Unmasking the Spy

by Janet Kent

  Of course, what happened afterward… Well, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she could only blame herself for instigating the passionate embrace. After all, she’d gone downstairs for no other reason than on the hope he’d come to call. She was the one who snuffed the candle and launched herself in his arms when he sounded like he was hoping for the floor to open up and swallow him. What a sweetheart.

  The corners of Alicia’s mouth twitched. Sweet had turned smoldering the second she’d touched him. And the liberties she’d let him take… Alicia’s face flamed with remembrance and she fidgeted in her seat. She wouldn’t be worried about marriage at all if she found a man who made her feel like that. Too bad she couldn’t marry Rogue.

  Once again, Alicia thought of Ian Morrissey, her one eligible option. He was no rogue, of course, but he was far better than Louis. The thought of kissing her cousin sickened her, but the idea of kissing Mr. Morrissey was far more palatable.

  Footsteps sounded from the hallway and Alicia looked up as her father walked by.

  “Papa,” she called.

  After a moment, Chadwick appeared in the doorway. His gaze crossed to Beatrix, who plopped her embroidery on her head and looked away. Jaw clenched, he turned toward Alicia. “Yes, daughter?”

  “Papa,” she began hesitantly. “You know that I have little interest in marrying Louis.”

  Chadwick crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. His foot began to tap impatiently.

  “What if there was someone else who would marry me?”

  “No one but Louis,” answered her father in a soft voice, “has made any hint of an offer.”

  Alicia felt her cheeks pinken again.

  Chadwick began to drum his fingers on his arms. “I gave you two weeks to prepare yourself to the idea of marrying Louis. Four days remain. I advise you to stop procrastinating and start preparing. I will not extend any more time before giving him my permission.”

  “But, Papa, if I did have another offer, what then?” Alicia repeated, her frazzled mind trying to think how to bring Mr. Morrissey to suit in such short time.

  Her father’s posture betrayed his irritation. “If you had an offer, daughter, then we would talk. But you do not. Today is Tuesday. On Saturday, I will give Louis the permission he requires, and he will go procure a license. At that time, I expect you to begin planning your wedding.”

  “Papa, I don’t want–”

  “Alicia,” thundered Chadwick. “If I hear you say anything this weekend except ‘Yes, Papa, I’ll be pleased to marry Louis’ then so help me your dowry will be a thing of the past and you’ll be hard pressed to marry anyone. I cannot comprehend why you’re fighting Louis. Even with a dowry, he’s the only suitor you’ve had.”

  “I don’t care about my dowry,” Alicia cried, leaping to her feet. “I’d be just as happy unwed, living here with Great-aunt Beatrix!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, daughter. You won’t have that situation at all.”

  “What does that mean? You’re going to lock me in my room like your father locked up Aunt Beatrix?” Alicia demanded. She stole a glance at her aunt in time to see the embroidery cloth slide down her face and into her lap as she, too, stared at Chadwick in sudden concentration.

  “That’s an idea,” Chadwick answered coldly, “but I was thinking of Beatrix. Perhaps she should be somewhere else.”

  “Sent where? Bedlam? Don’t you dare,” Alicia said, her whole body shaking. “She’s been locked up enough and doesn’t deserve to be caged like an animal.”

  Chadwick raised an eyebrow in Beatrix’s direction. “Perhaps she acted like an animal. Perhaps her confinement was for her own good.”

  Alicia threw out her hands. “When,” she demanded, “is locking someone away for months on end, ever for their own good?”

  “When that someone is unwed,” came her aunt’s quavering voice, “and… in a delicate way.”

  Alicia turned on her toes, feeling like she was moving through molasses. She gaped at her aunt. “You had a baby?” she breathed.

  Beatrix returned her stare without responding.

  Alicia turned back to her father and held out her hands, palms facing heaven.

  Chadwick shrugged. “Dead.”

  She felt her jaw drop. “How can you be so callous?”

  “Honey, leave it be,” came her aunt’s voice, this time with a firm edge.

