by Kruger, Mary
“No.” Parsons swallowed, hard. This was going to be very bad. Worse than that time in France. “Worley had a visitor this morning.”
“Yes, so?”
“It was Lady Cecily, sir.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alex looked at him for a moment, and then went on with his task. “Ridiculous.”
“Yes, sir, but I know what I seen.”
“It can’t have been her, Parsons. What business would she have visiting a Cit’s counting house?”
“What business would you think, sir?”
“No!” Alex exploded into movement, jumping to his feet so fast that the table rocked and the pistol skittered to the floor. “No, damn it, I’ll not believe it!”
“Barnes said—”
“We explained what that meant. ‘Ask Cecily Randall.’ Ask her where she saw her fiancé.”
“Ask her anything. Sir, we don’t know what Barnes meant.”
“Damn it, man, she’s innocent! You said so yourself.”
“Yes, sir, I did. I don’t like this anymore than you do.”
“There you are wrong, Parsons.”
“But remember there’ve been people we’ve each liked who were on the other side.”
Alex went very still, and then pounded the table. Parsons waited, hiding his sympathy. It was going to be very bad, indeed, this time.
“Hell,” Alex said, finally. Surely I couldn’t be so wrong, Parsons, not this time.”
“She might be involved without knowing she’s involved. If you take my meaning.”
“A pawn?” Alex took several strides about the room. “A pawn, yes, Edgewater’s using her for some purpose—no, damn it, that doesn’t work! If she’s really innocent, she’s on her guard against Edgewater. I never did find out, though,” he added to himself, “what he said to her the other night.” No, because he had been so jealous, and so intent on staking a claim on her. What a fool he had been. He could see it now, the plan in all its twisted glory. Seduce Alex, the government spy, with her sweetness, lull him with her innocence, while all the time she was in league with Edgewater. No doubt she and her paramour were laughing at him that very moment. Black rage rose within him, and an anguish deeper than any he’d ever felt. And memory, of another betrayal.
Now when he least wished to remember, he could still feel the soft warmth of the Frenchwoman’s arms about him, smell her earthy scent, feel the blessed relief that he had reached safety, after so nearly being captured. He could feel the wondrous sense that someone cared for him—him—because he was himself, not because he was a wealthy viscount. To be taken in by such a warm, loving woman had been a boon unlooked-for. And even now, he could hear the quick patter of her speech as she told the soldiers that, oui, the English gentleman they sought was within. If Parsons hadn’t warned him in time, he might not have got away that day, away from a betrayal that had seared his soul and taught him forevermore to be wary of everyone.
Now it had happened again, but so much worse. Though he hadn’t given his body to Cecily, he’d given her something more precious: his heart. He’d loved her. God help him, but he had allowed himself to fall in love with her. Now, when he at last knew the truth about her, he knew it about himself. He loved a deceitful, perfidious jade. Worse, he had trusted her, and she had betrayed him.
“She’ll pay for this,” he said, his voice hard.
“Yes, sir.” Parsons rose. “Sir, if I may say so, I’m sorry—”
“Damn you, Parsons, I don’t want your sympathy!” Alex roared, rounding on him with fist upraised. He wanted to hit something, hurt someone, to assuage the terrible pain within him. “I was a damned fool and I nearly ruined everything. So spare me your mealy-mouthed platitudes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alex turned away, and for long moments there was silence. “Where is Worley now?”
“With Edgewater, sir.”
“I see. It would appear Lady Cecily brought him some important news.”
“Sir, wouldn’t she be a strange choice as courier?”
“Hell, Parsons, I don’t know what to think anymore. This affair’s been strange from the beginning.” Wearily, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Is anyone watching Worley?”
“No, sir. I thought you’d need to know of this right away.”
“You thought right.” Alex bent to pick up the partially assembled pistol, examining it for damage. “Best you return to your post, now. Don’t forget we’re after bigger game than Lady Cecily.”
