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

by Julia Donner

  Her voice came out sounding husky and unsure. Would he connect her question to their recent, heated embrace? Her face tingled with another blush. He might think that lust made her suggest to push the ceremony date forward.

  Peregrine hadn’t missed the first blush and watched her pale cheeks brighten again. He wanted to kick himself for losing control and mauling her like a sailor newly into port. It had been difficult to stop with her giving back as good as she got.

  What a delightful and yet maddening discovery. Elizabeth had a languid, absorbing sort of untried desire that intoxicated. It had him wondering about her and Devon, then he recalled how little time the couple had together before he packed his kit and boarded a ship for the Peninsula. If there had been no other men, she’d be near virginal. Heat surged again.

  Peregrine shoved aside the vision of grabbing her out of the chair and finishing what they’d started. He was supposed to be mature and mannered, but his baser instincts came roaring to the surface every time he came within touching distance of Elizabeth.

  The unsuccessful attempt she made to mask her overwrought condition was as poignant as it was endearing. He suspected she would prefer to pretend that their harmless embrace that had turned incendiary had never happened.

  He had to do something to comfort her misery and confusion. Humor always worked with Elizabeth. He took the chair across from hers and sat with a leg crossed over the other. Distracting her by lazily swinging a shiny boot, he propped an elbow on the padded chair arm and cupped his chin in his palm. He gazed at her with a foolish grin.

  This time, she wasn’t so easily cozened and admonished him with a scowl. “What are you doing, Asterly?”

  “M’dear, I do hope you’re not thinking of hinting me off over a little kiss. You wouldn’t jilt me, would you, Eliza?”

  “No. You haven’t answered about the ceremony.”

  He exhaled a sigh and patted back a yawn. “What an unappreciative girl you are! Very well. If you insist on ignoring my adoring, moonling gaze, I suppose we must speak of boring details.”

  Elizabeth covertly watched him rise smoothly from the chair and begin to pace. He sauntered around the chair and back and forth in front of the fireplace. She admired his loose-limbed, measured stride, so confident and territorial. His presence was so aggressive, assuming possession of whatever space he inhabited. He looked like he was conquering a piece of battlefield with every stride—a grown-up playing a child’s game. She suppressed a smile at that image. As much as she enjoyed his pretense of a buck about town, there remained the sobering fact that he had more than a little experience with fields of war.

  He looked up at the ceiling painted with playful cherubs. “The rioting hasn’t stopped, and this led me to make arrangements for an intimate ceremony out of town. The cathedral in Rochester, St. Mary’s chapel. A brief celebratory breakfast to follow and then we shall get back on Watling Street and on our way to Marshfield. If the weather holds, and with the use of your excellent cattle, we should arrive before nightfall.”

  “Shall I send the staff down on Monday?”

  “Only Crimm. Mrs. Wright, former nurse and now housekeeper, will prepare a few rooms. Nothing grand. I shall be gone before sunrise. The less who know about it, the better. I’ll send a crew to the yacht. It will have to be moved out of Dover and stay out in the channel until rendezvous.”

  An odd yet familiar heaviness settled around her heart. She hadn’t felt it since saying farewell to Devon. “Do you know how long you will be gone?”

  “Hopefully, not more than a few weeks. If and when possible, I should contrive intermittent appearances about town to convince the watchers. We’ll have to work up a scheme with my friends to make the world believe that I’m still in residence with you.”

  “Who are these cohorts?”

  “Quite unexceptionable sorts. No Bow Street Runner types, I assure you! You’ll not be meeting my foreign associates, but it’s with my friends that you must contrive to make it appear that I’m in town. My brother, Harry, and a mutual friend, Freddy Bates, will be at your disposal for day or evening engagements. If you feel threatened at any time, rely on Lord Bainbridge. And whenever they are in town, Ravenswold and his wife, Cassandra. Which reminds me, Cass is particularly anxious to meet you. She asks you to join her for a drive on Saturday. She will send a card and note. And will we be using this house as our residence when we’re in town?”

