Ana straightened up from the terrace railing, her lips pursed. “Good evening, my lady,” she said, her voice as calm and carefree as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. “Isn’t it a lovely evening?”
Lady Bellingham gave a sly smile as she glanced from Ana to Lucas and back again. “Very lovely. Quite romantic, don’t you think Mr. Tyler?”
He cleared his throat and took another step away from Ana. “I hadn’t really noticed, my lady.”
The young woman let out a giggle. “Of course you didn’t, sir. How could you when you had a far more appealing subject to look upon in Lady Whittig?”
Ana shifted and some of her cool exterior slipped away. “You misunderstand, my lady—”
“Pish posh!” Lady Bellingham waved a dismissive hand. “I am not one to judge.”
“Yes, well,” Ana stammered. “I should return to the ballroom, I’ve been outside quite too long. Th-Thank you for your thoughts on the Society for Widows and Orphans, Mr. Tyler. I shall keep everything you have said in mind as we plan our next event.”
“Yes, good evening, Lady Whittig,” he replied, inclining his head.
“And I’m sure I will speak to you further inside, Lady Bellingham.” Ana made her way toward the ballroom doors. “Good evening.”
Lady Bellingham wrinkled her brow as she watched Ana slip away, then mumbled her own good-byes as she followed…to tell the story to the entire room, no doubt.
With a curse, Lucas turned to the terrace railing and gripped the steel with both hands. How could he have been so distracted? He hadn’t done something so foolish in a year…and the last time he had done so it had resulted in tragedy.
But something in Anastasia Whittig made him reckless. Made him think of nothing but her. And he could only wait to see what the ramifications of his slip in propriety would be.
Chapter 5
A discreet visit could do no harm. Her driver could be trusted and she was sure she hadn’t been followed. No, there was no harm in being at Lucas Tyler’s town home. Ana paced the luxurious parlor as she tried to convince herself of that fact. At the very least, it could be no worse than being caught on the terrace with Lucas two nights ago.
She shivered as she thought of that night. Of Lady Bellingham’s triumphant face. Of her own inability to cover her emotions…worse yet, her inability to stop herself from feeling those emotions entirely. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t deny she had reacted to Lucas. When he pulled her close and then just stared down at her, an undeniable hunger in his eyes, she had responded. Her body had swayed toward his, and she had found herself wondering, for a wicked moment, what would happen if he leaned down and kissed her.
She shook her head to clear the unwanted memory away. Why in the world did she react so strongly to Lucas? He was pompous and arrogant and had no faith in her. He thought he could tell her what to do like she was a soldier in his own private regiment. And he acted like the mere passing of time could dictate when emotions faded.
Yet despite all those reasons not to like him, there was something about the man that—well, fascinated her. When he was near, all she could do was watch his mouth move. Inhale his musky, clean scent. Marvel at how his body heat surrounded her even when he wasn’t touching her, and burned her when he did.
What in God’s name was wrong with her? Was what Lucas said true? Was she so bloody sheltered that the first handsome man she had any kind of close contact with since Gilbert’s death sent her into a trembling mess? What kind of woman did that make her, that she was so easily moved by an infuriating stranger?
She let out a sigh as she collapsed into the closest chair and looked around. Handsome and arrogant or not, the man had very nice taste. Understated, yet elegant. Not a frill or flower in sight, so he probably didn’t have a woman’s input in his décor.
Despite herself, she smiled, but the expression fell the instant the parlor door opened and Lucas stepped inside. She sucked in a breath as she stumbled to her feet. Would she ever stop being surprised by how handsome he was?
“Good afternoon.” His complete ease as he strolled into the room made her all the more aware of her own discomfort. “I admit I was surprised to hear you had arrived, Ana. And without a lady’s maid to boot.”
She pursed her lips partly at the hint of teasing in his voice and partly at the use of her nickname. He should be calling her by her title, yet she didn’t correct him. She’d been thinking of him as Lucas for too long to start calling the kettle black now.
“I took great care in coming here, I assure you, Mr. Tyler.” She folded her arms.
He stared at her for a moment. As always, his gaze gave her the impression that he was sizing her up. And as always, she wondered how she fared in his estimation.
Undoubtedly, very ill.
“I am certain you were careful.” He motioned to the chair she had been occupying when he entered. “Won’t you have tea?”
She hesitated. Was this how business was conducted? Over tea like they were discussing the weather? It seemed so civilized and mundane. She had always pictured the work of spies being done by dim candlelight in darkened rooms, not in a parlor at two in the afternoon.
“I did not come on a social call.”
He sighed as he took a seat himself and stared up at her. “Does it then follow that we must be unsociable?”
“I—” Oh, how he flummoxed her! She expected one thing and he invariably did the other. With a purse of her lips, she sat down and shrugged. “I suppose not. Yes. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”
He rang for the ser vice to be brought in and then tilted his head. “Very well, I can stand the suspense no longer. Tell me, my lady, what brings you here on this ‘not social’ call?”
