“I cannot believe anyone ever thought I would have value as a spy!” she said. “I am only a regular girl!”
A frown creased his forehead. “You were actually very enthusiastic about the idea. Can’t you remember how much you miss your home, your country?” His words sounded impatient.
A vision of Longwood, her plantation home, overtook her. Her memories of that time were certainly intact. She remembered the evening she spent at her home with Mr. Jefferson, whose plantation abutted her family’s, and the President and Mrs. Madison. The first lady had been gracious and on terms of the greatest intimacy with Virginia’s mother.
Her journal! She suddenly remembered that she had recorded that evening in particular for her posterity. What other things had she recorded? Did she have an account of her agreement to spy and the promises she had made? If so, was the journal back in London?
A carriage was pulling up into the drive. Virginia ran to the window once more.
“It is the viscount and my aunt! You must go!”
The man in brown took a card from his waistcoat pocket. “Send correspondence to me at this address. We are depending on you,” he said.
Then he let himself out the French doors. Greatly agitated, Virginia sank back into her chair and could do no more than stare.
Apparently I am a spy.
Her eyes connected with the portrait of a lovely woman over the stately mantel. Her classical dress indicated that she must be of an age to be the viscount’s mother. Virginia shivered. What was she going to do?
Chapter Nine
Tony was in a serious quandary. As long as Miss Livingstone continued to suffer from lost memory, he was not going to be able to determine if she was spying for her native country. But he could not lie to himself. He was growing more than fond of the lady and could not picture her as a spy in the least.
Indeed, her most outstanding quality was her guilelessness. Picturing her climbing into Freddie’s balloon gondola, he had to admit he also admired her bravery. She had faced tragedy, and yet from what he had seen of her, it had not defeated her. In addition to these things, she had a kind heart, as evidenced by her rescue of the mutt, Mr. Hale.
He frowned at himself. It sounded as though he were doing sums! Trying to prove what he felt in some tangible manner. Why was he so slow to acknowledge the attraction he felt? It was all but overwhelming him. Even though she didn’t know him at the moment, she looked at him through those deep, trustful eyes. Tony had wanted to do far more than hold her hand, bandaged though she was. He had never felt an attraction as vital as this one.
Though it had not been as great, attraction had been the overwhelming element in his relationship with Pamela. Even knowing everything he knew about her now, he was still capable of feeling it to a degree. Shouldn’t this fact be taken as an Awful Warning?
When he entered the house, he asked his butler, Reams, if he knew where Miss Livingstone was. The man informed him that she was in the drawing room. As he moved off in that direction, the talkative Reams tried to add to this information, but Tony was in no mood to dawdle. He was already leaving Lady Ogletree to fend for herself.
He entered the oak-paneled room with its apricot draperies and Persian carpets to find his guest staring into the fire. She jumped up at his entrance. “Lord Strangeways!” She said his name as though he had startled her.
“Why are you surprised? This is my house.”
She would not meet his eyes but appeared fascinated by his boots. “I think we should start back to London,” she said. “I am feeling fine. Recovered.”
He raised his brows in surprise. “Just yesterday you were still abed. I think it would be wise to wait until tomorrow, at least.”
Biting her bottom lip, she sat down again, refusing to look at him. “All right.”
“Have your regained your memory?” Tony asked.
The lady gave a little shake of her head, then winced. “No. And it is so frustrating!”
He longed to take her chin in his hand and force her to look at him. What was she hiding? What thoughts were concerning her that hadn’t been there this morning? She had seen him off with her aunt cheerfully enough.
“I can imagine that it is maddening. Now, tell me. You seem particularly distraught. Is anything wrong?”
At his words her eyes flew to his, and he read what looked like fear. No, that was impossible. Why would she be afraid of him?
“No, nothing,” she said, her voice full of dejection. “I think I’ll go upstairs and rest. If we do go to London tomorrow, it’s likely to be a long day for me. I’m still very tired.”
If she was so tired, why had she suggested returning to London today? She had erected a new barrier between them, so he did not ask.
“Very well. We will leave at ten o’clock in the morning—after breakfast. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Nothing. You have been most kind, Lord Strangeways. And Mrs. Welling also. Now that my aunt has brought my things, I must return her clothes.”
“There’s no hurry,” Tony said, his brow furrowed. “Are you certain that nothing has occurred to upset you?”
“No.” Her smile seemed forced. “Of course not. I have only fallen out of a balloon and lost my memory.”
He put a hand on her shoulder to soothe her, but she stiffened at his touch. “It will return. Mr. West said so, didn’t he?”
She slanted her eyes away from his, but not before he read distress in them. “I’ll just go back to my room.”
He took his hand away as though he had been burned. She flashed her eyes at him, and this time he could swear the look was one of apology.
Puzzled, he paced the room in frustration after she left and then went to find Howie and Tisdale to see if they fancied a ride. At least one could count on a man to say what was on his mind. After all his thinking that she was without guile, now she was not being straight with him. Women! Who understood them? Certainly not he.
He spent the afternoon fishing the brook with the men, trying, without success, to keep the American out of his thoughts. It would be good to get back to London where there were more distractions.
