by Jenna Brandt
Once she was satisfied there was nothing else relevant in the study, she made sure everything was put back in its place before quietly leaving the room.
Just as she turned to move down the hall, she bumped into someone. Her eyes darted up to meet Duncan’s questioning gaze.
“What are you doing down here?”
“I got lost looking for the privy,” Josephine said, pressing her lips together to keep from rambling on to further explain herself. Less was more when it came to avoiding discussing something she didn’t want to, or at least that was what Isadora had always told her. She was much better at evasion than Josephine ever was.
“I can escort you to the privy, though I find it hard to believe that you would get lost in your friend’s home.”
“I know; it was rather silly of me. My mind was somewhere else, and before I knew it, I had passed it by. You needn’t bother yourself with escorting me to the ladies’ room. It’s just down the hall.”
“Are you trying to get away from me?” he asked with a hint of frustration in his voice. “I was hoping to have a moment alone with you.”
“I need to finish in the privy before returning to the parlor. I wouldn’t want anyone to notice my absence,” Josephine explained, trying to move past Duncan.
He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from fleeing. “I think you can spare a few more moments for me. There’s no need for you to rush off when we’re enjoying ourselves here where no one can see us.”
As he looked at her with smoldering desire, her stomach knotted with disgust. His admission made it clear he was interested in her in a way that made her uncomfortable. All Josephine could think about was that he had been Isadora’s beau just a couple of weeks ago. What kind of man could so quickly move on from a woman he was going to marry?
“I don’t think it appropriate for us to be lurking here in the shadows,” Josephine admonished. “Someone would have the wrong impression if they were to stumble upon us.”
“Don’t trouble yourself with such concerns,” Duncan whispered, moving closer to her. “I can keep you safe, Josephine.”
Why did his words bother her? What did she need to be kept safe from? Did he know something she didn’t? Did that mean he did know something about Isadora’s death? Should she ask him, or would that put her in danger? And why didn’t she believe him? Why was it that when her safety was mentioned, Charles’ handsome face came to mind? As Duncan’s hand lingered on her arm, she realized not only did she dislike it because of who he was, but more because of who he wasn’t. She wanted to feel Charles’ touch upon her skin as she looked up into his eyes to find desire reflected back.
She pushed the troubling thoughts away. Why on earth would she be thinking of Charles that way? She barely knew the man. Either way, she didn’t want to be alone with Duncan a moment longer. She pulled free, saying, “I really do need to be getting back. My friends will be looking for me.”
As she rushed down the hall as quickly as she could, she wondered why Duncan was behaving the way he was, and why did his sudden interest in her spark an unexpected and unwanted attraction to a spy she barely knew.
Nine
When Josephine arrived at Charles’ office the next morning, she delivered the news of the letters she found.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring one of them with me. I was worried that if Mr. Bennett found one missing, it would cause more problems than do any good.”
“You were smart to leave them where they were. We wouldn’t want Mr. Bennett to figure out someone had discovered them. If they are coded messages, we need to intercept one and slip in a decoy.”
“I have known the Bennett family my whole life, and I can’t imagine Mr. Bennett being involved in anything like this.”
“It’s often hard to see the flaws in those we hold most dear. Let me assure you, businessmen by nature are ruthless. They use whatever they must to get ahead. It wouldn’t be the first time that I had to arrest one for using secrets to gain an advantage.”
Tears filled the corner of Josephine’s eyes as she shook her head. “I hate this. I had no idea how hard this would be to deceive my friends and use their trust against them.”
He hated that she was in pain. The last thing he wanted was for Josephine to get hurt because of this. The desire to swipe away the glistening drops prompted Charles to move towards her. He reached out and gently rubbed the trail away.
“I’m sorry, Josephine. Being a spy is not an easy task, but remember, the cause is an honorable one.”
Charles wasn’t sure what she was doing to him. He knew he shouldn’t be getting emotionally involved with an informant, even one as enticing as Lady Josephine Bradley. Every time he tried to distance himself from her though, he found himself caring even more.
“If this wasn’t for Isadora, I don’t know if I would continue,” she whispered, her trembling lips parting for a moment, drawing Charles’ attention to the soft, velvety plumes.
The urge to dip down and claim her mouth for his own made him move even closer. He looked into her eyes, and he could swear that if he closed the final gap between them, she wouldn’t object. What would it feel like to hold her in his arms? Would she yield to him; let him take control and kiss her until the room swirled around them? They were merely inches apart now, her tantalizing breath playing across his face in a way that made him giddy with anticipation. Just as he decided to make his final move, the knock at his office door interrupted the moment, ruining his chance to find out how Josephine would react to a thorough kissing.
“Mr. Gilbert, your next appointment is here,” he heard Kate say from the other side of the door.
“Thank you, Miss Wilson, let them know I will be right with them,” he said, stepping back from Josephine to give himself some distance from her intoxicating lavender scent. “I’ll let you know what I find out about the letters. In the meantime, prepare to investigate the next name on the list.”
