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

by Julia Donner

  She gently disengaged from the tender kiss he placed on the redness and went to ring for Crimm, having asked him to stand ready to bring up warm water and another set of clothes.

  She watched Asterly shave, delighting in the way he hummed as he scraped the soap and bristles from his face and paused as he did his neck. He teased her for only watching and not doing the shaving, loving Devon best. She grinned at him over the cup rim of her hot chocolate.

  Tea and jam-smeared toast were eaten while he dressed. The way he thoughtlessly handled the stiletto, sliding it back into the side of his boot without thinking, made her shiver. He dashed off an address on the letter and waved it dry, since there was no sand. The attached metal rings he hid inside the folds of his handkerchief and tucked into a side pocket. With the letter and his gloves in one hand, he took hers in the other and went down the stairs.

  Crimm met them in the foyer. “Your horse is ready, my lord, waiting in the back garden.”

  “Excellent.” Asterly set the letter on a side table. “This isn’t franked. Have it hand delivered by someone you trust.”

  Elizabeth asked, “Shouldn’t I be doing that?”

  He switched his gloves to his other hand and tapped her on the nose. “No, m’dear. It doesn’t concern you. Come outside and send me off properly.”

  As they silently walked to Ramona, his tight hold of her hand never lessened. He accepted the reins from Peter Mockley, who sensed their tension. He tugged the bill of his cap and quickly left.

  She watched Asterly check the tack and tighten the girth. Other than nudging Asterly in greeting with her nose, Ramona stood peacefully. Not even a casual switch of her thick, black tail. Elizabeth placed her hand on the mare’s neck. She’d never felt an affinity for horses, like many did, but there was something about this particular horse that drew her closer. A large, brown eye calmly studied her master’s lady, as if waiting for something.

  Elizabeth touched her brow to Ramona’s flat cheek. The mare smelled of sweet grass. The smooth horsehair against her skin felt coarse and slick.

  Bring him home to me, Ramona. Keep him safe.

  Leather squeaked, breaking off the plea and prayer. She stepped around the horse’s head to the mare’s left and looked up. Asterly removed a glove and cupped one side of her face in his hand.

  When he said nothing, she whispered through a constricted throat, “You will be careful, won’t you, my lord?”

  He rubbed a thumb over her lower lip. “Be careful, who?”

  “Peregrine. Be careful, Peregrine.”

  After a thorough inspection of her face, he said, “It’s doubtful I can come back again for another night visit. I suppose that’s why I was so hard on you this time. Storing up for the drought.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense.”

  “Yes, my practical girl, but I know you enjoyed yourself. I made sure of that, but I should’ve shown more restraint and not been so greedy for that luscious body of yours. Ah, there’s that blush. Did you know that you do that all the way down to your toes afterwards?”

  “Please, Peregrine, not now. Not when you’re leaving.”

  He acknowledged her plea with a sharp nod and straightened up to tug on his glove. “Sorry. Back to business. I expect that the rest of my correspondence will be coming via bank dispatches from now on. It’s time for you to go up to London and decipher them. Harry knows who gets the messages. He’ll help you make everyone believe I’m in town and not infiltrating Napoleon’s camps.”

  He leaned down to brush the backs of his gloved fingers down her cheek. “Don’t worry so, Eliza. I’ve been doing this a long time. They won’t catch me.”

  She didn’t say it, but dearly wanted to—but what they can’t catch, they shoot.

  The bridle rattled when Ramona turned her head. A velvet-soft, black muzzle touched her hand. The mare’s warm, moist breath brushed over her skin. Elizabeth forced her lips to smile. Her throat choked off the farewell words she planned to say as she watched Ramona back up then pivot.

  With arms straight at her sides and hands clenched into fists, she watched the pair lope down the hillside and winding road until swallowed up by the trees bordering the parkland. Cold tears wet her face and dripped off her jaw. The weight of a premonition made her want to sink to the ground and wail. The urge to weep warred with the need to chase after him, shout for him to come back. Something deep inside warned her that this time, he would be caught.

