“William Fletcher,” he told her.
“You don’t take orders from Mr. Fletcher,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Her gaze dipped to his mouth once more before she blushed and stuck her nose back in her book. “He works for the War Department.”
“That’s not common knowledge,” he commented, although he wasn’t particularly surprised she knew of it. Only to be expected, really, since a number of her friends and family members—including her brother Whit—worked for the War Department.
She twisted her lips but didn’t look up. “It’s not entirely uncommon knowledge.”
“Whit let something slip, or was it the duke?” He sincerely doubted it was the ever reticent James McAlistair.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she demurred.
“I’m sure you do, and while I can appreciate your circumspection on the matter, I’ll remind you that when Evie’s life was in danger, I was one of the men Whit and William chose to guard her.” That had been a remarkably shortsighted and precarious choice, in his opinion. He’d suggested they draw out their adversary by using Evie as bait.
“That’s true.” Kate seemed to think about that for a moment before inclining her head in acknowledgment. “Very well, I do know what you mean, but I don’t believe for a moment that you work for the War Department in any official capacity. Also, nothing was ‘slipped,’ as you put it. I am not so sheltered that I am unaware of what goes on in my own home. ”
He’d wager she knew only what had been gleaned in bits and pieces. And he had no intention of filling in the blanks.
“As it happens, I do work for Mr. Fletcher in an official capacity.” He stretched his legs out before him. “And he has ordered me to keep an eye on you.”
She seemed to consider that, and him, then lowered her head a little, just as he had not long ago at her mother’s ball, and whispered, “Liar.”
“Liar, is it?” he asked on a laugh.
“Yes.” She straightened again. “To begin with, you’re not the sort to work for the War Department.”
“And what sort might that be?”
She frowned a little in thought. “Oh, patriotic, selfless, brave, perhaps a little reckless.”
“I’m an unpatriotic and selfish coward with a cautious streak?”
“I didn’t say that. I simply don’t believe you possess those qualities to the degree necessary to risk life and limb in the name of crown and country.”
The patriotic bit, he’d give her. The lack of selflessness as well. But damn if he’d have her thinking him a coward. It would better serve his purposes, however, to have that argument another time.
“Second,” Kate continued, “Mr. Fletcher would not employ one of his men as a chaperone for a young lady at a house party.”
“He would if he thought that young lady in danger.”
“What a lively imagination you have,” she said, and with enough amusement in her voice to tell him she didn’t think the less of him for it. “In danger of what?”
“From whom, actually. Your admirer is heavily invested in a smuggling operation.”
“Which one?”
“Which…” He nearly gaped at her. Holy hell, could he have been that mistaken about the girl’s innocence? “How many smuggling operations are you aware of?”
“Oh, all of them,” she drawled with a roll of her eyes. “Which admirer?”
“Ah. Lord Martin.”
“Really?” She stared at him, her blue eyes going round. “You’re in earnest?”
“Never more so.”
“Lord Martin a smuggler?” She blew out a long breath, glanced back toward the house as if she expected to see the gentleman in question coming out the door, then turned back again. “Goodness, I shouldn’t have thought he’d have the spine.”
“You say that as if he’s risen in your estimation.”
“I suppose he has, in a way. I’ve always thought him something of a milksop. Well, not always. There was a period of time, a significant period of time to be honest, when I was quite attached to him. Or at least the idea of him. He seemed terribly dramatic and romantic, and…” She trailed off. “I beg your pardon. I have a tendency to ramble.”
“Yes, I know.”
She shot him an annoyed look. “What I am trying to say is, I don’t think more of him for smuggling. I simply think more of him for being capable of smuggling. One can admire a talent without approving of how it’s put to use.”
He wondered how she would judge the use of his talents. Not well, he imagined. “Did you miss the part where I said his talents place you in danger?”
“No.”
“You don’t appear concerned.”
She shrugged. “I’m not particularly. Lord Martin shares a closer bond to others in residence than he does with me. You’d be better off following them about.”
“Which others?”
“Oh, Mr. Kepford and Mr. Woodruff come to mind. I believe the three of them attended school together.”
“I rather doubt he fancies them.”
“I rather doubt his fancying me puts me in any sort of jeopardy,” she returned. “Particularly in light of the fact that I do not fancy him. What do you expect him to do, exactly? Recruit me into his merry band of outlaws?”
“Robin Hood wasn’t a smuggler.”
“And Lord Martin isn’t especially merry. Neither of which is the salient point.”
It was fascinating the way her mind worked. “What is the salient point, as you see it?”
“That I am not interested in Lord Martin, smuggling, or any other outlawed activity—particularly the sort that runs to high treason, which I assume is suspected if the War Department has become involved—and therefore I am not in any real danger.”
“Regardless of where your interests and fancy are directed, his interest lies with you. The danger to you may be limited, but it still exists.” He smiled at her pleasantly. “And that makes you, Lady Kate, my newest mission.”
She frowned down at her book. “Is this the sort of mission Alex and Whit have been sent on in the past? I always imagined them engaged in something a tad more active. Bit disappointing, really.”
“You’d prefer they risk life and limb?” he asked, surprised by her comment.
