So which was real? The passion he displayed with someone he believed to be a lightskirt? Or the seduction he was playing out with her in the midst of ballrooms and gardens and Great Halls?
Was it possible to be jealous of herself?
She shook her head as she saw Grant ease his way down the garden path. There was no time for silly musings. She’d stumbled upon a real case when she’d seen the man dressed as the Regent. And now she had to determine if Grant Ashbury was the right man to partner with her to solve that case.
He was all casual elegance as he moved his way through the cold, frosty garden, scanning one way, then the other as if he was just enjoying the cool air after the overly heated ballroom. She cursed him for the greatcoat he wore. She hadn’t had time to grab her wrap before she’d left the warm house and now she was frozen in the night air. Blasted man.
One of the lanterns illuminated his face as he turned toward her and she saw the focused glint in his dark eyes. Yes, he was definitely searching for her. Yet he remained calm, loose. No one who saw him would ever guess his true purpose. She liked that. Too many times spies forgot themselves when they thought they were alone.
He veered toward the gazebo and Emily tensed. Carefully, she shifted further into the shadows.
Grant’s face turned sharply toward her hiding place and she held back a curse. He couldn’t have seen her slight movement in the dark and he certainly hadn’t heard her! She was silent as the grave, that was something she prided herself in.
Yet he continued to stare, moving forward in a slow but steady pace toward her. He held himself with caution, ready to strike as all his attention remained firmly on her hiding spot. He was too focused for her to make an escape by slipping away behind the gazebo. All she could do was wait and hope he would decide there was nothing to examine in the shadows after all.
Which, of course, he did not. There was no avoiding the inevitable. She had wanted to see his reaction to the unexpected and she was about to have her wish granted.
With a deep breath, she pushed off her heels until she stood tall and walked out into the open.
Grant had a hard time keeping enough control not to stumble back in surprise when Emily strode out of the shadows as if a lady of quality hid behind a gazebo in the freezing cold every day. Her shoulders were thrust back, head held high, and she regarded him with what could only be construed as scorn.
“Lord Westfield.” She acknowledged him with a cool nod befitting royalty.
“Lady Allington,” he drawled as he looked her up and down. Her bare arms were covered with gooseflesh and her nipples were clearly outlined against the silky fabric of her gown. He stifled a groan at the sight.
“What are you doing roaming around the gardens?” she asked, with the gall to look irritated by his presence.
“One could ask the same of you, my lady.” He folded his arms. “Why in heaven’s name would you come out in the freezing cold without a wrap to warm you? Especially since you informed me you had promised the next dance to another partner. Surely the gentleman must be looking for you by now.” He tilted his head. “Unless he’s also hiding behind the gazebo for some strange reason.”
There was a thought to turn his stomach.
Her eyes widened. “Are you implying—”
He stepped forward and her entire body shifted, moving into a subtle fighting stance. The motion took him by surprise. How many women knew how to balance their weight? How to grip a fist like that so they were ready to throw a punch? Yet Emily had done both.
What the hell was this woman, really? And what was she hiding?
He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You’ll catch your death if you stand out here with no protection, especially after your recent illness.”
Her fists relaxed and she stared up at him, eyes shining with surprise in the dim lamplight. “You—” she pulled the coat closer—“thank you.”
“Let me take you back to the house.” He held out an arm. She gathered up the hem of his coat like it was the edge of a gown and lifted it as she took his offering.
For a few steps, they walked in silence. Emily stared straight ahead, clutching his coat so as not to drag it along the pathway.
Finally, Grant cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me why you were hiding in the shadows, without a wrap, watching me?”
Emily’s gaze slipped over to him, held on his face, and he felt her scrutiny. Her appraisal. He thought she was going to say something and found himself leaning closer in anticipation. Then she shrugged.
“No.”
He stifled a surprised laugh. No. Just like that. No. Without explanation or babbling about the ridiculous position she had been caught in, she simply denied him. He had never met another woman like her. He had certainly never been so thoroughly challenged, stymied, and confused by another woman before.
And he found he actually liked it, despite all the very good reasons he had to find her reticence troubling.
“I see.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairway leading up to the veranda. Without having to be asked, Emily slipped out of his coat and handed it over wordlessly. “And what about your lie about dancing with someone else? Do you want to explain that?”
She tilted her head and looked at him. By God, she was stunning. But it wasn’t just her pretty face that captured him. He’d known many women just as beautiful. It was the light in her eyes. Intelligence and mischief and sensuality rolled up in one sparkling package.
“No, Grant,” she said softly. “Not tonight.”
He drew back, surprised, yet again, by her answer. “No? Does that mean you’ll explain yourself another time? Because I admit, my curiosity is overwhelming.”
She smiled and it was like a punch in the stomach. How could something so small affect him so deeply?
“Tomorrow.” She reached out as if she wanted to touch his arm, then drew back. Disappointment crashed through him. “Come to my home tomorrow and have tea with me. I promise I’ll explain everything to you then.”
