Jane’s breath quickened, and her cheeks became warm at her aunt’s mention of Gareth. “Yes.”
Eleanor walked into the room. “The gentleman that had briefly made an appearance at the door a few weeks back? The same man who you swore had no interest in you whatsoever?” Eleanor asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Jane lips curled in a smile. “I have been known to be wrong before.”
“I’m glad to hear you say it.” Eleanor came close and smoothed Jane’s skirts. “The silver tissue is wondrous. You should always wear light colors. I dreaded that horrible black.”
So did Jane. “Olivia said the same weeks ago. I do believe I’ll have every mourning gown burned.”
Eleanor stomped her cane. “Huzzah!”
Jane kissed her aunt’s wrinkled cheek. “I do wish you could come.”
“My dancing days have long been over. I much prefer the comfort of the sofa in the parlor.” Eleanor patted Jane’s hand. “I would like you to invite your gentleman for dinner one evening. I desire an official introduction.”
Have Gareth over to meet her aunt? Jane didn’t think he’d want anything to be that official. “He may not want to—”
“Hush, darling. Don’t waste time arguing,” Eleanor said, motioning to the door. “You must hurry now. The coach is ready.”
…
The Marbury home was an imposing mansion in Mayfair. The family was not titled, but the wealth Sir Marbury had accumulated was ostentatiously displayed. The glittering ballroom was elegantly decorated with silk wallpaper, priceless artwork by Gerard TerBorch, Jan Steen, and Joshua Reynolds, and dazzling chandeliers holding hundreds of candles. The room was a whirl of brightly colored silks, polished parquet floors, and dozens of liveried footmen carrying trays of expensive champagne.
Gentlemen smiled as Jane passed. Several openly stared. Others came forward to request dances and scribble on the pasteboard dangling from her wrist. Simon Marbury stood beside his mother across the crowded room, his sleek blond hair gleaming beneath the candlelight from the chandeliers. He waved when he spotted Jane.
The women also smiled at Jane in acknowledgement, yet many eyed her with jealousy behind fluttering fans. The gossip had changed, she realized. The malicious and humorous glances behind fans had been replaced with envious glimpses.
How fickle the beau monde.
Jane took a glass of champagne from a servant’s tray as she scanned the crowded ballroom. She had eyes for only one man tonight. She spotted Gareth talking to a distinguished group of elderly gentlemen. He looked strikingly handsome in a navy coat of superfine, snowy cravat, and breeches. He met her eyes, then said something to the men and walked over to where she stood.
His gaze was riveted on her face, then moved over her body slowly. His slow sensual smile made her pulse race. “You look enchanting tonight, Jane.”
Something intense flared through his entrancement, and she had to fight an overwhelming need to be close to him. To touch him.
He eyed the pasteboard dangling from her wrist. “I’ve noticed your dance card is filling quickly. I want to carry you away from all these admiring fools.”
“Jealous, are you?” she teased.
“Furiously so.”
His tone was light, but the predatory, possessive look in his dark eyes was not. A titillating thrill shot through her. Did he care for her more than just as a casual affair?
Dare she hope?
“What if I let you carry me away tonight after the ball?” she whispered.
A devilish look came into his eyes. “I’m tempted not to wait.”
A tremor inside her heated her thighs and groin. She wanted him to know how much she desired him, how much he affected her senses. She sipped her champagne and licked a drop of bubbling fluid from her full bottom lip. “I’d rather not wait as well.”
His eyes now smoldered with fire. “You’ll be the death of me, my lady.”
A combustible spark flared between them. The raw desire in his eyes made her stomach flutter. For a startling instant, she feared every guest in the ballroom would see the sparks of sexual attraction between them.
“We must be careful tonight,” he said.
