The Heart That Hides (Regency Spies Book 2)

by April Munday

  General Warren could repeat no rumours of the kind Finch was expecting from her behaviour. Lady Louise appeared to live a quiet life and showed no preference for any particular gentleman. The same, however, could not be said of the gentlemen of her acquaintance and the general was of the opinion that any one of them would be happy to support her in her own establishment.

  From the outside, it was the kind of house he would have expected a courtesan to inhabit, but it seemed he must look elsewhere for the source of her wealth. That it was not her own wealth was clear; someone else was supporting her. He walked up the steps to the front door and rang.

  The door was opened and Finch presented his card to the liveried servant. He was another indication that Lady Louise was wealthier than she should be.

  “Yes, Mr Finch, Lady Louise is expecting you. Please follow me.”

  Finch went with him into a lavishly decorated drawing-room. It was too lavish for Finch, but he acknowledged that it was tastefully done. It made the room seem dark, however, and he found it slightly oppressive after the bright summer’s day outside.

  “Mr Finch. How delightful.”

  Lady Louise swept into the room. Unexpectedly, she wore a simple white muslin gown with only a thin silver chain around her neck for decoration.

  For a moment Finch could say nothing, for she was simply the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  She waited, as if his reaction was not unexpected.

  “You look perfectly lovely,” he stammered eventually.

  “Thank you. I trust I did not offend you last night.”

  “Last night?”

  Finch’s mind was a blank.

  “You left without a word.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I...” Finch hesitated; he had no wish to admit a weakness to this woman. “I had to leave suddenly. My son, you know.”

  “I hope the poor child is well, now.”

  “I would not have left home if he were not.”

  He hoped that his sincerity on that point would hide his previous lie. He was a practised, but reluctant liar.

  “Then we are friends and I am happy. Come and sit by me.”

  Lady Louise sat on a sofa and indicated that he should share it. Finch, however, chose a chair that enabled him to look at her.

  “Such beauty as yours should be admired from the correct distance,” he said by way of explanation, as he settled himself into it.

  “Sometimes beauty should be touched.”

  She smiled invitingly at him.

  Once again Finch was lost for words.

  “I can see that I shock you.”

  “A little.”

  “It is hard for me to govern myself when I am with a man as attractive as you, but I shall try. Would you like some tea?”

  “That would be very welcome.”

  Lady Louise stood and walked to the bell pull. As she passed him her leg brushed his. Finch reacted with an intensity that surprised him and he was reminded of Lady Caroline’s warning. He was on edge waiting to see if she would repeat the action on her return, but, with a knowing grin, she avoided all contact as she regained her seat.

  “Tell me about your son.”

  She smoothed her gown across her lap carefully and Finch saw that, instead of hiding her legs, the effect was to define their outline more sharply. With an effort he pulled himself back to their conversation.

  “He is called Edmund, although some people are required to call him Freddie.”

  “A wilful little boy, then.”

  “Not at all.” Finch did not become defensive; Lady Louise’s reaction was not unusual. “It is like a family name. People he loves and trusts use that name. People he holds at a distance call him Edmund. He is just six and I must soon employ a tutor for him.”

  “I hope you will get him a tutor who can speak French.”

  Finch had already decided on this. One way or the other trade with France would surely start again.

  “And German,” he said. “There will be business opportunities there after the war.”

  Finch had worked hard as a boy to learn German so that he could act as his father’s emissary in the Holy Roman Empire. He had been impressed with their scientific advances when he had travelled there as a boy. It had almost broken his heart when the empire had fallen to Bonaparte, for he had so many friends and business partners there and communication with them now was difficult.

  “And if England loses?”

  “There can be no thought of that,” he said brightly. “We must triumph.”

  “I heard that you have been away, Mr Finch. “You can have no idea of how bad things are.”

  Finch knew better than most exactly how bad things were. The war was not going well and was costing too much money. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to see that Britain must lose. Even if Bonaparte didn’t invade, he could defeat the armies on the continent and then it would be over. There would be no one left to protect Britain.

  His own recent failure counted for something in this. Thanks to him defeat was more likely. Before he could allow that thought to engulf him in darkness, he pulled himself back to her, his spirits lifted by her beauty.

  “I know that things are bad, but you know that we will carry the day eventually.”

  “I know no such thing and I am frightened. When the French come... I am alone, Mr Finch. I have no man to look after me.”

  Finch tried not to smile at this obvious attempt to get him to make all kinds of promises to protect her.

  “I understand your fear, Lady Louise, but there are many soldiers between here and the coast.”

  “And what do soldiers care about me?”

  “I think they care enough about themselves and their loved ones to keep the French away from you.”

  “You are unfeeling.”

  She pouted.

  “Pragmatic.”

  “And you trust your child to them?”

  “I do and I trust my brothers and their wives and children and my father to them.”