How had he fallen so hard so fast? And what was the lady hiding from him that had her afraid? The only thing that made sense to him was that her memory had returned, and she had remembered something that made a relationship with him impossible for some reason. But why would she lie about it? It went against everything he thought he knew about the lady.
He had been a fool.
* * *
During the trip to London, Howie and Tony rode alongside the carriage, which contained Lady Ogletree, her maid, Miss Livingstone, and George Tisdale. The viscount was annoyed. Not only had he and his brother had loud words that morning at the stable about breaking up the stud operation, but also the night before, during a rubber of whist, Lady Ogletree had made several comments that told him she expected an alliance between her nephew and Miss Livingstone.
Absurd! The man had no title and no estate that Tony was aware of. He was shorter than she was!
He had suspicions that the Honorable George and his aunt were playing a deep game. Was there a fortune involved somehow? Miss Livingstone’s inheritance from her parents? It made sense.
Perhaps something had happened with George that had put the American lady in her present frame of mind. That made sense too. They had been at the house together all morning while he took the fractious Lady Ogletree to Deal. He would ask Howie if he knew anything.
When they reached Shipley House, Tony helped the ladies alight from the carriage and accompanied them to their door.
“I can never thank you enough for your kind care and hospitality,” Miss Livingstone said, still not meeting his eyes.
“You would do me a great favor by not encouraging her recklessness,” said Lady Ogletree.
And just like that, the episode, which had started so worrisomely but had become pleasant and then puzzling, was over. When he and Howie re
ached Larkspur House, they ate luncheon, and he invited his brother into the library for a drink.
“I have a question for you,” he said. “Something happened to Miss Livingstone while I was in Deal. She was very distressed when I returned. Did you happen to notice anything taking place at the house yesterday morning?”
“I was in the stables.” Howie cast his eyes upon the carpet for a moment as he thought. “Hold on. I did see a man come to call. I assumed he was there to see you, but he was a bit of a rum ’un. Brown suit with a squashed hat. Definitely not top drawer.”
Tony felt a shaft of excitement. Could this be his answer? Who on earth could the caller be, and what had he done to make his guest afraid?
“That must be it! Something upset her, but she wouldn’t discuss it. Ten to one, that man is behind it.”
“You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?”
Tony tossed back his whiskey. Was it that obvious?
“I don’t really know much about her yet, but I do like her. She’s a plucky thing.”
Soon they fell into another brangle about the stud. Howie left the library in a dangerous mood, and Tony hoped he would stay away from the tables that night. His allowance had to be seriously low.
For a while Tony brooded. A man in a brown suit and an unfashionable hat. Perhaps the man had called for him. But then Reams would have mentioned it. Who even knew that Miss Livingstone was at Southbrooke?
He had a ball to attend that evening, but in the meantime, he would find Bertie and Beau. He needed straightforward male companionship.
* * *
“I read in the Post that Miss Livingstone lost her memory in the accident. I was sorry to hear it. What do you think of her upon further acquaintance?” asked Beau over dinner at White’s.
They were enjoying lamb cutlets and sharing a bottle of claret. It was good to be back in the comforting confines of his club.
“You mean do I think she’s a spy?” Tony asked.
“Exactly.”
“I think it highly unlikely. There is nothing the least clandestine about her. I have never known anyone so completely without guile. You can read every expression on her face.”
Bertie added, “Agreed. The lady seems without artifice. Unusual quality in a female.”
“Plus there is the added complication of her memory loss,” said Tony. “She remembers nothing after her parents’ death in America. If by some possibility she was recruited, it would have happened since then—after she knew she was coming to England.”
“What did the doctor have to say about her memory loss? Are you certain it is real?” Beau asked.
“If you could have seen her remembering her parents’ death, you wouldn’t ask,” Tony told him. “That is the last thing she has any recollection of, and it fairly bowled her over to recall it again. My physician says the memory loss is temporary. Has to do with the swelling in the brain from her fall.”
“I think it would be very interesting to find out how she got to England,” Beau said. “That would tell us a lot. Think you can find out?”
“Her aunt isn’t exactly the kind of person you can approach with a question like that,” Tony said.
“Nephew might know,” said Bertie. “Can’t like him somehow. Used to being a big fish in a small pond.”
“Interesting,” said Tony. “I have the sense that he feels entitled to Miss Livingstone somehow.”
“Sort of person who gives his opinion when no one asked for it,” Bertie said.
“Maybe the man in the bad hat was there to see him!” Tony said.
“Who?” asked Beau. “You haven’t mentioned a man in a bad hat.”
“Howie was in the stables, of course, but he says a man came calling when I was out yesterday morning. I’ve been puzzling over it.”
“Did you question your butler?” asked Beau.
“Howie didn’t tell me until we arrived in London. I’ll write to Reams before I go out tonight.”
“This man could be her connection,” Beau said. “The man she reports to.”
Dread revisited Tony. “I still won’t believe she’s a spy,” he insisted.
* * *
He was not in the mood for a ball, but attending Lady Haverley’s party this evening would mark Tony’s mother’s reentry into society, and he had promised to escort her.
