by Alanna Lucas
Elizabeth nodded her head in acquiescence.
“Good.” With that single word, he exited the greenhouse, leaving Elizabeth hopeful.
~~~
The cold night air seeped into his bones but did nothing to sate the growing desire to pull Elizabeth into his embrace and kiss her senseless. Not for the first time since they’d met, Grant questioned his sanity.
They came from two different worlds. He would never be at ease in hers, and could not ask her to sacrifice her life for the one he led. Neither the gaiety of the season or the quiet country life were things he’d ever contemplated. Oh, to be sure, he spent time in town, and he had a country estate, and money to spare, but that was not who he was, not what he wanted.
After wandering around for an hour, attempting to rid his thoughts of images of Elizabeth in breeches, it was time to return to the house. He hoped Simon had already retired. He did not feel like having any rousing discussions about his love life or anything else tonight.
Slinking in through the side entrance, he went straight to his study. There was much to plan. Better to stay busy than to spend the rest of the evening thinking about the intelligent and far too intoxicating Miss Atwell, the viscount’s daughter.
If he kept reminding himself of their differences, temptation would evade him. Grant chuckled inwardly. He didn’t believe that theory any more than he believed peace across all of Europe could be achieved by year’s end.
After lighting several candles, he picked up the packet Lord Fynes had delivered earlier and eased himself into the soft brown leather chair.
No sooner had he settled in than Abrams entered the room and strolled over to where he was sitting. “I was wondering if you’d return this evening. You need your rest,” his loyal friend pleaded with concern.
“I spent my entire youth resting.” Images of a frail young boy confined to bed, waiting for death to come, flooded his mind. A cold shiver spread over him as he recalled the painful ministrations by the physician his parents had appointed.
He remembered his mother sitting by his bed night after night telling him tales about King Arthur, Alexander the Great, and Sun Tzu. He remembered the promise he’d made her. “I will survive. I will be strong. I will be good.”
“That’s my darling boy.” Mother had gently caressed his cheek. “You are a good son, and one day, you will be a good, strong man.”
Mother’s sweet smiling face still haunted him. Grant had survived, but his mother had taken ill and died before his full recovery. He had not been strong enough to save her. The day of her funeral he’d vowed he would never let weakness dictate his life. He valued the strength that had taken him years to achieve.
“You won’t be any good to anyone if you take ill. Sleep will do you good,” Abrams said with another plea.
“I feel like I’ve slept for seventy years. Right now I need to plan. Two of my men are dead. I will not sacrifice any more.”
Abrams took in a deep breath and then released a long sigh. “Let’s get to work then.”
Chapter Five
Elizabeth checked her appearance in the mirror for the third time since coming downstairs. She wanted to look presentable, but not too pretty. She sighed deeply. This was not how she had wanted to spend the afternoon, but duty called.
The moment Lewis announced Mr. Ward, Elizabeth’s insides churned with disgust. It would seem that even if she were not taking part in the marriage mart, she would still have to endure these outings.
“Miss Atwell, you look lovely today,” Mr. Ward exclaimed as he entered the parlor, his nasal compliment only adding to the churning.
Swallowing hard, Elizabeth forced the most pleasant smile possible under the circumstances. “Thank you, Mr. Ward.”
“Shall we?” He offered his arm. “It is almost half past four and it would be a shame to be late.” His voice quivered with nervous excitement.
Why had Elizabeth ever agreed to a carriage ride in Hyde Park with Mr. Ward? She inwardly shook her head. It was because Mr. Ward was suspected to be under Typhon’s direct command and she wanted to prove her worth. No lead was considered too small, but the thought of spending an entire afternoon with such a pompous…
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.” A simple lie was nothing compared to what Mr. Ward had reportedly done.
Despite the company, the weather was most pleasant. It was a shame she had to waste such a nice afternoon on him. She glanced over at Mr. Ward as they descended the front steps and strolled side by side to the waiting phaeton. She shifted her eyes, catching a glimpse of him. The bright sunlight intensified his ruddy complexion. That combined with his waddle of a walk and the whistle that sounded every time he exhaled made Elizabeth want to scream. She had yet to find one positive thing about him.