She understood his meaning. Gareth was concerned for her reputation and wanted their illicit affair to remain secret. Jane understood and was grateful. It wasn’t only her reputation at stake, but that of her beloved aunt. Eleanor might be happy that Jane no longer mourned Charles or suffered from the aftereffects of the suicide, but she would be distressed if a scandal developed and Jane was gossiped about. Discretion was the safest course of action. And if her relationship with Gareth changed and progressed, then a proper courtship would be in order.
There it was again. Thoughts of a future. It wasn’t possible. Was it?
“Jane!”
Jane started and turned to see Olivia approach, accompanied by her fiancée, the Duke of Westmont. Dressed in a peach colored gown trimmed with an abundance of flounces and frills, Olivia looked as delicate as a china doll. Her face was currently flushed with happiness.
“We haven’t had an opportunity to properly thank Mr. Ramsey,” Olivia said.
The duke stopped before Gareth. An average looking man with brown hair and eyes, Edward made up for it with a regal bearing. He currently sported a black eye and bruised cheek. “I do believe I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“It’s not necessary, Your Grace,” Gareth said.
Gareth’s bruises had faded after his scuffle with the moneylender and his henchmen, but Edward’s bruises were much more prominent. The young duke looked like he recently stepped out of a boxing ring.
“I may look a fright, but my twin looks worse,” Edward said.
Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “William went to the moneylender after that night?”
“No. William hasn’t the courage. We had fisticuffs afterwards. I won.” Edward’s voice was filled with satisfaction.
Gareth grinned. “I hope it teaches your brother a lesson.”
The duke looked forlorn. “I don’t know if William will ever learn. But I’ve decided not to come to his aid so quickly in the future.”
Gareth nodded grimly. “It’s not easy to stand by and do nothing. But sometimes a man has to learn on his own.”
The duke’s mouth twisted wryly, and he raised the glass in his hand. “I’ll drink to that, Mr. Ramsey.”
…
Jane’s dance card did indeed fill, and she danced the entire evening with eligible bachelors and distinguished gentlemen alike. Gareth did not ask her to dance, but she was aware of his presence in the ballroom. She knew the gentlemen he spoke with, the time he spent on the terrace, and the women who brazenly glanced at him.
The supper room opened before midnight. Her eyes scanned the room just as they had all evening. No matter how foolish, she longed for Gareth to escort her inside.
Simon appeared at her side instead. “Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.
She hesitated. “Are you going to offer me your arrack punch?” she asked, half in jest and half serious.
He had enough sense to look duly admonished. “Come now, I promise to act the perfect gentleman. Don’t you believe me?” he said with a grin.
She did. At least for tonight. She smiled at his charm, and placed her gloved hand on his sleeve.
A group of society matrons were watching. Jane recognized them as the same women who had maliciously gossiped about her at Olivia’s engagement ball. The same women who’d sent her running to the terrace rather than face her tormenters. It had only been little over a month ago, but it truly felt like years.
She was no longer the same woman—no longer the doomed widow whose husband placed a pistol to his head and took his life. The nightmares had ceased along with her despair. Her affair with Gareth Ramsey might be a secret, but it openly affected her confidence, her bearing…her very essence. She had changed and was no longer a subject of pity.
Simon escorted her toward the su
pper room. A wicked thrill raced through Jane as the women stared at her with avid interest and jealously.
She knew Simon was using her, but at that moment, she didn’t care. Let everyone believe he was with her tonight and would eventually move on to the next woman. For now, she was enjoying every minute of their envy.
An hour later, Jane was seated beside Olivia and the duke when she spotted Gareth across the room walking toward the open French doors. She assumed he was headed for the terrace to smoke a cheroot with fellow gentlemen, but at the last second he turned left and exited the ballroom through a side door.
Curiosity combined with a hint of mischievousness welled within her. Did he seek a private spot to escape the crowd and heat of the ballroom? She’d spent little time with him tonight, and she longed to steal a moment alone with him.
She rose and excused herself under the guise of having need of the ladies’ retiring room. Following behind a pair of chattering matrons with tall, jeweled turbans, she slipped through the same door she’d seen Gareth use.
