A Spy's Honor

by Russell, Charlotte

  Landry bowed and stepped back. “I give way to youth and enthusiasm.” Then he disappeared into the crowd before Claire could blink.

  “You should mind your own business, boy,” her father barked. “She’s talked about nothing but marriage all Season long. I found her a husband and she hasn’t shown an ounce of gratitude.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “It needed to be done. I have traveling plans.”

  He stumbled away, still muttering, and Lord John held out his arm. “I’d best introduce you to my cousin.”

  Claire looked up at him and saw the same powerlessness she was feeling reflected in his eyes. Yet, he’d stood up for her, had pushed back at her father. Yes, he’d helped her. Though he didn’t look like one, he was definitely a knight errant. “Thank you. Thank you for…coming to my aid.”

  She spent the next hour dancing with first John’s cousin and then his friend. Both were pleasant fellows who didn’t seem to mind in the least being called on to partner Claire. This, along with the dancing itself, helped to restore her mood, and able to think more rationally she told herself all would turn out right in the end. If she didn’t find Lord Landry suitable over the next few weeks, Emily and Allerton would put a stop to her father’s scheme when they returned. She couldn’t be forced to marry the baron, after all.

  After a trip to the retiring salon, Claire realized she was late for the supper dance, so she set off in search of Lord John. She’d enjoyed his company far more than she’d thought she would.

  “Lady Claire.” Lord Landry slid up beside her, offering his arm. “Do accompany me on a turn around the room.”

  She would rather wade through sheep dung. However, she must give him a chance, for he might very well be the only man who ever wanted to marry her, even if he did only have an interest in her dowry.

  “You may escort me to Lord John, for the supper dance has already begun,” she offered. “Your partner must wonder where you are as well.”

  He shrugged and led her around the outskirts of the room in an uncomfortable silence. Claire didn’t like the smell of him or the way he breathed. She scanned the rapidly thinning crowd for Lord John, but before she spied him Lord Landry veered off into a corridor.

  “My lord!” Claire tried to plant her feet, but he clamped down on her arm so tightly she could only skitter along beside him. “Sir, please unhand me. What will everyone think?”

  He turned another corner, his breath quickening. Shadows enveloped them. “I hardly care. If we are caught out, our marriage will be that much more expected.”

  He stopped suddenly and shoved her against the wall. Even in the dim light she could see his eyes were no longer dull and lifeless.

  He held her in an iron grip with one hand, and with his other he reached up and pinched the back of her arm. She cried out.

  “Yes, that’s it. Show me how much it hurts.” He did it again, harder, and pressed in on her.

  This time when she yelped in pain, he covered her mouth with his. He continued to pinch her, swallowing her screams with his rough kisses. Tears streamed down her face as he ground against her.

  When she yanked her arm free and shoved against his throat, he pulled back, smirking. “Oh, yes, you’ll do nicely.”

  Panic stole her breath away. Then a commotion at the end of the hall captured her attention. A man, humming loudly to himself, weaved his way down the passage. He bumped into a table, nearly knocking over a vase, and cursed.

  “Father!” Oh, thank goodness. Claire steadied her wobbly legs and rushed to him. “Lord Landry just molested me!”

  That brute stepped forward, shaking his head. “I was, perhaps, a little overeager for our forthcoming nuptials. I apologize.”

  Claire’s father struggled to focus on her. “’S’all right, girl. Nothin’ wrong with a man stealing a kiss from his intended.”

  “But, he hurt me!”

  “He’s jus’ excited,” her father said, patting her arm.

  “Indeed I am,” Landry replied. “I’ll have the special license the day after tomorrow, and you’ll have your three thousand pounds.” He winked at Claire and sauntered away.

  “Father?” What kind of nightmare had she awoken in? He meant to sell her to Landry?

  “You’ll marry. Day after tomorrow. Need the money.” He belched. “Got travel plans.” With that, he stumbled past her.

