“For the Crown? So, you were spying upon us, because… we might be guilty of something against Crown and Country, is that it?”
He was astounded at the agility of her mind, at the fact that they were calmly discussing it, rather than her having dissolved into a fit of the vapours. He nodded.
“Not just you – there is a need, now, for the Prince Regent to be sure of the loyalty of all among the ton. There have been too many… instances of less than acceptable behaviour in the last few years, and the shadow of the wars, and the intrigues that they brought, is long. I am delighted to say that, in the vast majority of cases, nothing of concern has been found. But when we saw that clandestine correspondence going in and out of Elbury House, I had to be sure, had to know why – for no matter what I wished to believe, my duty came first.”
As he spoke, he had reached out, unthinking, and taken her hand. She had allowed it, and he held it still.
“Baron Setford directs this work, does he not?”
Trent drew in a very deep breath – how did she know that?
“Yes.”
She nodded. “I would expect so. He is a close friend of my father’s, and of a number of others we know well. I have been aware of his… role in life… for some time now.”
She was silent for a moment, and then, without warning, she threw her head back and laughed.
“My Lady, are you well? I must admit that laughter is not what I had expected from you at this moment, not at all.”
Once the hiccupping laughter subsided, she turned to him, smiling.
“Oh dear! And I have led you a merry chase, haven’t I? I am sure that you were quite certain that something dreadful was going on, and that all of my letters were code for something else, weren’t you? After all, you did manage to intercept and read them, I expect.”
He gave a grimace of chagrined agreement.
“We did, and never have I felt more confused in my life.”
She laughed again, a bright joyous sound.
“So let me set your mind at rest. Yes, I am the poet who styles themselves Mr L Brooks. What else could I do, as a woman of quality? If anyone knew that the poet was a female, the work would be disregarded. But I knew that my work was good – oh, is that all too conceited of me? – but it is good! And I wanted to see it published. So I invented Mr Brooks, and sent letters to publishers, in secret, with Tom’s connivance. Not even my family know that I write these things. I thought myself so clever, yet you have caught me at it. Perhaps I am not so clever after all.”
She sighed, her expression sweetly frustrated, and he fought the urge to lean forward and kiss her. Instead he tightened his fingers on hers. Her eyes turned down, and considered their joined hands, as if she had never seen such a thing before. But she did not pull away. She truly was delightful, and the urge to kiss her returned tenfold.
“I rather think that you are very clever – for you have led us a grand chase, and it was only luck that allowed me to work it out. Had you not dropped that poem at Lord Porthaven’s Ball, I would still be trying to decide who the poet was, in this household. Please, tell me – why on earth were you carrying it, and written in your own hand? Surely that was a terrible risk?”
“I was carrying it because I had only just written it, right there in Lord Porthaven’s house. Sometimes inspiration strikes at the most terribly inconvenient times! And I must say, now, that I am glad that you discovered it, when I dropped it, rather than anyone else.”
“Thank you. Will you permit me to call upon you tomorrow? Then we might perhaps discuss this in more detail, and in more privacy.” He inclined his head towards the end of the stable, where, out of earshot, the grooms went about their work. No doubt they had a watchful eye upon the lady all the time. “But before then, I believe that I have a package to complete the delivery of.”
She watched, wide -eyed, as he carefully re-wrapped her poems, and tucked them into his jacket.
“You will do that for me? Allow me to continue this charade, even help me do so? You are not shocked and disgusted that a lady of the ton should do such a thing?”
“Of course I will, dear lady – and why should I be disgusted by a shining talent such as yours? Both your talent with poetry, and your proven talent with espionage. You, my Lady, would make an excellent spy.”
“If that is the way of it, then, of course, you may call upon me tomorrow.”
Chapter Eleven
Lily rose the next morning, full of nervousness. As soon as she opened her eyes, the events of the previous day came rushing back into her mind. Oddly, the part of it that seemed most important was that he would call upon her, today. That, and the fact that he had chosen to actually see to the delivery of her poems to Frockmorton and Thackery himself, rather than disparaging the whole idea of her being a poet, and wishing to be published.
