A Spy Unmasked (Entangled Scandalous)

by Tina Gabrielle

  “I wouldn’t be successful if I were.”

  She took a step back from his towering frame. “I may be impulsive, but you are quite arrogant, my lord.”

  “Do not judge me too harshly, Sophia. You may think my tactics ungentlemanly, but my past results are unquestionable. I will find who is responsible for your father’s murder and unravel the mystery behind the Inventors’ Society.”

  She couldn’t ask for more, could she? Still, she was having difficulty settling her racing heart.

  Kirkland reached into his pocket and placed a flash of gold in the palm of her hand. “I believe this belongs to you.”

  She glanced down. “My locket!”

  “I had the latch repaired. I apologize for my barbaric methods.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “It’s Robert.”

  She met his gaze. “I don’t think that’s proper, my lord.”

  “The world will soon think us engaged.”

  “Still, I don’t think—”

  “In private, then. The title is new to me and we are to work together, correct?”

  A flutter of nerves swam low in her belly. “All right, Robert.”

  He handed her the ledger. “This is yours as well.”

  Her father’s leather-bound book felt heavy in her hands. “Thank you for returning it, my lord…Robert.”

  “That’s it.” He walked her to the door and raised her hand to his lips. “Until the Camerons’ ball tomorrow night.”

  Her treacherous body tingled from the contact, and she nervously bit her bottom lip.

  “Are you sure you can carry this off, Sophia?” he asked.

  “Yes.” No! She wasn’t certain of her resolve around him.

  “What about your story?” she retorted. “What will you tell your friends and acquaintances about me?”

  “Leave them to me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Robert looked up from his brandy as his old-school friends, Gareth Ramsey and Daniel Forster, joined him at his table in White’s club.

  “It must be important news indeed for you to ask us to meet before noon,” Daniel said, as a waiter arrived at their table and set down two additional glasses of brandy.

  Gareth reached for his glass. “Now does this have anything to do with your tedious work for the ordinance department? You have a title now, you don’t need to work in order to keep up appearances.”

  Robert leaned back in his chair. He’d been first to be recruited by the Home Office for his unique talents of finessing safes open. Thereafter Wendover had need of more agents—gentlemen who had access to high society and the beau monde—and Daniel and Gareth had been recruited. The three were no longer just former school friends; they were colleagues in espionage and akin to brothers.

  “No, it has nothing to do with my work for the ordinance department. And I’ve told you before, I remain there because I enjoy it,” Robert said.

  “Does it concern your inheritance then? Don’t tell me debt collectors are pounding on your door. Those parasites crawl out of the woodwork whenever someone unexpected inherits,” Gareth said.

  Robert chuckled. “No, it’s not that either, but an important matter nonetheless.”

  Several tables away, an excited shout drew Robert’s attention. A group of gentleman were playing a high stakes game of whist, a small fortune in banknotes resting on the table between them. The aristocracy and how easily they spent their money had always amused Robert. He was still unaccustomed to his new title and the additional wealth that accompanied it.

  “Well, man, what could be so important?” Daniel asked, drawing Robert’s attention back to them.

  “I’m engaged to be married,” Robert said.

  Gareth and Daniel froze, both cradling their glasses, incredulous expressions on their faces.

  “Aren’t you going to wish me future happiness?” Robert said drily.

  “We would if it made any sense,” Daniel said.

  “Who is she?” Gareth demanded.

  “Lady Sophia Merrill, the daughter of the late Marquess of Haverton.”

  “Haverton? The Mad Marquess?” Gareth asked.

  “I hadn’t heard he died,” Daniel said.

  “It’s been kept quiet by the family,” Robert said.

  “We didn’t even know you’d been courting her. Come to think of it, we didn’t know you’d been interested in any woman lately,” Gareth said mockingly.

  Robert expected Gareth’s sarcasm. After all, Robert had always enjoyed female companionship as a university student and years thereafter. His friends would often jest that they would wait by the wayside to console the barmaids Robert would reject. But circumstances had changed, and much to his friends’ vexation, Robert had been celibate for the past two years.

