The Husband Mission (The Spy Matchmaker Book 1)

by Regina Scott

  “He was refused?” Katherine drew herself up. “What idiot did that? He would succeed at whatever he set his hand to.”

  Sir Richard smiled. “No doubt, my dear. But I am certain Lord Hastings had particular criteria in mind when he refused Lord Borin. Our task now is to determine if our young friend is in any danger and make sure he is aware of it. We’ll tell Borin the next time he calls.”

  Katherine would have liked to do just that. She was fairly certain, however, that he did not intend to call again. But her uncle seemed so sure otherwise that she let herself hope. It had seemed as if the viscount enjoyed their company, even if he was not courting Constance, or her. But the hours crawled by with no sign of him, and she had to own that her first reaction was correct. Lord Borin had had enough of the Collins family.

  The knocker sounded at half past four, and she had to restrain herself from running to answer it. With an understanding smile, Bixby went to do his duty. Her spirits sank lower when a few minutes later he ushered in Lord Templeman.

  Constance’s cousin rolled into the withdrawing room in a none-too-clean brown coat and breeches and settled himself into one of the chairs with his customary creak. His pleased smile only served to sour Katherine’s mood further.

  “Miss Constance will be here shortly,” Bixby said before leaving her alone with him. She could barely stand to look in his smug face, but she managed a tight smile for propriety’s sake.

  “And how are you today, Lord Templeman?”

  “Excellent, Miss Collins. Are you enjoying your harp?”

  She could honestly smile at that thought and turned to gaze to at her instrument. “Yes, I am. I had not realized how much I missed it. Thank you for returning it to me.”

  “Well, don’t just sit there,” he said, folding flaccid hands over his bulging gut, “play something. Let me see that my uncle’s money wasn’t wasted on buying the thing for you.”

  Katherine grit her teeth. “Unfortunately, the instrument requires additional tuning. You would not enjoy anything I played. Another time perhaps.”

  Luckily, Constance entered then, saving her from further conversation. Templeman did not bother rising as the girl dropped a curtsey and sat across from him on the gilded settee.

  “Welcome, Cousin,” she murmured. “How good of you to visit.”

  “Duty,” he replied. “It is my responsibility as head of this family to make sure you are cared for. Are you enjoying your Season?”

  “Very much. We have attended any number of balls and fetes, met any number of interesting people.”

  “Gathered any number of suitors,” Katherine put in maliciously.

  Templeman cast her a glance of obvious annoyance before returning his gaze to Constance. “So I have heard. I also heard that despite my warnings, you persist in receiving Lord Borin.”

  Katherine opened her mouth to protest, but, to her surprise, Constance spoke first.

  “Lord Borin is a gentleman, Cousin. I am pleased to receive him whenever he deigns to call.”

  Katherine was not the only one surprised. Lord Templeman blinked at Constance’s determined tone, then reddened.

  “Then the more fool you. The man is a dastard. I would not be surprised if he turned out to be this spy that has everyone talking. He will be caught for espionage, you may be sure of it.”

  Constance gasped. Katherine sat straighter.

  “Rumors like that,” she informed him sternly, “can be very damaging, as I am certain you know, my lord.”

  “They can also serve as warnings to the innocent,” Templeman countered.

  “But surely you don’t think Lord Borin in league with foreign agents,” Constance protested. “He has been all that is gentlemanly and kind.”

  Templeman snorted, turning the vulgar sound into a cough behind his meaty hand. “Your loyalty does you credit, Cousin,” he finally replied. “But enough of this. I had a purpose in coming today.”

  As if you didn’t just achieve it, Katherine thought.

  “And what would that be, Cousin?” Constance asked politely.

  “Your birthday is in less than a month,” he replied. “I thought perhaps I might throw you a party.”

  “Counting your money already?” Katherine accused.

  “Katherine, really,” Constance chided as Templeman bristled. “That is very considerate of you, Cousin. I would be delighted to have you host such a party.”

