Of course, with Napoleon finally at St. Helena, Jared had decided his covert missions must eventually come to an end. His decision seemed to coincide with his brother's demise, a fact that had shattered Jared’s happiness like a French cannon ball to his heart. Jared had loved Edmond and regretted having to return to England to carry on the earldom his brother had lost.
Jared had learned one too many times that love must be kept at a distance or avoided altogether. Hearing his aunt clear her throat, he looked up. What in the world had she been chattering about now?
"You have not upset Lady Emily, have you?"
Jared's fork halted halfway to his mouth. Had Agatha knowledge about his past with Lady Emily and the old duke's wretched scheme? "Upset her? What do you take me for?"
Agatha's burning gaze drilled into him as if she were Wellington himself.
He clenched his jaw. "What?"
Agatha picked up her trusty parasol and thumped it twice on the rug. "You are concealing something from me. Your eyes have fallen halfway open like a cat that ate his favorite mouse. For your information, when Emily departed for the vicarage, her face was as pale as Lord Beelhaven's ghost."
"Dash it all, Agatha. Lord Beelhaven has no ghost. And I have done nothing to upset the lady." Liar. "However, if I had done such a thing, I would not be the one to confess it to you."
"Oh ho, there is a ghost. I have seen it." His aunt tore off a piece of her bun and raised her head with a cool glare in his direction. "For depend upon it, you are an incorrigible liar, Lord Stonebridge." She skewered his title with a heavy dose of sarcasm that hit its mark quite accurately.
"Incorrigible now, is it? Last time I was here I was lovable."
"Hmmmph. Lovable liar. What's the difference? And pray, remember the last time you were here was three years ago, after which you bought into the army and sailed off to India with your new wife." She paused, looking at him suspiciously. "And now you have no one."
No one but his little girl whom he would see soon. Yet because of his direct involvement in stealing missives from Napoleon himself, Jared had no wish to involve his daughter in any type of confrontation with one of Boney's loyalists, namely Monsieur Devereaux, who vowed revenge and could still be alive, though most thought the contrary.
As to Agatha and Jane, Jared knew the chances of revenge against them were slim. Yet as a precaution, he had installed more secret aides from Whitehall to act as servants at Hemmingly to watch the ladies as well.
All this extra security seemed to amuse the duke, since Roderick was one of the persons who knew of Jared's covert actions. In fact, the duke, himself, had been involved in similar activities. Roderick assured Jared that the French agent, Monsieur Devereaux, was dead. Roderick proclaimed he had shot the man while rescuing Jared from prison.
No matter, Jared thought. He knew he was being obsessive about the situation, but he still needed to make certain of the man's death and consequently awaited a confirming letter from Whitehall.
Avoiding his aunt's penetrating gaze, Jared turned his head and whistled for Nigel. The dog immediately pounced from behind the curtains, coming to sit at his feet. He gave the dog some scraps from the table and glanced across the silver teapot resting on the table in front of his aunt. Heaven save him from interfering females. Agatha's determined gray eyes were fixed on his face as if he were a prize to be raffled.
"From the look of you, I believe that you have someone in mind for me to marry?" he said with a scowl. "Well, forget it."
Devil take it. He had no wish to discuss his past or the bonds of matrimony. He had his own plans for a future wife in a marriage of convenience, and he was quite determined that Agatha would not be involved.
"Ha! So you read minds now, do you?"
Understanding finally dawned on Jared. "By Jove, you cannot be thinking of marrying me to Lady Emily?"
Agatha gave him another withering stare. "I can assure you that Lady Emily is not looking to marry your money or your agreeable personality, my dear boy."
Jared lifted a sarcastic brow. "Agreeable now, am I?"
Agatha inclined her head over the teapot and lowered her voice. "I assure you, this is not about Lady Emily. I had no reason to speak to you of this before, but . . ."
She stopped talking to swallow a bite of buttered bread, then to Jared's surprise she stood, shooing the servants away with that cursed parasol. The door inevitably snapped closed, and Jared groaned.