Wall sconces illuminated a black and white marble hall. Spotting no servants or guests, she ventured further. The corridor branched off into numerous hallways that led to different parts of the house. Aubusson carpet runners and portraits of Marbury ancestors decorated the dimly lit halls. Music from the ballroom faded as she ventured farther from the ballroom.
Looking right and left, she didn’t see a single soul and was about to return to the ball just as she spotted Gareth’s tall, broad shouldered frame mid-way down a long hall. Opening one of the doors, he slipped inside.
What the devil?
She followed, her footsteps silent on the plush runner. Numerous closed doors lined the hall. She tried to recall which room he had entered. The first room was a vacant conservatory with violins resting on chairs, music stands with sheets of music, and a pianoforte. A few steps further, she pressed her ear to the next door and thought she heard a faint sound.
She cracked it open.
It was a study with a mahogany desk, tall bookshelves lined with books, and a pair of leather hammerhead chairs situated before a fireplace. Gareth’s back was to her. He was busy pulling out drawers from the desk and rummaging through them. He was clearly searching for something. One of the drawers was locked, and he withdrew two rods from his waistcoat pocket and started picking the lock.
She froze in stunned tableau.
Seconds later, the lock sprung free and he began searching through the drawer. Withdrawing a piece of foolscap, he slipped it into his jacket pocket
What was going on here?
She must have made a strangled sound for his head whipped around to spot her in the doorway. She froze, her hand stiff on the door handle.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
His voice was cold and flat, unlike any tone she’d heard from him before.
“I—” Instinctively she took a step back. He was by her side in a flash. Grasping her arm, he pulled her into the study and shut the door.
“I thought to have a moment together,” she blurted out.
His expression was hard as granite. “You shouldn’t have followed me.”
Her eyes darted to the open desk drawer. “What on earth are you doing?”
“It’s best if you leave. Now.”
Her stomach knotted, and she stiffened under his withering glare. She didn’t understand. She was not only confused by what she’d witnessed, but by the harshness of his voice. “What’s going on here?”
“I haven’t much time. Go. Now.”
A cold wave entered the room. She had a sickening feeling, similar to one she’d experienced years before. When she’d caught Charles in his first lie. She’d ignored her instincts then.
She refused to ignore them now.
“No,” she said firmly. “Not until you tell me what you’re up to.”
He cursed under his breath and speared his fingers through his hair. Several heartbeats passed, and she thought he wouldn’t answer.
“I’m not solely a barrister,” he said.
Her mind whirled. His explanation made little sense. “What on earth does that mean?”
“I work for an organization.”
“Who?”
He shook his head. “There’s no time to explain.”
“Who!” Her voice rose an octave.
His eyes lowered, shadowing his expression. “I can’t tell you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, to insist he tell her what he’d taken from the desk, when he silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips.
Footsteps sounded outside the study door.
A split second later, the door handle turned.
“Damn!” he muttered beneath his breath.
Jerking her into his arms, he tossed her onto the desk, hiked up her skirts, and stepped in between her legs. He closed the desk drawer that he’d lock picked moments ago, and claimed her lips just as the door opened.
“What’s going on here?” a familiar masculine voice demanded.
Jane could barely breathe beneath the steely strength of Gareth’s body pinning her to the desk. With his lips smothering hers, she couldn’t speak. She pressed against the solid wall of his chest to no avail.
Gareth lifted his head and turned to the doorway. Over his shoulder, she glimpsed Simon’s surprised face.
“This room is occupied,” Gareth drawled.
Jane pressed more insistently against Gareth’s chest.
His gaze returned to her, his dark eyes unfathomable. “Please,” he whispered so low only she could hear.
She froze, his weight still pinning her down. He was asking her to go along with his ruse.