Then she turned and slipped up the stairway, her slender hips shifting beneath her gown with every step and drawing his attention in a most distracting way. For a long time after Emily was safely inside, he stood at the bottom of the stairs, thinking about her.
And as he pulled his coat back around his shoulders, he was confronted with yet another reminder. Her soft, fresh scent wafted around him. She’d worn the coat for all of three minutes, yet she left the mark of her fragrance to haunt him.
He sucked in a deep breath of the scent. Seductive, enticing…and so very familiar. Where had he smelled that fragrance before?
A cold breeze rippled through the trees and wiped the question from his mind as it chilled him to his bones. He headed up the stairs to the house with a sigh.
Tomorrow Emily promised explanations. And perhaps tomorrow he would uncover the truth and finally be able to protect her.
“You have visitors, my lady.”
Emily glanced up from her notes to the grandfather clock by the door where her butler stood. Grant was early and she couldn’t ignore the stirring in her belly at the thought that he was just as eager to meet as she was.
She could only hope he would react well to her admissions. No doubt he would be furious that he’d been deceived by his superiors and shocked to discover she was a spy. But once those initial reactions had faded, would he accept her, work beside her to uncover the truth about the Prince in disguise she’d seen that wicked night in the club?
“Did you put him in the Rose Parlor as we discussed?” she asked as she set her work into the escritoire drawer and turned the key. Later she might bring Grant here to show him her notes, but for now it was better to secure her papers.
“It is not a ‘he,’ my lady.” Benson sighed. “It is Lady Carmichael and Mrs. Tyler.”
Emily’s hand froze in the action of turning the key and her gaze snapped up. “I thought I told you I was not in residence if either of them a
rrived.”
He nodded. “You did, madam, but they were quite insistent. I do apologize, but you know Lady Carmichael can be…wily.”
Emily tried not to laugh at his assessment. She could only imagine what tricks Meredith had used to make her way past the butler. But she wasn’t happy with her friends and she wouldn’t forgive them, at least not for a while. Even if they were charming and wonderful.
She certainly had no intention of sharing details of the very real case she had uncovered yet. Not until she and Grant had a solid handle on everything. Only then could she be certain Charlie wouldn’t take the investigation away from her out of some attempt to “protect” her.
She gritted her teeth. “And they are where, exactly?”
“The Rose Parlor, my lady. It took everything in me to convince them not to storm your office. I was under the distinct impression that if you did not receive them within a reasonable time, they might do just that.”
Benson gave her a long-suffering look and she smiled at him. The poor man really did go through hell working for a bunch of upstart female spies. But despite his prickly nature and blatant disapproval of her profession, she had faith he would remain true.
If only it were so easy to trust everyone in her life.
“I do apologize for their behavior. I know they were probably most unpleasant for you to deal with.”
She finished locking the drawer and put the key in her pelisse pocket. Smoothing her skirts, she girded her strength for facing Ana and Meredith.
“There will be no need for tea,” she explained as they walked down the hallway together. “They won’t be staying long enough. No interruptions unless it is absolutely necessary.”
Benson nodded once, then split away from her as she reached the Rose Parlor door. She drew in a deep breath as she turned the handle and entered.
Meredith was standing beside the fireplace, dressed in a simple traveling gown. Emily arched a brow at her appearance. That was right. Meredith and Tristan were bound northward for his first case. Her friend must be out of sorts to come to Emily’s home mere hours before their departure.
Ana was perched on the settee, watching the door with an expression of anxiety. When Emily entered, she surged to her feet.
“You could have done without the dramatics, you know,” Emily said as she shut the door behind her. “That sort of thing upsets Benson. Now I’m going to be forced to hear about his displeasure for a week at minimum.”
Meredith folded her arms, sparks of frustration lighting her dark blue eyes. “If you hadn’t been pouting and avoiding us, we wouldn’t have been forced to barge into your home in the first place.”
“I have never pouted in my entire life,” Emily snapped, fisting her hands at her sides.
Ana stepped between them, holding up a hand to each side. “Ladies, arguing over frivolous things is not going to resolve anything and will likely lead to nothing more than hurt feelings. Please, Meredith.”
Meredith shrugged and Emily relaxed a fraction. But her anger didn’t diminish and now that she faced her two best friends at once it was joined by deep and devastating disappointment and betrayal.
“Why would you do this?” she asked. “Meredith, why would you lie to me? Make me an utter fool by having me chase around a man who is a spy and can take care of himself? Do you have such little faith in me and my abilities after all we’ve been through together?”
Meredith had the decency to look chastised for a moment, but then she stepped forward. “You and Ana are my dearest friends. I have never desired anything but the best for you both. I’ve never had anything but the highest regard for you and your abilities. But it is exactly because of all we have been through that I agreed to this deception. Dearest, you cannot deny that you are changed—”
Emily cut her off with a wave of her hand. Her emotions welled but she pushed them down with violence. “No. I won’t hear of how my injury changed me. How you no longer trust me.”