  Claire cried out in desperation and ran the other way.

  ***

  She dashed straight into his arms. John grasped her shoulders, helping Claire Talbot regain her balance as she raised her tear-stained face.

  “Oh, John, you must help me. He… He…” She choked and couldn’t finish.

  John fished out his handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. “Hush. I heard. You don’t have to say any more. I’ll make it right. I will.” His heart thumped wildly at such a bold promise, but he couldn’t bear to see her so cut up.

  He’d been looking for Lady Claire when he saw Landry steer her off into this darkened part of the house. He had followed, arriving just behind Lord Bradwell. A frustrating ineptness at confrontation had prevented him from stepping in. He had a hard enough time figuring out what to say when emotions weren’t running so high.

  Putting a hand to her back, he guided her into the nearby silver salon. Faint moonlight shone through the high windows, and Claire sank onto the closest chair and sniffled.

  She was such a pretty girl. He’d been intrigued by her ever since he’d met her two weeks ago but hadn’t been able to say more than a few words at a time to her. Until tonight. Until he’d witnessed her father’s abominable treatment of her.

  John crouched in front of her and skimmed his finger along her lower jaw, catching tears. Damn Landry. And Bradwell. Her father should be calling the baron out, not excusing his behavior.

  “I just wanted to find my True Love and settle down to a charmed life. Now I must marry a monster. Where is Allerton when I need him?” She brought her hands to her face, exposing the bruises beginning to form on the back of her arm.

  Hot anger seared through John. He shot to his feet and paced in front of her. Allerton would have known what to do—and would have done it with confidence that his every command would be followed. Such was the life of a duke. But John’s brother was gone and would be for the next five weeks. That left him, a poor substitute. Still, he claimed the same steadfast, capable father as Allerton. Some of that blood must flow through his veins. At least that’s what his brother had muttered over and over again as he’d tried to shape John into a “more formidable man.”

  There was only one thing such a man could do when faced with a lady in distress. John secured his spectacles more firmly on his nose, took her hand, and helped her up.

  His heartbeat faltered when her gaze connected with his. He inhaled a deep breath and said on a rushed exhale, “No, my lady, you will not marry Lord Landry. You can marry me. We can head to Gretna Green this night.” He broke eye contact before adding, “I am afraid you are not getting the love match you had hoped for, but I can offer you the protection of marriage.”

  “Oh my! I never expected…” Her husky voice sent an errant thrill along his spine and drew his gaze upward. The top of her head barely reached his cravat, so she tilted her head and he was grateful to see her eyes shining with hope. “You do me a great honor. I should have known Allerton’s brother would be just as generous and noble as he.”

  Such effusions should have made him uncomfortable, but he liked how she gazed up at him with those adoring brown eyes, as if he were the most heroic man on earth.

  She grabbed his hands. “An elopement. How adventurous. And scandalous!”

  Oh Lord. Scandalous. Who knew how Allerton would react if John swept Emily’s sister off to Scotland for a clandestine wedding? Allerton’s name had once been synonymous with scandal, but now…now that he’d found a wife to love John’s brother seemed less tolerant of outrageous behavior.

  She must have noticed his frown, for she withdrew her h
ands from John’s. “I understand your hesitation. I can’t ask that much of you. I will just—”

  He missed the warmth, the connection, of holding her hands. The brightness left her eyes.

  An adventure? Scotland would be just the beginning; marriage to Claire would be the true adventure. An unknown future, yes, but he’d have a wife without having to suffer through an awkward courtship. A pretty wife, and one to whom he already felt more than comfortable talking.

  He grasped her hand and pulled her back toward him. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “We leave for Scotland within the hour.”

  Leaving Claire to make any arrangements she might care to, he went in search of Philip, their most discreet footman, and ordered Allerton’s third-best carriage readied. He also asked Philip to have a basket of food prepared, telling the servant he had to attend to an urgent matter at one of Allerton’s more remote estates. That fabrication should buy them a little time. And, true to his word, within an hour of proposing his rash plan, John slipped out the areaway door, valise in hand.

