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

by Julia Donner

  The one-act had started by the time they entered Harry’s box. Peregrine settled Elizabeth in a chair and took a seat beside her against the wall. He wanted her to be clearly seen and have room to greet visitors who might come into the box throughout the evening. He had no interest in the one act, was too familiar with Lear, and had no plans to stay for the farce. Elizabeth’s tastes were somewhat Puritan and might be shocked by the comedy’s bawdy content. By that time of the evening, the fistfights and drunken brawls in the pit became as interesting as the action on stage.

  There was no way to shield her from the open market for flesh bartering that went on between the courtesans and bucks in the pit. Even though he’d been in a quandary as to how to protect and preserve her strait-laced disposition, he was glad she wasn’t jaded. Most women were at her age, but Elizabeth retained a refreshing artlessness.

  Content to sit back and watch her reaction to the patrons and performances, he revisited the physically intimate episode on the steps. He sat in shadow where no one could see his appreciation of what would soon be his. For now, his imagination would have to suffice.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth thought she’d prepared herself for the avid curiosity from the boxes on all sides of the theater. Craning, inquisitive faces stared up from the noisy pit below. Everyone gawked, straining for a glimpse of the future Lady Asterly, leaving the one-act in progress ignored. Even the actors attempted glances while delivering lines.

  The unfortunates ensconced in the highest seats of the galleries leaned over the banisters, peering through layers of smoke to search out the source of everyone’s attention. Lower, in the surrounding tiers of subscription boxes, quizzing glasses were aimed at her from every quarter, whispered comments shared behind fans and gloved hands.

  Elizabeth clenched her teeth behind a fixed smile and blinked back the tears burning her eyes. This was not like seminary. She could get up and leave whenever she liked, but she would see this through. She must. She’d made a promise.

  It helped that she could feel Asterly’s gaze steadying her false courage. She occupied her mind with the intensity of his regard. The lavish draperies concealed his slight grin and hooded intent, while she sat exposed, at the mercy of every coldly assessing eye.

  A moment before the urge to flee overwhelmed, gloved fingers slid around her wrist, a gentle grip that conveyed encouragement and his confidence in her. She turned her head slightly to smile her thanks, feeling disappointment when he released her and returned his attention to the play, but his brief display of support buoyed her spirits and calmed her anxiety.

  The story on stage caught her attention and she quickly became interested. When the gawkers perceived that their vulgar inspections were being ignored, they turned their attention elsewhere. The ridiculousness of the situation stirred her sense of humor. She might have to win over London society, but she didn’t have to like them or their fickle ways.

  Elizabeth lifted her fan to her nose to murmur, “Asterly, when you invited me to the theater, you never warned that every eye would either be openly or covertly examining us.”

  “All part of the plan, m’dear. The box belongs to Harry. A bit above my touch until we’re tied, and I thought we agreed you’d call me by my given name.”

  “In private, not publicly.”

  “Ashamed, are you? Hadn’t considered you mightn’t wish to be seen with me. Do not fret. I’m accustomed to standing in the shadow of Harry’s grandeur. Perhaps I should’ve had Cranston select a less somber rig.”

  She glanced over the silk vest under a sedate coat of black superfine. “What nonsense. You know you look splendid.”

  A spark of pleasure glinted in his eyes before his expression returned to aloof and inscrutable. “Glad to hear you think so, m’dear, but I hold no illusions. Once my brother shows his face, I’ll be properly shoved back into the shade.”

  He looked away before Elizabeth could decipher the wry implication. She wet her lips and carefully asked, “I don’t wish to pry, but you’ve not made it a secret that there is some difficulty…an awkwardness between you and your brother.”

  He didn’t immediately answer. When he did, he didn’t look at her but continued to watch the one-act winding to a close. “I’ve tried for years to forgive Harry and know I should.”

  “For what?”

  “Throwing his life away, I suppose. He’s one of those rare individuals born with every advantage. Academically, he’s exceptional. Excels at everything he does and yet squanders himself on dissipation. Blast it, I went into the military so he could follow his calling and not have to set up as someone’s secretary or steward.”

