The Heiress and the Spy (The Friendship Series Book 2)

by Julia Donner

  “Devon spoke fondly of you the night before Ciudad Rodrigo. Please be assured of his deep affection for you. I hope you don’t think me presumptuous for telling you his last thoughts, which were all of you.”

  “I am most grateful to you, Lord Asterly. You see, there has been no one to talk to about my husband’s death. I am all that is left of my family.”

  “Devon told me about your father’s death. A year before Devon’s, if I recall correctly. You’ve had quite a time of it. And what of your mother?”

  “She died when I was seven. A fever took her a few days after the birth of my brother Stephen. Baby Stephen was taken by a lung inflammation before he was out of leading strings. Father was an orphan, which leaves me without relatives.”

  With caution, he suggested, “There is Devon’s.”

  “His parents will have nothing to do with me. I am connected to trade. I do have a companion, who is a distant relative of Devon’s, but she never met him. One needs to speak to someone who knew the departed to derive the best sort of comfort. So there is really no one to talk to about him. You have done me a great service by coming here today.”

  “And lingered far beyond what is acceptable.” He set his cup and saucer on the tray, the serviette on the table.

  “Not at all, sir. This talk has finally allowed me to put a period to my grieving. It would’ve been easier if his body had been recovered immediately after the battle. But then I should be grateful that he was eventually sent home. Many did not return.”

  “I had gone back to look for him and was told his remains had been shipped to his family,” he smoothly lied, remembering the nightmarish aftermath of a battle he would never relay to her.

  Her luminous eyes pierced him through with an uncomfortably frank stare that told him she suspected his lie.

  “Lord Asterly, I am curious. Were you in my husband’s regiment? He never mentioned your military connections. The only specific thing he wrote was that he was happy to have you with him for the march from Badajoz.”

  “No, ma’am, I was not in his regiment. I was an…observer, shall we say? But I must ask you never to say so to anyone.”

  She lowered her gaze and looked at the cold cup of tea in her hand as if noticing it for the first time. She placed it on the tray. “I will not press you for more details, Lord Asterly. It is only important that you have so generously given me an accounting of what happened.”

  He stood when she rose from the couch. “I hope you will allow me to visit you again, Mrs. Shelton. There is much more to tell, and next time, we shall talk only of happy escapades.”

  “I hope you will come as often as you like. I’m having a rout Thursday next. Mostly political talk and a little music. If you are free to attend, I shall send an invitation.”

  “I am delighted to accept. I have always nourished the dream of a political career and am anxious to return to Parliament.”

  “Then you shall enjoy the company of some of my guests, although they are in the House of Commons.”

  Peregrine smiled. “Brothers from the other side of the chamber.”

  They shook hands again before Crimm escorted him to the front door. Out on the street, Peregrine’s mare nickered a welcome. She sounded content and not as distressed as she often acted without him in sight. He slipped the thoughtful groom a vail—a coin he could ill afford to expend—but an extravagance well worth the care given to Ramona. He pulled on his gloves and mounted, nodding his thanks at the young man now folding the warming blanket over his arm.

  The lad stroked a hand down Ramona’s gleaming bay shoulder. “She’s a fine ol’ girl, yer lordship.”

  “That she is and can still keep up with the pack.”

  “How’d she get that nasty gash on her hock?”

  “Shrapnel. Took a handful of shot, too, and still carried me off the field.”

  The groom touched the mare’s inquisitive black nose and chuckled when she blew gently in response. “She smells the other horses on me. You bred her at all?”

  Peregrine silently laughed. “She hasn’t had the time, but I think she’s done enough hard work to deserve some fun.”

  He collected the reins and glanced up at the salon windows overhead, where a shadow moved. It was past time that he had some fun of his own and knew right where to hunt her down.

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth stayed in the green saloon and stared at the spot where Lord Asterly had sat. She thought that she might soon need to go upstairs and cry out the last of her grief but the familiar urge to do so never surfaced. Her constant companion and familiar presence of loneliness had been replaced with an unfamiliar, anxious excitement, the aftermath of Lord Asterly’s commanding personality.

