Unmasking the Spy

by Janet Kent

  Ian blinked. That explained the ill-bred attempt at a forced kiss in a public area. Ian shook his head. Just when he thought his opinion of Larouche couldn’t sink any lower.

  “Well… although it may be your fault that you won’t promise yourself to him, I for one find such a decision commendable. I wouldn’t marry him either.”

  Her face twitched in a half-smile, half-sniffle. “Who would?”

  “What makes you think you’re in any way to blame?”

  “Because I know him. As soon as I realized we were alone in the garden, I should have punched him in his fat face and screamed my bloody head off,” she muttered.

  Her reactions were much like his sister Mavis, then. Thank God he hadn’t patted her shoulder.

  ###

  It wasn’t until the next morning that Ian realized he’d first-named Alicia Kinsey during their heart-to-heart in the garden. Against all odds, despite the undeniable truth that she was in fact a London lady, somewhere during the past two weeks he’d come to think of her as a friend.

  In fact, he was softening toward the entire family. He’d already arranged to meet Elizabeth again tonight, despite his better judgment. Or, perhaps, because of it. The more he thought about Elizabeth, the more he felt Fate had brought them together for a reason. Once the investigation concluded, he hoped to find some way to make himself known to her. Perhaps she and a companion would be willing to come to Heatherley for a time, to see if they might suit.

  His damsel in distress would no doubt be delighted to discover he was a respectable gentleman after all. True, he was half Irish and without even the wispiest connections to a title, but nonetheless presentable, of means, family-oriented, and in no desire to embroil himself in the dizzying whirlwind of London society. With luck, Elizabeth would feel the same, decide he had much to offer and agree to marry him.

  Wouldn’t his sisters be surprised if he really did return from London with a bride! What fun that would be.

  A wry expression wrinkled Ian’s face. The trick, of course, would be in how he explained his misrepresentation to Elizabeth. If living with four women taught him anything about the female disposition, Ian knew without a doubt that women did not think well of men’s deceptions – regardless of the good intent behind the falsehood.

  He couldn’t very well just say, “Oh, and that sick sister? Healthy as a horse. Just needed a little lie in order to get on your good side. You understand.” No, he would have to tread carefully with his explanations or risk losing her forever.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes?” Ian looked up from his writing desk to see Cobb standing in the doorway.

  “You have a caller, sir.”

  There could only be one caller. Ian nodded to Cobb, straightened his desk, and strode down the steps. His common sense took him directly to the dining room, where he found his friend seated at one end of the long table, drinking tea and munching biscuits.

  “It’s too early for sweets,” Ian called.

  “And a good morning to you, too. Sit down, sit down. There’s still a few left.”

  Ian pulled up a chair and helped himself to a biscuit while he still could. The way Caspian attacked the serving dish, he’d be amazed if any crumbs remained.

  Once he’d exhausted the supply of treats, Caspian turned to Ian. “Any news on the Chadwick investigation?”

  “Nothing, nothing, and more nothing.” Ian brought Caspian up-to-date on the his search for the items mentioned in the anonymous note. “The only article I’ve yet to discover is the alleged vase filled with jewels – and I’m not sure I could find such an item even if it did exist. Chadwick House is brimming with vases, pottery, antiquities of every kind.”

  Caspian nodded. “As I imagined. Well done, nonetheless. All clues must be investigated.” He gave a little shrug. “No sense going back, then.”

  Hm. Unless one planned to meet a passionate, barefoot sprite for an early-hours rendezvous. Ian looked away and poured himself some tea. “I did find,” he said finally, “someone else in the house. An aunt.”

  “Beatrix Kinsey?”

  “No. Someone named Elizabeth. I believe she’s visiting from out of town.”

  Caspian shrugged. “Probably from the Holsworth side of the family.”

  “Holsworth?”

  “I’m guessing. Nobody knows anything about them, except that they deal with the world through their solicitor. Or did.”

  “They used to have a solicitor?”