At breakfast, she was distracted, and barely ate, which caused Hyacinth to raise a curious eyebrow at her – Lily was certainly not as fond of her food as Rose was, but she normally had a healthy appetite. But, by some miracle, Hyacinth chose not to say anything – in fact, Hyacinth herself seemed somewhat distracted, staring at the painting on the wall opposite her, as if it held the secret to some great mystery.
When Lily returned to her room, determined to follow her normal plan for the day, and write for an hour or two, she discovered that she could not concentrate.
Her mind would not stay on the poem that she was attempting to write – instead, her thoughts were filled with Lord Canterford. That he might be a spy, for Lord Setford, had never once occurred to her, yet, now that she knew it to be so, it seemed obvious. It certainly explained why he was present at every social event, when he did not seem to be seeking a wife, or intent upon gambling and carousal. It left her wondering just who, within society, he had discovered what, about. She was quite sure that some people hid things which were undoubtedly shocking. And if Lord Setford trusted him, then she most certainly could.
But more than considering the implications of his revelation, or of the fact that he now knew the truth of her pseudonymous poetry career, she considered what it had felt like, to have her hand held by his, skin to skin. For in his pose as a labourer, he had not worn gloves, and neither had she, for stroking a horse with gloves on only led to very dirty gloves! The warmth of his hand had seeped into her, and his touch had somehow made her feel safe, even whilst she faced the fact that her secret had been uncovered.
It was not sensible, or logical, yet that was how she had felt. And the look in his eyes when he had asked to call upon her today… she was sure that it had been affection, but perhaps she deluded herself.
The morning passed so very slowly, and not one word of poetry appeared on the page before her, until she simply gave up, put everything away, and sat by the window, dreaming. What would he say today? Would he really call on her? And… if he did, would his eyes hold that same affection that she was sure she had seen, in the stable yesterday?
She wanted that to be the case – very, very much.
Finally, she rose, tidied herself into a suitable state to receive callers, and went down to the parlour, with a book in hand. She would sit and read, until he arrived – if he did arrive. Lily surprised herself by actually managing to read – a novel this time, rather than poetry, because the story drew her in. So deeply absorbed was she, that she started in her seat when Hyacinth slipped into the parlour.
“You, my dear sister, have a caller. Lord Canterford is here. Oooh, look, you’re blushing, my, my, has the frozen Lily finally thawed? Should I tell Marks to show him in?”
Lily glared at Hyacinth, after carefully placing the book on the side table. She drew herself up, mentally cursing the blush that had, indeed, risen to her cheeks, and attempted to look completely calm.
“Yes, please do.”
She completely ignored Hyacinth’s teasing, and responded only to her final question. Hyacinth looked rather disappointed at her lack of response, but gave a small nod.
> “I’ll send Nell in, to ensure that propriety is served.”
Hyacinth left the room, and moments later Marks showed Lord Canterford into the room. Nell slipped in behind him, scurried over to the furthest corner of the room, and took a seat. Lily rose to greet him and he came to her, and took her hand, bowing deeply over it. Her heart raced, and it seemed suddenly difficult to breathe. Even through their gloves, the warmth of his hand was undeniable, and she found herself wishing that he would not release her. But he did.
He was everything that was proper.
“Good day to you, Lady Lily, I trust that you are well today?”
For a moment, even replying to such a simple question seemed impossible. Then she forced herself to speak.
“I am indeed, Lord Canterford. I must thank you for the delightful flowers that you sent.” A small movement of her hand indicated the elegant arrangement of roses, which stood in pride of place on an equally elegant table against the wall. “They are most elegant, and, if I may say so, far more tasteful than any other flowers that I have ever received. It was most remiss of me not to thank you when we met at the Earl of Porthaven’s Ball.”
An odd little smile played about his lips, and his voice, when he spoke, reflected slight amusement.
