When Letty shook her head, Arietta nodded. “That is not surprising. He is a little too staid for someone with your passion for life.”
Letty was surprised Arietta thought that about her. But the same could not be leveled at Mr. Cartwright. He made her breath catch without any effort on his part. She did not expect a morning call from him, which was just as well as the man was precisely the sort her aunt warned her about, and a spy to boot. What might he be doing with Lady Fraughton? Was it merely rakish behavior, or something else? She would need to curb her curiosity, for he wasn’t likely to tell her.
Her busy fingers smoothed her gloves to the elbow while she was forced to admit that Cartwright had a certain appeal. But if a rake, her virtue would be safe in his company as he showed no eagerness to pursue her. She was surprised by a twinge of disappointment. Rakes were dangerous, she could quite see that. They drew women to them like bees to honey, even sober Aunt Edith had grown pink at the mention of them. Letty firmed her shoulders. She would never succumb to a rake’s charm. Forewarned was forearmed.
She danced the waltz with Lord Craven, a gentleman of some fifty years who had a tendency to count under his breath. As she stared vacantly over his shoulder, impatient for the music to end, Cartwright danced past with Lady Fraughton in his arms. When he turned the lady, her eyes met Letty’s. Beneath furrowed brows, she stared daggers at her. Letty gasped. What had she done to deserve that?
Brandon danced Lady Fraughton over the floor, but his mind was not on his partner. Instead, he was preoccupied with Miss Bromley, who looked extremely attractive tonight. Delicious in fact, with her creamy-skinned bosom and the slender column of her throat bared to his view in the low-cut gown. Her large eyes were like chocolate velvet, soft, except when she gazed critically at him, which she tended to do quite often. She was a good deal too interested in him, however, and that, he suspected, had nothing to do with his charm, although it did little for his ego to admit it. Brandon reminded himself of the job assigned him. He had no time for flirtations with young ladies. He’d made it plain amongst the marriage-mad mamas that he was not in the market for a wife. Getting too close to Miss Bromley would be a mistake. He gave himself a mental shake. These thoughts would hardly assist him to gain the information he needed from the lady in his arms, who seemed to welcome his interest. Recovering himself, he smiled down at her.
“I’m surprised that young, dark-haired debutante has come to your notice,” Lady Fraughton said waspishly. “She is fresh from the country without an ounce of Town bronze.”
“You have met Miss Bromley?”
“No. But debutantes are all from the same mold. They are too inexperienced for a man such as yourself. They don’t know how to play the game as they are merely intent on finding a husband. Green girls are so dreadfully dull. And some will do almost anything to trap a man. The stories you hear!”
He looked over to where Miss Bromley, obviously bored stiff, danced with Craven, and stifled a chuckle. She wasn’t at all dull. In fact, she was a good deal too bright. He hoped she would soon meet a man who held her interest, otherwise, his dealings might come under her scrutiny again. It was the last thing he needed.
The dance ended.
“The night is warm.” He led the lady from the floor. “Shall we stroll on the terrace?”
She smiled. “It is fortunate that my husband isn’t present tonight.”
Nor her nouvel amant, Marston, Brandon thought. With a clear field he needed to act quickly. “Is Fraughton out of town?”
She cast him a coquettish grin. “Why do you ask?”
“I should feel uncomfortable with him breathing down my neck.”
She laughed.
Outside, another couple stood at the far end of the terrace enjoying the night air. Brandon rested a hand on the balustrade, the stone cool through his glove. “Surprising for your husband to miss one of the most prominent balls of the Season.”
She shrugged, her slim shoulders encased in blue silk and lace. “What Fraughton does is of no interest to me.”
“And is what you do, madam, of no interest to him?”
“It would appear not,” she said in an acerbic tone. “He is at a meeting at Lord Elford’s home.”
“He advised you of his direction?”
“No, he did not see fit to tell me. I discovered it for myself.”
“Is this meeting a matter of great importance? Or was that beyond your powers of discovery?”