  When he ended the uncomfortable subject, she followed his gaze to the stage. Now that everyone had a chance to inspect the future Lady Asterly, the hooting, howls and food throwing from the patrons seated below resumed, their reaction to the poor storyline.

  Elizabeth tried to pay no attention to the chair that waited on her left but felt her gaze shifting to the empty, red velvet seat. Asterly had seated her where she’d be most easily seen by patrons in the boxes above and directly across. Even from a distance she sensed their scorn. Orders and jewels glittered, matching their hard stares.

  Her throat closed, refusing attempts to swallow. How could he think they would ever accept her? Their barely veiled contempt drained her brief confidence, but there was no way to leave without creating fresh fodder for gossip.

  Memories of humiliations from school days resurfaced. She couldn’t face more of that sort of cruelty, or even casual rudeness. She had to cry off. Her open fan quivered. She refolded it and lowered it to her lap, where she clutched it so tightly she feared the fragile spines would snap. Everything within her stilled when his fingers again wrapped around her wrist.

  “Steady on, old girl. You can do this.”

  She inhaled and realized she’d forgotten to keep her smile in place. Warmth and confidence soaked though his glove. His strength sent bracing encouragement into her failing spirit. “I’m angry with myself that I’ve let this childhood fear take over my good sense.”

  “Sounds very like when one has a fear of heights. We won’t stay overlong. Perhaps if you remember, m’dear, this endeavor isn’t entirely about you. This is about war. Best prepare yourself for visitors during the intervals.”

  She forced stiff lips into a coquettish smile. “Never imagined King Lear would come as a bit of cheering up.”

  His dark chuckle filled her with an unexpected warmth that soothed the coldness within. He patted the back of her hand. “That’s my Eliza.”

  A ripple of whispered excitement raced through the audience. Everyone stared their way with smiles and eager faces. The unfortunates, high up in the heat and smoke of the gallery, leaned over the banisters, risking a fall. Down in the pit, everyone craned to see. Some stood on their seats. The attendees in the boxes across the way affected ennui but couldn’t entirely hide their anticipation.

  Then Elizabeth realized they weren’t looking at her. Their attention was trained somewhere behind her. Sir Harry’s name sped around the theater, electrifying the air. A patron, standing on his seat threw a cabbage at the stage. He got side-tracked by Sir Harry’s name and didn’t duck in time when the actor lobbed it back into the audience.

  Asterly’s comforting grasp withdrew from her wrist when the theater box door clicked open. A raucous cheer rose up from the floor when Sir Harry swept inside, eclipsing the actors on the stage, who broke off their performance to applaud the arrival of Handsome Harry. Elizabeth shifted slightly in her seat to greet the arrival, her future brother-in-law.

  Not as sturdily built as Asterly, whose movements were often abrupt and always assertive, his twin presented a leaner version and a dancer’s fluid grace, which he displayed by melting into the chair beside hers. Elizabeth gaped, powerless to stop her lips from parting. At close-range, Sir Harry Collyns did take one’s breath away.

  Asterly’s attention remained fixed on the actors
on stage, as he sourly muttered, “Mrs. Elizabeth Bradley Shelton, I beg to make known to you my unfortunate brother.”

  The vision by her chair lifted her hand and bowed over it, presenting a shiny crown of dark gold waves and wayward curls. He spared a moment of acknowledgement for his noisy admirers with a patently false smile of humility and circular wave of a frilly handkerchief. They answered with shouts for his attention, pleas to see what he wore. He tipped his head in an acquiescent bow, stood, and stepped closer to the railing. Extending his arms, he pivoted left and right. They rewarded him with whistles and applause.

  His ensemble consisted of a Bishop’s blue velvet coat that fitted his lean figure like a second skin. At wrist and throat silk lace of palest pink, a shade known as Blush—a shocking departure from the traditional—fell in a frothy cascade. The pearl white of his Nakara breeches gleamed under the candlelight. Sandalwood’s exotic scent wafted from his white satin waistcoat embroidered with navy flowerettes. Blue leather pumps sported navy bows. White silk hugged muscular legs, identical to his brother’s, but Harry’s stockings had purple clocks dancing up the sides.