“No, I would prefer they have nothing at all to do with the War Department. But that’s not likely to happen, is it? That being the case, I see no reason not to appreciate the work. Or I didn’t, until now…I suppose I’ll have to take back what I said about it requiring bravery.”
“Absolutely fascinating.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.”
Kate looked at the man before her—or more accurately, at his very tidy cravat as she was having some difficulty lifting her eyes to his face without her gaze becoming stuck on his mouth—and marveled at what he’d just told her. After first wondering what he meant by “absolutely fascinating,” anyway.
Mr. Hunter, an agent for the War Department. She could scarce believe it. Oh, she’d known that Mr. Fletcher trusted him, but she never would have guessed Mr. Hunter was actively engaged as an agent.
Nor would she have guessed that after a mere two days at the ton’s most sedate house party she would already have been kissed, twice, and embroiled in a smuggling operation. Which reminded her…
“Your mission is to keep me from becoming involved in a smuggling operation?”
Mr. Hunter inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Correct.”
“I should think telling me of it is rather like involving me in it.” She smiled at him pleasantly. “Do you fail all your missions this quickly?”
He chuckled at that. “My orders were to see you weren’t involved in Lord Martin’s endeavors. William didn’t say a word against your participation in the investigation of those endeavors.”
Kate knew full well William Fletcher wouldn’t have said a word for her participation either, but she had absolutely no intention of arguing that poin
t. She snapped her book shut and scooted forward in her chair. “Do you mean it? You’ll let me help?”
“That depends. Can you resign yourself to my giving you orders?”
“I am the daughter of the dowager Lady Thurston and sister to the earl,” she informed him in a dry tone. “I assure you, I long ago resigned myself to being ordered about.”
Following those orders was another subject altogether, and one she very much hoped he did not broach.
“Will you resign yourself to being ordered about by me?” he pressed.
She gave him a decisive nod. “As those orders relate to this mission, yes.”
“Excellent, then—”
“And provided they are sensible.”
He lifted one dark brow.
“I only mean I’ll not endanger myself simply because you ordered it,” she explained.
“I see. You needn’t worry on that score.” He gave her a hard look. “Your involvement will be limited.”
She didn’t care for the sound of that. “How limited?”
“That remains to be seen.”
Kate wrinkled her nose. She well and truly hated that phrase. Her mother employed it whenever she wished to avoid answering one of Kate’s more sensitive questions, which meant her mother employed it with depressing regularity.
“If it wasn’t remaining to be seen,” Kate grumbled. “I wouldn’t have had to ask. I’d have seen it.”
“Beg your pardon?”
She shook her head. As that argument had never worked on her mother, it was a safe bet it would be equally unsuccessful with Mr. Hunter. “Never mind. What am I to do?”
“For now, keep your distance from Lord Martin.”
“I already do that. I declined an offer to go riding with him just this morning,” she informed him. “Couldn’t I do something else? Perhaps charm a bit of information from him? I could express an interest in acquiring smuggled goods of a harmless variety, like brandy. Surely, he means to bring at least some over.”
“No doubt, but that is too much involvement.”
“What if—?”
“Another time, Kate.”
She blinked at him, first at his sudden refusal to continue the conversation, then at the realization he had called her “Kate,” and finally because he was clearly looking at something behind her. She twisted in her chair to see Mrs. Keenes and Mrs. Lubeck enter the terrace.
Kate stifled a sigh at the interruption as Mr. Hunter rose and bowed to the women. They inclined their heads in turn, but there was little to no respect evident in the greeting. From the quick jerk of their heads, to their ramrod-stiff backs, they made it perfectly clear that they tolerated his presence, but it was not to be forgotten that he was not really one of them.
Kate felt her hackles rise. The very nerve of them, she fumed silently. It was one thing for her to have been dismissive of Mr. Hunter—or attempt to be dismissive, if one wished to be exacting—he’d given her cause with his looming and ruffling of feathers. But it was another thing altogether to dismiss a man, this man, out of hand.
Kate stood and gave a haughty nod of acknowledgment of her own. She may have been the only unmarried lady present, but she was also the only one related to a wealthy and influential peer of the realm.
“Mrs. Keenes, Mrs. Lubeck. I believe you made Mr. Hunter’s acquaintance last night at dinner?”
Mrs. Keenes sniffed through her overlarge nose. “Indeed.”
“Your husbands, I am sure, have made his acquaintance in the past.” In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure of that, but it seemed a fair bet their husbands had had some financial dealings with Mr. Hunter. According to Whit, Mr. Hunter saw to the investments of half the ton, and held the vowels of the other half.
By the way Mrs. Lubeck blanched and stammered, Kate concluded she belonged to the second half. “I, er…yes, of course.” She pasted on a sickly smile. “Good afternoon to you, Mr. Hunter.”
“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Keenes mumbled halfheartedly before turning to Kate. “Mrs. Lubeck and I were just headed for a stroll about the grounds. Won’t you join us?”