Meredith shook her head. “We trust you—”
Emily interrupted a second time. “How is it that you and Ana can claim I am so very changed while you ignore the fact that you have changed equally in the last year and a half? Perhaps even more than I!”
Ana tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Emily pointed at Meredith first. “Just eighteen months ago, you said you could never fall in love. You had investigated many a man for various crimes and had them make advances on you, but you told me, in the most disgusted tones possible, how you could never care for someone who might be guilty of a crime. Yet you fell in love and married someone you once suspected of treason. And now you’re working side by side with him as he trains to be a spy. Tell me that has not changed you.”
Meredith sucked in a breath. “Of course it has changed me, but it isn’t the same—”
“And you.” Emily turned on Ana, and her friend flinched. “Six months ago, you were still wearing black for a man who died years ago. And it wasn’t only to protect yourself, hide yourself. You truly mourned him. Six months ago, you declared you would never take the field. I was the one who was supposed to work with Lucas Tyler. And now you’re not only married to the man, but judging from the scene I interrupted two nights ago, that marriage is happily and often consummated. I also have it on good authority that you regularly shimmy out of windows together, make wagers on who will uncover what bit of evidence first and were shot at three weeks ago at the end of the Freighton Diamond case. I don’t think I have to tell you, Ana, you are changed.”
Ana’s face paled, but she didn’t deny any of the charges leveled at her.
Emily continued, “Yes, I admit that being injured, nearly dying, changed me.” She hesitated for a brief moment as she recalled her shattering fear at The Blue Pony. “But you are both changed as well. And yet you are still allowed, nay, encouraged, to be in the field. You’ve abandoned the cases we used to do together in exchange for working with your husbands. So why do you deny me the chance to continue my duties? You are allowed fulfilling lives that are entirely separate from mine. You’ve left me alone, yet you refuse to allow me to do the one thing I have left: Work for my country.”
As the last heated words left her lips, Emily instantly wanted to recall them. She had never stated those feelings out loud before, and judging from her friends’ wide-eyed and stunned expressions, they had never guessed the dark emotions that lurked in her heart.
“We never left you alone,” Ana whispered. “We never abandoned you in exchange for our new lives.”
Emily turned away. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked furiously to stave their fall. This was not how she had expected this meeting to go.
“I will continue to investigate cases,” she said through clenched teeth as she tried to keep her chin from wobbling. “Whether you are my partners any longer or not.”
“This is about our marrying.” Meredith moved toward her. “As much as it is about our trying to protect you. Emily, I never realized you felt abandoned. Or that you felt…”
She broke off and Emily clenched a fist.
“You were not going to say jealous,” she whispered before she turned to meet Meredith’s gaze. “Because I am not jealous.”
“If you were,” Ana said softly, treading carefully around the subject, “it wouldn’t be wrong. You deserve happiness and love as much as Meredith or I do.”
Emily squeezed her eyes shut. If only it were that simple. “I am not envious of the love you have found. I am not envious that you are married while I’m still alone. I like being alone. I would not desire some man underfoot!”
When she opened her eyes, she realized she was shouting. And lying. Lying about her envy. Lying about her comfort with the empty house and empty life she lived outside of her duties to the Crown. And lying about not desiring a man. There was a man she wanted, with an ache that was devastating in its power.
Grant.
But she couldn’t have him. She couldn’t have what her sister spies ha
d found with any man, even if she found one who truly cared for her.
“My lady.”
She spun around to find Benson standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she snapped, “What is it?”
“Lord Westfield is here, my lady.”
She froze. Grant was here, in her hallway. And at the rate she had been shouting, he had no doubt heard her humiliating declaration. She turned away from her servant and her friends, going to the window to calm herself. Not that calm was possible.
She covered her cheeks and felt the burn of a blush. Her fingers trembled and her breath came in heaving gasps. Drawing on all her training, she focused on slowing her racing heart.
When she felt like she could breathe again, she said, “Let him come.”
With hands shaking behind her back, she looked toward the door, ignoring Ana and Meredith as Grant walked into the parlor. She sucked in a breath. So much for calm.
Every time she saw him, she was stricken by his strength. By the utter command he displayed in every small movement. And also by the fact that he didn’t sacrifice grace despite his large frame and muscular physique. He was the perfect balance of power and control.
Unlike her. At the moment she felt wild and emotional and shaken. Judging from the look of concern he gave to her, he knew that. Which meant he had heard what she’d said. Her blush deepened and she longed to sink into the floor and never look into his eyes again.
He let his gaze move to Meredith and Ana, who stood together, still pale, still shocked by what had been said. Emily flinched at the sight of them.
She was surprised when Grant’s expression darkened a shade. With…it was anger. Blame. A protectiveness much like the kind she’d seen on Lucas’s face the night she intruded into his and Ana’s home. She had envied the protection Ana’s husband offered that night. And now Grant seemed to be expressing the same with just a pointed glare.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Lady Allington,” he said softly, his gaze moving back to her and holding, even and gentle. “Your note did say two o’clock, did it not?”
Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] Page 10