Her brows came together in a furrow of confusion. She tilted her head to the side, as if trying to figure out what just happened. When he wouldn’t make direct eye contact with her, she turned away to leave. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’ll wait for you to make contact. Be safe, Charles.”
As he watched her walk out the door, he reminded himself that getting romantically involved with her would be a mistake. He needed to keep it professional, for both their sakes. They could never be together. He was a spy, and had no business entertaining the idea of getting involved with a noblewoman.
Two days later, Charles watched from across the street as people came and went from the Bennett home. He wasn’t surprised there were so much activity, since Mr. Bennett owned one of the largest shipping companies in all of Europe. It made it harder to figure out who he needed to intercept, but Charles was good at his job. It was only a matter of time until someone came to deliver a letter.
Even though he tried to focus on his task at hand, his mind kept drifting back to his earlier encounter with Josephine. Had he made a poor choice in recruiting her as an informant? She was proving to be an interference for him, and he knew distractions could be dangerous in his line of work. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake when national security was on the line, not to mention countless lives. He needed to keep his wits about him, but Josephine had a way of taking center stage in his thoughts.
Charles was about to call it quits for the night, when a young man in second-hand clothes made his way up the steps of the Bennett house. The way his eyes darted around, it was clear he wasn’t sure he should be there. He knocked on the door, and a few moments later, it opened to reveal a well-dressed man who Charles assumed was the Bennett butler. The man didn’t look pleased to see him, especially after glancing down at the letter in his hands. There was an exchange of words, and Charles realized this was his chance to intercept the letter. He moved across the street and waited at the edge of the iron gate.
When the young man came through to leave, Charles went through in the
other direction. He made his way up the steps and knocked on the door. The same butler answered the door.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, I’m Charles Gilbert, the editor for the London Tribune. I was hoping to interview Mr. Bennett regarding the new trade agreement he established with several countries in South America.”
“You can leave your card with me, and I will make sure Mr. Bennett receives it,” the man said, placing his gloved hand out for Charles to place one in it.
“I was hoping Mr. Bennett might have some time today,” Charles countered, glancing down to see if the butler had the letter in his other hand. Sure enough, it was down by his side.
“Mr. Bennett is a very busy man. He does not have time to see every man who comes calling without an appointment. If you wish to conduct an interview at a later date, you will leave your card.”
Charles dug in his coat pocket, pulling out several pieces of paper and a couple of letters, fumbling around on purpose, saying, “I know I have a card in here somewhere. I was on my way to the post office when I decided to stop by.”
“I don’t have all day, Mr. Gilbert,” the butler snapped out in irritation. “If you don’t have a card, I suggest you come back later.”
Charles waited a few more seconds, then pulled out his card, but intentionally let it tumble to the ground along with all the other items in his hand. He ducked down to grab them, deliberately knocking into the butler’s legs. Just as he hoped it would, it caused the older man to stumble back and drop the letter into the pile.
“Watch out,” the butler shouted, trying to right himself.
Charles gathered up the items, making sure to shuffle Mr. Bennett’s letter to the bottom of the pile without the butler seeing. He placed the forged letter he brought with him on top. As he stood to his feet, he said, “I’m so sorry. How clumsy of me.”
“I should say so,” the butler snapped out. He looked around on the ground, a troubled look on his face. “Where is Mr. Bennett’s letter?”
“Oh, this must be it,” Charles said, taking the forged letter from the top and handing it to the butler. “I must have picked it up by mistake. My apologies.”
Charles turned to leave, pleased the exchange of the letters went so smoothly. He placed all of the items back into the pocket of his coat.
“Wait, Mr. Gilbert,” the butler said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t a request.
Did the butler realize it wasn’t the right letter? Had Charles been found out? He had been certain that he had an accurate forgery made based off Josephine’s detailed description, but there was always a chance something was off. He turned around, bracing himself for what came next.
“You forgot to give your card.”
Charles let out the breath he had been holding, moved forward and pulled out one of his cards. “Yes, yes, certainly, here it is. In the commotion, I completely forgot.”
As soon as Charles was safely away, he opened the letter and went over the contents. At first glance, it appeared to be a love letter from a mistress. He didn’t recognize anything that stood out as a code or ciphers. Just to be sure, he would take it to one of his experts, but he was fairly certain it was innocuous. Once he confirmed his suspicions by obtaining a second sample of writing from Mr. Bennett during their interview to compare to the blackmailer’s threats, he would have to let Josephine know they had ruled out one of the men. That meant it only left two.
Ten
Josephine had been relieved when she received word that Mr. Bennett had been removed as a suspect. Though he did have a secret affair, it was nothing that would pose a problem to anyone outside the Bennett family should it come to light. She never thought Mr. Bennett capable of treason, but now it was confirmed that he was innocent.
