow but kept silent.

  Miss Kinsey’s face smoothed into an expressionless blank. “Then I’m sure it was lovely.”

  “How could it be lovely? I didn’t even go. I just left you a moment ago, and I realized I was hungry. I had to pass by you to get to the refreshment room.”

  He glanced at Ian before turning his attention back to Alicia. He fingered his cravat and smirked. “Come to the refreshment room with me, cousin. Did you try the coq au vin?”

  A flash of irritation gleamed in her eyes and just as quickly disappeared.

  After a moment, she replied, “Vin is the French word for wine.”

  Ian stared at her. What a strange, yet artful, evasion of a harmless question. Perhaps his own interrogation would not progress as smoothly as he anticipated.

  Suddenly, her cousin shrieked and hopped up and down on one booted foot. He slapped at his cheek and neck, crushing his cravat. He flung his palm out in front of them.

  “See that? Wax!” he screeched. “Wax fell on me!”

  Miss Kinsey studied the drippings smeared on her cousin’s glove.

  “Most likely from a candle. Candles are lovely. And useful.”

  “What!” Her cousin snatched his hand back and trembled as though he wanted to throttle her. Ian watched carefully to make sure the popinjay’s fists stayed at his sides.

  Music from the orchestra indicated a new set had begun.

  Ian invited his quarry to dance. The fragrance of flower-scented soap rose from her hair. Her small body felt so delicate in his arms. He imagined Elizabeth to be just as slender, then mentally shook his head. Focus.

  Miss Kinsey smiled up at him.

  Good. That meant the conversational ball had landed back in his court. All he had to do was determine whether or not she knew about last night’s break-in. How best to raise the topic?

  “I come from a big family,” he offered with what he hoped was an affable expression. With his most charming smile, he asked, “Do you and your father live with other relatives at Chadwick House?” He almost jumped backward when her face lost its color and a strangled growl rumbled in her throat.

  Definitely not the reaction he was hoping for.

  ###

  That old gossip again? Alicia bristled with affront. How dare he question her about her great-aunt Beatrix!

  Just when Mr. Morrissey had become the solitary member on her prospective suitors list, he had to ruin her hopes by hinting about the Chadwick family scandals, just like all the others. Her impulsive aunt had spiced many malicious conversations over the years, even before the first rumors of dottiness had begun to circulate.

  Many attributed her aunt’s state to the loss of her betrothed and subsequent scandal during the War of Independence. This understanding, however, prevented none from spreading every juicy on-dit of her aunt’s erratic behavior.

  She ground her teeth in frustration.

  She could no longer deny the truth. Great-aunt Beatrix may have inadvertently deterred Alicia’s would-be suitors. No man in search of a bride wanted to saddle himself with scandal.

  Since Mr. Morrissey was new to town, Alicia had hoped he would be different. Untouched by gossip and unimpressed by rumor. Clearly, she had been mistaken.

  His primary allure had be
en his foreignness, and the likelihood that the scandals in her past would not yet have reached his ears. Especially the talk about Beatrix – that bit of dirt was the oldest Kinsey rumor and the one she’d thought most likely to be forgotten. It was too bad Mr. Morrissey turned out to be a gossipmonger of the first order. He even had the gall to broach the subject to her face.

  He was no better than the rest.

  “No,” Alicia bit out. “I live with an aunt.”

  She closed her eyes. Next would come the carefully worded questions, or, if he were like several of the insensitive prigs she’d danced with over the years, subtle mocking.

  “An aunt,” Mr. Morrissey echoed. An indefinable glint flashed in his eyes. “Are you very close?”

  “Quite,” she answered and looked past his shoulder at the other whirling dancers. She had no desire to see the familiar disdain – or worse, the occasional pity – she had come to loathe.

  Every courtship she’d ever dreamed of having had ended this way. First, they probed subtly for information. Not all young bucks believed every rumor and insinuation. Some, however, lost interest as soon as she pledged her loyalty to her aunt and indicated her wish that Beatrix live with her forever. Others said that although she was beautiful and the possibility of her inheriting her father’s title enticing, they could not risk introducing madness into their families’ impeccable bloodlines.

  Such ignorance and impudence infuriated Alicia. She had hoped the talk died down years ago. Alicia pressed her lips together and glared at Mr. Morrissey. She wouldn’t say a word against her aunt.

  He waited until it became clear no further comment followed her one-word reply.

  “All my family members live in the country,” he said. “Do any of yours?”

  Clearly, he had heard the rumors about great-aunt Beatrix escaping to the country after the scandal, although why he would bring up such a topic on the dance floor was quite beyond her. Alicia considered tripping him but settled for baring her teeth in a mockery of a smile.

  “No,” she answered frostily. She wished Mr. Morrissey would take his ill manners back to the country. She had enough town gentlemen to tease her; she hardly needed any more.

  Unbidden, her mind conjured the image of her mystery rogue. He had been the first man who seemed not to measure her by her family’s actions. Of course, she’d happened upon him trespassing in her house, so he was hardly in a position to be insulting. But a man who stole to save his sister didn’t seem the sort to judge another person based on skeletons in the closet.

  Mr. Morrissey had never been interested in her after all. He toyed with her simply for his own amusement and would have to be catalogued under D for disappointment.

  Even if he had wanted her, he simply wouldn’t do.

  Alicia narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t going to stand for such unpardonable rudeness. As the music ended, she jerked out of his grasp.

  “Please do not mention any of my relatives again,” she snapped and didn’t speak again until he’d returned her to the chaperones.

  ###

  The next morning, Ian tried to relax his shoulders and release his tension with a brisk ride. He refused to spook his horse by betraying his ill humor.