  Finch didn’t add that he had done everything in his power to keep them safe over the last few years. He had played his part in feeding false information to the enemy, in ruining their invasion plans and even in assassinating those whose convictions made them too dangerous to be allowed to live.

  “I think you are complacent, not pragmatic.”

  Complacency was also a part of his feigned persona. He was to appear to be a man just too stupid to worry. It was a role he had to be careful not to overplay, for everyone was fearful these days. If they were not afraid of the French, they were fearful of revolution, and, if they were not afraid of revolution, they were fearful of being oppressed.

  “Perhaps we should talk of other things,” he said, when she understood that he was not going to play the part of the manly protector and comfort her.

  “You are a strange man, Mr Finch.”

  “So I have been told many times, but I should be glad to know which particular facet of my strangeness offends you.”

  “I am not in the least offended, not yet. But I do find it strange that, although I have made my attraction to you quite clear, you do nothing.”

  On his way here Finch had given much thought to how the conversation could go, but even her attitude last night had not led him to consider the possibility that she might try to seduce him. Finch knew that he had lived a sheltered life, despite his friendship with Meldon, who had had at least two mistresses to his knowledge. Finch had married young and had married the woman he loved. Since her death he hadn’t looked at another woman, until now.

  He had known that women like Lady Louise existed; Meldon had told him often enough, but he had never really thought that such a creature would be interested in him, or he in her.

  “There could be many reasons why I do not act. My affections could be engaged elsewhere and I might have no interest in you.”

  “Yet you are here, alone with me.”

  Finch acknowledged this with a smile; he shou
ld have known what she was about when she had sent the footman away.

  “Or I might have heard something about you that inclines me not to act on my own attraction to you.”

  “You pay attention to rumour and gossip?”

  “Always. But I confess that I have heard nothing to your detriment.”

  She smiled demurely.

  “You are a puzzle, Mr Finch.”

  “Not really. I have no wish to be seduced. Since we are speaking so plainly, I should like to be the seducer.”

  He spoke quietly, for the discussion was distasteful to him.

  “I see I have misjudged you. I thought you would be reluctant.”

  Finch thought it unlikely that she had misjudged him and wondered again where her information about him had come from. Having been faithful both to his wife and to her memory, he had no experience of seducing women. When he had taken Emily to bed on their wedding night, he had had only his love for her and his father’s advice to guide him. They had done well enough. They had, he reflected, with a faint smile, done very well indeed. With Lady Louise Finch’s intention had been to get to know her gradually, escorting her to balls and dinners, taking her on picnics and eventually deciding whether or not he wanted to marry her. The prospect of getting to know such a beautiful woman had been pleasant, but he had expected to be the one dictating the pace of their relationship. Things were moving faster than he wanted.

  “Now I see that I have offended your pride.”

  For a moment Finch thought he saw a flash of anger in her eyes.

  “My pride will survive,” he said, drily.

  A servant arrived with the tea and Lady Louise busied herself with the pot.

  “I’m giving a supper next Monday,” he said impulsively. “May I invite you?”

  “I should be delighted. Is this to be a private meeting or am I to meet your friends?”

  “The latter,” said Finch. “A young friend of mine is unhappy and I wish to cheer her up.”

  Lady Louise’s eyes narrowed.

  “You would have done better to let me believe that the supper was in my honour.”

  Another mistake on both their parts.

  Lady Louise handed him his tea. He was expecting her to touch him, so managed to control himself when she did. She stroked a finger along the back of his hand. He was pleased that his hand remained perfectly still; it would have been a shame to spill the tea.

  “There will be other suppers and some will be in your honour and some will be more private, but I have already begun to send out invitations for Monday.” Finch refused to be pushed into a defensive position.

  “Then perhaps I could have a supper before Monday.”

  “To meet your friends,” cautioned Finch.

  “I have so few of them.”

  “You have enough to gain an invitation to Lady Caroline’s ball.”

  “That was the king. My king, not yours. He is pleased to recommend members of his court to your aristocracy.”

  So that was how she had gained entry to the Warrens’ house. Finch could not quite picture the seductive Frenchwoman as a friend, or even an acquaintance of Lady Caroline’s. Propriety had precluded him from imagining her as a friend of Arthur Warren’s.

  “Were there others from his court at Lady Caroline’s last night?”

  Finch couldn’t remember being introduced to anyone else French the night before.

  “No. I was accompanied by an English friend, Lord Harrington.”

  Harrington was fairly respectable. Finch knew the rumours that he kept a mistress somewhere, but they were only rumours and the man was not ostentatious about it. Whatever his personal arrangements, Lady Harrington seemed comfortable enough with them. He doubted Lady Louise was the mistress.

  “Lady Harrington is a close friend of Lady Caroline’s,” explained Lady Louise.

  “Yes, I danced with her last night.”

  Lady Louise pouted.

