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

by Julia Donner

  Or was it all in her head?

  Elizabeth stopped her unchecked imaginings, took a firm grip on reality, and opened the door to her sitting room. Asterly was merely a man like any other. She must not elevate an extended morning visit into the realms of romantic fantasy.

  And following that admonishment she recalled his mention of a neglected house in Kent. Could he be wife hunting?

  ***

  Asterly bewildered and surprised her by coming to visit almost every day until the Thursday rout. If she happened to be away from home, he often encountered her while she completed errands. If she were closeted with her business retainers, he left his card and returned later.

  His continued attention and the ease with which he quickly made himself a fixture in her life and house flattered and intrigued her—especially his clever stratagem of never overstaying the obligatory twenty minutes unless invited to do so.

  She asked him to stay for luncheon on two occasions and for a cold collation after he escorted her to Sunday service. They delighted in lively discussions on various topics, especially politics. Talk of Devon was somehow forgotten after his initial visit.

  His comportment remained cool and correct. No sign of encroaching behavior, no suggestive remarks, a gentleman at all times. Her past experience with fortune hunters and suitors had been the opposite. Most of them were members of the ton in dire need of her fortune. All of them came with a viewpoint that implied she should consider herself fortunate to be a recipient of their attentions.

  Even though perplexed by her ungovernable sense of heightened physical awareness, she felt safe with Asterly. She liked to think he would happily punish every one of her past rude suitors with a punch on the nose. Part of her thought she should have his background more thoroughly investigated. She didn’t dwell on what the other part wanted—that secret part of her that crackled to life every time he entered the room and looked at her with a veiled hunger.

  She began to allow herself to wish that it might be more than her wealth that he wanted.

  Chapter 4

  “So you’ve finally found her?” Peregrine’s brother said from behind him.

  He glanced at Harry’s dazzling reflection in the long mirror, while he wrestled a neckcloth into a knot. The simple arrangement caused his twin to wince and look away.

  Taking a step back from the mirror, Peregrine slid into the waistcoat, Cranston, his valet held ready. “There wasn’t any doubt that I would.”

  Harry made a brief study of the manservant, a slender, middle-aged man with thinning, brown hair before saying, “I think it’s a rotten business, if you ask me. But you didn’t and never would.”

  “What makes you talk such rot, Harry? Of course I value your opinion, and in this instance, I also need your help. Cranston, I’ll wear the Hessians.”

  Harry continued to glare. “I’ll not help you trick a war hero’s widow. What makes you think she’d be a party to your espionage games for king and country? The war has already taken her husband.”

  Peregrine gave the valet an approving nod when he placed the shiny boots beside a nearby chair. “And left her in a blasted fix. She has a nasty pair of relatives barking at her heels, slavering to get her fortune. Her companion is on the verge of marriage. Her trustee is near his last breath, which leaves her quite alone and backed into a corner.”

  Harry pulled off his gloves and held them in a fist. “And what makes you any better than they are?”

  Peregrine reached for a chain with his seal and tucked the ends into the vest pockets. “I can make all of her troubles go away and offer my country’s protection.”

  In the mirror, Peregrine saw Harry start to say something then stop with a meaningful glance at the valet.

  Peregrine stepped away from his sartorially disappointing image in the mirror. “You may say whatever you like, Harry. Cranston’s also in the government’s employ. I can’t afford servants. And before you make yet another generous offer, no.”

  While pretending to fuss with his cuffs and check buttons, Peregrine watched his brother saunter to the window to look down on the street. Even though the second born, Harry had been given the greater portion of brains and beauty. Watery, autumn sunlight gleamed in his twin’s guinea-gold curls. Peregrine’s sand-colored hair, streaked by years under the Spanish sun, and now with strands of grey, made for a sad comparison. It had only been recently, since meeting Elizabeth that Peregrine began to wish for a bit of his brother’s brilliance.