  How odd life is. It seemed impossible that one could feel so completely altered by a visit from a stranger.

  Crimm entered and said, “Mrs. Weston has sent down a message. She asks if you are available.”

  “Please tell her to join me.”

  Elizabeth waited while Crimm instructed a maid to clear the tea tray and to relay the message to Elizabeth’s companion. When the door clicked shut, she said, “Tell me something about Lord Asterly, Crimm.”

  “The title is quite old. He’s a member of Wellington’s staff. His recent promotion appeared in the papers. It’s well known that his lordship is without means. The estate, Marshfield, is sadly rundown. On the other hand, his brother, Sir Harry, is plump in the pocket, a close friend of His Highness, and Society’s darling. They are twins but are opposites in many ways.”

  “Opposite? In what ways, Crimm?”

  “Lord Asterly is thought of as a man who takes his responsibilities seriously. Sir Harry is considered, as was relayed to me, ‘an adorable fribble’ and delights in his reputation with the ladies.”

  “Which leads me to believe that Asterly is the elder twin.”

  Crimm went to the window and peered at the street. “Indeed, he is, Mrs. Shelton, and assumed the title young.”

  “Do you know why a man who is considered a responsible sort would allow his property to sink into ruin?”

  “T’was the unfortunate condition of the estate at the time of his inheritance.” Crimm left the window to take a place beside the couch.

  She felt a question narrow her gaze. “Why wouldn’t he apply to his brother for assistance?”

  “An excellent question. It seems there is friction between the twins. No one knows why.”

  “Or Asterly is too proud,” Elizabeth murmured

  A quick tap on the door panel had Elizabeth twisting around on the sofa seat. Crimm immediately went to the door.

  Olivia Weston’s merry face peeked around the door’s edge. “Eliza, dearest, may I join you?”

  “Of course, Olivia. Is anything the matter?”

  Crimm bowed out of the room, and Elizabeth scooted over on the couch to allow room for her companion to sit beside her. Plump and petite, Olivia entered in a flutter of lace and ribbons. She wore a fetching cap, overlarge in the fashion of the previous century, which covered all but a few curls of silver hair. The scent of roses wafted from her pink tulle gown as she flew across the room and swished into place beside Elizabeth.

  Clasping her net-gloved hands to her bosom, she cried with delight, “Oh, Eliza, I can no longer wait to tell you. I have decided to marry!”

  Elizabeth blinked. “How…wonderful for you, Olivia. Who is the fortunate gentleman?”

  Olivia’s tinkling laugh brightened the room. Her merry, black eyes sparkled. “I don’t know!”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh—while the part of her heart that couldn’t register happiness for her friend twisted with concern for herself. She didn’t want a stranger living in her house, and yet she would have to find someone to conform with society’s rule that an unwed lady should not live alone. She had no interest in the ton but did want to keep her political and artistic connections.

  Elizabeth set aside her worries and reached for Olivia’s hand. “If
no man has asked you, how do you know that you are to marry?”

  “It is a matter of choosing. Three have asked me! One has been repeatedly imploring me ever since my dear Charles went to his reward, but I could never make myself consent. He was a close friend to Charles, you see. I adore the man. Always have. But it makes one feel so discomforted. His friendship with Charles, you know?”

  “I do understand how that might be awkward.”

  Olivia’s gladness faded when she looked fully at Elizabeth. “My dearest girl, I confess that I can no longer live without the constant company of a husband.”

  “There’s no need to explain, Olivia.”

  “Can you forgive me for abandoning you?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Nonsense. There is no reason why you should stay with me when you’ve been given another chance for romance.”

  Olivia sighed and placed a plump hand on her bosom. “Not romance, my dearest. Another chance to be loved! Isn’t it too amusing? A woman my age courted by so many. I cannot comprehend why!”