His eating instantly halted as soon as the ugly parasol winged his way. Nigel, the fiend, had hightailed it to the opposite side of the room. "Man's best friend," Jared muttered to his dog. "Whoever coined that phrase certainly had no aunts with black parasols."
"I heard that!"
Jared's lips thinned as Agatha plopped her parasol beside the table and sank back into her chair. "Another one of these private talks, Aunt Agatha." He raised his cup of tea to his lips. "Have you forgotten I am a man now and not a little boy who has raided Cook's cupboard?"
She shot him a cool glare. "I will say nothing of that beefsteak that disappeared days ago." Nigel barked. "But upon my word, you are an insolent pup. It would behoove you to take care of your ward. Since her parents died, Jane has been alone, save for you and me."
An embarrassing heat crawled up Jared's neck. He admitted he had left Agatha with much of the responsibility for Jane. But he never doubted his ward would not be safe. Agatha was like a lioness with her cub when it came to the girl's welfare.
Agatha regarded him with a keen eye and continued, "So good to know you at least have a conscience, my boy. I daresay, I forgave you for the past two years when you hopped from England to France and back again in those war games with Whitehall, but our dear, sweet Jane is—"
Jared shot from his seat, his chair crashing to the floor. "War games!" How this sweet elderly lady had possibly uncovered information about his covert actions during the war was beyond his comprehension.
He glared at her, but to his amazement, she continued her speech as if she had just recited something to him as simple as the alphabet.
"As I was saying, Jared, Jane is without—"
Flabbergasted, Jared interrupted. "Pray, what war games are you speaking of?" His voice took on a chilling calm as he waited for her answer. Nigel yelped, hiding his nose beneath his paws.
Agatha dropped her gaze, pushing her buttered bun about with her fork. "I have ways, my boy." She took a small bite, tipping her round face his way. "Now, as to Jane, she does open her mouth a bit too often in front of the gentlemen, and of course, I realize that you are not aware of her capabilities as a hostess. The Season she was out did have its shortcomings, the weather and all, you know. However, nevermind that. London can be so dreary sometimes. 'Course, Emily had been with us for a few years off and on. Still, I believe the best thing—"
She clamped her mouth shut as Jared's purposeful strides ate up the rug between them. "Confound it! Have you been snooping about my quarters?"
The older lady put a hand to her chest as if in pain. "Moi? How could you conceive of such a thing? And do I detect a bit of censure in your tone, young man?"
Jared grimaced. If his aunt knew about his work with Whitehall, it was possible others knew about him as well, including a certain Monsieur Devereaux. A cold knot formed in the pit of his belly as he thought about his daughter's safety. At least Agatha hadn't mentioned Gabrielle . . . yet.
"How did you know about my work?" he asked, his mind reeling.
Agatha stiffened as Jared found himself attacked by two huge gray eyes, accusing him of an insensitivity he was well known for. "You are Jane's guardian, Lord Stonebridge, and you left her for three long years. You were not in India the last two, one could only assume that the Black Wolf—"
Jared drew in a sharp breath and felt as if someone stuck him with a bayonet. "The Black Wolf?" His voice held a hardness that he was certain even Agatha had never heard before.
He had kept his cover a secret from the deadliest of men, and n
ow this lady, whom he loved like a mother, seemed to have uncovered his secret as if it were mere child's play.
"Pray, dear aunt, I can only hope that you have not spoken of this to anyone, including Jane. I have noticed that her mouth opens at the strangest of times."
Agatha blinked in surprise. "Gracious, what do you take me for, a gabster? I traveled down to Whitehall to inquire about well... things." She shrugged and popped another piece of bread into her mouth. "One thing led to another, and I began to deduce your role as . . ." she lowered her voice, "you know, a secret agent over the last few years."
Jared's anger turned into a white-hot fury. "You went to Headquarters?"
Agatha reached across the table, buttered another raspberry bun, and looked up. "I assure you, Jared, no one was the wiser. I am quite good friends with the Secretary. And do quit looking at me as if you were going to throw me into some witch's brew."