  He wound unobtrusively through the members of the bon ton who milled about the pavement in front of Allerton House looking for their carriages. Though they were obviously leaving the ball early, all were in such good spirits after partaking of the duke’s largesse that they paid not a whit of attention to him, a bit of luck he hoped would continue a few minutes longer.

  The carriage that awaited him was halfway down the block, behind a long line of other vehicles. He could just make out Claire in a dark cloak, hiding in the shadows of the neighboring house as planned.

  He handed his valise up to the coachman, and while the servant was distracted John beckoned Claire forward. Not wanting the coachman to notice the extra passenger, he closely followed her into the carriage, nearly toppling her. He apologized, but she was giggling as she sat.

  He crowded onto the squab next to her and put his fingers to her mouth. “Shhh.”

  She stilled, leaving his fingers to linger on her lips. While not wafer thin like her sister, she had a fine figure. Despite what her father said, she looked quite splendid in her peach gown with her hair, a soft brown, curled and pinned up. She was curved and rounded in places John could only dream of touching. And he had, many nights running.

  The urge to kiss her coursed through him. He leaned closer…

  Her eyes widened, and he stopped himself. Damnation. She’d just been molested by Landry. How could he even think of kissing her?

  The carriage jolted forward, bouncing them both against the seat. John steadied himself and forced himself to say, “Last chance to change your mind.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care how upset my father is; his opinions and feelings are no longer my concern. They never should have been in the first place.” She clutched her shawl tighter around her arms. “Home, hearth, and family have never been his priority. His only care has been rambling around the world, exploring this ancient wonder or sailing across that high sea. He destroyed my mother. I should have known he would try to destroy me too.”

  “I’d like to hear about her, if you’d like to tell me.”

  Claire nodded. “I would. My mother was beautiful like Emily and sweet. Well, most of the time. She doted on us, but now I think about it she was always a little distant. She would enthusiastically suggest a walk, but then not talk very much. Or she would make up elaborate rules for a game but then wouldn’t participate when we played.”

  “Do you miss her?” John missed his father terribly. Now all he had was Allerton, who could have been a great brother but instead tried to fill the role of father too. He’d forced John to go to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing club, Angelo’s fencing academy, and rowing on the estate lake all in an attempt to mold him into a Corinthian of the first order. And while he was well-meaning, John had been miserable. He had other interests more pressing than the empty-headed activities of a gentleman. His passion resided in linguistics. He wanted to spend all his time studying the spoken word, not wasting his efforts on being something he wasn’t: the man his brother thought he should be.

  “I do, but even if she were alive nothing would be different. She didn’t possess a very independent nature.” Claire rested her head against the leather seat and closed her eyes. “She loved my father beyond measure, and instead of treasuring that love he crushed it. He left her in Hampshire while he went off carousing, never caring how much pain his absence caused her. She walked on air whenever he came home and then crashed to the depths of misery when he inevitably left again. When she became ill, I wrote him daily, begging him to come back, believing his presence would restore her spirit, restore her health.”

  “Funny,” John said, “how people are never quite what we want them to be. Is that our failing or theirs?” He’d always put the blame on Allerton.

  Claire opened her eyes. “If you love someone, you’ll be what they need.”

  He pondered her words as the carriage rattled into the yard of the coaching inn where they would change vehicles. Should he capitulate and be the blade Allerton wanted him to be? Could he even do it, or was that an impossibility?

  As for romantic love, he was no expert on that subject—yet—but it wouldn’t take much for his soon-to-be wife to capture his heart.

  ***

  At the Green Dragon Inn, Lord John hustled Claire out before the coachman climbed down with his valise, and in a matter of minutes he’d waved Allerton’s carriage off and hired a post chaise to take them north. But it was only as they left the streets of London behind and lumbered through the countryside that Claire breathed a sigh of relief.