  What a cold woman. He had never been more right than when he pegged Alicia Kinsey as a true London lady – heartless and self-centered. Evidently embarrassed by Elizabeth, she and her father kept the poor woman entombed in that mausoleum of a house. Ian had never seen so many antiquities on display outside of a museum.

  The reins tugged as he rounded a corner, guiding his gray onto the tree-lined track.

  Miss Kinsey hadn’t permitted her aunt to accompany her last night, even as a chaperone. Such snobbery explained Elizabeth’s strange behavior – she must rarely set foot out of her quarters. No wonder she took to wandering the halls at night. Miss Kinsey and her father allowed nothing more.

  Pink-streaked sunlight trickled up from the horizon, infusing the rustling leaves with a shimmering glow. Birds flew off their branches as Ian and his horse raced below.

  Dawn rose steadily but Ian’s mood did not.

  Family had always been the most important aspect of his life. He simply couldn’t imagine anyone feeling otherwise. He fought down his outrage. Alicia Kinsey was spoiled. No wonder the house hadn’t been alerted to his presence. Miss Kinsey was someone Elizabeth would be unlikely to confide in.

  Elizabeth.

  Ian smiled grimly. On a first name basis already, were they? Ian released a self-deprecating chuckle. He had no idea whether she bore the last name of Kinsey, and he could hardly find out through her close-lipped niece, Alicia. Ian no longer felt duty-bound to conjure compassion for that cold fish. He grimaced. Unfortunately, a promise had been made.

  He would have to risk a return visit to Chadwick House. Tonight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “How do you feel about the name Elizabeth?”

  Great-aunt Beatrix continued threading her needle. “Nice enough, I suppose.”

  “Do you think I look like an Elizabeth?”

  Beatrix squinted over her sewing.

  “If that’s what you’d like, dear. Although it may be that your Papa is quite used to calling you Alicia and may be loath to change.”

  Her aunt returned to her stitches without challenging the question further.

  Alicia tried to focus on her embroidery. She had to stop letting images of the masked man intrude upon her thoughts. Regardless of what he may have intimated, Rogue was unlikely to return. She must force her brain to catalogue his face with the rest of her favorite fairytale heroes and move on.

  Louis would have to move on as well. In all probability, common inertia constituted the only reason Louis desired a union with her. Pure laziness. Why bother looking for a bride when he was related to a perfectly marriageable one? Alicia stabbed her needle through the cloth. She would give him a reason. He couldn’t be that difficult to sway.

  Although unrelenting boringness had removed him from her sight, it was not a strong enough deterrent. Most ton husbands did not dance excessive attendance upon their wives anyway. Whether she married someone like Louis or not, she would likely be left to her own devices to provide her own entertainment. She had not yet hit upon a powerful enough motivator to inspire Louis to look elsewhere.

  She stood and stretched, then placed her needlework in a basket. She picked up her pelisse and paused by the open doorway.

  “I’m going to step outside, Aunt. Perhaps I’ll walk in the garden.”

  Beatrix nodded absently in the general direction of Alicia’s vacated chair. “Sounds lovely, dear.”

  Alicia lingered a moment, then turned down the hallway.

  She crossed in front of the stairs when her father walked by, heading toward his office. He glanced at her and frowned.

  “If that long face has anything to do with Louis, I don’t want to hear it. You should be happy to inherit Chadwick House and marry someone you know. There’s no need for continued drama.”

  Wonderful. Nothing lifted her spirits like the thought of sharing her childhood home with Louis.

  Without waiting for a response, her father stepped through the office doorway, effectively dismissing her. Alicia ground her teeth. The walk in the garden better be refreshing.

  She had just reached the door when it swung open from the other side.

  She smelled him before she saw him. The cloying cologne caused an unpleasant taste in her mouth. Alicia took an involuntary step back.

  Louis.

  The wispy frizz surrounding his red head glowed pink in the setting sun. His pudgy face first registered surprise, then machination.

  “Why, good afternoon, cousin,” he said in a saccharine voice. “Heading to the garden?”

  Alicia thinned her lips. Denying it was out of the question.

  She granted him a sharp nod.

  “Shall I join you?” he asked innocently. Too innocently.

  Alicia hesitated. He had never before dis
played any interest in spending time with her. What plan could he be hatching? She inclined her head as graciously as she could.

  “If you like,” she answered. “Please allow me one moment to ask Aunt Beatrix if she–”

  “What’s the matter?” interrupted Louis with a smirk. He tossed his head. “Afraid an unchaperoned walk with your cousin might be construed as a compromising situation?”

  Alicia recoiled. Her suggestion to fetch her aunt had been automatic. She had never considered how easily the circumstances could be manipulated into a contrived disaster. The eleven days remaining in her two-week reprieve could vanish in an instant.

  She narrowed her eyes. Forget it. She’d visit the garden another time.

  Alicia turned on her heel and stalked up the stairs to her room, the grating sound of Louis’ feral cackles echoing behind her.

  ###

  Later that night, Ian hugged his arms around his chest, his silver-tipped black swordstick trapped underneath one arm. Too bad there wasn’t a closer place to safely store his horse. He rubbed his biceps with his gloved hands and lengthened his strides. Ian watched each breath crystallize into frozen mist.

  The waxing moon shone big and round, unhidden tonight by clouds. Nonetheless, the road was silent, save for the sounds of his footfalls. The occasional croak of a frog or chirp of a cricket kept him company as he walked. A sudden splash of color in the gloom caught his eye.

  Wildflowers. Spring truly was coming.

  Ian bent mid-stride and plucked a few straggly blossoms. He brought the blooms to his nose. Too cold to smell the petals properly. An icy breeze swept past, engulfing him in its damp chill. Fragile stems crumpled as he shoved his hands into his pockets, flowers and all. Ian lowered his head against the wind and strode even faster.