“Yes, sir.” Parsons hesitated by the doorway. “Sir, will you be all right—”
“Damn it, Parsons, go and leave me in peace!”
“Yes, sir,” Parsons said, and went out, closing the door quietly behind him and catching a glimpse of Alex, standing very still by the table, his head bent. He was right, he thought. It was going to be very bad this time.
One more day. Cecily entered the music room at Lady Rutherford’s and glanced around, her eyes bright with anticipation. Already many of the gilt and crimson chairs for this evening’s musicale were taken, though it was early; this entertainment was only one of several being held this evening, as on other evenings. She saw a great many people she knew, but not the one she cared most about. One more day. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, she wished it would hurry and be done with. She was eager to begin her future with a certain rake. A reformed rake, of course, she thought, smiling to herself, turned, and saw him.
He was standing across the room, in profile to her, and her heart speeded up. Then the crowd shifted, and her smile faded. Alex wasn’t alone. Standing next to him, and gazing up at him with an adoring, saucy smile, was Lady Susan Palmer, who, rumor had it, had once been one of Alex’s flirts. Her gloved hand rested on the arm of his evening coat of blue superfine, and though always before this Alex had appeared to dislike such shows of possessiveness, tonight he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he was smiling warmly down at Lady Susan. Cecily’s pleasure in the evening faded.
“Cece. Cece. Aren’t you even listening to me?” Diana, by her side, demanded.
“Hm? What is that, Di?” Cecily’s voice was absent. Across the room, Alex had brought Lady Susan’s hand to his lips and was holding it for much longer than seemed necessary. For the life of her, Cecily could not look away, though it hurt. Oh, how it hurt. But he was only flirting. Yes, that was it. He was only flirting.
“I said, Mama wishes us to take our seats. Oh, and did you see Edgewater? He looks so handsome. Honestly, Cece, will you listen to me?”
“I heard you.” Mercifully the crowd had shifted again, blocking Alex from her view. Feeling hollow inside, she sat down. In the space of a few moments, everything had changed. He was only flirting, she told herself again, but the feeling of doom remained. Something was terribly wrong.
Her common sense reasserted itself, however, as they listened to the first performer of the evening, Lady Rutherford’s sister Catherine, on the harp. What had she expected? A man didn’t acquire a reputation such as Alex’s for no reason. Of course he flirted with women, and probably always would, whether she liked it or not. She had her own ideas on handling that situation. As far as his not having greeted her, that was of little moment. Beyond the fact that he may not even have seen her in all the crush, she had realized in the past few days that he was being remarkably careful of her reputation. Except for those moments on the terrace at the Pembrokes’ the other evening, they were rarely alone, and never did they dance more than once at an assembly. Of course there had been whispers about them, but very few, considering who Alex was. She should be glad she was attracted to someone so thoughtful.
When the music stopped for the interval, Cecily rose with the others, glad of the chance to look for Alex. Musical evenings were not his favorite form of entertainment; he had once explained to her that, though he enjoyed music, he disliked being made to sit through a performance by amateurs with little or no talent. He had probably found a reason to escape to either the card room or the refres
hment room long ago. She was rather looking forward to tracking him down.
Diana nudged her as they slowly made their way towards the door. “Oh, look, Cece, Edgewater is over there, watching us,” she hissed in Cecily’s ear. “I wonder if he’ll speak to us.”
Cecily turned, forgetting Alex for the moment. “Di, do you have a tendre for Edgewater?” she demanded.
“Oh, no.” Diana glanced down. “But you must admit he is handsome.”
“No, I’m not so certain I agree with you on that.” She turned back, vaguely troubled. She knew her sister well and could tell when Diana was being less than honest. What, though, was likely to happen? Diana’s infatuations never lasted very long.
“Oh, look,” Diana chattered. “Lord St. Clair is with Lady Susan again. I’ve heard she’s making a dead set at him.”
Instantly Cecily forgot about Edgewater and her vague suspicions. For a moment, she couldn’t move. Not only was Alex still with Lady Susan, but he was smiling warmly down at her, as if no one else in the room existed.