She retrieved her reticule from the floor beside her chair and carefully withdrew the folded newspaper within. She smoothed the creases before she held it out toward Lucas. Her hand trembled. She tried to stop it, but failed.
“Did you see this?”
He took the paper and she watched as his slate gray eyes darted over the article in question. “Ah yes, Blighton’s weekly Society paper. Very good for starting fires. Otherwise, it’s complete rubbish.”
“That may be, but it is well-read rubbish.” Ana glared at him and he blinked back in innocence as if he were waiting for her to explain her upset. “We are in the paper.”
He nodded. “I see that.” With flourish, he shook out the pages and began to read, “‘And Blighton’s is pleased to announce the return to society of Lady A.W. at Lady Westfield’s soirée this week. And though she is still wearing her widow’s weeds, an intriguing report says she will not be wearing them long. We’ve been told another lady saw her entangled in the arms of Mister L.T. on the terrace in the moonlight. Has Lady W. found love again?’” He paused for effect, though his face was calm as still water. “Scintillating.”
“Oh, you frustrating man!” she burst out, getting to her feet. She snatched the offending article from his hands and paced to the fire where she took one final glance at it, winced, and tossed it into the flames. “Everyone will know this refers to us. Lady Bellingham made it common knowledge that she stumbled upon us at the ball.”
“I imagine you’re correct,” Lucas said on another sigh. “But I don’t know why this is a surprise to you. After all, I told you that your return caused a commotion. If you add the element of a potential romance to the mix, the ton will swarm around you just to see what will happen next. Society adores a good love story. Or a bad one.”
Ana looked at him, dwarfing the chair he sat in. A lock of dark hair had fallen rakishly over one eye. He looked like the hero of every story she’d ever read. And yet Society believed it was possible she could find love with a man like him. She, who had only ever captured the attention of one man in her entire life. She, a woman who locked herself in the cellar of her best friend’s house for days at a time. The idea gave her a treacherous thrill.
She tamped it down with a stern reminder of
her place. “You also told me that my being the center of attention would harm this case. How are we to continue our investigation if I am being watched and judged every time I pass through my front door? Our affiliation was supposed to be kept quiet.”
He gave a little shrug as he leaned back in the chair and draped one elbow over the back with casual ease. “Supposed to. An interesting choice of words, Ana. You see, one thing you must learn about the field is that you cannot always control the turn of a case. There are no ‘supposed tos’ when it comes to an investigation. You must adapt, change when the circumstances surround you change.”
She drew in a breath as he met her eyes. Though he seemed jovial and relaxed, she saw for the first time just how involved he was, how interested he was in how she handled herself. And how would she? She had never liked change. Rules were made so that everything went according to plan. That was the life she led.
And Lucas was now telling her that rules and regulations had no place in the field.
“What are you suggesting?”
He didn’t answer, but very slowly he rose to his feet. Step by step, he came toward her. She wanted to back away, but she stood her ground. She had to. Partly because she needed to prove a point…and partly because the hot fireplace was at her back.
He stopped less than a foot in front of her and tilted his head. “If we ignore the report and are not seen in any more”—he smiled wolfishly—“compromising positions, then the interest in you will fade.” His smile fell as he reached out and fingered a black ruffle at the shoulder of her mourning gown. “Especially if you insist on wearing widow’s weeds everywhere you go.”
She lurched back from his questing fingers and would have gone down on her backside in the process if not for the steadying hand he reached out and put on her arm. Once she regained her balance, he pulled away, leaving her bereft and relieved in almost equal measure. Confusion was her only constant.
“Ah, Fannie, tea. Thank you,” he said with a smile toward the door. Ana turned and watched a maid quickly set a tea ser vice on the sideboard. He waved her away and poured two cups himself.
“Does that answer your burning question, my lady?” he asked as he put a bit of cream and sugar in one cup, then motioned to the other.
She nodded without speaking. She couldn’t really find words after the strange encounter. He had touched her, she had recoiled, and yet, she felt anything but horror. Damn this entire blasted situation.
“Is that yes to cream and sugar or yes that I’ve answered your questions?” he asked with a chuckle.
She couldn’t help but be eased by his smile and laughter. Her shoulders relaxed. “To both, I suppose.”
“Good. Since you’re here, perhaps we can go over some evidence while we share our tea.”
She cocked her head. It was as if the heat between them had never existed. To him, it probably didn’t. An unwelcome disappointment touched her. A man like Lucas Tyler was used to the power he held sway over women. And hadn’t Emily said that he would use any method in his arsenal to control the turn of their case? Perhaps that included taking advantage of her attraction, of her loneliness.
That she could not allow.
She set her mouth into a thin line as she forced an attitude more befitting business. “Yes. I would be happy to review the evidence.”
She took the cup of tea he offered and followed him through an adjoining door to another room. She realized this was his office, a private place in his home where Lord knew how many secrets were hidden. She watched as he unlocked a compartment on his desk and withdrew a pile of papers.
“Here.” He motioned his elbow toward a large table on the opposite side of the room. “Let’s spread these out.”