“I do believe, Lady Lily, that at the Earl of Porthaven’s Ball, you had… other things… on your mind. Things at the heart of our… unconventional… conversation yesterday.”
So – he was not going to waste any effort on genteel small talk – he had come straight to the point. She could respect that quality in a gentleman – she had no need of pointless gossip and discussion of the weather. She met his eyes – his smile was reflected in them, and she felt suddenly warm all over.
“Do, please, be seated Lord Canterford.”
Lily led the way to the couch, and settled herself. She was inordinately pleased when he was daring enough to seat himself beside her. He looked at her, and hesitated, as if a little uncertain where to start, then he inclined his head in Nell’s direction.
His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.
“Your maid… is she aware of…”
“No, my Lord, no-one is.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and his smile became broader.
“You are, my Lady, a most talented woman, full of surprises. I can only respect that. I wanted to assure you that I was true to my word – yesterday afternoon, a certain package was delivered to its intended recipient. I believe that you can expect correspondence from them, to that effect, soon. I am happy to have been of service. I am also most glad that you like the flowers. The florist tried his best to convince me that ladies preferred rather more ostentatious arrangements, but I felt sure that your tastes were more… discerning… shall we say.”
Lily laughed.
“How politely phrased, my Lord. And very much correct. I am most grateful for the… delivery. I felt quite certain, when you first put your hands upon the bundle, that it would never reach its destination, indeed, that I would likely never see it again, in any form. I am still shocked that its very existence, with all that it implies about me, has not horrified and disgusted you.”
He reached out, as he had the previous afternoon, and took her hand. She allowed it, indeed, she welcomed it. But the rush of warmth through her took her breath away, and she turned her face from his, suddenly confused.
“My Lady, nothing about you could ever disgust me. Quite to the contrary – I admire you – not simply your beauty, although that is notable, but your intelligence, and resourcefulness.”
Her eyes snapped back to his, wide and surprised. Did he truly mean what he had said? For a man to praise any woman for her intelligence was most unusual – perhaps she was dreaming, for surely a man who found intelligence and resourcefulness in a woman desirable was the stuff of daydreams! That small smile curled his lips again, and the warmth in his gaze increased. Words fell from her mouth, before she had the chance to think.
“My Lord, I fear that my hearing is not at its best, for I could swear that you just spoke positively of intelligence and resourcefulness.”
He laughed softly, a warm resonant sound that seemed to vibrate to her very core.
“There is nothing wrong with your hearing, Lady Lily. That is exactly what I said. I do not subscribe to the belief that women are of lesser intelligence, no matter what many men might wish to be true. Women are, on the whole, most intelligent, and, forgive me for the implication, but remarkably canny and cunning too. As a spy, I would be a fool to believe otherwise.”
Lily simple stared at him, her mind reeling. He was right – as a spy, he would be a fool to be blind to the possibilities of a woman’s intelligence, but that he knew that was still remarkable. The silence lengthened, and was broken only by a gentle snore from Nell’s direction. Lily stifled laughter, and turned to look. Nell slumped in her chair, head tilted against the wall, warmed by a sunbeam from the window. Another soft snore came their way. She looked back to Lord Canterford, and it was obvious that he shared her amusement.
“Should we wake her, my Lady?”
Lily knew that she should say ‘yes’, but she found that she did not wish to. This moment completely alone with Lord Canterford was far too precious to waste, and with Nell asleep, perhaps they could speak more directly about her secrets – and what he intended to do with the knowledge that he now had.
“No, my Lord, not yet. Let me take advantage of the greater privacy to ask you a question.”
His eyes sparkled with what looked rather like delight.
“And what question might that be, my Lady?”
“Now that you know my deepest secret, what do you intend to do with that knowledge? For with that information, you could ruin me in the eyes of society, destroy any hope I might have to ever marry, tarnish my family name and more.”