Jared's gaze sizzled with reproach. Agatha's explanation still did not tell him how she knew who or what he was. It was all he could do to hold in his anger at the danger his aunt had put herself in, and his daughter, and him, and Jane . . . and now Emily. Come to think of it, it was simply amazing this paragon of information who sat before him had no notion of his relationship with the duke's daughter ... or had she?
"It would be best if you keep these small facts to yourself, Aunt, and never, never bring them into conversation again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Her gray eyes lit up like a lantern in a storm. "Perfectly."
"Very good, then. We will speak of this later." He headed toward the door, looked back at his aunt, and shook his head, afraid to let another word pass his lips before he did permanent harm to their relationship. He must get word to Headquarters.
"Oh, and, Jared dear."
He threw an icy glare over his shoulder. "What, pray tell, could you have to say now?"
"You are not truly out at heels, are you? I do have some money from my mother's side that is quite a good sum. You may use that if you have need."
Out at heels indeed! "No. I am not broke! I lost badly at White's one night, and the incident has grown into an annoying rumor that I am in debt. A joke gone astray. That ... is all."
"I see."
He reached for the door, whistling for Nigel to join him. In seconds, the dog was by his side.
"And, Jared dear?"
He leaned his head against the door and swiveled. Life in a French prison was easier than this! "Yes?"
He clenched his teeth as he watched Agatha leisurely drop three lumps of sugar into her teacup as if she were on a holiday in Bath. "I daresay," she said, not looking at him, "Miss Susan Wimble is not for the likes of you. You can do better than her if you would only cool that fiery temper of yours."
The lady then added a dollop of cream, completely oblivious to the madness engulfing him. "Do hope you are not set on the engagement."
Jared closed his eyes and counted to ten. He had no wish to say that he would rather choose his spouse now than be forced into marriage as he had been earlier. A compromising position, as with his late wife Felicia, he would not be found in again. Though he had become fond of his wife, their union had been singed from the beginning, and neither could ever forget the wrongs done to either of them.
"I asked you if you are set on the engagement," Agatha demanded.
"We are somewhat engaged, and that, dear aunt, is to be kept a secret until the end of the Season."
"A secret?" Agatha set down her cup. "And pray, is that your only one?"
The devil! What else did she know?
Jared took a deep, calming breath before he spoke. "I am obliged to ask you to keep my marriage plans a secret. The settlement between the families has not been signed, and we have yet to publicly announce the engagement because Miss Wimble has been attending to a sick cousin in the country. When we meet again in London, all things will progress in due course."
With an irritated snort, Agatha returned to her tea. "I see. A cousin now, is it? Believe I smell a rat, and I daresay, I do know how you loathe those little beasts, Jared. Ever since you were a child and caught in Mr. McHugh's barn, you know."
Determined to leave at all possible speed, Jared reached for the doorknob. He had his reasons to marry. He needed an heir. His brother and father were dead, and Miss Susan Wimble was more than decent to the eye. She would do, and besides, Gabrielle had arrived only a few weeks ago and was residing at a cottage in the country. His daughter needed him to set aside his problems as quickly as possible, but his problems seemed to be growing by the second. The matter of information leaking from Whitehall would be on his to-do list as well, along with his duties to Lady Emily.
"I was so hoping you would marry again." Agatha's voice drifted to his ears like artillery fire. "Felicia may be dead, Jared, but you are still alive and well. Do not live on your mistakes."
"Mistakes?" Jared all but shouted the word. He had grown close to Felicia, in a protective sort of way, and he felt he failed her. Failed Lady Emily and even his daughter, whom he had not seen in ages.
"Yes, mistakes." The lady gave him her sternest look. "I believe it would be quite the thing if you wed a pretty piece such as the Silver Fox."
The name slammed into Jared's brain like an anvil dropping from the ceiling. "Blast it to hell! This is an insane conversation, madam."
"Why is that?" Agatha asked calmly, peering over the rim of her teacup. "And please refrain from cursing, Jared. I am a delicate woman."