  “That must have been unbearable for you.”

  “On the contrary, Lady Harrington’s conversation is always sensible and she dances well enough.”

  In truth, Finch had had to guide her a couple of times when she forgot the steps, but she had a kind heart and a fund of amusing stories about her children, which Finch enjoyed immensely. She also had good advice for a widower bringing up his son alone.

  “You are a generous man, Mr Finch. I find her quite dull and her children are duller than she is.”

  He finished his tea and stood.

  “If you will excuse me, I have other visits to make today.”

  This was not strictly true, but there were friends who would be glad to know that he was recovering after his trip abroad.

  “I had hoped you would stay longer.”

  “There will be other afternoons... and evenings.”

  She rose and went with him to the door. As she stretched her hand to the door handle, Finch took it in his and pulled her round to face him. Even as she opened her mouth to protest, he kissed her.

  Once the surprise was past, she showed her experience and Finch was hard put to retain control. Eventually she seemed to realise that submission could be the more rewarding attitude and Finch was able to continue as he had intended.

  He had only ever kissed Emily before this and it was strange to kiss a woman who responded differently. Very quickly he realised that there was also pleasure in this for him.

  When he released her, he was pleased to note that she was more than a little breathless. He, on the other hand, breathed with ease, his detachment not entirely feigned.

  “You are a very surprising man,” she said when she could finally speak.

  “I should hate to be thought predictable.”

  On his way to his next appointment, Finch put his mind to working out his next step in this dance and considering whether or not he wanted to take it.

  After only three guests had arrived, Finch knew that he had made a terrible mistake. John Warren, Sophia Arbuthnot and Louise Favelle sat stony-faced in his drawing-room. Lady Louise had arrived first. They had not met since the afternoon he had visited her house. Finch’s friends had taken up a lot of his time once they had realised that he was back in society and he had not been able to accept either of the two invitations she had sent asking him to dine with her. When she arrived she had seemed to expect a kiss as greeting, but Finch was master in his own house and would have none of it. She had come out with the intention of shining and Finch thought she looked out of place in his simply decorated house. As on the two previous occasions they had met, her taste was exquisite, but her gown and her jewellery were more suited to an evening in the company of a king than one spent with a gentleman and some of his friends.

  Sophia had arrived next and, after a few snatches of conversation, the two women had silently declared themselves enemies. In contrast to Lady Louise, Sophia was plainly and not as tastefully dressed. Finch, who enjoyed women’s fashions, knew that the gown she wore was two years old. It wasn’t that Sophia could not afford to dress in accordance with fashion, just that she did not care to. The gown suited her and Finch wondered whether he had not been too quick to dismiss her as just pretty.

  For the first time he considered her as a woman. Since her family were friends with the Warrens, he had known her distantly since she was a girl. Like three of her sisters, she was red-haired. He was aware of the rumours about the youngest sister’s parentage caused by Mrs Arbuthnot’s departure shortly after her daughter’s birth to live with her lover. Sophia had done most of her growing up without the guidance of a mother. Now that he examined her figure more closely, he realised that it was nicely rounded. Her gown had been chosen to show it off, although he thought a lower neckline would suit her more.

  Sophia caught him looking at her and she blushed. Finch smiled; he had been wrong. He had thought her a pretty girl, but she was a beautiful woman.

  When John Warren arrived Sophia looked at Finch as if he had betrayed her in the worst way and Finch
was beginning to think that he had. Claiming the chair next to Sophia, John started a conversation as if they were alone in the room. After two attempts to remind him of his manners, Finch left him to it, expecting Sophia to remind him more forcefully and trying not to hear when she did.

  Lady Louise tried to claim his attention then, but Finch’s other guests had started to arrive.

  Mr and Mrs Carpenter were friends of his father, newly arrived from Birmingham. They were overawed to find themselves in the company of the daughter of a French count and the nephew of an earl. Finch liked them immensely. Like him, they were Quakers. Their common sense was refreshing and their conversation never less than entertaining. Usually when they were in London, they stayed in his house, but they had heard from his father that he had been ill and, not wishing him to go the effort of entertaining them, they were staying with a friend of Finch’s father. Finch was grateful for their thoughtfulness, but also wanted to do something for them while they were in London. He didn’t want them to think that he was happy that they were staying with someone else. Mrs Carpenter’s first words had reassured him that he had not insulted them, for she had seen immediately that he was not fully restored to health and not in a position to have house guests.

  Johnson was an old friend from school who had a theoretical interest in some manufacturing processes. Finch knew that he and Carpenter would talk to one another for hours, for Carpenter was always trying to improve his manufacturing processes. Mrs Johnson was a pretty young woman with no one save her unsympathetic mother-in-law to advise her on the raising of her increasing band of children. Mrs Carpenter was kind, experienced and willing to talk. Finch was grateful that this plan, at least, had borne fruit.