She took a few of the items and they spread them across the tabletop until it was covered by notes, reports, and a large map she had last seen when Charlie briefed her on the status of the case. One by one, the places where spies had been attacked were marked on the map.
Ana drew a long breath and stepped closer. Lucas leaned down and his shoulder just brushed her back. With a jolt at the contact, she cast a quick side glance at him. He didn’t even notice as he focused on the items before them. She set her jaw. If he could be unaffected by their proximity, so could she.
“I’ve been thinking about the attacks,” she said, happy that she could form words at all.
“And?” His gaze flitted to her.
“What kind of patterns are there to the attacks themselves? Is there some order the spies are being chosen in? Perhaps if we learn the reasons behind those who are harmed and those who aren’t, we could trace the attacks back to their source.”
Lucas straightened up and stared with open admiration that warmed Ana to her very toes. “A very interesting proposition, Anastasia.”
He ducked his gaze back to the map. He pointed to a cluster of four markers on the East End in Southwark. “The first three were all in the same general area surrounding a rough little pub called Wickerbys. Not a surprise, really. It is a well-known place for spies to gather and exchange information.”
Ana cocked her head. “Well known to whom? The general public could not know such a thing or else all the spies in His Majesty’s ser vice would be easily unmasked.”
“Known to others within my organization,” he corrected. “That information might be easily ascertained through good intelligence.”
“What about these two?” She pointed to two other markers on the map. This time they were both within the confines of Hyde Park.
He glanced at a sheet that told which incidents had happened when and where. “The first was an attack on a spy who was meeting a contact at the park. The second was a spy who was not on assignment. He was simply there for personal reasons, meeting with friends, and was attacked.” A shadow passed over his face. “He was the first spy to die. The others were merely wounded and taken out of ser vice.”
Ana thought of Emily with a shiver. Having one friend attacked was difficult enough. Lucas must have known so many of these men who had been cut down in the field. To be helpless against such atrocities had to wear on him. Especially considering the kind of man she knew him to be even after such a short acquaintance.
“Could his attack have been mere coincidence?” she asked, watching his face as he cleared the emotions away. How she wished she could do the same. It was something she’d never really been able to do, despite all her training.
Lucas shrugged, his stare holding on the marker that represented the dead spy. “It’s always a possibility, but he didn’t live the kind of life that would lead to such violence outside of his work. And the attack was so much like the others that we must assume it was related.”
She nodded once. “What are the common elements of the attacks, Lucas?”
He started before he spun to face her. She felt the blood drain from her face. Had she really just called him by his given name? Damn it!
“I—” she stammered.
He lifted a hand. “I like to hear my name from your lips.”
She sucked in a breath before she turned away. Her cheeks burned as she moved blindly to the window. She was shaking as she tried to regain calm without success. Cover her reactions? She wished she didn’t have them at all. Especially these unexpected reactions of heat and desire and fear that mixed in a potent brew in her mind.
“May I ask you a question?”
Ana felt his stare burn at her back and she forced herself to turn. She hoped her expression was somewhat in control. “Of course.”
“Why haven’t you ever entered the field?” He cocked his head. She wasn’t sure of what kind of answer he wanted to hear by the tone of his voice or the look on his face.
She hesitated as her gaze drifted down to the black mourning gown she wore. Lucas followed her line of vision and his face tightened. The moment stretched out between them uncomfortably as she searched for a way to explain herself without giving him too much personal information. It was far too dangerous to ex
plain her inner emotions, her battles with her grief, to a man like this. He was trained in twisting those things to use against suspects. He could easily do the same to her.
She was still struggling when the office door suddenly opened behind Lucas, and a footman rolled a man in a wheelchair inside. He seemed startled by her presence for a moment, as did Lucas when he turned.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Chapter 6
L ucas winced. He couldn’t help it. Although it had been a year since his best friend, Henry Bowerly, was cut down in one of the first attacks on the spies, he still wasn’t used to seeing him in that contraption. It stung with the same intensity it had the first time.
“Tyler?” Henry said with a tilt of his head. His gaze slipped to Ana.
Lucas shook off his reaction and forced a smile. “Of course you aren’t interrupting, Henry. Lady Anastasia Whittig, may I present the Marquis of Cliffield?”
Lucas turned toward Ana to find her staring at his friend. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pale as she gave a nod. She stared just a moment too long at the chair, then her eyes darted away as high color replaced the pallor of her skin.
He sighed. There was no blaming her. It was rare to see a man so young in such a device.
“I—I—” Ana clenched her hands in front of her, trembling as she fought for breath. Fought for words. “I can explain why I am here.”
Henry tilted his head, but before his friend could interrupt, Lucas stepped forward.
“It is all right, Ana,” he said softly. Her eyes flitted to him, questioning, pleading and his heart stirred in a strange, unwelcome way.
“Yes, Lady Whittig,” Henry said. She jolted at the sound of her name from a man she didn’t know. His friend continued hurriedly. “I know your purpose here very well. I have been assisting in making assignments for the spies in the War Department since I was injured.” A shadow crossed Henry’s face before he covered it with his usual jovial mask. “I know who you are. And about your group.”
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