“Here we are, Miss Atwell.” Beaming with pride, he puffed out his chest. “Isn’t it a fine piece of equipage?” It was clear no expense had been spared on the high-perched phaeton. If it were anyone else driving, she would have found great pleasure in riding in such a lovely vehicle.
“Yes, very,” was all she could manage to mutter without yelling and retreating back inside the house. This by far was the most difficult mission to date.
In no time at all, they were parading through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, there for all of London’s elite to see her with the very dull Mr. Ward. It was almost difficult to believe the man sitting next to her was capable of plotting revenge against the crown and smuggling contraband.
“You’re awfully quiet, Miss Atwell. I do hope I have not offended you in any way?” Mr. Ward questioned in his usual nasal tone.
“On the contrary, I’m just…” Screaming on the inside. “…enjoying the outing.” She hoped her lie was convincing. It would not do to ruin this chance to obtain valuable information. It had taken a couple of weeks, numerous dances, and dozens of faux smiles to get this to point.
He smiled widened, revealing a mishmash of crooked yellow teeth. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that. Since the moment we met, I have always believed you and I were kindred spirits.” He leaned in a little closer. Elizabeth had to resist the urge to turn her head and scoot away. “In fact, I believe we could be more.”
Bloody hell. An associate of Typhon or not, she’d rather just kill him than endure this torture. Who would miss him?
She remained still, but managed to force a smile.
“One day, I hope to take my bride to my family estate, Ward Hall. It is in a lovely part of the country, in Devon, in fact. It’s quite near to some old castle ruins, and the coast.”
The mention of the coast and castle ruins piqued her interest. “Sounds quite wonderful.” She tried to use her sweetest, most enticing—well, under the circumstances—voice. “I’ve always thought old ruins to be so…romantic. Please tell me more.”
Elizabeth listened intently as he told her tales of his boyhood adventures. With each new tale, he puffed his chest out further. Soon the buttons on his vest would pop under the immense strain.
“Sounds fascinating.” She smiled brightly. Wanting to obtain as much information as possible, she questioned more specifically, hoping he would not suspect her ruse. “And is there a view of the sea?”
Before Mr. Ward began another tale, something, or rather someone caught her attention in the near distance.
Grant.
His name danced across her heart. He looked so handsome in a dark blue riding coat and buff breeches. His black boots positively gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.
He was tall when standing, but atop a horse, he was a veritable god. She could not take her eyes off him, nor could any lady near him she noted, as jealousy streaked down her spine.
“Miss Atwell, Mr. Ward.” Grant nodded his head in greeting as he approached the phaeton.
Two days had passed and there had not been a single word from Grant. Now that she finally saw him, polite indifference was all he could offer. Oh, the man was infuriating!
“I r
eally do not care for that man,” Mr. Ward said on a huff, once Grant had ridden past. He turned around, presumably to watch Grant. “Good. He’s traveling in the opposite direction.”
“Why do you not care for Captain Alexander?”
She had her own suspicions why. The two men were night and day, not only in appearance, but in all things. Grant was tall, with dark blond hair, and blue eyes that reminded her of a cloudless sky. He was intelligent and honest, and… oh so handsome. A delightful shiver ran through her body. Focus on the assignment.
Mr. Ward on the other hand was Grant’s antithesis in every way. His short stature, nasal voice, and arrogance made Elizabeth want to hit something—preferably Mr. Ward.
Flustered by her question, Mr. Ward began with a stutter, “W…well…I…I had a… business deal turn sour because of him.”
“Oh, I hadn’t realized Captain Alexander was in business.” She tried to keep her tone light and innocent. “What sort of business?”
His face reddened as drops of sweat formed on his temples. Mr. Ward was not a good liar. He swallowed hard. “Just business between men. Far too boring a subject for a lovely lady such as yourself.”