  Alicia shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Once again, the people she thought she knew proved themselves to be strangers.

  “Worry about your own life, daughter, and don’t do anything stupid,” Chadwick said and pushed himself from the wall. As he turned his back and headed down the corridor, his parting shot reached Alicia’s ears. “I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

  She swiveled to face her aunt but before she could ask the first in a barrage of questions, Beatrix held up a hand in surrender and shook her head. “Not now, dear. I’d like to go lie down.”

  Alicia hesitated for only a second before ringing for a maid to help Beatrix to her room. No doubt the child would have been Mr. Armitage’s. The product of a single night spent with her aunt’s one true love. How terrible to have lost the baby. On the other hand, as horrible as it was to admit, the lack of a baby helped Beatrix not to be irrevocably scandalized. Her brother must have closeted her away for those long months and let it be known Beatrix was “away in the country” so that Society wouldn’t know the truth.

  And it worked. Alicia had never heard a single word breathed about a baby. Of course, the rumors about her aunt’s indiscretion with Mr. Armitage had ruined her without need for any additional ammunition.

  If only Beatrix could have married Mr. Armitage. He would have lived, and the baby might have lived, too.

  With sudden clarity, Alicia considered her romance with Rogue in a new light. As tragically romantic as Beatrix may be, Alicia did not desire a similar fate. Nor did she want Louis. She would have to ensnare Mr. Morrisey, and fast.

  Maybe tonight.

  ###

  Of all the lousy luck, Mr. Morrissey was nowhere to be found. She’d encircled the crowded ballroom twice now, nodding at acquaintances and murmuring to friends, but she hadn’t caught sight of him. Perhaps he was at some other party, although with the Season not yet underway, Alicia couldn’t think of another scheduled for tonight. Perhaps he chose to stay home or visit the gentlemen’s clubs. Wouldn’t that be just the sort of hand Fate dealt her?

  Disappointed, Alicia headed back toward the refreshment room. She’d checked in there right before her last circuit of the ballroom, but it wouldn’t hurt to check again. How was she supposed to get him to fall in love with her if he wasn’t around?

  Alicia sipped a glass of tepid lemonade and tried to think. She couldn’t leave the ball unless she was going home, and that would serve no purpose. She would have to wait, and hope Mr. Morrissey appeared.

  As she took another sip, a cloying smell drifted to her nose and ruined the sugary taste of the lemonade. The refreshment room was perhaps an unwise place to hope for privacy.

  “Ah, cousin,” Louis said with a smirk. “Standing around by yourself, drinking lemonade?”

  With all the drama in her life the past few days, she’d completely forgotten to come up with a plan to rid herself of Louis for the night. Frustrated, Alicia decided to show him some drama of her own.

  “Ahh!” she yelped. “Lemonade? I didn’t want lemonade! I wanted water!” She thrust the lemonade at him with such sudden force that the sticky liquid slopped over the sides as he grabbed at the glass. “Water is good for the body. Water is good for the heart. Water is good for the soul. Lemonade is society poison!”

  Louis scowled at her and tried to hold the glass steady with one hand while he used his handkerchief to mop up the wet lemonade with the other hand.

  “For God’s sake, cousin. It’s not like it’s whisky.”

  Jumping backward, Alicia recoiled as if worms were springing from
the glass. “Whisky? In lemonade? I had no idea. I’ll never drink it again. I’ll never trust another refreshment room. Take it away! Take it away!” She waved her hands with such flailing energy that she knocked the glass again, spilling the rest of the lemonade on Louis and speckling his cravat with tiny yellow droplets.

  Louis clutched the now-empty glass in his wet hands and took a menacing step closer.

  Alicia threw her hands over her face and affected piteous sobs. “I’m quite overset. I’ll never be the same! I’ll try to find my way to the retiring room so that I can recover in private.”

  Through lowered lashes, Alicia looked up in time to see Louis shake the moisture from his wet fist and stomp off into the crowd. Just in case he decided to come back in order to get in the last word, she flung herself around with her hands still covering her face, intending to make dramatic, lurching steps toward the retiring room.