  “If you wish.”

  “I shall defer all domestic decisions your way, m’dear, if you do not mind. Do you have a suggestion as to how we can convincingly thin out your staff for the next few months?”

  “Why?”

  “The less who know that I’m not here, the better. And you appear to have a full regiment in residence.”

  She considered his question. “Merrick, my dresser, is entirely trustworthy. I shall give her a fictitious illness. Measles? We’ll have her throw out some spots with cosmetics when the time comes. The staff can be sent up to Manchester for their safety. The rest can be sent to their families until the quarantine is lifted. I’ll keep a few here and hire day help until the pretend measles get better. There is also the excuse of redecorating.”

  “My, but you have a fertile mind! They both sound plausible and will keep everyone running around so much they’ll scarcely bother with me.”

  “The majority of them have no idea what you look like.”

  He stopped pacing to ask, “Will you be free to meet with Cass on Saturday?”

  Her heart skipped. She murmured, “If you wish.”

  Her evasive reply triggered a slight narrowing of his eyes, but he resumed pacing. Elizabeth had heard of Countess Ravenswold, who was touted as the most beautiful female ever entered in the Marriage Mart race. Her politically powerful husband was a loud and persuasive voice in the House of Lords. Neither the earl nor his proud wife were known for owning easy going temperaments.

  Asterly interrupted her thoughts. “You are in for a delightful surprise. Cass is quite out of the ordinary.”

  “It’s said that she is astonishingly beautiful.” She peeked up to assess his response to that lure.

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  He airily brushed aside this intimidating fact, as only a man would do. And yet his fondness for the famous beauty was apparent in everything he said. Were they lovers, an affair of longstanding? Elizabeth worked to keep all reaction from showing as he outlined his friendship with the countess.

  “Cass is one of those managing types. She says whatever comes into her head, so don’t let her eat you! She likes a spine on her friends. But I know that she’ll take to you immediately. Rave will be your slave. He’s fatally enamored with Huns. You must speak German to him, especially after what Von Strausborg said about you.”

  Unable to stop herself, she asked, “And what was that?”

  He laughed when she predictably rose to the bait. “Von Strausborg rattled on about how he hadn’t heard his language spoken so beautifully since leaving Bavaria. And now that I’ve learned about Frau Zuckerkuchen, I understand why. So! I insist you talk Hun at Rave. He also has Italian. Cass barely speaks English and sprinkles everything with cant. In her favor, I can say with authority that she’s the only person I’ve ever met who can speak horse!”

  He began to pace again, while outlining the campaign to enter her into the rarified legion of the ton. Elizabeth hid her concern at the prospect of meeting the Ten Thousand. Even though she never wanted to become a member of that elite group, she knew a great deal about its members.

  She became more uncertain when Asterly started to tick off on his fingers the names of the people she would need to meet socially. The names were of daunting repute. Lord Castlereagh she’d met, but she’d never been introduced to his wife, who was a patroness and formidable social tyrant.

  Elizabeth set aside her escalating fears for later. She couldn’t worry about it now and listen to Asterly at the same time. She smoothed the wrinkles from the lap of he
r gown and waited until he paused for a breath to change the subject.

  “Will your friends be attending the ceremony?”

  “I should hope not. I would rather keep you all to myself, m’dear, but we shall have to drag along some witnesses. The party on my side will be my brother, Ravenswold and Cass, and perhaps Freddy. How many shall you bring?”

  “I have no living relatives in England, and Mrs. Weston will be unable to attend. When I told her about the betrothal, she broke out in tears. She hadn’t told me that she’s been putting off a certain gentleman for some time. Now that I am to be ‘comfortably settled,’ she is anxious to start her new life. She has her heart set on Gretna Green.”

  “An elopement at her age? Oh dear, very bad ton. I can hear the tabbies now. At the very least, she could have offered to control her passion long enough to accompany you to Rochester.”

