Unmasking the Spy

by Janet Kent

  “We had our first clue when Cobb arrived last night with a coach-full of trunks and valises.” Mavis narrowed her eyes and added, “He did not, however, carry a note from you.”

  “I’m sorry, all right? Things happened quickly, like I said. We married yesterday.”

  “Why the rush?” asked Julia.

  “Trust me, neither one of us was in a hurry. Her father expressed his desire to be rid of his daughter without a moment to spare, and since her dowry didn’t consist of a single farthing, I doubt she’d have had any other suitors had I not come up to scratch.”

  “No dowry? The poor thing. But I’m surprised her mother would allow such a fast–”

  “No mother.”

  “Oh!” Julia exclaimed again. “Just like us.”

  “Not just like us,” interrupted Mavis. “She has her father, doesn’t she? Even if he is a clown.”

  “Not like you,” Ian agreed. “She has no one to look after her or care for her except us. I expect you to treat her like family. No matter how it came about, she’s my wife.”

  Julia flashed him a soothing smile, but Mavis pursed her lips and gave a curt nod before looping her arm through her sister’s and dragging her from the room.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next morning, Alicia awoke alone.

  True to his word, Ian hadn’t come to her last night. In fact, she hadn’t seen him all day. And although she was now surrounded by more housemates than she’d ever had in her life, without the affection – or, even, attention – of her husband, Alicia felt lonely. Isolated. Despondent.

  She dressed and breakfasted and returned to her chambers to brood in private.

  Alicia sat down at her traveling writing desk in the room adjoining the bedchamber with the intent of abating the sense of hopelessness. Writing letters to her family should help to make her feel more connected, she reasoned, and brought forth the first sheet of paper.

  “Dear Papa,” she began, and bit her lip. What should she say next? “Don’t worry, you got rid of me?” Or, “Have no fear, I’m miles away and quite out of your hair?”

  Sighing, she stared at the blank page for several moments before writing, “I have arrived safely,” in a small, careful script. She thought for a minute and then added, “We are at Heatherley, Mr. Morrissey’s country home. If you still do not want Beatrix with you, please send her to me.”

  On another paper, she made a little note to remind herself to inform Ian of this invitation.

  “I hope you are well,” she continued. “Your loving daughter, Alicia.”

  There. Just in case he was wondering whether she was still alive, that missive should relieve any existing fears. She brought out another sheet and began a new letter.

  “My dearest Great-aunt Beatrix,” she began, and paused.

  Beatrix was someone she always spoke plainly to, someone who knew the truth of the youthful dreams inside her heart. However, she could hardly write anything quite so inflammatory as, “Due to a lack of virginity, my husband and I had a bit of a rough first night, and last night he refused to touch me at all. In fact, I’ve not seen him since we wed, when I cried like a child and came apart in his arms.”

  No, that wouldn’t do at all. With bold strokes of the pen, Alicia decided on, “I have discovered Mr. Morrissey to have four charming sisters and a delightful home, with the loveliest view from every window. I hope to explore the grounds further today, and shall let you know how I fare in my next letter. I miss you every day and I hope you are doing well. Ever yours, Alicia.”

  Perfect. Such innocuous news gave just enough information so her aunt wouldn’t worry, and not nearly enough information that her aunt wouldn’t be able to help but worry.

  She folded and sealed the letters then rang for a servant to post them. She put away her small desk and headed downstairs to make good on her promise to explore the grounds of Heatherley.

  As she strode down the corridor with the door leading to the gardens, Alicia passed a small room filled with a large piano and three of Ian’s sisters with their heads bent together in whispered conversation. She considered calling out a greeting then thought it best she continue on. Although she was sure they didn’t mean to be exclusionary, they gave every impression of a close-knit group in the midst of some discussion, and she didn’t intend to interrupt.