  Chapter 35

  Cards and invitations started to arrive the day after she returned to town and had the knocker replaced. Harry decided they would attend a rout at Lady Byerly’s and added Elizabeth’s name to his acceptance note. Harry believed her first appearance should be at a small assembly. On his arm, he could introduce her in a less obvious manner.

  His solution relieved Elizabeth more than she could express to him. He wouldn’t have a reference for understanding her lack of confidence with the ton when she acted so confident in other ways. She didn’t know Lady Alice Byerly, but it was said that she had a pleasing, friendly nature. Knowledge of that calmed her nerves.

  Harry got her through introductions, and their hostess greeted her in a sweet voice. Interest in Asterly’s rich wife filled her dance card. Harry stayed by her side until the music started, danced with her once and handed her off for the cotillion to Freddy, who’d arrived late. She danced two more times and asked to be delivered to an empty chair. She declined her dance partner’s offer to fetch her refreshment. His leaving her alone provided the opportunity to lay to rest her fears about entering London society. She began to enjoy watching dancers move through the patterns and guests stroll around the room.

  “You’ve come up in the world.”

  Dread sent icy trickles down Elizabeth’s arms. She wished she had a shawl to crawl under, or at the very least, wrap around her bare shoulders. That voice triggered every humiliation suffered during internment at seminary. The misery of the badgering taunts came flooding back, the complete alienation from all of her classmates, ostracized and mocked by every one of them. The woman standing by her chair had started and led the game, done the worst of the damage. It was bad enough that her nemesis looked down on her socially. There was no way Elizabeth would tolerate it physically. She stood.

  “Good evening, Lady Gertrude.”

  Her classmate’s blond hair had gone from silky fair to brassy gold. The spiteful gaze and pouty mouth hadn’t changed, nor had the big, slightly yellowed teeth. “What happened to your escort, shop girl?”

  “Asterly will be joining me later.”

  Lady Gertrude waved her fan. Something about the movement made Elizabeth think about a coiling serpent. She waited for the strike.

  “I meant Sir Harry.”

  “He’s dancing, as you would see if you turned around. If you’ll excuse me?”

  The side of the fan halted Elizabeth’s escape with a whack on her arm. The whalebone edge stayed there, holding Elizabeth back from leaving. “No, shop girl. Not before you fetch Harry over here. If you look his way, he’ll come to you. I’ve been watching. When not on the dance floor, he’s at your side. Ah, it appears we have other late-comers. Influential ones. Allow me to introduce you to the Ravenswolds.”

  Lord and Lady Ravenswold’s entrance had quieted the room. Everyone knew that the earl rarely attended social functions. The reason for breaking this precedent was made clear when the couple’s attention searched for and found Elizabeth.

  “Introductions won’t be necessary, Lady Gertrude.”

  Elizabeth stepped back from the pressure on her arm and walked toward the arched entry, where Lady Byerly, wearing a perplexed expression, spoke to guests who ignored her in favor of smiling at Elizabeth’s approach.

  Lady Byerly’s eyebrows lifted when Cass stretched out gloved hands to greet Elizabeth. “There you are, Eliza. We’ve come to tell you that Asterly can’t fetch you home. He’s been detained at Horse Guards.”

  Lady Byerly interrupted, “But you
must stay for a while. Perhaps a dance or two?”

  Ravenswold answered that in his rumbling bass, “Can’t abide dancing. Well, Cass, would you like to have a turn with Harry? You dance so well together.”

  “Excellent!” Lady Byerly crowed, taking Lady Ravenswold’s hand in an attempt to lead her away.

  Elizabeth smiled at her friend’s visual request of whether to stay or go. “Enjoy yourself. Since Asterly won’t be coming, I’ll keep his lordship company.”

  Ravenswold was drawn away to the card room when Elizabeth was asked again to dance by another one of her salon attendees, who sat with her afterward and begged an invitation to her next assembly. She agreed, and having no other names on her card, planned to stay in the chair, which was partially hidden behind a column. She smiled at the rush of men begging for the countess to dance and her friend’s graceful movements. No wonder Rave wanted her to dance. Cass openly relished the opportunity and drew everyone’s eye during an energetic reel. Then she noticed Lady Gertrude scanning the dance floor.