"Pray, forgive me for my language," he said hotly, "but for one thing, the Silver Fox is not a woman. And another, you should not even be mentioning the man's name. Confound it, are you going to tell me who leaked this information to you?"
Agatha lifted a cool brow. "And have them hanged for treason?"
"Th-this is maddening," Jared sputtered and began to pace about the room, locking his hands behind his back. He stopped and turned to face her. "I must insist that you curtail your visits to Whitehall at once."
"At once? By George or what are you going to do?"
He rubbed a hand across his face. "I have no idea." Though his superiors had kept Black Wolf and Silver Fox apart for reasons of safety, the danger had greatly diminished now that Napoleon had been banished. Yet, he was led to believe the existence of Silver Fox had never been disclosed to the public.
"I can see you are not going to disclose your contact," he said to his aunt as he tried desperately to curb his rage, "but I demand to know what you know about Silver Fox."
Agatha pounded her parasol against the floor. "I refuse to speak. I have obviously said too much already. Moreover, everyone in England has heard of Black Wolf, and a handful of people have heard about Silver Fox as well. So there."
A handful of people? Was she mad? "Come now, Agatha. Tell me of your information. I promise you, it will go no further than this table."
"Goodness," she laughed. "You do not truly believe that I would divulge any top-secret information, do you?"
What in the name of the king had she been doing the last few minutes? "Not divulging, Agatha, just simply passing information on to a colleague."
"A colleague now, am I?" The older lady threw down her napkin and wobbled to a standing position. "Only a minute ago you were about to send me to the gallows."
"I was not!"
"You were," she said, shuffling her small, round body toward the door. "And another thing, you will take Jane and Lady Emily to the balls this Season, or else."
He raised a dark brow in challenge at the lady's uncompromising look. "Blackmail does not become you, Agatha."
"Well, it does now."
As the door slammed behind her, Jared collapsed into her chair and scowled. How the devil had the conversation shifted from secret agents to the London Season? Women! All he needed now was for that Fennington fellow Roderick had warned him about to come sniffing around Hemmingly. A harsh laugh suddenly escaped him.
It seemed the thought of Emily riding away w
ith one of her suitors bothered him more than the idea of Monsieur Devereaux appearing before dawn with pistols drawn. Dash it all. His mind was a jumble of confusion, all thanks to Agatha.
"If I may be so blunt as to suggest a remedy for what ails you, my lord."
Jared raised a speculative brow as the butler made his way into the room. Obviously, Filmore had determined that his employer was sending her nephew to Bedlam. "What kind of remedy, Filmore?"
The butler coughed. "Of the digestible kind, my lord. In times like these, I save a bit of the Irish whiskey back in the corner pantry. The O'Keefe brand. Straight from Ireland."
Jared smiled. "Your full Christian name, Filmore?"
The butler gave a curt bow. "Your servant, my lord. Michael Filmore Brian O'Keefe."
Jared laughed at the unmistakable Irish brogue in the man's voice. It seemed Agatha had more secrets at Hemmingly than Prinny had chandeliers at Brighton. What in the blue blazes had his aunt been up to the years he had been gone, traveling to Whitehall and sifting out secrets? The lady had always liked adventure. But there was no doubt something havey-cavey was up involving that French brandy and now Filmore.
Jared's brows snapped together, and he suddenly wondered if either Jane or Emily had any inkling to Agatha's secrets. The maddening notion scared the hell out of him.
"Come here, Nigel. Give the pretty black book back to Lady Emily." Emily took a hesitant step forward and grimaced. She had been chasing the dratted dog in the back gardens of Hemmingly for over an hour. Drat and double drat!
Her stomach growled. The biscuits and tea at the vicarage had been barely a meal. But she would starve before she would leave the gardens without that book.
Gritting her teeth, she took another step closer when Nigel suddenly dropped the book onto the wet ground and let out a loud bark. If Emily had not known better, she would have thought the odious dog was playing with her as if the entire affair were a peekaboo game.
The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Page 5