  Instead, she let herself out of the side door and ambled into the gardens, keeping her slippered feet on the smooth stepping-stones and tipping her head back to enjoy the feel of the warm sun on her face. The hedges emitted the earthy scent of recent rain, and leaves rustled overhead to make room for chirping birds amid their branches. Alicia watched in delight as a small orange butterfly flit from one bush to another, so entranced that she didn’t notice the presence of anyone else in the garden until she ran right into her.

  “Oh!” she gasped, blushing from her neck up.

  Mavis scowled back at her without saying a word. Alicia wasn’t sure if the unpleasant frown was due to her squashed toes or if it were an expression permanently etched on the pretty girl’s face.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Mavis. I didn’t notice you standing there until it was too late.”

  “I saw,” came the laconic reply.

  “I think the gardens are beautiful,” Alicia tried again. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Mavis gave a slow, irritated blink. “And interrupt what? The butterfly? I was just standing here.”

  Alicia flashed an uncertain smile and hesitated, unsure whether to pursue further conversation or if continuing out of her way was the better alternative. Mavis sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Ian told me about your ‘betrothal’. Did you entrap him on purpose?”

  “What?” Alicia’s mouth fell open in surprise. “No! I wanted to marry someone el- that is, I did not entrap your brother at all.”

  “So you don’t love him!” Mavis crowed in bitter satisfaction. “I knew it!”

  “Well, he doesn’t love me either,” Alicia countered, a defensive edge to her voice. “He could be accused of entrapment just as easily as me.”

  “For what reason?” asked Mavis skeptically. “Your dowry?”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  “Ha!”

  “What do you mean, ‘ha’?”

  “I mean, ‘ha’! You didn’t have a dowry, not that my brother would need it anyway. Did you think I didn’t know?”

  Alicia’s jaw dropped for the second time. “I didn’t know,” she said, goggling at Mavis. Papa really had revoked her dowry, just as he threatened. And to think, she’d accused Ian of being a moneygrubber, marrying her for financial gain. Her face flooded with heat.

  “Oh, please,” scoffed Mavis. “Next you’re going to tell me you didn’t know because you signed the marriage contract blindfolded.”

  “No, I… Of course I should’ve known, but it happened so fast that I… Oh, Lord.”

  Mavis snorted. “You sound like Ian. ‘It just happened so quickly,’” she mimicked falsetto. “Well, I don’t care how or why you rushed into marriage with my brother, but now that you’re here, I expect you’ll apply yourself to becoming an exemplary wife. He deserves nothing less than love, and if you haven’t a jot of those tender feelings, you can at least pretend. I’ll not have him hurt. He’s been through enough.”

  Not sure which part of that speech to answer first, Alicia stammered, “I didn’t mean to put him through anything.”

  Mavis glared at her. “He’s been through a lot worse than you, sister. He had to take the place of Papa when he was nine years old. He thinks we don’t remember, but Poppy was five and Julia was three, plenty old enough to have memories of Papa. Carlotta and I are the only ones unfortunate enough to be too young for memories. She wasn’t even born until after he died. And almost from the moment he took the reins to the household in his hands, women began to besiege him with their unwanted affections. We may not be titled or enviously lineaged, but Papa worked hard to create
our little empire in the country, and Ian turned our farthings into a fortune. I don’t know what tricks you may have been about, but we won’t have it. Our brother deserves nothing but the best, and if that’s not you then you had better work on becoming bloody close to perfect.”

  Alicia blinked. Mavis was nothing if not frank, and although she clearly held Ian’s best interests above all other concerns, she’d left Alicia quite without a word to say. Unfortunately, Mavis stood before her with her arms crossed in front of her stiff body and her eyebrows raised, as if she expected some sort of coherent response.

  “Er,” Alicia began, running through a bevy of lame-sounding replies in her head. “I’ve always wanted to marry for love, too.”

  Fearing this was the stupidest answer she could have ever invented, Alicia looked up through her lashes at Mavis, half expecting her to box her ears. To her surprise, the hard contours of Mavis’ face softened, and an unidentifiable emotion glimmered in her eyes.