  Elizabeth got up and headed for the arched entry. The reel ended before she got that far. A group of laughing dancers congregated there, blocking her way. A swift check revealed that Harry was delivering his dance partner to her chaperone. Freddy and Rave were in the card room. Only the top of Cass’s red hair showed above the swarm of gentlemen seeking her attention.

  Itching with impatience to make her escape, Elizabeth concentrated on maintaining outer calm and waited for chatting dancers to disperse. A sharp rap on her elbow made her flinch, the slapping sound more disturbing than the sting. She knew who’d struck her before turning around and spoke first to cut off the insult before it could be delivered.

  “Lady Gertrude?”

  “I told you to fetch Harry.”

  Elizabeth felt the attention of the cluster of people under the archway shift. A cringe skittered over her flesh as she noticed the guests on the periphery of the group cease talking, sensed their curiosity and amazement.

  She lifted her gaze to the gloating gleam in Lady Gertrude’s eyes, the sly smirk of superiority.

  Adopting an attitude of disinterest, Elizabeth looked away. “He is otherwise engaged.”

  “Stupid Cit, I can see that for myself. He’s the only reason you’re here. I could scarcely believe it when Lady Byerly bragged that Harry accepted her invitation. She eventually confessed that he felt obligated to bring you along, even though you are definitely out of your milieu.”

  Elizabeth caught herself in the act of tugging on the material at her gloved wrist. It was a habit she’d never been able to cast off, stemming from attempts to hide ink-stained fingers with her cuffs.

  Cruel taunts from seminary came flooding back. Old terrors smothered the breath in her lungs and stopped her from fleeing. Words came at her, when classmates surrounded her, suffocating, trapping her with insults.

  Look at her totting up those numbers like a shopkeeper.

  Hasn’t anyone told her that jewels are never worn before a certain hour?

  The bold colors she wears would shame a female of ill-repute.

  What is the headmistress thinking, allowing her sort to attend?

  Her presence among us is nothing less than an abomination.

  Someone tittered within the group at her back, bringing Elizabeth back to the present. Behind her, from all around, came the rustle of whispers.

  She forced herself to think clearly enough to devise a set down for Lady Gertrude, but by the time she’d refocused, her nemesis was walking away to intercept Harry on his return to do his duty as escort.

  Shaken by vivid memories and Lady Gertrude’s viper tongue, Elizabeth had to get away before she made a spectacle of her wrecked emotional state. She must find solitude somewhere to collect her poise. Why couldn’t she rid herself of that woman’s ability to shred her emotions?

  Gathering what was left of her courage, she ignored the curious stares and elbowed her way through the crowd. A servant in the hallway gestured to the staircase. It seemed to take forever to reach the retiring room on the third floor.

  She selected one of the four screened-off areas and stepped behind the barrier. Folded cloths and a basin of scented water waited on a stand. She dipped a cloth into the water and pressed the dampness to her brow and neck. Her heart gradually slowed and she sat on a padded stool, grateful she hadn’t broken down to the extent of weeping in front of gawkers.

  Voices came into the room and a maid came to block entry to the screen where she hid. Women continued to come and go. She didn’t care and sat until calmed. Then a familiar, brittle laugh made her teeth clench.

  “Charlotte, have one of the maids stitch up that hem while we’re here. And try not to be so obvious around Lady Ravenswold. Worming your way through that throng of men she invariably attracts took toadying to a new level.”

  “That’s jealousy talking, Gertie. Did you see Harry dancing with that ridiculous Mrs. Waring? Whatever made him ask her?”

  Lady Gertrude replied, “Perhaps the same maggot that has him escorting the merchant class all over town. He’s known for his soft heart. He’s also been dancing with the homeliest debutantes, no doubt to spread some of his cache on the pathetic creatures. Ah, here is dear Alice. Is Harry still dancing with that harridan twice his age?”

  “No, Gertie. He’s asking around for his sister-in-law, poor thing.”

  Lady Gertrude said, “Why do you bother to pity the lower orders? She has Harry at her beck and call and snagged herself a title.”