  Instead, she ran into a solid wall of masculinity.

  Praying that Fate could not be as cruel as she now suspected, Alicia peeked through her parted fingers at an expertly tied Trône d'Amour. With trepidation roiling in her stomach, she tilted her head up higher and her arms fell to her sides. How wonderful.

  Mr. Morrissey had arrived.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and moved her off his chest so that she stood a more appropriate distance before him. “Are you all right?” he asked, a note of doubt in his voice.

  Was she all right? Even her scalp was blushing. This was unquestionably not the best method to attract a future husband. Now she really would have to go to the retiring room and collect herself. “I’m fine,” Alicia mumbled, and slipped past him, hoping he wouldn’t follow her into the crowd.

  Once she’d splashed some water on her face and calmed down enough to think about her situation with a clear head, she realized she’d have to apologize to Mr. Morrissey. No doubt he thought her a ninny, and men did not often wish to marry ninnies.

  Squaring her shoulders, Alicia marched from room to room, trying to find him. Unbelievable. He’d disappeared again! Had her theatrics frightened him so badly that he’d actually left the entire party?

  Just when the first waves of despair began to creep in on her newfound resolve, Alicia caught sight of Mr. Morrissey exiting to the garden. Pasting a serene smile on her face, she ambled through the crowd toward the door. It wasn’t until she took her first step out into the bracing air that she realized someone was following her.

  Louis.

  “There you are, cousin. Far from the refreshment room, as promised,” he sneered. “Don’t worry. Once we marry, I’ll make sure you get nothing but water.”

  Alicia looked around, but thanks to Louis’ untimely intervention, now she couldn’t see Mr. Morrissey anywhere. And she and Louis were alone in the garden. Marvelous.

  “I don’t know what your problem is, cousin,” he said in injured tones. “I’m quite the catch. Perhaps you’ll realize that tomorrow.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ll be going on a trip with Chadwick in the morning, and you’ll be stuck here without me,” Louis said and tossed his head. “I’m impossible not to miss.”

  “No doubt,” Alicia muttered, taking in his enormous cravat, straining belly, and wind-whipped hair. “Look,” she began in her most persuasive tone. “I don’t think you really want me.”

  Louis sniffed. “How arrogant to presume you could possibly know what I want.”

  “You’re right, I don’t know what you want. I just can hardly believe that what you want is me. What if I promise to help you find someone else? Another woman, someone you could love?”

  “Another… what?” Louis goggled at her.

  “Why would you marry someone you don’t even like?” Alicia asked in her most reasonable voice. “There’s no sense either of us suffering, especially when you can’t stand to be around me. I’ll find someone else to marry, and I’ll help you to–”

  Louis grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake so vicious that her teeth rattled. “Do not try to play me, cousin. You’ll find no one else. You’ll marry me if I have to make you marry me myself.”

  Alicia struggled to free herself from his grip. “How could you possibly make me?”

  “Look around, cousin,” Louis said with a superior smile. “We’re alone. Young ladies get compromised in gardens every day. All I have to do is stand here kissing you until someone else walks out, and you’ll have no choice but to marry me.”

  Ew, disgusting. The very thought of kissing Louis induced bile to rise in her throat, and the idea of being forced to marry him at the expense of her reputation infuriated her. Alicia twisted as hard as she could, but she couldn’t free herself from his grasp.

  Louis let loose with a loud cackle and brought his face so close to hers that his putrid breath choked in her throat. Alicia flung her face from side to side, hoping he couldn’t kiss her if she wasn’t holding still.

  Louis merely smirked. “Get ready to be ruined,” he whispered.

  ###

  Ian cut between two hedges and strolled back toward the house. He wasn’t accomplishing much tonight. If all he planned to do was wander about by his lonesome, he might as well head back to his townhouse.

  As he ambled toward the house, scuffling noises caught his attention. Frowning, Ian peered across the hedge and saw two people struggling in the dimly lit courtyard. Ian quickened his pace. A man held a wriggling woman locked in his arms. When she fought to free himself from his grasp by contorting her body and twisting out of reach, he flipped her around, pinned her arms, and lifted his heels to loom over her further. The woman bent so far backward, Ian feared both combatants would topple over before he could interrupt.

