The Heart That Hides (Regency Spies Book 2)

by April Munday

  She turned her face away from him, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes. Why was he so bad at this?

  “Your hands are cold,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He let go of her hands, but she held on to him. Her small hands could not hold both of his easily, but, like the rest of him, they soon grew warm at her touch.

  “Come and sit. You must be exhausted.”

  She led him back to his chair and knelt in front of him, still holding his hands in hers.

  Finch was aware, vaguely, that this was improper, but he enjoyed her evident concern for him.

  “We’re lucky to have you,” he said quietly, afraid to break the spell that seemed to have wrapped them together. “I’m lucky.”

  “Let us say that all three of us are lucky and have done with it.”

  “Very well.”

  She smiled up at him and Finch knew that this couldn’t go on.

  A few days later, Finch was in his room resting. Dinner with the Meldons had tired him and he wanted to be alert enough to entertain Mary when he went to her sitting-room in a few minutes.

  There was a knock at the door and he groaned; he couldn’t face another of Meldon’s interminable questions about fatherhood tonight.

  “Come in,” he called, hoping he sounded more welcoming than he felt. “Oh, Lady Anna.”

  He started to struggle to his feet.

  “Please don’t stand. I know it’s an effort and you’re tired.”

  Finch sank back down into the chair, wondering what Lady Anna had to say to him that could not be said in front of her husband. She was dressed to go out and surely Meldon would miss her soon.

  Lady Anna sat in the other chair and looked at him critically. Apparently she was satisfied with what she saw, for she said, “Since you have been a friend to me in the past, I hope I may presume to be your friend now.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m afraid I shall be impertinent.”

  Finch chuckled.

  “I presumed to be so on a much shorter acquaintance.”

  Then he sobered, for he remembered the way in which he had been impertinent.

  “I will not ask if you are in love with Miss Wilding, for I do not believe you would be as… direct as I was when you asked me the same question about George, but...”

  “Forgive me for interrupting you, Lady Anna, but I have proposed and Miss Wilding has turned me down. It was, frankly, the least effective of my three proposals of marriage in achieving my objective. It is not something that I wish to talk about.”

  There was little point allowing this incredibly painful conversation to continue.

  “I’m sorry, I...” Lady Anna frowned. “Did she... did she say why?”

  Finch was about to repeat that this was not something he wanted to discuss, but remembered how she had borne his own impertinence a year earlier. He hoped he looked at ease, but feared he looked anxious.

  “A marriage without love on either side was not welcome to her.”

  “I see,” said Lady Anna, although her tone implied that she did not. Something had given away his feelings for Mary.

  “Yes,” he said, “I love her. I did not then, but I do now.”

  Her next question was more hesitant.

  “Do you think you might ask her again?”

  What was she thinking of?

  There was another knock at the door. Why couldn’t they let him rest?

  “Come in,” he called, not bothering to hide his anger.

  “Oh, Lady Meldon.”

  Mary curtsied and Finch managed to get to his feet before she straightened.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Finch, but you’re always so punctual. I feared...” She stopped.

  “No harm has come to him.” said Lady Anna as she got out of the chair. “Nor has he fallen asleep.”

  Mary blushed.

  “I’m sorry I gave you cause for alarm,” said Finch.

  Her blush deepened.

  “I’ll leave. If you don’t wish to come...”

  “Of course I wish to come.”

  Finch spoke louder than he intended and Mary flinched. He looked pleadingly at Lady Anna, for his mind was blank and he could think of no reason to explain her presence in his bedroom.

  To his surprise she shook her head.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said to Mary. “My husband and I wear Mr Finch out with our constant questions about babies and children. It’s only when he’s with you that he gets any peace.”

  Lady Anna took a step towards the door and then turned back to Finch.

  “I once told my husband that you were not as stupid as you appeared to be, please prove me right again.”

  Finch almost sank back into his chair in confusion, but Mary was there and he wanted to go with her. The door closed quietly behind Lady Anna.

  “It was a joke,” he said when he saw the expression on Mary’s face.

  “I have heard funnier ones.”

  Finch laughed.

  “You seem tired tonight. Are you sure you wish to sit with me for an hour?”

  “I would sit with you longer if you would have me.”

  “You are always welcome. Do you need to lean on me as we walk?”

  “Yes. Yes, please.”

  She stood closer to him and he put an arm round her waist, careful not to put too much of his weight onto her. They walked slowly to her sitting-room. Whether it was Lady Anna’s questions or because he had held Mary, the evening seemed more intimate than usual. Mary seemed glad of an excuse to cosset him and fussed around him until he was settled in front of the fire. From anyone else it would have been exhausting, from her it was restful. By the time he had taken his first sip of whisky from the glass she had placed on the small table beside him, he felt able to talk to her all night.