She cast him an arch look. “Nothing is, if it interests me enough. Apparently, one of his cohorts has just returned from France. A Mr. Descrier.”
Brandon turned away to view the gardens. “The wealthy gentleman of commerce?”
“The same.”
She stood beside him at the rail. “Why does this interest you? Or should I ask, does it interest you, Cartwright, more than I do?”
He chuckled. “I find you fascinating, my lady. As well you know. You are not only beautiful, you are clever. I admire that in women.”
Slightly mollified, skepticism still hovered in her eyes. “And you wish to learn more.”
“If you should like to tell me more.”
“What do I get out of it?” She held her fan up to her face, her eyes alight with invitation. “Were we not to meet somewhere more convivial to discuss it?”
The other couple strolled back into the ballroom.
“I won’t take you to bed, Susan,” Brandon said softly. “Not that I don’t very much want to.”
“I never thought you a prude, Cartwright.”
“I am not one, but I still cling to a few principles.”
She frowned. “If I help you, might it bring Fraughton down?”
He hid his reaction to her cold-bloodedness. “I could not say.”
“No, you would not. You keep your secrets close.” She shrugged carelessly. “As I have not a shred of affection for my husband, I shall advise you of anything I discover. And don’t be too sure we shall not become lovers.”
Brandon reached out and grasped her shoulders, turning her toward him. He sought her gaze. “Do not trivialize your husband’s power to hurt you. Remain very careful, my dear. Take no chances on my account.”
She raised her eyebrows. “He barely notices me.” She took his arm, and they strolled back to the ballroom.
Chapter Seven
At ten o’clock the following morning, Letty was on her way to breakfast when she paused to sift through several gilt-edged cards piled on the silver tray on the half-moon table in the front hall.
“Do gentlemen rise this early?” she asked the butler, Thane, in surprise.
“Some ride in the park before breakfast, Miss Bromley.”
Mr. Boyce and Lord Craven had left their cards as did two other gentlemen. None of whom she wished to see. With a sigh, she made her way to the breakfast room. She was hungry. It was several hours past her usual time to eat.
While Letty drank tea and ate buttered eggs, she went over the previous evening’s events. Uppermost in her mind was her conversation with Cartwright. Annoyingly, the man seemed to diminish in stature all the other men she had met. It might be because of his brooding good looks, but she suspected it was most particularly the aura of mystery that clung to him.
She remained hopeful that Arietta, who never rose until late, might make an appearance and agree to a walk in Hyde Park before luncheon.
She had finished her eggs and was spreading jam over a second slice of toast when Arietta swept into the breakfast room. She was dressed in a cambric muslin negligee of pale blue flounced with French trimming. The mob cap of Brussels lace over her hair had corresponding bows of pale blue satin ribbon. While admiring Arietta, Letty doubted she could ever be quite as stylish.
“Up early, my pet?” Arietta nodded at the footman who brought a fresh pot of tea.
While Arietta sipped her tea, Letty told her about the morning calls.
Arietta cradled the tea cup in her hands. “We must expect a busy afternoon.
”
Letty suffered a stab of guilt. It was so good of her to be doing this. It must surely be tedious. “Shall we go for a refreshing walk before luncheon?”
Arietta yawned behind her hand. “I declare, you young things have such energy. We did not get to bed until after three. Indeed, I am surprised to find myself up at this hour. I awoke to the sound of a hawker who made a dreadful racket beneath my window.”
Arietta’s sigh indicated that Letty had failed to hide her disappointment. “Very well. After I have attended to my letters, we shall promenade through the park.” She took a roll from the basket and reached for the butter. “The ton don’t generally make an appearance until five o’clock, but you never know who you might meet.”
When they set out an hour later, it was a lovely morning, the dew still fresh beneath the trees and the air scented with damp foliage. Letty angled her silk parasol to shade her face from the sun as they walked along a path. She considered herself quite smart in her new primrose sarsnet and brown linen spencer, her bonnet of straw-colored satin dressed with a plume of feathers, tied at one side of her chin with primrose ribbons. She chatted with Arietta about the previous evening. The park was far from deserted with riders cantering along Rotten Row. On the South Carriage drive, a landau and a cabriolet had pulled up side by side to allow those inside to engage in conversation. Two ladies greeted them on the path, and after Arietta introduced Letty, they remained to discuss the opera program for this Season.