  The house door swung open, spilling light across their faces. Ian almost stumbled at the shock of instant recognition.

  Alicia Kinsey. And her disaster of a fiancé, Louis Larouche.

  The exaggerated pursing of Larouche’s lips despite the open door spoke volumes of his intention, and the panic written on Miss Kinsey’s face as she writhed in his arms left him no choice but to intercede. Ian cleared his throat.

  “What ho, Miss Kinsey! So there you are,” he called. “Is it time for my dance already? How dreadfully remiss I’ve been, to have made you come outside to find me. I do beg your pardon. Will you forgive me?”

  Larouche’s furious expression during this rambling speech was priceless. Miss Kinsey, on the other hand, looked as though she might faint with relief. With one final wrench, she jerked herself from Larouche’s grasp and stumbled toward Ian as curious onlookers began to step out from the house.

  “Er, yes,” she managed in a dry, scratchy voice. “I’m not sure I wish to dance after all. I… I was feeling a bit lightheaded and came out for a spot of fresh air.”

  “Just so,” Ian agreed, casting a bland smile over her shoulder as Larouche stomped past the puzzled couples and marched back into the house. Ian looped Miss Kinsey’s arm through his. “Shall we stroll a bit in the garden, then?”

  Miss Kinsey nodded, helpless gratitude shining in tear-brimmed eyes.

  Ian led her a short distance to a stone bench, wishing to be alone enough to afford the semblance of privacy but also careful to remain within sight of the house and the other outdoor revelers. He had no wish to lead her from one suspicious situation to another.

  As soon as she was seated, he clasped his hands behind his back and studied her face. Her lower lip quivered and she stared off into space, blinking rapidly, but she’d managed to pull off a decent exit without flaming the fires of the scandal Ian felt sure Larouche hoped he’d start. What in the world was his problem? There was no point to compromising someone one was already engaged to. Larouche was a strange creature.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in his softest voice.

  As if the question were the worst possible thing he could have said, she slapped her hands over her face and burst into silent tears. Ian jumped and looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody
watched them too closely. The last thing he needed was for someone to think he was making unwanted advances on Miss Kinsey.

  “Shh,” he said in a desperate voice. “Calm down. He’s gone. Why are you crying? You don’t really have to dance with me. I made that up.”

  Miss Kinsey hiccupped and dropped her hands from her face, gracing him with a wavering smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what – no, I do know. That louse.”

  For a moment, Ian was sure the sobs were about to start anew, but she bit her lip, fisted her hands in her lap, and stared over his shoulder without making eye contact. He reached out to pat her shoulder but dropped his hand back to his side without touching her. He was never sure how women would react to empathy.

  Take his sisters, for example. Mavis would slug him in the chest if he tried to comfort her. Julia would start crying copious tears all over again, Carlotta would turn up her nose and affect a stoic demeanor, and Poppy would launch herself into his arms and use his cravat as a handkerchief. Ian couldn’t be certain in which manner Miss Kinsey was more prone to react, but he wasn’t sure he preferred any of them.

  He shifted his weight from foot to foot, not wanting to stare at her but also not wanting to appear as though he were ignoring her, should curious eyes be watching them. Hoping his next words didn’t set her off on a fresh bout of weeping, Ian murmured, “Try to stay calm, Alicia. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Big hazel eyes stared at him, framed with thick brown lashes and glimmering with unshed tears. For the first time, Ian realized she wasn’t trembling due to shock or fear. She was furious. “Yes it is,” she answered, her fists still balled in her lap. “It is my fault.”

  Ian offered a gentle smile. “It didn’t look to me like you were the aggressor. You appeared the victim, fiancée or not. I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner.”

  A moue crossed her face but she didn’t look away. “He’s not my fiancé. He just wants to be. And if you hadn’t been there, I… I think he’d have gotten his wish.”