  “She didn’t know about Rochester, and her direction is north. Yesterday morning I gave her leave to depart as soon as she may be ready.”

  “That’s it then. We shall have to concoct something. Perhaps you could go down with Ravenswold and Cass. He’s my good friend and will do whatever I say. They named their firstborn after me. Peregrina. They call her Nina. Demmed handsome little thing. Never cries. No sniveling but she might bite if one attempts to take anything she considers hers. Her doting Papa wouldn’t mind lending his arm up to the altar.”

  “Excuse me, but what possible connection could we have had?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. We’ll have to invent something.”

  “Forgive me for pointing this out, but everything is getting a bit cluttered. And can you trust all of these people with your occupation?”

  “I trust them with my life. They’ve known about me for years and so do the majority of my counterparts in Europe. That is why we’re enacting this social whirl. I’m too recognizable, but the powers that be insisted I take on this final task because of my knowledge of the country. My friends will help, and even as bubble-headed as my brother is, he’d never give me away.”

  “So, you plan to use your friends in this charade?”

  “In part. They won’t be privy to what you’ll know—only that they’re needed to keep my hide intact. I hope you will like them, Eliza, but if you do not, I shan’t force them on you after this is over and done. For now, they’re an integral part of the scheme. With their help, we can convince everyone that I am in London, when I’ll actually be on the Continent.”

  Crimm interrupted to announce luncheon. “Will his lordship be joining you, ma’am?”

  Elizabeth looked at Asterly. “Sorry, m’dear but pressing business calls and a number of unfinished errands. My brother’s theater box is free tomorrow evening. How does Shakespeare and a farce sound?”

  “I would enjoy that very much.”

  They set a time and Asterly bowed over her hand. Crimm condescended to hold the door open and escort him to the foyer.

  At the door, Peregrine asked, “I am curious, Crimm.”

  “M’lord?”

  “Have you any relatives over at Carlton House?”

  “An aunt and my brother, m’lord.”

  “Ah! Then you are one of the famous Crimms?”

  The major domo made a slight inclination of his head, while Peregrine slipped into the greatcoat a footman held ready. “Forgive my presumption, but what made you decide to leave off boxing and return to your family’s vocation?”

  “My father and His Grace encouraged me to enter into service after the Unfortunate Incident in Surrey some years ago. They assisted me to find a position before a repetition of that sad event.”

  “The fellow never came to?”

  “Died a week later.”

  “Am I right in supposing that Mrs. Shelton’s father snatched you up from under the duke’s nose?”

  “Not Mr. Bradley himself, of course. His steward, the senior Mr. Swifton. My taking this position was a grave disappointment for my benefactor. His Grace had aspirations of making me into his valet, but Mr. Bradley was a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Offered you that much, did he?”

  Crimm’s smile was almost imperceptible. “To guard his house and most particularly, his only child, was a position to be envied. And I shall retire from service early. Mrs. Shelton has most generously offered to invest in my boxing club.”

  “You’re a clever dog, Crimm.” Peregrine slid his fingers into his gloves, flexing them to seat the fit. “I’m gratified to have my first impression verified. I shall be one your first patrons at your club. Although, I may turn out to be a disappointment. I’m not a charter member of the Pugilistic Society and never frequent Jackson’s Rooms. Will my lack of consequence prevent you from staying on with us for a while?”

  “For a few years, m’lord. Until I am satisfied that Mrs. Shelton is settled and happy with her new situation in life.”

  Peregrine left contented with this morning’s work. He had no difficulty understanding the protective butler’s warning and strode away from the granite mansion with the comfort of knowing that his intended was in safe hands.

  He now knew why the city rioters avoided Elizabeth’s house. The word had been spread that Jasper Crimm, alias Crimm the Gent, Man Killer of Manchester, was a senior staff member in Widow Shelton’s residence. Ruffians would think long and hard before disturbing her peace and property. This left Peregrine free to gather up the loose ends of his plans before embarking on this last assignment. When he came home to settle, he could work on his dream of a future in Parliament. Generous Fate had given him the perfect mate to accomplish it. All he had to do now was survive.