  “Good,” he said, casting Katherine a triumphant glance. “I have a number of friends I would like you to meet. If you have a few acquaintances you would like to invite as well, send me the list and I’ll see what can be done.”

  Constance agreed, and they chatted a few moments longer. Katherine could not bring herself to join the conversation. The man was insufferable, impossible. She was so appalled that after he took his leave, she rounded on her stepsister.

  “Do you not see how selfish he is? He presumes to throw you a party but invites his friends.”

  “He is simply focused on his own pursuits,” Constance replied calmly. “I grant you he is somewhat lacking in the social arts…”

  “Lacking?” Katherine burst out. “He tramples them at will! How can you stand to see your fortune go to him?”

  She shrugged. “The money is not important to me. If it makes him happy, he is welcome to it.”

  “How can you say that? It’s your father’s money!”

  “It is only money, Katherine.” She eyed her sternly. “Keeping it in my possession will not bring Father back. Let it go.”

  Katherine wanted to go on fighting, but the look in Constance’s eye was too determined. She sagged into her chair. “Then we are lost, Constance. I cannot help you if you will not help yourself.”

  “I am very glad you finally realized that,” she replied gently. “I cannot marry simply to keep my fortune, Katherine. If I do so, I make myself its servant.”

  Katherine nodded. “I understand. I do not like it, but I understand. You must do as your conscience bids you.”

  “Thank you,” Constance murmured. “Now, I begin to believe you have calculated to the last penny how the loss of my fortune will affect us. What must we do if I do not find the perfect man in the next four weeks?”

  Katherine could not resist one last try. “I found you the perfect man. You refused to pursue him.”

  “You found the perfect man for you. And you also refused to pursue him. Now, answer my question.”

  Katherine sighed. “We will lose the house and Bixby and Emma too.”

  Constance bit her lip. “I suppose it could be worse. We might lose each other as well.”

  Katherine nodded. “Yes, there is that. Take heart. I shall talk with Bixby and Emma tomorrow. Perhaps they might find a family who needs extra help for the Season.”

  “No, we won’t,” Bixby said from the doorway. Katherine and Constance turned to face him. “I won’t leave you, Miss Katherine. Sir Richard and I made do before, and we will again. I’m sure Emma will feel the same way.”

  “But if—when Constance loses her fortune, we will not be able to pay you,” Katherine explained, feeling tears starting. “We can’t even afford this house.”

  “I don’t need pay, miss, as long as I have family. Perhaps tomorrow I can send word to some friends. Surely we can find a nice house in the country where we can all be together.”

  “And we can have a garden,” Constance said with a smile.

  And we can grow into old maids together, Katherine thought, but she merely smiled and joined them in making plans. Time enough later to feel sorry for herself. It very much looked, in fact, as if she’d have the rest of her life.

  But before she left London, there was one thing she had to do and that was to make sure Lord Borin was safe. If Sir Richard and Bixby wouldn’t help her, she’d simply have to do it herself.

  –

  Alex’s day was fairing no better. He tried once again to return to his usual habits. He rose and spent an hour in fencing exercises b
efore bathing and breakfasting. He joined his steward in reviewing his correspondence, then visited his solicitor to check on his financial affairs. Everything was disgustingly well run and efficient. No one needed him in the slightest.

  He thought perhaps it might be different with his friends, but he had to own he had chosen a group of remarkably self-sufficient gentlemen with uncommon good sense. He was welcomed at any of their homes; they were pleased to have him join them in any of their pursuits. But no one was involved in anything particularly exciting or entertaining. Giles Sloan was on his way to listen to a niece practice for a violin solo. Sir Nigel Dillingham was being fitted for a new coat. Kevin Whattling was off to another prizefight. It was all very gentlemanly and downright boring.

  Whatever way he looked at it, the zest was missing from his life. He wasn’t sure when he’d lost it completely, but he was beginning to realize where it might be found. Even when the intrigue was past, he felt himself drawn to the Collins household.