  “Anyone who stands in your company knows why, Olivia! You are a delight wherever you go. Will it be difficult to make a choice?”

  Olivia pinched her lips into a prim, yet naughty grin. “I’m keeping them all waiting. But one is so very insistent! Like a schoolboy, my dear.” Her expression changed again to bewildered concern. “But what of your situation, Eliza? You can’t live without a companion and still maintain friendships with those of the upper ten thousand, but I am far more concerned about Devon’s horrid parents. Are they still imposing themselves?”

  “You must not think about that, Olivia.”

  “How can you say this to me, Eliza? I know your situation. How is your trustee, Mr. Everett? Has his health improved? If he dies, what legal protection will you have from the Sheltons?”

  “I will no doubt think of something, and you are not to worry your head about anything but choosing a husband and where to settle, preferably somewhere vastly romantic. A seaside cottage?”

  “Heavens, darling girl, we will be young in love but elderly in body. All that damp air could put a period to our union.”

  “Will you allow me to gift you with a house?”

  Olivia flipped out a lacy handkerchief from her amply displayed décolletage and dabbed her eyes. “Oh, you dear, dear girl! After all you have done for me! But no, all of my suitors are quite well to pass. You must tell me about your visitor! So virile! Even from the window he appeared so aggressively masculine. Ferociously so. How vastly stimulating!”

  Elizabeth couldn’t argue with that. Olivia’s ageless complexion had gone rosy and she’d only seen Asterly from a distance. She hadn’t been the direct recipient of the major’s unsettling smile, which altered his stern expression and melted his suave coating of chilly austerity. Long past the age of a schoolgirl’s emotional turmoil, she chastised herself for being unable to quell the shiver of excitement that memory evoked.

  Did the experiences of war have something to do with his physically intimidating presence? Perhaps he gave every woman he met the notion that he might have his way with her after the slightest encouragement. The aristocracy had their own code of conduct, but she refused to relax her morals or have anything to do with adultery.

  Olivia interrupted her thoughts. “Is he a suitor?”

  “No. It was a condolence call. He knew Devon. A major formerly attached to Wellington’s entourage, but something tells me he’s not yet done with the military.”

  “You and your intuition! My dear, I must ask, could it have been more than a sympathy call?”

  “Doubtful, my friend. We are not of the same social set.”

  “My dear, why do you doubt? Please forgive me, but I must speak my feelings. I do wish you would reconsider marriage, if for no other reason than to foil those dreadful creatures from making your life a misery. Why, they are so prodigiously greedy, I fear they would go as far as taking it into the courts.”

  “Yes, that is their plan. They are only waiting for Mr. Everett to pass away.”

  Olivia scrunched up her face in a kittenish scowl. She meant to look fierce, but her friend’s outrage made Elizabeth press her lips together to stop a laugh from tumbling out.

  Olivia reached for Elizabeth’s hand. “Oh, my dearest girl, I am so out of patience with them! And your father. Why didn’t he think to give you two trustees instead of only one?”

  Elizabeth patted her friend’s hand before placing it back in the frothy tulle covering Olivia’s lap. “I suppose he saw himself as living forever. Marriage would solve some aspects of my present irritations, but in order to be completely rid of the Sheltons, I would have to turn everything over to a different husband, as the law demands.”

  “And you’ve grown accustomed to having control of your fortune.”

  “Yes, Olivia, I have.”

  Olivia picked at the lace-tatted edge of her handkerchief. “Perhaps children would divert you from this unfeminine practice?”

  “You misunderstand. The fortune diverts me from that which I do not have.”

  Olivia pressed the handkerchief to her eyes. “Oh, you make me weep! I vow to marry no one. I will stay here with you and your impossible piles of money.”

  The dramatic offer flooded Elizabeth with poignant warmth. She briefly pressed her cheek to Olivia’s to conceal her attempt to blink away the sting of tears. What was she going to do without this lovely woman enlivening her days? She took both of Olivia’s hands in her own and urged her to stand.