  “Mm. This goes back, oh, twenty-five years or so. Chadwick – then just plain Michael Kinsey, as he hadn’t yet inherited – brought home a bride. He’d been on some trip, I don’t remember why, now. Maybe his Grand Tour. Maybe not. In any case, he never did say where he found Anna Holsworth, just came back from Gretna Green one day with her on his arm.”

  “Chadwick eloped to Scotland?”

  Caspian nodded. “And was his father ever angry! Probably wanted him to marry up. By the time Chadwick became Baron, rumor had it that the coffers were almost dry. Rumors also circulated that Anna Holsworth was an orphan, or a runaway, or a woman of questionable morality, or somesuch. Nothing was ever proven, and since she was as sweet as could be, she eventually won over most of Society, although she didn’t venture out much. Little blonde creature. Just as pretty as her daughter.”

  “And the relative living in Chadwick House?”

  “I said I don’t know. Let me finish the story.” Caspian took a large bite from the last biscuit.

  “Then finish the story, man! I know Miss Kinsey is pretty. Now I know her mother was pretty. You said you were done matchmaking. What does their beauty have to do with anything?”

  Grinning, Caspian took a sip of tea before responding. “You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but Chadwick could be a jealous man. Even though they lived in town, he let her out less and less, until years passed and we didn’t see her at all. Some thought she was dead. And then, one day, she was.”

  “How?”

  “Carriage accident. A wheel popped off and the horses spooked and the next thing anyone knew, there they were, lying on the ground underneath the twisted wreckage.”

  “She and Chadwick?”

  “No, she and the solicitor. Both of them were dead the second they hit the ground. If it weren’t for papers he was carrying, Chadwick wouldn’t have had the first clue who the man was with his wife. Could’ve knocked us all over with a feather when we found out he was a family solicitor. To her family. Her very, very rich family.”

  “Did Chadwick inherit a fortune when she died?”

  “Not a cent. There wasn’t a shred of an address anywhere on the solicitor, and the only name he had to go by was ‘Holsworth’. Wouldn’t it be ironic if after all this time, he finally found one of the Holsworths, but due to a reversal of fortune, he was now the rich one?”

  Ian considered. “I did get the impression that Elizabeth was a poor relation. She spoke like a lady, but I haven’t seen her chaperoning Alicia Kinsey anywhere.”

  “They’re an odd bunch,” Caspian said and stood. “And I’ve got another appointment to keep. Thanks for the biscuits.”

  “Anytime. Oh, and Caspian?”

  The operative paused halfway to the door. “Yes?”

  Ian walked to the door to see him out. “Do keep me informed. If you find the thief.”

  “Will do.” Caspian gave a sharp nod.

  “And drop in sometime. Even if there’s no mystery to solve. I’ve always got biscuits – even at Heatherley.”

  Caspian flashed a crooked grin and disappeared out the door without another word.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Alicia crumpled her embroidery in her lap and threw the ball of cloth into the basket by the side of her chair. It floated down to drape the rim, lacking any satisfying thuds. Her tense muscles were trembling far too much to facilitate sewing straight lines. Curse Louis! If not for Mr. Morrissey, Papa’s permission might have become irrelevant.

  Thank heavens for Mr. Morr
issey. Just as the situation seemed to be spiraling into hell, he’d shown up to save her. No man had ever rushed to her aid before he’d shown up in London. Of course, she’d never been in quite such a position. He’d certainly been her hero last night – leaping to her defense and staying with her long after Louis slunk back under his rock.

  Forcing herself into some semblance of calm, Alicia glanced across the room at Beatrix. Her great-aunt lounged in a cushiony window seat, ignoring the needle in her hand and gazing out the window at the bright morning sun.

  Oh, why did Louis have to be such a scabby louse? If all went according to his plan, he’d have had his official permission to wed her in just three more days, anyway. There was no call for such a drastic ploy. Alicia slammed her fist on the arm of her chair. Beyond reprehensible!