  “Very well, then,” Mavis answered in a softer tone, the stiff hauteur gone from her voice. She gave Alicia an awkward pat on her shoulder and walked straight past her out of the garden, leaving Alicia alone with her thoughts.

  ###

  Ian whiled away most of the day walking about the grounds, inspecting this and examining that, making sure all was well and trying his damnedest to stop thinking about his wife.

  It didn’t work.

  He was haunted by memories of their ill-fated wedding consummation, and torn by the ungrantable wish that he had taken the unfortunate news with a bit more grace. If he had, he wouldn’t be spending his nights in his chambers by himself and his mornings taking much-needed dives into the cold water of the lake.

  Oh, he could share her bed whenever he desired, but he couldn’t do so without touching her. Why had he made such a rash declaration? Aloud!

  If he hadn’t promised to leave her alone, he’d be with her right now. Buried deep within her this very moment. He wanted to force her to love him, but he was afraid if he had her alone for the merest of moments, he’d be giving her a more physical sort of love.

  Who knew she’d be so responsive? So beautiful… so passionate.

  Ian spent so much time and energy avoiding Alicia – and thinking about the ridiculousness of avoiding one’s own wife – that when he heard the soft footsteps following him into the music room, he knew he’d been caught. Resigned to a bout of lovemaking right there on the floor if need be, he turned around to face her and was both surprised and relieved to discover the pantaloon-clad person before him in no way resembled his wife.

  “You!” Ian exclaimed with a half-choke, half-laugh.

  Caspian raised an eyebrow and settled on the piano bench. “You were expecting Prinny, perhaps?”

  Ian snorted and leaned against the wall. “Not until Tuesday, when he comes by for tea.”

  “How’s married life?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “I already asked.”

  “Then stop asking, you snot.”

  “Does that mean ‘not well’?”

  “It means mind your own business,” Ian bit out, glaring at the unrepentant operative lounging on his piano bench and grinning back at him. “What did you come for?”

  “To see you, of course! And to discover how married life agreed with you. Not well at all, I see, unless these fits of temper are normal for you.”

  “I can’t wait until you find yourself legshackled to some chit. Then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

  “Now, now,” Caspian replied hurriedly. He shuddered and the smile dropped from his face. “No reason to curse me, old chap.”

  ###

  Alicia woke up alone for perhaps the third time in two hours. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be alone – after all, she was in her chambers, not Ian’s. She just felt lonely, and found it dreadfully difficult to fall asleep while feeling sorry for herself.

  How did a woman go about seducing her own husband? With thoughts like that, there would be no more rest tonight. Alicia sighed and got up. Perhaps if she started a story, she could read herself to sleep. Shrugging into a light robe, she headed downstairs in search of a library.

  As her bare feet tread silently down the stairs, Alicia chided herself for being so eager to discover the beauty out-of-doors that she neglected to explore the house itself. She wasn’t even sure if there would be a library to find.

  Soft voices reached her ears as she padded down the hallway. Someone was awake. Two someones. Alicia frowned. The voices were both male and one was unmistakably Ian’s – but to whom would he be talking at four o’clock in the morning? Surely this was not the hour he chose to discuss matters with his staff.

  Knowing very well that eavesdropping was yet another sin to repent, Alicia crept forward, telling herself she just wanted to be sure nothing was wrong. After all, as mistress of Heatherley, she ought to keep herself abreast of potential problems. She almost tumbled into the door in shock when she heard Ian speak.

  “Is Chadwick still under investigation?” he asked.

  Chadwick? Her father?

  “No. What else is there to do? You investigated the family pretty thoroughly,” came the answer.

  Ian investigated her family? Thoroughly?

  “Any other clues come in to bring suspicion on other possible thieves?”

  Her husband thought her father was a thief?

  “No, but if I hear of it, I’ll let you know. Just don’t marry their daughters.”

  He married her to investigate her father?

  “Very funny, Caspian. You’re the bachelor, now. If anyone does any more marrying, it will have to be you.”