  Peregrine grimaced and looked back at the mirror. His twin’s celebrated jovial expression and buoyant personality rarely showed itself in Peregrine’s company. Harry saved that for the world at large. When in his twin’s company, Harry reverted to the quiet, studious brother he’d been as a child; a side of the popular Handsome Harry that society never imagined existed. Even the brooding Harry looked magnificent, reminding Peregrine of the family joke about how he got the title and Harry got the looks.

  To cover the awkward silence, Peregrine kept his focus on his reflection in the glass. Years-old disillusionment hardened then quelled the dull ache that never completely healed. Would they ever be able to discuss the painful row that erected the wall between them? Too many hurtful things had been said. In case Harry should mention it, Peregrine gestured with a sideways jerk of his head for Cranston to leave. Some issues were too personal, even for colleagues and servants who knew everything.

  When the door clicked shut, Harry said, “I still think it’s a rotten thing you’re doing. You’ll be putting her in danger.”

  “Not without her permission and knowledge. I do not do this lightly, Harry. How much do you know about her?”

  A shaft of sunlight haloed Harry’s profile as he considered the question. “Almost nothing. She keeps herself secluded, which has created a great deal of speculation. She has influential friends but never uses them or their positions. Her entertainments are known to be frequented by politicians and the artistic sort. The one thing that is constantly said in connection to her name is that she is monumentally rich.”

  “This, I’ve learned, is true.”

  His expression sullen, Harry kept his attention on the activity in the street. “Then why ask me? I’m sure you’ve unearthed all the facts.”

  Peregrine tugged his cuffs into place and abandoned the mirror. He reached for his signet ring from a dish on the dresser and slipped it on. “I would agree that she enjoys a very select set of friends. It’s said that she doesn’t entertain in the grand style. Nor does she submit her name to gazettes. There’s no talk of affairs. No scandal, but I did find her name written in the old betting books.”

  Harry glanced over his shoulder. “I hadn’t thought of that. White’s or Boodles?”

  “Both. Her father, the late Augustus Bradley, was on the lookout for a title for his daughter fresh from seminary. Every impecunious bastard in England was on her scent. He could have bought her a duke. Hell, a bloody prince, but Bradley settled on a second son of a baronet. Since the son became a friend of mine, I came to understand that it was actually a love match. Ergo, no duke.”

  “Or prince. And now you plan to impinge on the widow of a friend. Did the Foreign Office put you up to this? Or is it the product of your own scheming mind?”

  “That is neither here nor there. She’s perfect. For me and for the country’s cause. I’ll protect her.”

  Harry soberly murmured, “And who will protect her from you?”

  Peregrine stared his brother down, refusing to justify his actions. Part of him wished he could admit that his reasons for pursuing her had more to do with his own desire to have her than for the country or any promise he’d made to Devon.

  He wrestled daily with his inability to stay away from Elizabeth’s doorstep and felt oddly bewildered by his compulsion to be constantly in her company. A day without her was like a day without air. Such unaccustomed neediness made him feel out of control, emotionally adrift.

  When she wasn’t at home, he knew whe
re to ‘accidentally’ find her; a military spy uncovered, used, and sifted through information the way most people sorted their daily invitations. It never took him more than an hour to track her down.

  Peregrine pivoted and meaningfully looked his brother in the eye. “Contrary to what you’re thinking, I only want the best for her, and if I can’t provide it for some reason, I know you will. Won’t you, Harry.”

  A slight narrowing of Harry’s eyes revealed that he’d registered the last remark as a statement, not a question. “Doesn’t sound as if I have much choice if I’m to protect the family honor.”

  Stung, Peregrine snapped, “You’re a fine one to talk of honor with everyone in town betting on which newborn is your most recent by-blow.”