  The worst of it was the sneaking suspicion that Papa would side with Louis if she dared to broach the subject. He’d brush off the entire horrifying scene as harmless stolen kisses from a future husband. Alicia crossed her arms and glared at the wall. Louis could think again. She wasn’t going to kiss him and she wasn’t going to marry him. No, no, no.

  Too bad he hadn’t been open to the thought of finding some other woman to replace her. That had seemed the best solution all around. Of course, men didn’t take well to ideas they hadn’t thought up themselves. Perhaps she had erred by suggesting she help, rather than intimating he could discover a different match on his own.

  Lord knew, she’d welcome an alternative with open arms. She’d hoped Mr. Morrissey might be brought to point in time, but he seemed uninterested in a romantic relationship. She’d mucked up that prospect herself, with her silly antics and quick temper. The only man whose blatant interest and potent desire were strong and unflagging was the one man she couldn’t even consider.

  Rogue.

  Now, those were some kisses she’d welcome with open arms. Alicia sighed and settled further in her chair. He’d promised to come again tonight, and she couldn’t stand the anticipation. A few more stolen moments wouldn’t hurt. In fact, if anything could make her forget about Louis, being in Rogue’s arms ought to do nicely.

  Oh, why couldn’t she marry someone like him? He spoke like a gentleman, but she could hardly drag him upstairs, masked and mysterious, to meet her father in the middle of the night. She wished he were a bit more respectable, someone she could meet out in Society. He need not have a title or money or even lodgings in the City – all she needed was some way for him to press his suit in a legitimate fashion. Well, and to do so before Saturday. Alicia let out a little mirthless laugh.

  Two weeks ago, she hadn’t had a suitor in her life. Today, she had one she didn’t want, one she wanted but couldn’t have, and one who would do but didn’t want her. Dame Fortune was a strange, capricious force.

  “I’ll be back sometime tomorrow evening.”

  Alicia’s head jerked up at the sound of her father’s deep voice. He stood in the doorway, dressed for the weather and holding a small satchel.

  “Be safe,” she answered. “I hope it is a good trip.”

  After a brief hesitation, Chadwick strode into the room. “What are you working on, daughter?” he asked gruffly.

  Chagrined, Alicia fished her crumpled embroidery from the basket and smoothed the half-finished roses on her knee for his inspection. His index finger drummed an embarrassed rhythm on the handle of his satchel and he gave a short nod. “I’m sure it will be very nice.”

  Alicia gazed at the man standing before her, trying so hard to show her a bit of interest and compassion. Nibbling at her lower lip, she tried to decide whether or not she should bring up the desperate thoughts clamoring on the tip of her tongue. “Papa,” she began then closed her mouth when Beatrix began waving her embroidery in the air.

  “Here’s mine!” her aunt cried, thrusting out her skinny arms and holding up the small square of fabric. Random squiggles of color dotted two of the corners and one long violet line crossed the center of the cloth diagonally.

  Chadwick frowned at Beatrix’s haphazard design and wrinkled grin and closed his eyes as if to block the image from his mind. He turned on his heels and walked to the door. As he passed through the doorframe, he swiveled around to face Alicia one last time.

  “Were you going to say something, daughter?”

  Alicia considered, and shook her head. “Have a good time, Papa. I’ll miss you.”

  He inclined his head to each of them and was gone.

  ###

  Although Ian was pretty sure he’d been glancing at the time for the past four hours, it somehow seemed that a mere ten minutes had passed. Sighing, he rose to his feet, picked up the stiff black mask lying on his desk, and headed downstairs. Elizabeth wouldn’t be planning to meet him for a few hours, but he couldn’t wait around any longer. Besides, he could poke around the vases in the library while he waited for her to appear.

  Ian leapt down the front steps to the street and Cobb closed the townhouse door behind him. Walking over would waste at least an hour, and with any luck the exercise would burn off some of his nervous energy. This was new. He’d never snuck into anyplace he didn’t have to before.

  Then again, Elizabeth expected him and a gentleman always kept his engagements. Of course he had to go.

  He sauntered down the side of the street, careful to avoid stepping in any horse droppings. Women appreciated neither the smell, nor the effect on their carpets – not that he blamed them.