  Something inherently evil was revealed when sweet-voiced Alice’s tone turned acidic. “Show some compassion, Gertie dear. She doesn’t understand our ways. I expect she thinks Asterly’s in love with her or something equally tedious. I doubt she knows about the ladybird he has stashed in Kensington Gardens, not far from Harry’s house, by the way. I waited to say anything about it. It’s the sort of thing you do best, Gertie.”

  Lady Gertrude laughed. “I wonder if they share her?”

  Alice asked with snide glee, “Who? The mistress and Harry, or the girl from trade? Oh my, the combinations leave me confused.”

  Charlotte said, “Harry certainly doesn’t mind having more than one female at a time. My Charles said the talk at the club is endless when it comes to Harry’s petticoat diversions, and what female in town wouldn’t want a part in that ménage?”

  “Or watching?” Alice’s scandalized voice whispered.

  After a spate of giggles, Gertrude said, “Alice, I bestow on you the honors to dispel her ignorance, but I beg of you to let me watch while you tell her about Mrs. Vernon. The poor thing should at least be made aware of Asterly’s muslin. Everyone else under the sun has known about her for years. Papa’s connected to the Foreign Office, you know, and hears everything.”

  Sarcasm in Alice’s sweet voice made her reply sound all the more vicious. “Dear Gertie, why does it not surprise me that you’d eavesdrop on gentlemanly conversations that are none of your business.”

  Lady Gertrude replied, her tone dark and lurid, “But you’re happy to discover the unsavory results, dear Alice. I also overheard it said that they had to practically stick a pistol to Asterly’s head to get him to marry her. Something to do with a bank got him to agree to the liaison. That female’s financial worth borders on the vulgar. Wouldn’t be the first time one of our own had to sell his title to a Cit.”

  Another voice joined the group, “It’s no surprise he’d take her. Everyone knows that Asterly is utterly without brass and refuses to allow Sir Harry to feed the family coffers. Penniless, the baron may be, yet he still found the funds to support a mistress while Marshfield went to rack and ruin.”

  The ugly chatter went on but Elizabeth blocked out the gossip. She waited with teeth clenched and face burning for them to leave. She would find Harry. Have him take her away from this hellish mess.

  She flinched when something struck the hands she held clasped on her lap. Tears—droplets she carefully blotted with the damp
cloth. A few spots showed on the gown but no matter. It was time to leave and find some other way to make people believe her husband was in town and not somewhere across the channel spying.

  When Lady Gertrude and friends left, Elizabeth stood, went around the screen, and said to the maid, “Your name, please.”

  The girl curtsied. “Hazel, m’lady.”

  “Thank you, Hazel, for guarding my privacy. I truly needed that time for myself. May I have the name of your butler or housekeeper?”

  “M’lady, did I do something amiss?”

  “Certainly not. I only wish to send a token. I am—”

  “Oh, m’lady, everyone knows who you are.” When Elizabeth inquired with a meaningful gaze, the maid replied, “You’re Sir Harry’s sister-in-law, Lady Asterly.”

  Elizabeth left the retiring room, sped down two flights of steps and kept going to the ground floor. She stopped before reaching the front door and took a moment to consider what she was doing. Running away.

  She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. There were advantages to being a baroness.

  Elizabeth supposed she confused the foyer footman, who held open the door for a madwoman fleeing without her cloak but didn’t care. She took her gown in hand, climbed back up the stairs, and went to stand under the ballroom’s arched entry. A few glances turned her way, but the most important person whose attention she expected to attract was her hostess, Alice, Lady Byerly, who made no attempt to hide her resentment for being drawn away from her other guests.

  While Lady Byerly approached, Elizabeth scanned the guests, found Harry, and meaningfully stared. He came swiftly across the gleaming floor where dancers began to pause and break off the cotillion in progress. Cass, Ravenswold and Freddy followed him, crowding around Elizabeth, who drilled her coldest glare into Lady Byerly’s impatient expression.

  “Harry, I believe it is time to leave. A circumstance has made my presence here untenable.”

  She noticed her friends’ concern as Harry asked, “What is amiss?”