Questions hammered at her, but she didn’t want to insist upon answers in front of Simon. Looking up at Gareth, she nodded slightly, enough for him to understand. Gareth stepped back, and Jane slid ungracefully off the desk. Heat flooded her cheeks as she straightened her skirts.
Simon’s gaze met hers. “I knew you were a woman of passion, Lady Stanwell. My only regret is allowing Ramsey to win your affections.”
She would perish of embarrassment. “Ah, well…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t mind you two together; however, I must insist you leave this room,” Simon said.
Jane was happy to oblige Simon. Head held high, she walked to the door. Gareth was on her heels.
Halfway down the hall, he grasped her gloved hand. “Thank you.”
She whirled on him. “This isn’t over,” she said. “I want the truth.”
“I told you—”
“Yes, yes. You’re not solely a barrister and you work for a mysterious organization,” she snapped. “That’s not good enough. I want to know the whole truth.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “Shh. Not here.”
She refused to be put off. Refused to be lied to.
“When?” she demanded.
“I have to deliver something. Let me escort you home.”
Deliver something? Her spine stiffened like steel and she raised her chin in defiance. “Does it have to do with what you took from Simon’s desk drawer?”
He shot her a murderous look that made her back up a step. She’d never seen him like this. Intimidating. Ruthless. Focused.
Alarm bells rang in her head, her heart. Something was terribly wrong. She’d learned the hard way never to deny her instincts.
Twice was enough to last her a lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gareth struggled with what he could tell Jane. He should be angry that she’d followed him and disrupted his search. He should balk at the thought of telling her the truth. But he didn’t. And not only because there was no other logical explanation for why he’d been rummaging through Simon Marbury’s desk drawers. He wanted to share the truth with her, wanted to share his deepest secrets with her.
And that was not only disconcerting, but impossible.
He was sworn to secrecy. Every mission was vital and no o
ne, other than a spy’s contacts at the Home Office, knew the details of an assignment. If an agent broke this vow, he put everyone at risk.
Gareth grasped Jane’s arm and steered her down the hall. “Come with me and I’ll explain. My driver will take you home.”
Her step faltered and she looked up at him in the dimly lit hall. Her delicate brows knit, and he knew a war waged within her. She wanted to believe in him, but she was afraid.
At last she nodded, and relief flooded through him with an intensity that was startling. There it was again. The foreign tug in the center of his chest. The uncomfortable feeling he was too close, too keenly aware of her feelings, her needs, and wanting to make everything right for her. She was making him feel, dammit.
Once in the vestibule, Gareth waved to one of the Marbury’s footmen. “The lady is unwell. Please have my carriage brought around,” he instructed.
His carriage arrived, and Gareth helped Jane inside and took the seat across from her. She looked beautiful bathed in the light from the carriage lantern. Her flaxen hair and tawny eyes beckoned to him even more than the tempting swell of her breasts above the provocative bodice of her gown.
As soon as the carriage jerked forward, she whirled upon him. “What do you mean you work for an organization?”
He was almost relieved at her anger. He’d rather face a furious Jane than a tearful and distraught Jane. “I cannot reveal the details.”
“You said you’d explain everything,” she said.
“I’m doing the best I can.”
Anger flared in her eyes, and her face flushed.
“I’m sorry, Jane. I am sworn to secrecy.”
“I thought you were a barrister,” she accused.
“I am.”
“I thought you were aiding Simon with the sale of a portion of his family’s business?”
“That isn’t exactly true. All I can say is that there’s unsettled business between us.”
“Then why sneak out of the ball to search Simon’s study? Why not simply ask him for what you need?”
His fingers fisted. He hated talking about Simon with her. It was difficult enough watching the blackguard escort Jane into the supper room. He’d wanted to sprint across the ballroom and slam his fist in Marbury’s face. He was unaccustomed to these jealous feelings and he didn’t like them. He’d stayed away from Jane tonight to protect her reputation, not soil it with his jealousy.
At the Spy's Pleasure Page 15