  Which did nothing to dispel the giddiness that had taken up residence in her stomach. She’d escaped what could only have been a nightmarish marriage to Lord Landry. She was out from under her father’s thumb. She was eloping to Scotland.

  In a few days she would have a husband: the boy—man—sitting next to her. He would forever have her gratitude for riding to her rescue, but if she was going to spend the rest of her days with him she wanted to know him better. Here, in the semi-dark carriage with the comforting music of pounding hoof beats and wheels crunching across the macadam, they had nothing to do but talk anyway.

  She touched his sleeve. “Let’s play a game.”

  “But of course. Charades? Least-in-sight? Skittles?”

  “Very amusing, sir,” she replied, secretly delighted to find that diffident John could be silly sometimes. Everyone needed a little silliness in their life. “Something that requires a little less space. I thought we could learn more about each other by asking questions in turn. Honest answers required.”

  He took off his spectacles and pulled out a handkerchief to clean them. “I’m intrigued. You go first.”

  “Do you like the theatre?”

  He studied the glasses, looking for more spots.

  “Tell the truth,” she prompted.

  “Only if Shakespeare is being performed.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Did Emily tell you that was my preference too?”

  The carriage hit a rut and her bottom jounced off the seat. When she landed, she lost her balance and ended up crushed against John’s side. He stared down at her, making no effort to return her to an upright position.

  “No, she didn’t. You truly aren’t fond of the theatre either?”

  His spectacles had slid halfway down his nose. Claire reached out and pushed them back up. She was close enough to see his pupils widen.

  She straightened, though she was comfortable just as she was. While this newfound intimacy was much different than the horror she’d experienced with the baron, she was not at all certain how she would bear the ultimate marital intimacy. John might not be anywhere near as virile as someone like his brother Allerton, but he was still a man, and what man wouldn’t be disappointed by her body?

  “Claire?”

  At his prompt, she snapped her attention back to the moment, searching for the topic at hand. Then she smiled at John and s
aid, “No, I don’t like the theatre. Unless it’s Shakespeare, and even then I am particular. Romeo and Juliet is a favorite, but I don’t care for King Lear.”

  He nodded and shrugged. “I suppose we’ll have to find other ways to amuse ourselves in the evenings.”

  The carriage was growing warmer by the moment. How was it possible she’d begun tonight as the forgotten sister of the bride and was now on her way to becoming a wife herself?

  “Your turn,” she said, perhaps a little too brightly.

  “If you have an hour to yourself, how do you spend it?”

  “Reading.” Simple enough. “What about you?”

  That rare smile made an appearance before he repeated her answer. “Reading. What sort of books do you prefer, my lady?”

  She risked censure, as she had endured from her father, but she answered honestly, as required by her rules. “Novels. Gothic, romantic, both…” There, let her husband-to-be respond to that.

  “Have you read Mrs. Radcliffe’s The Romance of the Forest?”

  “Yes, and I adored it. Have you?” She couldn’t see serious John getting past the first few pages.

  “No, but I’m glad you enjoyed it. I usually read travelogues or histories. We shall have to have quite a large library.” He blinked suddenly, as if this whole idea of marriage and living together had sunk in at last.

  Perhaps it was best if neither of them dwelt overlong on the near future. “Your question, sir,” Claire prompted.

  “Your favorite food, madam?”

  Everything. She ignored her father’s sneering answer that echoed inside in her head. “Biscuits. And you?”

  “Cheese.”

  She chuckled at that. “Your turn again.”

  “May I kiss you?”

  Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

  “Honest answer, Claire. You can say no.”

  His almond scent teased her nose again. Had he moved closer? He wasn’t the man of her dreams, but he would be her husband in a matter of days. She would have to become accustomed to his kisses. And, truthfully, she wanted to put the awful memories of Landry behind her.