As their conversation didn’t include her, Letty watched the equestrians. She wondered if Arietta rode. It was one thing she sorely missed since coming to London. How wonderful it would be to hire a hack and ride through the park.
As the two ladies said their goodbyes and walked on, a glossy chestnut stallion cantered smartly down the Row. Letty raised her parasol for a better look. It was! Cartwright, in a dark coat and riding breeches, glossy top boots, his black hat at a rakish angle. He had spied her and, reining in, walked the horse over to them.
“Good morning, ladies.” He removed his hat and bowed from the saddle. “I would not have expected to see you out so early, Lady Arietta.”
“Good morning, Mr. Cartwright,” Arietta said, her smile tight. “I believe I was persuaded by Miss Bromley to rise early, but now find myself appreciating the fresh morning air. Allow me to introduce her to you. I am sponsoring Miss Bromley for the Season.”
“Miss Bromley and I have met,” Cartwright said, with a smile in Letty’s direction. “Her aunt, Miss Edith Bromley, introduced us.”
“My goodness. You are acquainted with Edith Bromley?” Arietta raised slender brows.
Cartwright flicked another glance at Letty. “Is there any reason why I should not be?”
Arietta’s mouth twitched. “It is a little surprising, when one so often finds you in very different company.”
“I enjoy a wide variety of acquaintances, Lady Arietta. As I sense you do.”
“Not nearly as interesting as yours, Mr. Cartwright.”
“But you are too modest! I am positive that you are wrong. But I should have to make their acquaintance to be sure of that.”
“Which I fear is most unlikely,” Arietta responded.
Letty, who had been following their conversation with interest, could only agree with Arietta. It seemed extremely unlikely that Cartwright would know her aunt. And of course, he didn’t. But she found Arietta and Cartwright’s conversation confusing. As if a covert one was going on underneath, which intrigued and puzzled her.
“Did you enjoy the ball, Miss Bromley?” When Cartwright suddenly turned his attention to Letty, she almost jumped.
“Very much, thank you.”
“I imagine there will be morning callers beating a path to your door today.”
Arietta nodded. “Yes, indeed Miss Bromley was a success. We have great expectations.”
Cartwright settled his steely blue gaze on her. “I am pleased you are enjoying London, Miss Bromley. I hope, should we meet again, that you will save a dance for me.”
“Miss Bromley’s dances are quickly filled,” Arietta said, rather rudely, Letty thought, disappointed. She would like to dance with him again. She might learn more about the intrigue he was involved in, but feared it was a faint hope.
The beautiful horse snorted and struck an impatient hoof on the ground. “You must excuse me.” Cartwright patted the glossy neck of his mount. “As you see, my horse requires exercise. Good day.”
He dropped the reins and rode away.
“Well.” Arietta turned to Letty, her eyebrows raised. “We must have a talk after we return home. I am eager to discover how you and your aunt came to know Mr. Cartwright.”
Letty watched Cartwright disappear down the Row. How at ease he was in the saddle. She was glad to have time to conjure up a story to alleviate Arietta’s suspicions. Although she hated having to embellish the truth, she would keep her word to him.
After luncheon, their afternoon was spent with ladies and gentlemen paying their respects. Finally, the butler closed the door behind the last of them. Letty hadn’t realized how much of the Season would be spent in such tedious pursuits.
Arietta poured herself and Letty another cup of tea. Handing Letty the painted cup and saucer, she leaned back and smiled. “Lord Craven is quite the fuddy-duddy, is he not?”
Letty giggled, pleased that Arietta was of the same opinion as she. “And Mr. Cornwallis has the most distracting habit of repeatedly sniffing.”