  Remembering Caspian’s comments about Chadwick’s late wife, Ian wondered whether Elizabeth would turn out to be as beautiful as the rest of the Holsworths. After a moment, he gave one shoulder an idle shrug. Her looks didn’t signify. If they discovered that they suited, he might not even mention to her that patches have become outré and let her wear them as much as she wanted. Ian grinned. His sisters would just love that.

  His mask felt heavy in his pocket. Ian wondered what it would be like to present himself to Elizabeth without wearing it, to show himself for who he was. Foolish thoughts. If he were wooing her anywhere but during secret midnight rendezvous, perhaps. But not tonight.

  When would he explain his deception? And how? Perhaps now that he and Alicia Kinsey were friends of a sort, he could come to call and run into Elizabeth that way. Once they “met” in some official, proper capacity, he could court Elizabeth as openly as he wished.

  Although he was far from being the Season’s most eligible bachelor, a match with him might be moving upwards for a poor relation. And even if she did not feel his position to be advantageous, she couldn’t deny that a shared passion like theirs was a gift to treasure.

  Ian trudged on until Chadwick House loomed before him at last. He fastened his mask snug around his eyes and hiked across the lawn. He hoisted himself up on a ledge, slid through a window, and eased into the house.

  All was silent and still.

  Once his vision adjusted to the darkness, Ian made his way to the library. Without a candle to guide him, the books’ titles were unreadable. The thin sliver of moon hanging in the sky cast little light into the room. Ian headed to the first wall. Lucky for him, he didn’t need light.

  He advanced around the room, shaking pottery and turning over vases, shoving his hand inside when the openings were big enough for him to feel around for hidden papers and other miscellany. By the time he’d circled back to the library door, he’d exhausted all potential sources of the anonymous note’s improbable claim. Chadwick House held nothing of interest.

  Nothing except Elizabeth, of course. Ian smiled to himself and settled down to wait in a chair by the window. He hoped she hurried.

  ###

  Alicia awoke with a start, bathed in sweat. She’d had yet another stupid nightmare about being publicly compromised by Louis. Shaking, she threw off the covers and sat up. Oh, no. A sudden thought struck her. She was late to meet Rogue!

  Shrugging off the last vestiges of the bad dream, Alicia dashed across the icy floor to her vanity and slapped patches on h
er face as fast as she could. She snatched her mobcap from the tabletop as she careened around the corner and out the door.

  She almost crashed into the wall when she realized she couldn’t hear her father’s thunderous snores. After a moment of pure panic, Alicia remembered he’d gone antiquity-hunting with Louis and wouldn’t be back until late tomorrow. She skated down the stairs with such haste that her heels never touched the cold steps. When she reached the ground floor, she paused to catch her breath, one hand clutching the banister. No sense bursting in on him with her chest heaving, and her lungs exhaling in little panting breaths.

  Once she’d collected herself, Alicia maneuvered down the dark hallway until she reached the library. She pushed open the door and peered inside.

  Rogue relaxed in her favorite chair, slumped slightly to one side and looking as adorable as ever. Had he fallen asleep? Alicia took a startled step forward. Thank heavens she’d woken in time to meet him! What if he’d still been in the chair when the household rose in the morning?

  “I’m awake,” came his seductive whisper.

  Alicia jumped, certain for a moment that he could read her mind. She took another tentative step toward him.

  “For a while there,” he said in his soft, teasing voice, “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

  “Never,” she whispered, and closed the door behind her.

  At the sound of the latch catching, she expected Rogue to rise to his feet and come to her. Perhaps even kiss her. Instead, he sat up straighter in his seat and stared calmly in her direction. Alicia shivered. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her body. Although she knew she was shrouded in shadows, she felt as though she were standing naked and helpless before him. Her breath quickened.

  “Come here,” he invited, patting the arm of the chair.

  Alicia hesitated only a moment before venturing across the room. She stopped in front of his chair, the folds of her skirt brushing against his knees.