“Well, if I were an unscrupulous cad, I would, of course, blackmail you, probably demanding that you fulfil my worst desires in some salacious fashion. But, as I am a respectable spy, who is loyal to Crown and Country, and who finds what you have done rather admirable, and it is not, in any way, a threat to Crown and Country, I intend to do nothing whatsoever with that knowledge. However tempting the idea of you fulfilling my desires might be…”
Lily had felt a shock of terror as he began to speak, and then that had dissolved into a desire to laugh hysterically, as she realised how cynically amusing his words were. The hysterical response, however, was brought to an abrupt stop by his final sentence. Her mind filled with thoughts of being held and kissed by this man, of ‘fulfilling his desires’ and she felt her cheeks heat again, in a blush that no doubt left her red as a cherry. For she did not find those images distasteful in the least.
“Oh my… thank you. That is a relief – but… am I truly tempting? Or are you simply amusing yourself at my expense?”
His eyes widened, and he tightened his fingers on her hand, which still lay in his. As he spoke, he bent closer to her, until the breeze of his words softly caressed her lips.
“My Lady, I would never amuse myself at your expense. And yes, you are beyond tempting, more so than any other woman that I have ever met.”
As the last word slipped softly from him, he closed the final distance, and brought his lips down on hers. It was a gentle kiss, barely more than a brushing touch, yet it filled her whole body with a burning desire that she had never felt before. He drew back, and a sigh escaped her. She had not wanted the kiss to end.
“You flatter, my Lord, yet I find that I… like… your manner of doing so.”
The boldness of her own words shocked Lily to the core, but she could not regret them. He looked, of a sudden, unsure of himself, as if worried that he had gone too far. His voice was hesitant when he finally broke the silence.
“Then, Lady Lily, perhaps, I may hope that you will allow me to call on you again? For I find that I would like the opportunity to… flatter you… often, if you would permit it?”
“
I believe that I would like that, my Lord.”
Lily allowed her voice to rise to a more normal level than the whispers in which they had been conversing, and an odd snorting sound from the corner informed them that Nell had started awake from her doze.
“Then I shall depart, Lady Lily – I would not wish to overstay my welcome. But I shall call upon you again, soon, you may be certain of it.”
Lily rose, and so did he. He bowed over her hand, and kissed it softly, for perhaps a few seconds longer than was entirely appropriate, and her heart sang within her. Then he turned, and departed, leaving her standing in the midst of the room, half dazed.
<<<< O >>>>
Trent wondered that he could even walk straight, so drunk did he feel on the sensation of that momentary kiss. A kiss it seemed that she had welcomed, based on her words that had followed. She was truly a remarkable woman – she did not simper, or seem to seek attention, almost as if her beauty was something that she did not fully believe in. Or as if she was afraid of drawing too much attention from a man. But why?
As he settled into his carriage, the last hour replayed itself in his mind, over and over. He had been far more direct and forward with Lady Lily than he ever had with any other woman – he had admitted far more of the truth of himself, although he was not sure that she recognised that for what it was. And she had not rejected him. Had not, not once, looked at him as if he was a disappointment. Rather, once she had begun to believe that he would not betray her secret to the world, she had relaxed, and appeared to enjoy his company.
Most importantly, she had agreed to him calling on her again, often. That, a small voice in the depths of his mind pointed out, sounded very much like courting. He stilled. Was he courting her? Did he want to?
He had to admit it to himself, he rather thought that he did want to. And his own thought of some time before came back to him – ‘she would make an admirable wife for a spy, indeed, she would make an admirable spy herself’.
He flinched away from it a little, yet… was it such a frightening thought? He knew that he would eventually have to marry, for the title needed an heir. He shook his head – perhaps he was a fool indeed, if he thought that he could be good enough for a woman like that, could live up to her standard of achievement. Even if she had all of the attributes of an excellent spy, there was also the fact that his role as a spy would inevitably bring danger – and the very idea of putting her in danger’s way left him feeling ill.
A Spinster for a Spy: Book 1: Lily - Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters: The Elbury Bouquet) Page 9