  Perhaps he should simply offer for his sprite. It very much looked as if he’d never get a chance to serve with Lord Hastings. He still could not claim to have learned why he was being followed. He had caught sight of his shadow twice during the day, but the creature was skittish enough that it disappeared if he so much as turned to look. He paid a likely lad to give chase at one point, but only ended up waiting on the street corner for an hour for the young fellow to return, and then with no more information than Alex had to begin with. At least his attempts seemed to scare the creature off for a bit.

  But the sheer act of trying to catch his pursuers convinced him that offering for Katherine was the wrong choice. He had to decide: A life of wife and responsibility or a life of daring and intrigue. Surely the latter was better suited to fill the void in his life. He would try again. The next time he was followed, he would not rest until the fellow was captured and questioned.

  He had changed into his evening black and started for an early dinner at White’s, as he often did, when he once more spotted the culprit. Alex was strolling along Old Bond Street, where most of the shops and offices were closing up from a long day. A few people hurried past in either direction, going home or to dinner like him. One more moving in his direction was hardly noticeable. But Alex identified his shadow as soon as the creature fell into step.

  Alex paused on the corner, trying to think as deviously as his opponent. Chasing obviously didn’t work; he’d tried it too many times to his sorrow. The only one he’d ever caught was Eric Collins, and he knew now that his new opponents were much more cunning. So, perhaps he should let the fellow catch him.

  He spotted a hack moving toward him and hailed it. The driver pulled over willingly.

  “Where to, milord?”

  Alex stepped closer to the box. “Don’t move your head until I finish talking, and then look as if you were checking to see whether you could turn the horses. There’s a man following me. He’s dressed in a long cloak, too dark and heavy for normal evening wear, and he keeps his head low. I’ll give you a quid to wait a moment, then start for White’s. If you come back this way in fifteen minutes, I’ll have another for you.”

  “I’m your man, milord,” he promised.

  “White’s,” Alex said, loudly enough for anyone to hear. He clambered into the coach, crossed the small interior and let himself out the other side. The driver waited as if making sure Alex was settled inside, then clucked to his horses and set off.

  Alex dodged behind a passing coach and ducked into a shop door. Flattening himself against the wall in the deepening shadows, he waited. As he had expected, his pursuer hurried past a few moments later. This one must have been a youth. He looked much too short to be full grown, though Alex could see little in the voluminous hooded cape the fellow wore. His movements were also less confident, as if he were new to the role. Alex slipped in behind him with ease.

  He followed him a short way, looking for an opportunity to corner the creature for a private conversation. His chance came moments later as they approached another narrow alley opening to the right. As his tormenter reached the space, Alex dashed forward and shoved him into the shadows.

  Then he leaped in after him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Katherine gasped as she was grabbed from behind. Before she could struggle, she was shoved into the alley and wrestled up against the wall so roughly that the hood from her cloak fell over her face. She’d been caught! Her assailant could only be the miscreant who had been following Lord Borin, who, unfortunately, was on his way to White’s. If she was to escape, she had only herself to rely on.

  Heart hammering, she lashed out with her feet. Her leather half-boots connected solidly with her assailant’s leg. His grunt of pain was not nearly enough for the trouble he’d caused. But she did not have the strength to do greater damage. Shoving the hood from her eyes, she took only a moment to be certain he was bent in agony before darting around him for the street.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” He lunged after her, catching her about the knees. She fell hard onto the cobbles, knocking the breath from her. Rock gouged her hands through her gloves, but it was his voice that cut her most deeply. She rolled to stare up at the figure poised above her.

  “Lord Borin?”

  Ready to pounce, he froze. “Katherine?” He knelt, eyes wide, face paling, and pushed back the hood from her face. Her hair tumbled back with it, pins tinkling to the stones. “It is you! Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”

  His gaze about her person was frantic. She reached up an unsteady hand to touch his cheek, marveling at how sweet her name sounded on his lips.