  Robert lowered his voice. “I’ve been assigned a new mission and Wendover insists that I need a lady to accompany me.” He knew they wouldn’t ask about the investigation. The Home Office demanded complete secrecy, and as spies themselves, they understood this rule. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t inquire about Sophia.

  “And you agreed to the engagement?” Daniel asked.

  “The marquess believes it necessary,” Robert said.

  Gareth smirked. “She must be attractive.”

  Robert shot Gareth a black, layered look. “What makes you assume that?”

  “You would never have agreed otherwise,” Gareth said.

  “I told you Wendover was insistent,” Robert said tersely.

  Gareth gave him a disparaging look that suggested he didn’t believe a word that came out of Robert’s mouth. “There’s hope for you still.”

  Robert knew his friends mistook his current celibacy for lack of interest in women when the truth was it was a form of penance for a guilty conscience and a mission gone horribly awry.

  A mission that had resulted in Gwendolyn’s death.

  “If either of you are asked, Lady Sophia and I met in dance class,” Robert said.

  Gareth laughed. “Damn, Robert. If I’d known you had decided to return to enjoying bachelorhood and the ladies, I would have suggested a few establishments.”

  “I never had an interest in brothels,” Robert said wryly. He knew Gareth would be the more difficult of his two friends. As a barrister who exclusively handled matrimonial matters, specifically legal separation, Gareth’s attitude toward love and marriage was cynical and jaded.

  Gareth waved him off. “Why not enjoy what life has to offer. Why agree to an engagement, even a convenient one?”

  Daniel shot Gareth a hard stare. “Leave him be, Gareth. He’s doing it for King and Country. Besides, matrimony does not have to be interpreted as a legal prison.”

  “Never mind you, Daniel,” Gareth snapped. “Women have always been drawn to you. As the heir of a viscount, you have the pick of the litter.”

  “Your concern is noted, Gareth,” Robert said. “But I assure you that the engagement will be terminated after the mission is completed. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Like hell you do,” Gareth said. “You could easily get trapped into marriage. Don’t come whining to me after the honeymoon is over. Even I can’t undo it.”

  Daniel slapped Robert heartily on the back. “Don’t listen to him, Robert. I’m relieved you’ve agreed to Wendover’s demands, even if they are for appearances only. It tells me you’ve moved on after Gwendolyn.”

  Robert took a swallow of brandy. Both Daniel and Gareth knew Robert had been enamored of Gwendolyn, but soon afterward she had died and he’d told them she was killed in a riding accident. He couldn’t admit the horrific truth behind her death, even to his close friends. Only Daniel knew how serious he had been about Gwendolyn or that they’d traveled to Scotland to marry.

  But Robert had never told Gareth.

  “I’d like to meet the lady myself. See what type of loveliness has finally pulled my friend out of celibacy,” Gareth said, his words loaded with ridicule.

  Robert stud
ied his hawk-like features. “I’m certain you’ll find her quite charming.”

  He’d have to warn Sophia about Gareth. He knew his friend had good intentions, but Gareth had little tact. As for his friend’s legal services, thankfully Robert wouldn’t need them. He had no intention of turning the betrothal into a real marriage.

  …

  After departing White’s, Robert returned home, closed his study door, and slid the bolt in place. Behind his desk was a stone fireplace ready to be lit. Walking to the fireplace, he pressed the base of a silver candlestick resting upon the mantle and a stone loosened in the brickwork. He removed the stone to reveal a hidden safe.

  Inside were a sealed envelope and a miniature portrait.

  He reached for the envelope and returned to his desk. After breaking the seal, he withdrew a detailed map. Unlike most maps, this one did not show the distinguishing lines of passable roads, lakes, and hills, but revealed the detailed layout of the interior of Viscount Delmont’s country manor in Hatfield. Neat block print identified each room, right down to the location of the furnishings and area rugs. Robert’s eye was drawn to the small black questions marks in random rooms, noting where safes might be located.

  His lips twitched. The marquess must have had an agent inside, most likely posing as Delmont’s servant, who had drawn the map. He wondered if the agent had been Ian and what guise he’d donned. A footman again? Or perhaps a stable groom or manservant?