  Too late, Peregrine realized his mistake. He’d spoken out of turn, a reaction to old hurts. Harry deplored the speculation surrounding the Wethermore’s only child. As the years passed, there could be little doubt that Handsome Harry had fathered the boy. Sadder yet, Sir Hubert Whethermore acted relived to have the chore of producing an heir taken off his back, compounding the stigma to both mother and child. Something deep inside ached—a twin’s shared pain. He started to apologize but Harry cut him off.

  “Sorry to disappoint, old man, but there’s been only one of those.” He returned his attention to the street traffic. “After that sort of dreadful gaffe, I’ve learned to conduct affairs only with blondes.”

  Since Harry opted to dismiss the stupid insult, Peregrine thought it prudent to avoid the subject. There was nothing to be gained by revisiting an argument too painful to resolve. Again, they’d leave the opportunity for a healing talk for another day.

  Peregrine stepped closer to his brother. “My crass remark aside, are you still willing to help me protect Eliza?”

  “Eliza?” Harry repeated, taking note of the personal use of her name. Relaxing the tight line of his lips, he muttered, “As you wish.”

  “Obliged, Harry.”

  “As you should be. This is an appalling business. I must suppose that you’ve created a method for assuring her safety.”

  “Certainly. It’s merely a matter of knowing the precise aspects of her daily life. She makes it easy with her habits. She’s rigid and disciplined. Such a lifestyle makes it possible to discover a great deal about her in a short period of time, with the exception of one area.”

  He waited for Harry to respond. He needed to know that his brother listened. Harry looked at him, eyebrows raised in mock anticipation.

  “Her finances. It’s fascinating that the exact amount of her fortune and who manipulates it is unknown. It’s as if her money has a life of its own, propagating at will. I likened it to a perpetually increasing hutch of bunnies. As I said before, there’s a trustee in poor health. On death’s door actually, but he’s never been anything more than a token protector of the estate, a legal figurehead.”

  “I take it her father created a trust of some sort, knowing the greed of Devon’s parents?”

  “Who are eager to pounce on the chance to attach themselves to her wealth the moment the trustee quits this earth.”

  “How will they proceed, legally?”

  Peregrine tucked a handkerchief into his pocket. “That, I don’t know. It’s enough that they can harass her with the threat of court entanglements. Perhaps they’ll pursue a settlement of some sort. I haven’t the foggiest when it comes to legalities, but I do know that if she marries me, she rids the Sheltons from her life.”

  “I see. Your carrot is the offer of protection from the dreaded relations. How will you present yourself? The shining savior? Won’t you appear as greedy as they are? She’ll merely be shifting her loss from one to another.”

  Peregrine answered indirectly, “With compensations.”

  “What can you offer to make it worth her while? From everything I’ve heard about her, she’s not interested in your title.”

  Peregrine paused to consider that answer. How much should he tell his brother?

  When his superiors suggested using his friendship with Mrs. Shelton, he balked. Coveting her image to keep his spirits up during the war was one thing; drawing her into perilous intrigue constituted a leap longer than he was willing to take. Then his darker half whispered that this might be an ideal avenue to broach the idea of a union that could be of benefit to both, while serving their country. It took only moments in her company to glean that Elizabeth was as clever as she was attractive, which supplied an oblique response to his brother’s question.

  Peregrine smiled. “It’s really quite simple, Harry. I shall make her fall in love with me.”

  Harry’s brilliant blue eyes flashed outrage. “And you have the nerve to disparage me.” When Peregrine didn’t respond, his brother said, “I’ll help, mainly for her sake. What sort of hoax are you perpetrating this time?”

  “No hoax. Not really. The goal is for her to be accepted by society, which will elevate her to a plateau of safety few dare to breach. The hitch is that she has an aversion, or perhaps an insecurity of some sort, regarding the ton. I’m not sure which or why, but her presence in public is necessary. During a specific time period, she must be seen and invited everywhere.”

  Peregrine grimly noted that not even disdain could mar Harry’s attractiveness. A scowl of disgust enhanced his features, but his vulgar curse and bristling outrage detracted from his usual grace.