  Jewels and gems vied for attention with the orders that blazed across his chest. But the sparkle and glitter didn’t draw Elizabeth as much as the man within. Something vital glowed inside this mercurial being, shining brighter and finer than his showy exterior.

  Capturing her hand, Harry ignored his adoring audience and sank gracefully into the chair. Startling blue eyes—cobalt blue rimmed in black—gazed soulfully into hers. He caught his lower lip in the grip of fine, white teeth for a moment and then struck an Attitude, an affectation popular among the dandies.

  His artistic pose was that of the devoted Languishing Swain. He pressed her hand to his tragically broken heart. She pinched back a smile when she noticed he positioned her captured hand so as not to disturb the arrangement of his neckwear. He lifted his other gloved hand to her, palm up, a poignant plea for mercy. Everyone applauded, including the actors.

  Sir Harry ignored them. His voice, deep and dulcet, layered with mockery and hidden meaning, crooned, “My own dear sister! I’ve longed for a female sibling since boyhood. It grieves me to confess that I feared my dullard brother wasn’t in possession of a heart. I wept and prayed continuously for his lack of this most vital organ, yet never dreamed he’d locate one and use it to give me my fondest desire…a sister!”

  Elizabeth couldn’t stifle the laugh bubbling up and out. She meant to muffle it, but held a fan in her right hand and Harry wouldn’t let go of her left.

  Harry laughed with her, breaking eye contact for only a moment to scold, “Perry, you never told me she has dimples!”

  Elizabeth took hold of her emotions and attempted formality even though it was impossible not to grin at the outrageous creature. “And I’m equally pleased to meet you, Sir Harry.”

  Harry flinched, and leaned back, as if physically wounded. “Oh, no! We must never be distant in our address. You cannot go about treating me like an Anybody. You must give me leave to call you Elizabeth. I must be Harry.” He fluttered his gorgeous eyes. “Or perhaps…dearest Harry?”

  Asterly groaned. “Oh, lord, luncheon’s coming up.”

  Harry chortled and playfully squinted at his brother, but Elizabeth couldn’t quell her enchantment. She’d never met anyone so sparkling with life and mischief. Although she preferred Asterly’s rugged urbanity, Harry’s ridiculous behavior buoyed her spirits and fed her courage. He radiated joyous abandon, and he stared at her as if she were a goddess, not merely plain Miss Bradley from Manchester.

  She took a moment to savor silent bemusement. This mad, beautiful creature would soon be her brother. How mystifying and incredible. She’d never stopped mourning the loss of her little brother, Stephen, and envied others blessed with devoted, attentive siblings. And here sat Sir Harry, claiming he’d always wanted a sister.

  A calm happiness settled within, instinct telling her they’d always be friends. She refused to question this odd epiphany, because it meant that she would never be alone again. Harry would be there, ready for her to confide in and rely on at the worst of times. No matter how silly he acted, she saw his true character under the charade.

  Elizabeth grinned in a way she knew would flash her dimples. “Then if we’re to be family, I suppose I must bend a little.” She leaned closer. “Dearest Harry.”

  “Ah!” Harry exclaimed, exultant. He fervently pressed her hand to his cheek. In the next moment, he flipped it back into her lap and swept up onto his feet to call down into the pit. “Did you hear that everyone? Asterly’s given me a sister!”

  Congratulatory shouts rose up from below. In the boxes circling the theater, ladies indulgently nodded. Men bowed and sent her avuncular grins.

  All in a moment, because of Harry, she’d been accepted. Perhaps not liked, but accepted. Incredible.

  Harry ignored the shouts of approbation, appearing to expect nothing less. And then, like his twin, Harry changed in an instant. With his back to the onlookers, his frivolous mien became dark and cynical as he gazed down at his stone-faced brother.

  In a lowered voice, no longer light and carefree, Harry murmured, “Your servant, Perry. Will that do?”

  Chapter 21

  Peregrine calmed the angry pounding of his heart, while Elizabeth stared up at his brother as if he were divine. How easily Harry manipulated.

  “Well done, Harry, and I have every intention of holding you to the rest of our agreement.” Nodding at the drama about to begin, Peregrine strove for a cool tone. “Are you engaged after this?”

  “I promised to meet Alvanley for a few rounds of faro.”