Pain shot through her. It was one thing being polite to another woman, gallant, even, if he were trying to protect Cecily’s own reputation. It was quite another, however, to look at her in that way, the way he had looked at Cecily herself, especially when Lady Susan, simpering up at him, looked like a cat who had just found a bowl of rich cream. A pampered fat cat, she thought, spitefully, all soft, rounded curves, and without a thought in her head. Alex surely couldn’t prefer someone like her.
At that moment, as if he felt her gaze on him, Alex looked up, and his eyes met hers. Cecily waited for his smile, the light that came into his eyes when he saw her, but his face remained blank. Then, without so much as a nod of recognition, he returned his attention to Lady Susan, leaving Cecily shaken.
Cecily’s new-found confidence in herself began to shrivel. Why should he prefer her, slender and plain as she was, when he could have his choice of any woman? No matter that, only two nights ago, he had pulled her close and proclaimed her his, in no uncertain terms. He was a rake, and he could well be toying with her. She would swear, though, that there was more than that between them. Something else had to be going on here. When she had the chance, she would approach him and find out exactly what it was.
With that decision made, she was able to enjoy the supper interval, spent in company with Diana and Lord Danbury, who had always had a marked preference for Cecily. It was as she was rising to return to the music room that she felt a hand on her arm, and joy shot through her. Alex! she thought, and turned to face Edgewater.
“Good evening, my dear,” he said, his hand tightening in response to her instinctive recoil. “You are looking well this evening.”
“Thank you, sir.” Cecily’s voice was cool, and though she smiled, her eyes were watchful. “I didn’t think you enjoyed musical evenings, sir.”
“No, I usually deplore amateurs’ performances, but I must admit I am enjoying tonight.” His teeth gleamed briefly in that cold, smug smile she so disliked. “I see St. Clair has found a new flirt.”
Cecily tossed her head. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, hadn’t you?” He sounded amused. “The word I heard is that he’s quite taken with her.”
“They are old friends, I believe.”
“Yes, quite old. I understand that Lady Susan is growing tired of widowhood and is casting about for a husband.”
“St. Clair will never marry her.”
“Come, my dear. Did you think I didn’t know? It is never wise to underestimate me, Cecily.” His smile was chilling. “Lord St. Clair is only toying with you.”
“No.”
“Though why he should bother even with that, when there are so many other beautiful women available. You do lack womanly charms, Cecily.”
“You are insufferable, sir!” Cecily snapped, and pulled her arm away, aware of curious glances from onlookers.
“Am I? You may change your mind about that one of these days, my dear. You made a mistake, throwing me over.”
“Lady Cecily?” Danbury appeared on her other side, his face alight with enthusiasm and humble admiration. “May I escort you back to the music room?”
“Thank you, sir, I’d like that.” Cecily laid her hand on his arm and walked away, without a backward glance. Edgewater was just being spiteful, she thought, so angry with herself for allowing him to upset her that the sight of Alex, still with Lady Susan, only added fuel to the fire. Whatever Alex was doing, she was not going to let him leave her dangling like this. Somehow, she would find out what he was up to, if not tonight, then tomorrow. There was only one more day left.
Today. Alex sat motionless upon Azrael, looking abstractedly at the Serpentine, glassy in the early morning calm, and reviewing once again the plan. Were there any flaws, any points he had left out? No, all seemed to be in place. Men had been dispatched to Leeds, to Plymouth, and to other parts of the country, to watch the members of the far-flung conspiracy. Men constantly, if discreetly, shadowed Edgewater’s every move, looking for the evidence that would convict him. Those same men had reported Edgewater’s activities last evening, including his attendance at Lady Rutherford’s musicale and his conversation with Cecily. Alex’s mouth hardened. If he had needed proof of her perfidy, there it was. The two main conspirators discussing their plan, the night before it was to be carried out. God! How could he have been so wrong about her?