  “I’m quite all right, I assure you. It takes more than a bit of the rough and tumble to deter me.”

  He blew out a breath and pulled her up and close, hugging her to him. She felt his cheek against her hair. The wool of his coat warmed her skin. She could hear his heart beat slowly returning to normal, while hers only seemed to speed at his nearness.

  “Thank God,” he murmured. “If I’d hurt you I would never have forgiven myself.” He pulled back suddenly to eye her. “What on earth are you doing out this time of the evening? Do not tell me you are alone. Where is Sir Richard? Bixby?”

  “Unavailable,” she replied quickly before he could pepper her with more questions. “But we saw you being followed last night. I couldn’t stand by while you were in danger.”

  She hoped she didn’t sound as if she were maligning her uncle or Bixby’s courage, or boasting of her own, but to her surprise, he stiffened, releasing her.

  “And did it never occur to you that I might be able to take care of myself?”

  She frowned. “Certainly. I simply didn’t know whether you were aware of the incident.”

  His fists clenched at his sides. “And you couldn’t send me a note?”

  She moved back from him, the anger in his voice confusing her. “Well, I suppose I could have, but how was I to know whether it would arrive in time or that your servants were not involved in the charade?”

  “Oh, I see. Not only am I incapable of discovering the miscreant on my tail and dealing with him, but I cannot even be trusted to pick reliable servants.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she replied sternly, her own temper rising. “But if you persist in this nonsense you can save your own life next time.”

  “Not according to you.” He glared at her a moment, then shook himself and sighed. “Forgive me. The thought that you would needlessly endanger your life for my sake drives me mad. I only wish you would trust me to take care of the situation.” He took her elbow. “The hack should be returning shortly. Let me see you home.”

  She nodded, leaning against him as she climbed to her feet. His touch was firm, but cool. She had offended him.

  She followed him to the street and stood silently as they waited for the hack. It drove into view moments later. Alex reached out and pulled her hood into place.

  “Leave this to me,” he ordered.

  He was
taking charge, as if she had no more sense than a pigeon on the steps of St. George’s. She sighed. A managing woman would never be appreciated. She should have known better than to expect it from him.

  –

  The hack slowed at Alex’s wave.

  “Good work, milord,” the coachman said, nodding to the huddled figure at Alex’s side. “Do we take him to Bow Street?”

  Alex shook his head, then opened the door and boosted Katherine inside. Turning to the hackman, he noticed that the man’s eyes had widened.

  “A ladybird?” he questioned. “I saw that petticoat as she mounted. Real nice catch, milord.”

  Alex threw him the promised coin. “Your passenger is a lady. I need not tell you that this conversation goes no further. We will take her home. Go to the mews behind Hyde Street. We’ll walk from there.”

  The man pulled his forelock and turned to his horses. Alex climbed in and seated himself across from Katherine. The coach set off for Mayfair.

  With the light from street lamps coming through the windows, he could see that she sat primly, hands folded in her lap, face calm. If he hadn’t known better, he would never have thought that she had just been caught in the middle of St. James’s alone in the dark.

  “I begin to think you’re actually proud of yourself,” he accused, smiling in spite of himself.

  She grinned back. “I was, rather.” Then her grin faded. “Only I doubt you appreciated my help.”

  “I simply cannot like the idea of you in danger,” he repeated, but the set of her jaw told him she did not believe him. He supposed he had been a bit rude. Could she really not understand that her position was perilous? St. James’s was avoided by ladies after noon, being the province of gentlemen and their interests. She could have been accosted by a drunk, robbed by a footpad, kidnapped by a gang of youths out for fun at her expense. He felt chilled as he considered what might have happened to her at the hands of such ruffians.

  “I hope you don’t make a habit of this,” he told her.

  She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead out the window at the buildings. “What, managing people’s lives or wandering about the city in the dark?”