Arietta laughed. “He does, doesn’t he? Quite dreadful.” She sobered. “And I’m aware that you haven’t warmed to Boyce, so I gather none of these gentlemen appealed to you?”
“I’m afraid not.” Letty grimaced. She wished she could like one of them, at least, for Arietta appeared so hopeful that she should.
“Never mind. The Season has only just begun.” Arietta reached for a small triangle of bread and butter. She bit into it contemplatively. “So, tell me all about Cartwright. How did your aunt come to meet him?”
Letty took a sip of tea to clear her dry throat. “Apparently, Mr. Cartwright met Aunt Edith at a rout. He came and introduced himself to her at Lady Driscoll’s ball and asked me to dance.”
“There is more to this, Letitia,” Arietta said with a frown. “I shall have the truth from you. What are you not telling me?”
Letty released a breath. Arietta’s pale eyes seemed to bore into her, as if she could read her thoughts. “I ran into Mr. Cartwright when I was hiding in the library,” she said, deciding a little more information was required before Arietta would be satisfied. After all, it was Fraughton of whom Cartwright asked her not to speak.
“Hiding in the library? Why on earth were you doing that?”
“I hated my dress. No one was asking me to dance. I was miserable.”
“Oh, you poor child. But where did you hide?”
“In a cloak cupboard. It wasn’t the first time. I hid behind a screen at my first ball.”
Arietta laughed and her eyes lit up. “And how did Cartwright come to discover you in this cupboard?”
“I suppose he must have heard me,” Letty said evasively. “He opened the door and found me there.”
“Was anyone with him?
“No.” Letty swallowed, wishing she could say more. “He was alone.”
“What happened then?”
“Um. We talked…”
“Yes?”
“And then he escorted me back to the ballroom. He was quite annoyed.”
“And yet he still danced with you?” Thoughtful, Arietta sipped her tea.
“Yes. I suppose he regretted his bad humor.”
“How interesting,” Arietta said vaguely. “We are to attend a soiree this evening. Your muslin with the yellow flowers is suitable.”
“Yes, Arietta,” Letty said with relief. The inquisition appeared to be over. She only hoped that would be the end of it, for it left her feeling shabby and ungrateful. How she hated telling untruths when she owed
Arietta so much. She frowned. Cartwright should not have made her promise.
Some hours later, they returned from the soiree where a small concert had been held to introduce a visiting violinist. He had performed several pieces with great expertise.
“There is something you can do for me,” Arietta said, having invited Letty to her bedchamber to drink chocolate and discuss the evening.
“Of course. Anything,” Letty said, eager to make amends.
“This ability you have to move about without being seen.”
“But I was seen. Mr. Cartwright found me.”
“Yes, on that occasion,” Arietta said impatiently. “But I should like you to do it again, for me.”
Letty widened her eyes. “Do what exactly?”
“Follow Mr. Cartwright. See what he does. Who he talks to.”
“Oh, I don’t see…”
Arietta raised a hand. “My husband, Sir Gareth Kendall, suspected Cartwright spied for France,” she said. “But my dear Kendall could never prove it. In his attempts, he died under a cloud of suspicion. I should like him to be remembered with honor. His reputation restored.”
“How dreadfully sad!” Letty felt torn. Her mind was racing. Although she had suspected Cartwright of spying, for him to be a traitor was so horrifying, she found it hard to believe. Had she made a promise to keep his secrets when it might ultimately harm Arietta? “But the war is over.”
“Intrigue continues in peace time, Letty, don’t think it doesn’t. And what can be gleaned from it remains of vital importance to the government. You would wish to help your country, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, of course. But Mr. Cartwright is smart. I’ll never fool him.”
“You’re clever, too. And what better cover than as a debutante. Most will think you’re an unsophisticated country girl.” She clasped Letty’s hands in hers. “I know you want to enjoy your Season, have fun and fall in love, and that will all come to pass. I shall make sure of it.” She gave Letty’s hands a shake with an imploring smile. “But first, do this for me, please?”
Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two Page 28