Tonight, she would be focusing on the second man on the list: The Duke of Witherton. His masked ball promised to be the event of the season and everyone who was anyone in London would be in attendance. It was the perfect guise to allow Josephine the ability to listen to dozens of conversations as well as sneak away to inspect the duke’s study when no one was paying attention. Hopefully by night’s end, she would know whether or not the duke was the blackmailer.
“That’s the dress you’re wearing?” Rachel asked with disbelief. “How do you ever expect to attract a suitor in such a plain dress?”
Josephine glanced down at her yellow gown. When she had put it on, she had picked it because it was easy to move in and made little noise when walking—perfect for her work as a spy. She had given little thought to how it looked. Attracting men had never been important to Josephine, and even less since taking on her new job. By the look on her sister’s face, however, she knew the dress she picked wasn’t going to stand.
“What do you suggest I wear?”
Rachel moved into her sister’s room, scanned through the wardrobe, and picked out a light blue, satin dress. It had delicate lace along the fitted bodice and high neckline, dyed in the same hue. The sleeves flared out in a fan at the elbow and were trimmed with the same lace. The skirt had a full bustle in back that enhanced Josephine’s slender frame.
“This is the one,” Rachel declared. “If you don’t have a suitor by the end of the night while wearing this, I’ll eat my hat.”
“I’d like to see that,” Josephine said with a chuckle. “But since you’re much better at this than me, I accept your suggestion.”
“You know, if you just put in a little effort, Jo, you could have your pick of the eligible men in London.”
Josephine shrugged. “Getting married has never been a priority for me. Living a life as a spinster would suit me just fine.”
“Don’t let father here you say that. He might very well take away your inheritance if he thought it would make you get married.”
Josephine bit back her retort. She hated that everyone in her life thought she needed to get married to be happy. She never saw herself as the doting wife or motherly type, yet it was expected of her to be both, and without complaint.
The servants came back into the room and changed her outfit, switching the jewelry, shoes, and clutch to compliment the new gown. She also switched from a gold to silver mask.
An hour later, they were making their way up the steps of the Duke of Witherton’s lavish London estate. Josephine prepared herself for a long night of endless dancing and tedious conversation.
“Stop fidgeting, Jo,” Rachel admonished. “The duke will be receiving us in just a moment. He could be a good match for you.”
Little did Rachel know that Josephine wasn’t coming to the ball to impress the duke, but rather to find out if he was behind the blackmail and Isadora’s death. She could care less if he liked her, but she supposed he might let something slip if he were interested in getting to know her. She plastered on her sweetest smile just as they reached the front of the receiving line.
“Good evening, Lady Rachel, Lady Josephine,” the duke said, taking each of their hands in turn and kissing the tops of them.
They both bowed, saying in turn, “Good evening, Your Grace.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Rachel added, then gently nudging her sister closer to the duke, she added, “My sister is especially elated to be here.”
“Is that so?” he asked, raising his eyebrows over his steely blue eyes. A flirtatious smile crossed his face as he leaned towards Josephine. “Promise me you’ll save me a dance.”
She nodded. “Certainly, Your Grace.”
Once they were alone again, Rachel squeezed her sister’s hand. “I think the duke is interested in you, Jo.”
“He used to be interested in Isadora, too, not to mention Vivian Bennett from what I’ve heard.”
“Oh, hush now, Jo. He never had an official courtship with either of them. He’s still as eligible as they come. You could be a duchess if you play your cards right, not just the daughter of one.”
Josephine could see there was no point in arguing with her sister. Instead, she changed the s
ubject by saying, “I see the Bennetts and Lady Matilda over by the refreshment table. We should go greet them.”
A few minutes later, her sister was deep in conversation with Julia Bennett and Josephine was free to circulate around the room. She moved from one conversation to the next, trying to glean any information she found relevant to her investigation. The problem was, it seemed everyone was over Isadora’s death but her. No one was talking about it anymore. How quickly they forgot someone who used to be the center of their social hierarchy.
When she realized she wasn’t going to find any useful information from the assembled guests, she decided it was time to check out the duke’s study. Before she could escape though, she found herself being swept up into the arms of the host himself.
“I came to claim my dance with the most intriguing woman in the room,” he said, pulling her in a little closer than she felt comfortable.
“And why would you think that about me?” Josephine rebuffed. “I’m an open book.”
“No, I can tell there is a lot more going on below the surface than what you want people to see.”
Josephine didn’t like that he could see her so clearly. It made her wonder what else he knew about her. Could he tell she was there to spy on him and his guests rather than to enjoy the ball?
“You give me far too much credit,” Josephine said in a light voice. “I’m just like all the other women here—trying to land a rich and titled husband.”
He looked taken aback by her bluntness. Her statement was facetious in nature, but she also knew it would work as bait because he didn’t know any better.
“I’ve never heard a woman admit to that, though I know it to be true.”
“I don’t see a point in pretending otherwise, though my sister would be appalled to know I’ve given up the game.”
“Have you though, because I’m finding myself outmaneuvered by you. It isn’t often that someone keeps me on my toes. I rather like it.”