She blinked. Why did that message seem so familiar? Why did the watch itself seem so familiar? She’d seen one like it before, hadn’t she?
She dropped her head closer to the light and smoothed her fingers over the engraving. Wait, what was that? There was a little catch in the metal. She slipped her fingers over it a second time and the watch face flipped back, revealing a hidden compartment.
Emily nearly dropped the piece as her heart rate doubled. She knew where she’d seen this watch before. Anastasia had been commissioned to design a dozen of them for the very best of the War Department spies just a few years ago. Only those with highly decorated service had received them. They were made as a reward, and a device for the field. In the hidden compartment there was room for a small key, a secret message, any number of items a spy might not want to have discovered if he were searched.
Had Grant stolen this?
No, it was inscribed to him. The watch was his.
She glanced at Grant. His broad, bare back was to her. He had a little scar on his right shoulder. His muscles were from work. He moved with the speed of a cat. When faced with the option of running or fighting, he had taken on a man who was known for his brutality. And Grant’s interrogation and skills of deduction had impressed her earlier in the night.
Her hands trembled wildly as she stumbled to her feet. All the pieces slipped together. Grant Ashbury was a spy. An agent for the War Department, as highly trained as she was herself.
Why hadn’t she seen that fact before? That was why he had been going to The Blue Pony, even though there was no evidence that his gambling was out of control. The hells were a perfect spot for stumbling upon plots and information, much like she had that very night.
That was why when he saw Cullen Leary coming for her, there was a flash of recognition on his face that went beyond the boxer’s public reputation.
So if that were the case, why the hell had she been assigned to track a spy? A man who could easily defend himself if he was truly being threatened? A man who knew his profession put him at high risk for injury and death. If he really was being stalked, that fact would never be kept from him.
Which meant that what she had been told about him was a lie. No wonder Ana and Meredith had kept her in the dark, had been so reticent to share information.
Her stomach turned, nausea choking her as she blew out the candle and backed away.
Grant had approached her at the Westfield party. He’d offered her protection. She’d found it ironic at the time, but now that statement was more ominous. If she had been assigned to “protect” him…was it possible he had been assigned the same? Did Grant know she was a spy that no one trusted anymore?
Had he been laughing at her all along?
Dear God…he might have even been fully aware of her identity tonight. While she thought she was protected by her costume, he could have known he was making love to her.
She shook her head. The truth. She had to uncover the truth. And there was only one place where she was certain she would find it.
Hands shaking, she unlocked the door and slipped into the hallway. As she shut it behind her, she looked at the barrier. Her shock was beginning to fade, replaced with humiliation and anger. Anger at her friends for deceiving her. Anger at Grant if he knew the truth.
Anger at herself for being so blind.
She turned the key. Let him wake to find her gone and the door locked. Let him have to figure out how to escape the room. It served him right if he had known the truth about her from the beginning.
Cursing under her breath, Emily shoved the key and Grant’s watch into her pocket and ran down the hallway.
This would be resolved tonight.
“I said I want to see Mrs. Tyler and I want to see her now!”
Emily shouldered her way through the doorway, pushing the butler aside. He smoothed his wrinkled coat and pushed at his cockeyed wig as he glared at her.
She couldn’t blame the servant for his expression. Not only had she awoken him in the middle of the night, but she was still half made up in her costume. Her worn dress was wrinkled, the buttons cockeyed from being fastened in near darkness with no mirror for assistance. She had removed her wig before she hailed a hackney after she left Grant, but her hair was wild from just a cursory finger comb. She didn’t even want to think about what her face looked like after everything she’d done that night in her heavy makeup.
No doubt she looked a fright. And a loose one, at that.
“Lady Allington, it is the middle of the night. Mr. and Mrs. Tyler retired long ago and I cannot be expected to—”
“What is going on, Miles?”
Emily spun on the male voice that interrupted the exchange. Lucas Tyler was coming down the staircase, tying his robe around his waist as he walked. The V revealed a broad expanse of bare skin and his lips were suspiciously red.
“Lady Allington to see Mrs. Tyler, sir.” The butler gave his master a long-suffering sigh.
“You may return to bed, Miles,” Lucas said as he stepped into the foyer and met Emily’s glare. His gaze shifted up and down her body before his eyebrow cocked with unspoken questions. “I shall take care of this.”
“I want to see Ana.” Emily slammed the front door behind her, then folded her arms. “Now.”
Lucas tilted his head and his handsome face was lined with genuine concern for her well-being. “Emily, what’s wrong? Is it—”
Before he could finish his question, Ana’s voice echoed from above stairs. “What is it, Lucas?”
Hot blood raced to Emily’s cheeks at the sultry lilt to Ana’s voice. She’d never heard that tone from her proper friend before. When she looked again at the disheveled Lucas, she realized fully what she had interrupted.
Her treacherous mind flashed to Grant’s hot hands stroking over her skin. To his lips gliding over her breasts. To the way he filled her body and made her ache in a way she’d all but forgotten.
She shook the memories off as she recalled the pocket watch she still carried with her.