  Ian was proficient, but Robert knew the question marks were just what they symbolized—guesses as to where the safes were hidden.

  He would have to locate them on his own and find the best method of nondestructive manipulation. This time he wouldn’t remove the contents, only study them for clues. If all went as planned, Delmont would never know that the safes had been tampered with or their contents investigated.

  Carefully he folded the map and returned it to the safe. His hand hovered above the miniature portrait before removing the small gilt frame. Pain and loneliness squeezed his heart as he studied the image. Even now, years later, each time he envisioned Gwendolyn’s death a primitive grief assailed him.

  Her smile was just as he recalled, wisps of white-blond hair framing her heart-shaped face. She had been innocent, untainted by the evil and darkness that shrouded him. The talented artist had captured her green eyes perfectly…

  He frowned. The image blurred before him, and he pictured another pair of green eyes. They radiated defiance and determination in their mesmerizing depths rather than sweet innocence. The hair was wrong…thick chestnut tresses tumbling in disarray…the lips full and sensual…the complexion not a pale hue, but a golden color that hinted at sunshine and brazenness.

  Sophia.

  When he had sent the note asking her to come to his home, he had planned on testing her…on dissuading her from the ridiculous notion that they could work together. He had waltzed with her, had kissed her, for Christ’s sake, in an attempt to make her run from him straight to Wendover and cry off. But his plan had backfired.

  As soon as their lips had touched, she had been as passionate and responsive as an inferno. He recalled the lush ripeness of her body pressing against his, of the tentative stroke of her hot tongue meeting his, and of her green eyes shimmering in burgeoning sexual awareness.

  His response had been instant and combustible; he’d had to use every ounce of discipline to break the kiss and rein in his lust.

  His fingers clenched the portrait. Damnation. Why was he thinking of Sophia? It was the first time he had looked upon Gwendolyn’s portrait and thought of another woman. Guilt made his gut clench tight.

  He refused to betray Gwendolyn’s memory in such a fashion.

  Returning the portrait to the safe, he shut the door and put the stone back in place.

  Chapter Eight

  “I hadn’t expected this many people,” Sophia whispered to Jane behind her fan in the corner of the Camerons’ ballroom.

  “There’s still time to change your mind,” Jane said. “Lady Cameron has not yet announced your engagement.”

  Sophia frowned at the hint of eagerness in her cousin’s voice. “It’s not my upcoming engagement that has made me uneasy, just the crowd.”

  The room was packed with well over one hundred guests. Women paraded about in ball gowns of every color of the rainbow—from demure pastels to bright jewel tones. The gentlemen were not to be outdone, and Sophia observed a mix of austere grays beside painted popinjays dressed in flamboyant-colored coats with striped and checked waistcoats and intricately folded cravats.

  She glanced longingly at the open French doors leading out to the terrace. She hoped a breeze would cool her overheated skin, but to no avail. The air was heavy with the scent of costly French perfume and well-dressed, perspiring bodies.

  She smoothed the skirts of her emerald gown. She had taken great care with her appearance tonight, and she knew the gown’s color enhanced the vivid green of her eyes. The bodice was fashionably low, and an emerald necklace rested between her breasts. Matching emerald combs swept the sides of her chestnut hair away from her face, and loose curls fell down her back.

  Jane looked lovely in a violet gown with her blond tresses artfully arranged atop her head. Over a year had passed since Charles’s death, and Sophia was relieved that Jane had not worn one of the black mourning gowns that dominated her wardrobe.

  The orchestra began a lively, Scottish reel, and men and women whirled on the parquet dance floor. Glasses clinked, voices soared, and jewels glittered.

  Every few minutes Sophia glanced at the liveried master of ceremonies stationed beside the gilt banisters at the top of the ballroom stairs. His chest puffed with self-importance as his imposing voice announced the names of arriving guests.