  “Not my style.”

  Alicia sagged against the wall, her head reeling from a betrayal that completely blindsided her. She had thought he was so nice, so unassuming, so… gentlemanly! What a fool she’d been. He wasn’t after her money or her title after all, no, nothing so respectable as that. He’d been after information! Trying to implicate her father as a thief! And he hadn’t said a word. Alicia tilted her head toward the door, considering kicking it in and giving her husband a piece of her mind.

  “I wanted out anyway,” Ian said. “This investigation didn’t make me miss Whitehall one whit.”

  “Why, because working for me is working for free?”

  “Don’t be an ass. You know I don’t care about money.”

  “You may not care about it now, but you did need the money when you first started.” Caspian added with a droll note to his voice, “But for you it was always about the danger. The thrill of discovery.”

  “And the disguises. I love to play Robin Hood.”

  Ian loved to play… Robin Hood? The back of Alicia’s head sank down the wall as the first inklings dawned that his deception was even worse than it first seemed.

  “You and that stupid mask. It’s not like anyone would ever catch you in their house anyway.”

  Alicia closed her eyes and stifled a groan. Rogue was Ian all along?

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Give me a break. You just like how you look, running around dressed all in black and swinging that infernal silver swordstick. Has anyone ever seen you in that getup?”

  A horrible, sick feeling began in the pit of Alicia’s stomach, sending tremors of acid rage and icy humiliation skating down her limbs.

  After a long pause, Ian admitted softly, “Once.”

  Alicia launched herself from the wall and lurched back up the stairs to her chambers. “That’s why they say not to listen at keyholes,” she admonished herself bitterly. “You may find out something you don’t want to know.”

  Like learning she’d been conquered by a master.

  No wonder he hadn’t bothered pursuing introductions to other women. No wonder every time she slipped downstairs in the middle of the night, “Rogue” was there to greet her.

  He’d used her from the very moment they’d met. As herself, she’d been nothing but a pawn in some misguide
d vendetta against her father. And as “Elizabeth”, she’d been nothing but a moment’s fancy to a heartless man who truly was a consummate rogue.

  Unbelievable. She never stood a chance.

  ###

  Alicia awoke angry.

  Lucky for Ian he didn’t try to claim his husbandly rights. She’d have scratched his eyes out, Alicia thought fiercely. Stabbed him with his stupid silver swordstick. Strangled him with the straps of his infamous mask. She’d thought nobody would ever need know about her reckless nights cavorting with her mysterious lover – until she discovered she was married to him, the despicable toad.

  She had half a mind to hunt him down right now. Slap his handsome face. Rip his bloody head off. Papa wasn’t a thief. The very idea was ludicrous. Of course Ian didn’t find any evidence against him – nothing existed to find. He should’ve just asked her!

  Almost snarling in her fury, Alicia stalked around her chambers. She had plenty to ask him, all right. Starting with, “What gives you the right to assign guilt willy-nilly and appoint yourself judge and jury?” And ending with, “What kind of man marries a woman to perpetuate an investigation against her father?”

  Alicia stumbled to a stop, one hand lying atop her bed and the other covering her chest. She couldn’t ask him anything. First of all, he’d discover she’d been eavesdropping in the middle of the night. Second, she’d had the misfortune of becoming his property three short days ago. Third, she would have to admit that she and “Elizabeth” were one and the same, and he could throw her own “disguise” back in her face as justification for his own wrongs.

  Wait. He didn’t know she was Elizabeth?

  Perhaps that was the key.

  An evil little smile tweaked the corners of Alicia’s mouth as she considered the implications. What if his feelings toward the alleged poor relation were real? Revenge would be easy. Her patches and paraphernalia were packed away, but somewhere here in her chambers. How easy it would be to appear outside in the gardens as a ghost from his past! Haunting him as the one woman he couldn’t get rid of, she could plan assignation after assignation and rail at him in her “bitterness” at discovering he was a married man.