“I know the damned truth, Ana,” she called up the stairs. “I know you lied to me.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before Ana’s footsteps came rushing down. Her friend appeared in her own rumpled bedclothes. Her hair was just as tangled as Lucas’s, her neck flushed, lips swollen…and her eyes were wide and filled with pained emotion.
Emily smiled, though she felt bitterness more than any good humor. As excellent a spy as Ana was becoming since her marriage, there were still some things she hadn’t mastered. When it came to her friends, she couldn’t hide her reactions and emotions. Which is why Emily had come here tonight, rather than Meredith and Tristan’s. Merry could keep her face stony, make believable denials that were hard to decipher.
“Emily,” Ana began as she shot Lucas a glance.
He folded his arms and suddenly any friendliness and concern he’d shown Emily was gone. A protector replaced the man who had become her friend in the last six months.
“Emily, this can wait until tomorrow,” he said, his tone one that demanded acquiescence. “And I’d thank you not to take that tone with my wife.”
Ana hurried down the remainder of the stairs to press a hand against Lucas’s forearm. Their eyes met and a wealth of understanding flashed between them. Questions were answered in that one glance. Love was given and received.
Emily’s stomach clenched. That was something she had never experienced and likely never would, thanks to the painful past that followed her everywhere she went. She would never feel that easy understanding and care, the warmth of love and complete trust that passed between both her best friends and their new spouses. Until recently, she hadn’t begrudged them that. But now it stung her like a whip lashing across her skin.
“Darling, it’s all right.” Ana leaned up to press a brief, yet somehow sensual, kiss against her husband’s stubble-roughened cheek. “Emily is obviously upset and I’ll gladly talk to her about whatever she thinks I’v
e done.”
Lucas tilted his head. “Ana—”
She shrugged. “I know. Go to bed. I’ll be back up when I’ve finished here.”
He shot another dark look in Emily’s direction and her spine stiffened. Part of her was irritated at the ire he was focusing in her direction when she had been the one betrayed and lied to. Another part envied his protectiveness. Ana had someone who would battle to the death to keep her from any harm, even the slightest one.
Emily had no one.
Though she couldn’t help but think of Grant raising the chair above his head to stop Cullen Leary’s charge earlier in the night.
“Come to the parlor. The hallway is drafty.” Ana motioned to one of the rooms and Emily followed. As her friend tossed a log onto the dying fire and lit a few lamps, Emily paced to the window and looked outside.
“I would apologize for interrupting whatever I clearly intruded upon,” she said as she spun back on her friend in time to see Ana blush furiously. “But I have a hard time feeling sorry when I’ve been so thoroughly deceived and humiliated. And by you and Meredith and Charlie, Ana. That makes me even angrier. It hurts even deeper.”
Ana sat down and gave her an even stare that she had clearly been practicing. “I honestly don’t understand you, Emily. What is it you think all of us have done?”
With a growl, Emily drew Grant’s watch from her pocket and crossed the room to drop it into Ana’s lap. Her friend’s brown eyes flickered down, then widened at the sight of the piece she had personally designed. She flinched like it would burn her if she touched it.
Emily knew exactly how she felt.
“It’s a watch, Emily.”
With a shake of her head, Emily let out a burst of unladylike laughter. “Oh, yes. It is a watch. A watch you designed. A watch that was only given to the most decorated members of His Majesty’s male spies. I believe your husband has one.”
“And is this my husband’s watch?” Ana asked, her voice bland and face benign now that she’d had a moment to regain her composure.
“No.” Emily wanted to scream, but she managed to rein in her emotions. Barely. “I found it in Grant Ashbury’s pocket tonight.”
Ana swept the watch up and got to her feet. “You picked Grant Ashbury’s pocket?”
Emily froze. She hadn’t thought about how she was going to say how she found the watch. She certainly wasn’t going to explain to Ana how she had discovered it in the pile of Grant’s clothing after they made love.
“You’re changing the subject. It doesn’t matter how I found it.” She folded her arms. “That watch proves a point you already know. He’s a spy.”
Ana swallowed hard. “Emily…”
The pleading in her voice gave Emily the answer she sought. It seemed like everything she knew had been yanked out from under her. And now she was lost. She could no longer trust even her closest friends. And everything she believed about Grant was changed, too.
“How could you do it?” she whispered, hating how her voice broke a little. Hating the tears that stung her eyes. “How could you lie to me when you know how hard it is for me to have faith?”
Ana handed the watch, the hated watch, back to Emily. When her friend tried to touch her, she flinched away.
“Oh, Emily. You wanted to work in the field so desperately,” Ana admitted softly. “We weren’t certain you were ready. You’ve changed since you were attacked, though you won’t acknowledge it. We were frightened your drive could force you to put yourself in very dangerous positions. That you might make errors in your blind attempts to prove you could do your work again.”
Emily shut her eyes. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, her friends had been right on some of those counts. Tonight had proven that without question. Her panic when she was nearly caught by Leary could have cost her the secret she had uncovered, or even her own life.
“And Grant, I assume he knows the truth, as well. That he has been laughing at my ineptitude for the last week?” Emily whispered.
Why did it matter what Grant thought of her?
It just did.