  Harry slapped his gloves against the side of his leg, then shook his head before striding away from the window. “If that’s all you need of me at this time, I have an appointment.”

  Peregrine watched his twin slam out the door. An uncomfortable pall of contempt lingered in his wake. He continued to stare at the wood panels, and wasn’t jarred from his thoughts, until Cranston reentered and began to neaten the room.

  His brother had every right to feel disgusted. The tactics used to snare the rich widow did sound underhanded, but there was much more to the situation than its surface parts.

  The game in progress was actually a case of opposites. On the surface, it appeared that the government needed to use the financially connected widow for their own ends and had hoped to woo her into allowing the use of her foreign banks as a method of correspondence. They’d been delighted to learn of his friendship with Devon, but Peregrine planned to manipulate the government’s need for Elizabeth’s banking connections for his own gain. He could certainly make use of her wealth to restore his estates, but as every day passed, he learned that he wanted more than that. So much more.

  The time wasn’t right for explaining everything to her or to Harry. The less they knew, the safer they’d be. In any event, when the time was right, he’d tell Elizabeth first.

  Chapter 5

  Knowing all that he did about her, Peregrine realized he shouldn’t have been as astonished as he felt when he attended Elizabeth’s Thursday evening rout. Crimm escorted him to the rose saloon on the second floor where candles blazed as bright as daylight from so many tapers. The conversation and laughter sounded as bright and animated as Elizabeth’s welcoming smile.

  She came across the room to greet him wearing an understated gown of green satin under slip covered with blond lace. The jade color of her unadorned kid slippers matched a fan overlaid with ecru filigree. Her shining hair had been drawn up in a loose arrangement that allowed a number of soft curls to escape and drape over the crest of her left shoulder. His fingertips itched to touch.

  An odd ache filled his chest, confirming the knowledge of how fiercely he wanted this woman for his own. Images flashed of what he hoped to do when she was finally his. Fortunately, Elizabeth distracted him when she extended both hands in greeting.

  “How glad I am that you have come, Lord Asterly!”

  He made his bow and took her hands. “Rather glad to be here. You look splendid.”

  “Thank you. I shall introduce you to the Trivertons first. Or do you know them?”

  He reluctantly released her. “Let me see. Do you mean the couple on the m
aroon divan?”

  “Then you are acquainted with them. Such a lovely pair and quite out of the ordinary.”

  He lifted the quizzing glass he’d brought along to distract people from noticing where he covertly looked. Harry had left it behind, and luckily, it was one of his less garish ones. His gorgeous brother certainly didn’t need more attention, and his eyesight up close was perfect. Harry had trouble with distances, whereas Peregrine had no difficulty seeing anything, near or far, but every affectation had its uses. Gazes automatically followed his movement of lifting and using a quizzing glass.

  Peregrine peered at the couple through the single lens. “They appear fairly normal.”

  Elizabeth pretended to be scandalized. “A husband in his wife’s pocket? No, my lord. One never sees that! And theirs, a marriage of convenience.”

  He loved the naughty twinkle in her eyes. “Convenience, you say? They look demmed pleased with themselves for that sort of arrangement. I heard they’ve managed four children in three years of marriage. Shocking bad ton, that.”

  Elizabeth took his arm. “A set of twins makes it not so very shocking. Perhaps you didn’t know they were betrothed at birth and childhood friends.”

  Peregrine idly tapped the head of the quizzing glass against his coat lapel as they strolled. “How unusual that they can still tolerate each other’s company.”

  “Fie, my lord. I find it sad that anyone could think that a husband and wife must be thought of as odd for preferring each other’s company.”

  “I believe I comprehend your point, ma’am. I stand corrected.”

  “Oh, don’t poker up on me.” Her hazel eyes twinkled again. “Or are war wounds causing you pain?”

  “Oh, no, merely squashed by a much deserved chastening. And yet, you smile. How heartless. I beg to inform you that I truly have sustained wounds in the past.”