Beautifully arrayed in emerald silk, she entered the ballroom on Tony’s arm. He was devilishly proud of her, and seeing her excited face lifted his spirits.
After they negotiated the receiving line, the Duchess of Ruisdell was the first to approach them. “My dear Lady Strangeways! How wonderful you look! Quite stunning, in fact.”
“Duchess! What a pleasure it is to see you again.”
“I hope this means you will rejoin my literary club,” the duchess said, grasping his mother’s gloved hand and squeezing it. “We meet next Wednesday for luncheon. We are reading Pride and Prejudice.”
“What a delight! I should love to come. And you must put me on the schedule for the soup kitchen again.”
“I shall,” said the duchess. Turning to Tony, she said, “Has your mother met our Miss Livingstone yet?”
“Miss Livingstone?” asked Lady Strangeways.
Tony said, “Lord Ogletree’s niece. She was in Lord Freddie’s balloon when it crashed, and we’ve just had her at Southbrooke. The poor lady had a concussion and has lost her memory temporarily.”
His mother looked at him with a telling gleam in her eye. “Poor lady, indeed!”
The duchess said, “So she has not recovered?”
“Not as yet,” Tony said. Turning to his mother, he explained, “A bit of a mystery there. She’s an American. She lost her parents in a fire that burned their plantation. Lord Ogletree is her guardian.”
“She is newly arrived? However did she get to England in the midst of the war?” Lady Strangeways asked.
“That is the mystery. And now even she doesn’t remember.”
“Hmm.” She fixed her son with a bright smile. “I should like to meet her, Tony. Would you please invite her and Lady Ogletree for tea tomorrow?”
He had been doing battle with himself over whether he should deepen the acquaintance or let it go. His mother had taken the matter out of his hands. “I’m sure she would like to meet you,” he said. “Perhaps you would like to join us, Duchess?”
“That would be delightful. I should love to see the lady again.”
“Does she know your secret?” Tony’s mother asked the duchess.
“She did before she lost her memory. She has been befriended by Arabella Saunders. You know that girl cannot resist telling all and sundry.”
The duke wandered up to their small party, took Lady Strangeways’s hand, and planted a kiss on her knuckles. “So wonderful to see you out and about, my lady. Society has been the poorer for your absence.”
Tony’s mother gave him a bright smile. “You are so gallant, Your Grace.”
“May I have this dance?” the duke asked her.
“Oh, goodness! I hope I remember the steps!”
Tony teased, “You are not yet in your dotage, Mama.” Turning to Her Grace, he asked, “Duchess, may I have the honor?”
* * *
The evening was going well before Lord Sutton approached him.
“A word if I might?” Tony’s bête noire asked.
Dread filled the viscount. Pugnacious and ugly of countenance, Sutton was known for his temper. This was bound to be about Pamela.
“Lord Haverley’s library?” Tony asked, a brow raised.
Sutton nodded, and they proceeded to find their way downstairs to the comfortable room where a fire had been lit and whiskey glasses set out.
Tony poured two fingers for himself and the earl.
The man tossed back the entire contents of his glass in a gulp. “I will make this short, Strangeways. About my fiancée. Leave her alone.”
Freezing in the act of bringing his glass to his lips, Tony said, “I beg
your pardon?”
“You know what I am talking about. You have been seen.”
“And what have I been seen doing, I might ask?” Having perfected a look of pure disdain, he leveled it on Sutton. “I have been away at Southbrooke almost the whole of last week.”
“At the Longhurst ball. Our engagement ball! You met her alone in the conservatory. I should call you out!”
Tony sighed. Now the devil was in it! “I am afraid someone has been making trouble. It is true that I went with my brother to have a word in the conservatory. Our conversation was confidential. Unfortunately Lady Pamela was there. It is her house, you know.”
The earl’s countenance was livid. “You are trying to tell me that you didn’t arrange it beforehand?”
“Sutton, you really must have more faith in your fiancée,” Tony said, endeavoring to remain calm. “Do you really believe she would deign to meet me alone when she is engaged to you?”
“What was she doing in the conservatory, then?”
“I have no idea. Perhaps she needed a breath of air.” Confound Pamela! This is not going to end well.
“And you expect me to believe this?”
“Have you talked about it with Lady Pamela?”
The man set his glass down on the marble mantelpiece with a clatter. “Her story is the same as yours. Doubtless you planned it all out beforehand.”
“Perhaps you should do your lady the favor of believing her? After all, why on earth would she want to meet with me?” Tony set his glass carefully next to the earl’s and said, “If there is nothing else, I will return to the festivities.”
He left Sutton standing in the library, his unattractive face red with anger.
Chapter Ten
Alone in her room facing the front walk of Shipley House, Virginia missed her lovely feminine quarters at Southbrooke Hall. This room was utilitarian at best. The floor was bare, the walls a faded lavender, almost gray, and the furnishings a putty color. She felt distinctly like the poor relation.
But she was not poor. Her memory of more recent events might be lacking, but she did know that she was an heiress. This whole situation reminded her uncomfortably of one of the fairy tales she used to read with her mother.
His Mysterious Lady, A Regency Romance (Three Gentlemen of London Book 2) Page 9