“No!” Ana stepped forward and this time Emily let her friend touch her arm. “I promise you, Grant knows nothing about your true position. Something…happened to him a year ago. Merry and I don’t know what it was, Charlie wouldn’t say. But he is in a similar position to you. He’s been taking reckless chances. Putting himself in danger. His superiors thought if he followed you for a while, it might give him a chance to recover, to calm.”
A burst of relief relaxed every muscle in Emily’s body. So, he hadn’t known. He was just as much a pawn in this ill-conceived scheme as she. He wasn’t party to her humiliation.
And he hadn’t made love to her under false pretenses.
Only she had done that by not revealing her true identity, even after she realized Grant was a spy. A little niggling voice of guilt taunted her, but she shoved it aside.
“I am sorry,” Ana continued and her fingers tightened on Emily’s forearm. “We weren’t doing this out of spite or malice or as some kind of game. It was truly for your protection.”
Emily yanked her hand away. “I don’t desire protection! Six months ago you wouldn’t have dared do this. Six months ago, I was protecting you from yourself.”
Ana folded her arms and a sudden flash of anger lit her normally gentle eyes. “Yes. You were. But that was six months ago. You hadn’t yet been shot. I had never entered the field. I doubted myself, but that is no longer the case. But you should doubt yourself, my dear. You should be aware of your shortcomings or else you’re just a terrible accident waiting to happen.” Her tone softened and tears sparkled in her eyes. “Emily, I don’t wish to see you added to the anonymous wall of fallen spies at the War Department.”
Emily hesitated. Now that she’d railed out a good portion of her outrage and anger, she felt calm enough to really hear Ana’s pleas. And she understood them, even though she hated the fact that they might be true. She had to prove they weren’t.
And now that she had uncovered this false Prince, perhaps she could. Her gaze slipped to Ana’s face. For many years, she had depended on her partners for support in the field. For research. For assistance. She had turned to Charlie for details she couldn’t obtain on her own.
But this time, that wasn’t possible. If she told them what she’d seen, they would certainly remove her from the case, citing all their concerns about her abilities. She might never overcome her fears and regain their trust. Or her trust in herself. If she wanted that, she would have to do this alone…unless she could find a suitable partner to assist her. One who had something to prove, himself.
“What are you going to do, Emily?” Ana tilted her head. “Now that you’re aware of our deception.”
She swallowed hard. There was only one thing to do.
“Well, first, I’m going to put Lord Westfield through his paces.” She folded her arms with a wicked smile. “If he wants to follow me, he’ll have to earn the right.”
Ana shook her head, “Emily—”
She shrugged off her friend’s protests. “My apologies for interrupting you, Ana. Now that I know the truth, I’ll be on my way.”
“No.” Ana followed her as she left the parlor and headed into the foyer. “This conversation isn’t over yet, Em!”
She ignored her friend’s calls as she left the house and headed to her carriage. The one she had paid the hackney driver handsomely to fetch and send back for her from its hidden location by The Blue Pony.
“Go enjoy your husband,” she called over her shoulder as she climbed into the rig. As she shut the door behind her, she murmured, “I have my own plans.”
Yes, Grant Ashbury would have to prove what kind of spy he was. And if he passed her test, then and only then would she approach him with the truth and offer him a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his superiors by helping her solve the case of the false Prince.
Because this could be the biggest case she’d ever
investigated. But she wasn’t sure she could do it alone.
As the carriage rocked around a corner, a nagging voice inside her reminded her that after tonight, she also wasn’t quite ready to let go of Grant. Even though there was no future in that desire.
Chapter 8
“And then she left you locked in her bedroom?” Laughter thickened Ben’s voice and Grant could feel his brother’s amused stare on his back.
He gritted his teeth, finding nothing humorous about the situation. It wasn’t a circumstance he would normally relate to anyone, even his brother, but he’d been so damned haunted since he awoke in the bedroom where he’d had what was probably the most powerful sexual encounter of his one and thirty years. He had to tell someone. And there was no one he trusted more than Ben.
“Yes,” he managed to grind out as he clenched and unclenched his fists and stared into the dancing fire.
“I’m sorry.” Ben wasn’t even trying to hold back the chuckles now. “But I think that may be the most entertaining thing I’ve ever heard in my life. How in the world could you, my controlled and powerful older brother, one of the best spies in the whole realm, be so fully seduced by a woman of the night who never even gave you her name? And how could you then fall into a sleep so deep that you never heard her leave?”
Grant turned slowly and his mood must have been reflected on his face because Ben’s laughter abruptly ended. His brother scrambled to his feet from his position sprawled on Grant’s settee and stared at him.
“Dear God, this is truly affecting you, isn’t it? Grant, what is it?”
He scowled, hating himself for what he was about to confess. Hating himself for needing to confess it and obtain his brother’s advice. He’d never required that before, though Ben was more than open about providing unasked-for guidance.
But now…everything was different. He was beginning to accept that it had been different for a year. Last night had taken that fact and slapped him in the face.
“You asked me why I slept.” He cleared his throat. “The woman didn’t drug me. She didn’t render me unconscious. I almost wish she had. I prefer the nefarious answer to the truth.”
Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] Page 8