The supposed compliment boiled Elizabeth’s blood. Under normal circumstances, she would have given Mr. Ward a piece of her mind, men’s business indeed. His comment implied the usual, that women were meant to marry and provide an heir, and not meddle in anything beyond society’s opinion of what she could possibly comprehend.
Elizabeth detested this charade.
Although passersby politely greeted them, Elizabeth swore she could hear their unspoken words. What is she doing with the ill-mannered Mr. Ward? Miss Atwell must be quite desperate to even consider the man.
“I’m sure you are correct.” It took all her inner strength and good breeding to say those words. “Tell me about Ward Hall and the coast. That’s a more interesting topic. I’ve never been to that part of the country.” She hoped Mr. Ward would take the bait.
“When I was a boy I loved exploring the old ruins, but especially the caves nearby.” His face brightened to a lighter shade of red when he began talking about his childhood haunts.
Caves?
Several weeks ago she’d deciphered a rather sketchy missive mentioning caves which was believed to have come from Mr. Ward. This seemed too coincidental not to be related.
Now would be a good opportunity to live up to Mr. Ward’s estimation of the fairer sex. Elizabeth wanted to get as much information out of him during this outing as possible. She did not want to have to endure this torture again.
“Weren’t you scared? I mean of getting lost?”
Mr. Ward puffed out his chest, testing the strength of the buttons once again. “Not at all. One really couldn’t get lost if one knew one’s way around.” He lowered his voice as if the horses might overhear and share the delicate information. “The key to not getting lost was in a song my father taught me.”
“Oh, I would love to hear it.” Elizabeth enthusiastically replied.
She listened carefully as Mr. Ward sang the song. She knew this had to be the information the Legion needed. Acquiring vital information could earn her the respect she craved. She would prove to Captain Alexander she was capable of anything that came her way.
Mr. Ward took in a deep breath. The words pelted forth with great enthusiasm.
“Farewell and adieu to you, my dear, farewell and adieu
The signal was sent on the darkest of nights, we’ve received our orders to sail in the dim moonlight
Farewell and adieu
A tankard of ale to set the mood right, the hill near the mill the fair maiden sings
Farwell and adieu
Until we land at the cove, the old castle waits, heed the dove’s warning, lead to the strait
Farewell and adieu to you, my dear
Farewell and adieu the fair maiden sings.”
His song made no sense to her at the moment, but the last thing she wanted to do was arouse suspicion by asking a lot of questions. “That was lovely, please recite it again. You sang it so beautifully.”
“You are too kind.” Mr. Ward’s blush encompassed his entire face and neck, disappearing within the folds of his cravat. “Anything for you, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth’s stomach churned with the implied intimacy.
As he recited the words again, Elizabeth said them along with him in her head. It was a simple childlike rhyme. Once she returned to her room she would write it down and study the possible hidden meanings. Not wanting to cloud her mind, she focused on the song, trying to remember it word for word.
Glancing around, she noticed that Grant had not traveled far from them. He was partially out of view, concealed behind a small grouping of trees, but he was there, watching them. Watching her.
Elizabeth’s heart pounded so loud, she hoped Mr. Ward did not mistake her current state as a sign for deeper affection when it had nothing to do with him, but an entirely different man. A thrill of excitement shot through her veins. Although she suspected Grant was assigned to watch this little outing, part of her—a large part actually—hoped he was jealous.
For the next half hour, Mr. Ward chattered on, about what Elizabeth was unsure. She was too preoccupied with the image of Grant sitting atop the beautiful white horse.
“I enjoyed our outing, Miss Atwell,” Mr. Ward cooed as he brought the phaeton to a halt in front of her residence.
Tamping down the urge to jump out of the vehicle, she swallowed the unpleasant retort lingering in her mouth and forced proper manners to the forefront. “Thank you, it was most pleasant.”
“I do hope to see you at Lady Redgrave’s garden party.”
She forced the words from her mouth. “That would be lovely.”