“We’d hoped for our dear Miss Willory’s company as well,” Mrs. Lubeck informed her, “but she declined.” She leaned forward to whisper dramatically. “I daresay she worried she would damage what is left of her wardrobe. Did you see her traveling gown, Lady Kate? Mended in several places.”
“And a full season out of date,” Mrs. Keenes’s added with a gleeful tone.
Kate couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for Miss Willory in the face of such pettiness.
“How charitable of you to take such interest in your friend’s circumstances,” she bit out. “I believe I shall forgo the stroll, thank you.”
Mrs. Keenes looked momentarily stunned, but after a spot of rapid blinking, managed to regain her composure. “Yes…well, if you’ll excuse us?”
“With pleasure,” Kate said sweetly.
Mrs. Keenes’s lips briefly thinned into a white line before she hooked her arm through Mrs. Lubeck’s and hurried them both away.
“Officious old biddies,” Kate muttered at their retreating backs.
Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at them, she turned away to find Mr. Hunter watching her. At first glance, his expression seemed to be one of mild amusement, but upon closer inspection, she saw a hint of darkness as well—the taint of anger and wounded pride.
He smoothed the front of his coat. “Did you just defend me, Lady Kate? And Miss Willory?”
“No,” she said quickly, unsure whether she was trying to further spare his pride, or save her own. “I-I was defending a principle.”
“And what principle was that?”
“Um, the principle of, er, good manners,” she finally managed. To her relief, the sound of voices coming from around the side of the house meant she wouldn’t be required to defend or explain that less than ideal response.
Mr. Hunter glanced at the noise. “It looks as if we’ll have to continue this conversation another time.”
“Yes, how unfortunate. I…” Kate trailed off and cleared her throat as her mother and Mr. Laury came into view.
Her mother smiled as she drew near. “Ah, Kate, there you are. Mr. Laury and I are for a stroll on the beach. Do join us.”
Kate watched the blood drain from Mr. Laury’s thin face. Oh, dear. It was thoughtful of her mother to press Mr. Laury into her company so that she might hear of Baroness Cederström, but not at the expense of the man’s health. He looked near to fainting. “I’m not certain—”
“Excellent.” Her mother reached for her, neatly drawing her next to Mr. Laury, whose Adam’s apple began to work up and down with disconcerting speed.
“Mother, I—”
“And will you be joining us, Mr. Hunter?” Lady Thurston inquired in a very, very polite tone.
Kate felt her eyes widen. She knew that tone. It was one reserved for individuals Lady Thurston was quite fond of, but would rather be rid of in the given moment. She’d been known to use it on her own children. And the only conceivable reason she’d want to be rid of Mr. Hunter was for the purpose of matchmaking between her daughter and Mr. Laury.
“Yes, do say you’ll come, Mr. Hunter,” Kate said quickly and in a voice that sounded a touch desperate even to her own ears.
“I’ve other business to attend to, I’m afraid,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of your mother.”
Oh, blast.
“Such a pity,” her mother chimed, linking their arms together. “Come along, Kate.”
“Lady Kate,” Mr. Hunter called out as her mother ushered her away. He waited for the group to turn around. “I understand you’re an unforgiving opponent at chess. Could I interest you in a match after dinner?”
“I could see my way to having a match sooner—”
“After dinner,” Lady Thurston broke in, turning Kate about again. “Good day, Mr. Hunter.”
Eight
&n
bsp; Never had dinner taken such an inordinate amount of time to begin, progress, and end. Kate was not a patient woman under the best of circumstances, and there were moments as she waited for her chess match with Mr. Hunter that she could have sworn the clock turned backward.
Her stroll with Mr. Laury and her mother had been painfully awkward for five very long minutes, which was the approximate amount of time the gentleman had remained in their company before making a hasty excuse and an even hastier retreat to the house. Then it had been a solid hour of listening to her mother list all of Mr. Laury’s very fine attributes. Kate did not argue. Her mother was certain to push at least one gentleman at her daughter during the house party and Kate thought it rather convenient that the gentleman of choice was in the habit of fleeing. She saw no reason to urge her mother toward choosing someone else.
But the event that had taken the most amount of time had been dinner itself. A normally pleasant event was made disagreeable by having Mr. Woodruff seated on her right, Mr. Kepford on her left, and the both of them alternating between leaning away from her in fear of mishap, and toward her to sneak furtive glances at the neckline of her gown. She’d been tempted to have a mishap involving her wine and both gentlemen, but chose instead to distract herself from thoughts of vengeance by imagining what role she might play in the investigation.
It wouldn’t be anything dangerous, of course, she mused now. Mr. Hunter had more sense than to give her—and she had more sense than to accept—a task she wasn’t qualified to perform. But she did hope it would at least be challenging.
It was a shame he wouldn’t allow her to charm a bit of information from Lord Martin. She looked across the table to where Lord Martin sat drinking too much, laughing too loudly, and spending entirely too much time gazing at her and talking about himself.
Nothing at all unusual about that. Apparently, he wasn’t nervous about his little operation. It would stand to reason, then, that a few carefully worded questions could be handed to him without arousing his suspicions. In truth, a few haphazardly worded questions could probably be tossed at him without arousing his suspicions. He wasn’t the cleverest of men.
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