  “Olivia, please, look at me. You are not going to stay here with me. You are going to marry one of your beaux and have a marvelous life with him. And because I have impossible piles of money, I can provide a settlement and a contract to protect your future. Although, you know that you’re always welcome wherever I am.”

  Olivia promptly erupted into a noisy bout of copious tears. Elizabeth enfolded the smaller woman in a brief embrace and then pried the handkerchief from her friend’s hand.

  While blotting the wet from Olivia’s cheeks, Elizabeth said, “Now that we have that understood, I want you to take the carriage tomorrow and choose fabrics and fashion plates. You’ll also have to shop for warm gloves and stockings, since this will be a winter wedding.”

  Olivia sniffed and peeked up. “But, dearest, what of the Sheltons? They are so relentless, so utterly heartless. I have never recovered from how they dealt with me. They turned me away without a thought, when they knew I hadn’t a farthing.”

  “Then I should be endlessly grateful to them. You came here, and I’m so very glad that you did. No more procrastinating, my dear. Tie the knot and leave the Sheltons to me.”

  Olivia smiled through glistening tears, hugged Elizabeth and flitted away. Elizabeth watched her flee. Olivia could never sustain a position or maintain a thought for long. In anyone else, her scatterbrain ways might be annoying. Elizabeth always considered her companion’s flighty manner endearing.

  She stared at the closed door, wondering how long she’d been holding on to the excuse of grief to forestall the final break with Devon’s family. Casting off the last tie to them meant facing a lonely future with no connection to Devon’s adoration and unconditional love.

  Lord Asterly’s visit clarified her childish wish for the Sheltons’ approval and helped her to accept that his parents would never change. They’d always looked on her with contempt and always would. She suddenly found herself no longer willing to nurture a pathetic hope for their recognition and love. There could be no comfort in such selfish people, no connection to remind her of Devon.

  As fortunate and blessed as she felt with so many interesting friends, she’d never been able to confide in them as she had to Asterly, who was almost a stranger. Even though he made her feel odd physically, she trusted him without question and had no idea why. She believed he could be relied on as a friend and confidant. Perhaps even help with the problem of the Sheltons. He was without a doubt a man of influence.

  But sh
e couldn’t think of anyone or anything to take the place of her companion, even though they never lived in each other’s pockets. Olivia lived her own life in a spacious apartment on the second floor. They saw each other at mealtimes or whenever Elizabeth entertained. And even though they spent little time in each other’s company, they enjoyed a deep affection and loving relationship.

  She idly wondered what Asterly would think of her companion’s odd dinner conversation and laughed at the possibilities. Recollections of Olivia’s often absurd and wholly unrelated responses to questions restored Elizabeth’s sense of humor.

  Even though there was that elusive something about Asterly that encouraged trust, she suspected he was a clever impersonator. She took a moment to deconstruct her first impression. Other than his manner of dress, he portrayed the buck-about-town to perfection, right down to the contemptuous arch of an eyebrow. She doubted that a Corinthian would bestir himself to feel the violence of passion and depth of understanding that this gentleman briefly revealed when he discovered the cruelties of Devon’s parents. The major displayed a smooth talent for concealing his true personality, and she wondered what else he hid.

  She chuckled. At last, something more interesting than numbers to take apart and put back together.

  Elizabeth refused dinner and went up to her rooms. As she slowly ascended the stairs, she decided to embark on a masquerade of her own. Underneath the guise of hostess, she could become interrogator. Care must be taken. Lord Asterly would never allow himself to be manipulated, and his subtle aura of controlled menace might be more dangerous than intriguing.

  Her hand stilled on the door handle to her room when she recalled her unusual response to the baron, an enticing awareness. When he stepped close to shake her hand, her heart thumped hard enough for her to fear it might burst from her chest. The air around him crackled with restrained virility. His penetrating blue-green eyes gleamed with a keenness as arresting as his attitude of authority and urbanity. She wondered if the experiences of war had something to do with his physically intimidating presence.