Chapter Six
Although only a short distance from London, it was nice to be out of the city. It had been a pleasant carriage ride to Lady Redgrave’s estate and a welcome change. The garden was a sea of people dressed in their finest attire. Colorful, fanciful hats pranced amongst the crowd accompanied by the sounds of gaiety. It was late in the afternoon, the sun just starting its westward descent. Whatever joy Elizabeth felt was short lived. She had barely recovered from the outing with Mr. Ward the previous day when now she found herself enduring more torture, this time at the hands of Miss Anjou, who cornered her the moment she arrived at Lady Redgrave’s party. Not even the lovely rose garden could change her current dark mood. It wasn’t that she necessarily minded Miss Anjou, just her incessant chatter about nonsensical topics.
“…and then I told her I would like another dress in the same color.” Miss Anjou let out a girlish sigh as she changed the subject. “So many handsome gentlemen in attendance. So many to chose from. So many in uniform.”
Miss Anjou’s comment caught Elizabeth off guard. “Are you free to marry of your own choosing?”
“My mother believes I should be able to marry for love, but my father is of a different mind. Regardless, I want passion. Whether or not that leads to marriage is not the point.” Elizabeth suspected Miss Anjou was willing to sacrifice her reputation for pleasure. She was nothing more than a lightskirt in search of a little fun.
They strolled the perimeter of the rose garden for a couple of minutes, each silently admiring the view. The vibrant sounds of nature eased some of the tension pounding against Elizabeth’s temples, until she spied Grant in the distance surrounded by several ladies. Jealousy reared its pesky head once again. The only thing that could be worse was if Miss Anjou had noticed him as well. Few men were immune to her charms.
“Oh, he’s rather handsome.” Miss Anjou lifted her chin and nodded in the direction of Grant. “Is that Captain Alexander?”
Too late.
“Yes, it is.” Another streak of jealousy shimmied down her spine. “Do you fancy Captain Alexander?” Her question sounded accusatory even to her own ears.
Miss Anjou’s eyes widened. “No.” The single word exited her mouth in exaspera
tion as if it was the most shocking comment she’d ever heard. “I mean he is one of the most handsome men in town this season, but I could never…” Her words trailed off as she concentrated her gaze on Grant. “No, not even for a clandestine tryst.”
“And why ever not?” Elizabeth was rankled by Miss Anjou’s comment. She realized she should be pleased, but she could not fathom why Miss Anjou would make such a comment. “What’s wrong with him?”
“There’s nothing wrong with him.” Miss Anjou sighed again. “And therein lies the problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
Miss Anjou stopped and turned to face Elizabeth. “He’s a good man, perhaps too good. I want a man who’s just a bit…wicked.” Elizabeth’s shock must have shown on her face because Miss Anjou rushed to defend her comment. “No, not an evil man, of course not. You misunderstood me. I want a reformed rake with a deliciously dark past.” Her half smile and hooded gaze said it all.
“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t want a good man. Perhaps he is not ‘wicked’ as you stated, but Captain Alexander is handsome and athletic. Not to mention honest, sincere, intelligent, and I’m sure he would be…” Her inner voice cried, shut up, you ninny. She really did not want Miss Anjou to be interested in Grant. He was a rare creature amongst the ton.
Miss Anjou turned her gaze away from Elizabeth’s and back toward Grant. She tilted her head as if deep in thought, worrying the edge of her lip. Elizabeth’s heart sank. This woman was a rare beauty with her full mouth, creamy skin, brilliantly blonde hair, and expressive blue eyes. She could have any man she wanted.
“I believe you are correct, Miss Atwell.” Miss Anjou stepped away from Elizabeth. “Thank you for sharing your insight.”
Panic rose from within. “Wh…where are you going?” The words spewed from Elizabeth’s mouth in a harsh demand.
“To discover if Captain Alexander is willing to be a little wicked.” And with that final declaration, Miss Anjou strolled down the path with the determination of someone who knew she could get all she wanted.