  Peregrine narrowed his eyes when Harry looked over his shoulder and blew a kiss to an overblown redhead in pink and too many jewels. “Still winning, Harry?”

  “Always do, Perry. Got to keep up appearances, but we’re neglecting Elizabeth.” Harry turned to Elizabeth, his lips curved in a genuine smile. “In you, dear sister, I’m content that my clod of a brother is capable of doing something worthwhile. Because of you, I believe I can find it in myself to forgive his deplorable taste.” He retook his seat in the chair beside hers. “You must have noticed, dear Sis, that my twin insists on recognizing that dreadful man, Brummell, who insulted a friend of mine. Prinny has never been the same.”

  Elizabeth touched Harry’s sleeve. “Please, I must warn you that Mr. Brummell is also a friend of mine. I cannot allow you to discredit him.”

  Harry’s seriousness evaporated. He sighed and blessed her with an adoring expression. “Loyalty and spirit. Will you defend me as ferociously, sister?”

  Peregrine’s heart stopped when she leaned slightly toward him and waggled her eyebrows. “To the death, darling brother!”

  Heads turned when Harry threw back his head and laughed. He captured her hand in both of his. “The world will envy me with a sister such as you. Furthermore, I forgive Brummell and my loutish brother for being such dreary specimens.”

  When Harry released her, Peregrine noticed a slight movement that revealed distress. Her hand briefly rubbed her right wrist, a habit no one else would notice. But Peregrine noticed everything about her. His lips tightened. Something Harry had said disturbed an old wound. Perhaps she assumed Harry’s attentions were nothing more than a pretense, the fulfillment of an obligation.

  But his valiant Eliza covered her disappointment with a smile, making sure her dimples peeked. “And I reply, well done, dearest Harry. You shall have a treat.”

  Harry chortled and shook a gloved finger at her. “I can’t think of how such a boring creature as my brother managed to snatch you up from under the noses of the other fortune hunters.” He paused to give her a dreamy stare. “Is it true that you’re fabulously rich?”

  Peregrine barked, “Harry, you muckworm! Take yourself off. There’s already a farce on the playbill.”

  Just to aggravate and do the opposite, Harry waved his handkerchief at the royal box and pointed proudly at El
izabeth, showing her off in manner that would have been designated as vulgar in anyone else.

  After bowing to his friend and prince, Harry leaned close, as if to flirtatiously whisper in her ear. “That’s Lady Holland’s set directly across. She’s been breaking her knees, begging for an introduction. Since Perry has refused to introduce us until tonight, I’ve been unable to escort you there. But there we will go, and very soon. The conversation will interest you.”

  Elizabeth’s hand went to her wrist again. Her attention darted to the cadre of the social set across the way, their obvious boredom and brittle arrogance. Most of them looked like clever snakes waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

  With a hint of anxiety in her voice, she asked, “Why do you think so, Harry?”

  “My darling sister, you may try to be reclusive, but everyone knows about your salon choked with literary and political elites.”

  Peregrine unclenched the fist he’d had shoved against his chin but couldn’t hide the snap in his tone. “You won’t take her to Holland House, Harry. I don’t want her anywhere near that crowd.”

  Sporting a wicked smirk, Harry agreed with a mocking bow, then explained to Elizabeth, “Lady Holland nourishes a tender spot for Napoleon. She told me she plans to send the Corsican a box of treats to commiserate his stay on Elba.”

  Elizabeth murmured, “Then I shouldn’t think I would like to make her acquaintance. We must consider Asterly’s situation.”

  Harry said, “So obedient so soon?” When she only smiled, he waved his handkerchief and nodded at the box to the right. “That’s some of the Almack set. They won’t have anything to do with the Hollands either. Lady Holland’s divorced, if you remember, but I like her.”

  Peregrine warned, “Harry.”

  “Very well. It shall be as you wish, brother dear. Lizzie, I’ll introduce you to the Countesses Cowper and Lieven as soon as our darling Perry takes himself off to whatever sordid intrigue he’s involved in now. Oh, look. There’s Yarmouth. Have nothing to do with him, Sis. He’ll come nosing around if he thinks Perry’s out of town. The fellows Prinny runs with are not for you.”