Azrael snorted suddenly, tossing his head, and Alex, instincts honed by years of living with danger, turned in the saddle. Another rider was approaching, a woman wearing a blue riding habit, mounted upon a large grey. It was the horse that made him recognize her. Cecily.
He watched her approach, his face so expressionless that no one could possibly guess at the tumult of feelings inside him. Not so long ago he had held her in his arms, just a few feet away, kissing her and knowing he had found, at last, the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. And she had betrayed him! The anguish of that thought almost made him cry out. Instead, he tightened his lips. He had been betrayed before, and it had hurt. He should have learned from it. He should have known better than to give his heart, and his trust, into any woman’s keeping.
Cecily drew Dancer to a stop beside him, her somber face matching his mood. “Good morning, Alex,” she said, finally.
Alex nodded, not looking at her. “Lady Cecily.”
“So formal?” Cecily glanced at him in surprise. She had spent a restless night, tossing in her bed and wondering what had gone amiss. By morning, thoroughly upset and confused, she had decided that she had to confront him. Taking pains with her appearance, she had donned her prettiest riding habit, with its dashing plumed hat. If Alex preferred a more feminine woman, then that was what she would be. For today, at least.
Alex tugged at Azrael’s reins, and the big black moved away. After a startled moment, Cecily followed. “Alex,” she called, her confusion clear in her voice. “What is wrong?”
Alex stopped. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn to her and say the harsh, wounding things he had planned to say; he couldn’t spit out the accusations that crowded in his mind. Traitor was the least of them, but to say that would tell her that her part in the conspiracy was known. “I made a mistake,” he said, looking away, his eyes distant, his voice hard.
“About what?”
“About you.” Oh, Lord, that was true. He had thought her sweet, innocent, untouched by the world, a symbol of all he had lost, all he had hoped to regain. Even now, he found her perfidy difficult to believe. She had betrayed him, and her country. Yet, to look at her now, with that wounded, worried look in her huge golden eyes, he could still almost believe in her innocence. Almost.
Cecily’s brow was furrowed. “What about me?”
“I fear, my dear, that I may have given you the wrong idea. You see, I’ve been thinking things over the last few days, and I’ve come to the conclusion this has to end. And if you’ll think about it, you’ll agree with me.”
“What has to end?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Our association.” His smile was totally charming, and totally without warmth. “If you’ll think about it, you’ll agree with me. You’ll only end by being hurt, you know.”
Cecily gripped the reins tighter. “Say what you mean. Are you saying we shouldn’t see each other again?”
“Yes, my dear, that is exactly what I mean.” He smiled again. “I’m grateful for your understanding.”
“Understanding!” She wheeled Dancer around and rode a few paces away, the horse’s canter showing her agitation. “Understanding! No, my lord, I don’t understand any of this! If you’ll recall, you were the one who said I was yours. You were the one who spoke of three more days. Today!” She spat out. “What is happening today that is so important?”
“I’ve come to my senses.” He faced her squarely. “Very well, Cecily, if you want plain speaking, I’ll give you plain speaking. I wish not to see you anymore.” Cecily recoiled. “Come, my dear,” he said, his voice gentling. “If you’ll think about it, you’ll see it’s for the best. I may be a rake, but I am not a cad.”
“But the things you said to me, the way you kissed me—”
“Ah, but I know very well how to seduce a woman. It was very easy. But boring. You’re much too young and innocent. Frankly, my dear, you’re not my style.”
It hurt. Oh, it hurt. Every word slammed into her like a blow. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to escape and hide, like a hurt, frightened child, but something held her there. Something about the look in his eyes. They were hard and cold, yes, but there was something else. Pain, as if he, too, had been deeply wounded. He looked, she realized suddenly, as he had when she’d first met him. “Fustian.”
“What?”
“You’re lying. I don’t know why, Alex, but I know you better than you think. You’re lying to me.”
“Why should I bother, my dear? You should know by now I can have any woman I choose.”
“So why choose me? I don’t know, Alex. You tell me.”