  Chapter 17

  Merrick ushered out the maids and footmen cleaning up the bath. She closed the door, passed through the bedchamber and into a spacious dressing room that held two, high wardrobes, a vanity table and a long mirror. The room’s single floor-to-ceiling window had the plush velvet draperies drawn to seal out night’s invasive chill. Three mannequins, clothed in fancy dress eveningwear, waited to be selected.

  Merrick pulled the dressing room door securely shut. “Have we decided which gown for this evening?”

  “Yes, Merrick. The green silk, if the slippers were delivered.”

  “They arrived yesterday morning. Will you carry a shawl?”

  “I think I should, in the event the theater foyer is cold before we go up. I will try the new garters, the ones with the rosettes. And eight button gloves. Please let them know below stairs that I will not be late. I doubt we will be dining out after the performance.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Shelton. And for the coiffure?”

  “Something simple. A chignon and the pearl pins.”

  The vanity mirror reflected Merrick’s impassive expression. Only the slight tightening of her lips revealed her dresser’s displeasure. She would consider this evening’s choice of toilette dowdy, but Merrick wasn’t a rich banker’s daughter making her first foray into the most exclusive strata of London society. This initial, grueling inspection must create a favorable, or at the very least unremarkable, impression.

  Merrick was disappointed by the understatement, knowing that theater attendees took the opportunity to overdress. She opened for display four, velvet-lined boxes that contained every kind, color, and style of jewelry and gems. She held her tongue when her mistress selected a simple, four-strand choker of pearls and her favorite gold bangle studded with emeralds.

  Elizabeth thought her reflection looked pale and dabbed on a touch of rouge. The things one must do for one’s country.

  And everything had to be perfect for Asterly’s sake. It was necessary for his safety that she become an accepted member of his circle and be seen with him in public before they were married.

  She shivered, recalling that the wedding was only a few days away. Merrick, thinking that her mistress was chilled, replaced the frilly dressing gown that had slipped from her shoulders. Elizabeth smiled her thanks into the mirror and watched Merrick finish the coiffure
with the pearl-tipped pins.

  To give their story of a love match credibility, Asterly spread the tale through the army of London’s servants that he and Elizabeth had been acquainted, having met through his friendship to Devon. To lend the story romanticism, he added the tidbit that he’d been secretly in love with his friend’s wife for years.

  Elizabeth felt uncomfortable with the falsehoods inherent in Asterly’s tale and unwilling to believe that anything would save their union from looking like anything other than cream-pot love.

  For her part, she couldn’t see any other reason why a man like Asterly would be interested in her. Each season, rich merchant daughters invaded London’s Marriage Mart. Their aim was to marry into the peerage. She couldn’t see where or how a matronly widow could be more attractive than a malleable girl. It was true that some men preferred a female with experience and poise. This she could offer, plus a lively interest in politics. She knew almost nothing of what pleased a man sexually. If not for their fortune, why were some women preferred more than others?

  She stood while Merrick carefully applied talc. Was Asterly’s attraction to her sincere, more than he would feel for any female? He had mentioned that he hoped for a future in government. Her circle of political friends couldn’t have escaped his notice. Perhaps that was a deciding factor, along with England’s need to use her banks.

  Merrick offered a selection of gloves. Elizabeth indicated a pair, while becoming more intrigued with the aspect of being involved with the war. Asterly and his superiors would expect her to remain calm should a crisis arise. Perhaps she should contact Manton’s for pistols and the name of someone to teach her to shoot.

  Merrick interrupted her thoughts. “Mrs. Shelton, what is that tune you’re humming?”

  “Humming? I hadn’t realized. Couldn’t say. I think it was something Lord Asterly sang.”

  “If you’ll pardon me for saying so, ma’am, he has a magnificent voice. So deep and rich. Everyone below stairs talks about it, ever since the last rout.”