  Robert had yet to arrive. After two glasses of punch from the refreshment table, she’d begun to wonder if he would come at all. Then a prickle of awareness tingled down her spine, and she looked up and caught sight of him at the top of the stairs. Dressed in simple black-and-white evening attire, he looked magnificent, like a golden Adonis. A taller, dark-haired man stood beside him.

  “Robert Ware, the sixth Earl of Kirkland. And Mr. Gareth Ramsey,” the servant said in a booming voice.

  Sophia recognized the name of the second man as one of Baron Suffolk’s sons and assumed he was friends with Kirkland.

  A hushed murmur pervaded the ballroom as the women whispered behind fluttering fans and Lord Kirkland descended the stairs with smooth grace.

  “Oh, my,” Jane whispered beside her. “He’s stunning.”

  Sophia turned to her cousin. “You said you knew him.”

  “I said I knew of him. I never met the man in person. His appearance is not a detail Charles would have passed along,” Jane said.

  Sophia seized the opportunity to convince Jane that the engagement was indeed real. “Can you understand why I am enamored of Lord Kirkland?”

  Jane’s dark eyes sharpened. “I never pegged you as the type of female to be taken in by a handsome face.”

  Sophia’s voice was laced with frustration. “You mean as you were with Charles.”

  The color drained from Jane’s face, and Sophia immediately regretted her careless words. “Forgive me, I—”

  “You’re right,” Jane said. “I should not pass judgment. I haven’t even met him.” She studied the two men as they greeted their hosts, the Earl and Countess of Cameron. “I haven’t seen Mr. Ramsey at a society function in years. The gossips said that he had a falling out with his father, Baron Suffolk. Is he friends with Lord Kirkland?”

  Sophia glanced at the second man. Gareth Ramsey also wore black-and-white evening wear, but unlike Robert’s stunning features, he had the rugged look of an unfinished sculpture. Robert was tall, but Mr. Ramsey was even taller. His broad shoulders, craggy face, and solid stance gave him the appearance of a seasoned boxer.

  She could only presume the two men were friends since they had arrived together. “I believe Mr. R
amsey is in attendance tonight to support Lord Kirkland.”

  Robert and Mr. Ramsey made their way through the ballroom where they reached a group of men who detained them. Among the gentlemen, Robert stood out—not just for his looks, but for his commanding manner and confidence, as if he was unperturbed by the society ladies staring at him.

  Sophia watched fascinated as he threw back his head and laughed at something one of his friends said. White teeth flashed in his bronzed face, and her heart thudded. He truly was spectacularly handsome. His ocean-blue eyes, chiseled nose, and the cleft in his chin would draw the attention of any female.

  She recalled their shared kiss in his chambers, and her gloved fingers brushed her lips in wicked remembrance.

  Just then he looked past his acquaintances and scanned the ballroom. Their eyes met, and his lips curled in a sensual smile.

  Her breath hitched.

  He spoke to his friend, and they excused themselves and made their way over to Sophia and Jane. Robert’s gaze swept Sophia from head to toe, and he bowed. “You look lovely this evening, Lady Sophia.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” A deeply buried part of her was thrilled he had noticed.

  He turned to Jane. “I presume this is your cousin, Lady Stanwell.”

  Jane curtsied.

  “My gratitude for your services as Sophia’s chaperone for the upcoming house party,” he said. “Your cousin means the world to me, and I would never do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.”

  The double meaning of his words was not lost on Sophia. If she didn’t want to go through with their ruse, she had only to say the word.

  Oh, he is as cunning as he is charming, Sophia thought.

  Robert motioned to Gareth. “May I introduce a friend, Mr. Gareth Ramsey.”

  Gareth bowed. “A pleasure, ladies.” Dark obsidian eyes traveled over Sophia to rest upon Jane.

  Jane stiffened at his heated stare.

  “Are you ready, Sophia?” Robert asked. “Lady Cameron is eager to make an announcement before the supper room is opened.”

  He offered her his arm and Sophia placed her gloved fingers on his sleeve. Nervousness gripped her. Unexpected as this engagement was, she couldn’t back down. Not now…not when her goal was so closely within reach. With the Home Office investigating the case, her father’s murderer would not go unpunished.