  Mary sat opposite him and took some sewing out of a basket and it was left to him to set the tone for the evening.

  “Miss Wilding, it seems that I am in a difficult position.”

  She looked up at him.

  “I know you must be imagining all kinds of reasons why you found me alone with Lady Anna, in my bedroom, but I cannot tell you and I will not make up something.”

  One lie to her had been enough to tell him that he could not lie to her again.

  “You do not need to explain your actions, or those of Lady Anna to me.”

  “Don’t I? I always imagined that my good character was one of the reasons why you came to me.”

  “It is because I know your good character that I am not imagining all kinds of reasons for her presence there.”

  She looked at him calmly with no hint of a blush.

  “I’m sure I’ve told you this before, but you are an amazing woman.”

  Now she did blush and took up her sewing.

  “Shall we have rain tomorrow do you think?” she asked.

  Her lips curved up into the little smile he loved so much and he settled back into his chair.

  Chapter Fourteen

  November 1812

  Finch looked around the drawing room, feeling once more out of place. He and Meldon were drinking whisky together, something rare these days, for Finch spent as much time as he could with Mary and Freddie.

  “We can’t stay here forever,” he said, as he toyed with his glass.

  “It’s easier to protect you here and the extra men are not as noticeable as they would be in your house.”

  Finch was certain that the soldiers were very noticeable to Meldon’s staff and neighbours. Even in a house this large it was difficult to explain the presence of an additional eight footmen and four grooms. Those were just the men he and Mary knew about. She brought him tales of the regular footmen being put out by the attention paid to the soldiers by the maids. The measures would surely seem too extreme even for a doting and wealthy father who feared that his son might be taken again.

  “I doubt anyone takes them for anything other than what they are. General Warren m
ight as well have hung a sign round my neck telling the whole world that there’s something here worth protecting.”

  “There’s a lot here worth protecting,” said Meldon.

  The prospect of becoming a father had changed Meldon. The closer they came to the birth, the more nervous he became.

  “The sooner we leave, the better it will be for you and Lady Anna.”

  Meldon was more scared than he cared to admit. The prospect of becoming a father frightened him; the prospect of losing his wife or his child terrified him.

  “You will get used to it,” Finch reassured his friend. “You are intelligent and you have Lady Anna to help you.”

  “If you can do it on your own, I can do it with Anna.”

  They both knew it was an empty boast and his voice betrayed him; nothing had really prepared him for this.

  Finch swirled the whisky in his glass for the simple pleasure of watching the light from the candles sparkle on the moving surface. He changed the subject back to what was worrying him.

  “We need to force the issue with the Frenchwoman,” he said.

  “General Warren is working on that. You told me.”

  Meldon was still angry that he hadn’t been involved in any of the discussions with the general. Knowing that it would be impossible to hide his activities from his wife, he had left the service a year ago. Finch didn’t think he missed it; his wife and his estates were the centre of his life. It was knowing that it was his friend who had been wounded, his godson who had been frightened and his home that had been turned into a barracks that made him want to have more to do with the decisions that were being made.

  Finch trusted his friend completely and would have welcomed a discussion with him, for Meldon thought strategically and, in Finch’s opinion, would have come up with a better plan than the general’s by now. Finch was learning to trust his own judgement again, but it was difficult for him to have the necessary distance where Mary and Freddie were concerned.

  “Yes, he is working on it, but developing his plan will take time. It seems we must take advantage of your hospitality for a while longer.”

  “I don’t mind, you know that, but people will talk.”

  Finch knew they must. He was almost well enough to leave the house on his own. When he could do so, they should logically return home.

  “I’d prefer a more direct approach.”

  Finch was unhappy with General Warren’s plan; waiting for someone else to make the first move was not his way.

  “I thought you might tell me what you want me to do.”

  Meldon looked at him hopefully.

  “Nothing yet. I need to trick her into making a move.”

  “Invite her here.”

  “Don’t you think she will have seen through my lack of attention by now?”

  Finch smiled sadly.

  Having the Frenchwoman thrown out had made him feel better, but there could be no pretending that he still loved her and there had been no communication between them since then.

  “A recovering man can be very contrite when his lover is staying away.”

  “We were not lovers,” said Finch. “Never that.”

  “Really? I thought you were completely under her spell.”

  “Not that much under her spell.”

  Finch knew he would never tell Meldon quite how close he had come to succumbing to the Frenchwoman’s charms and he was unspeakably grateful that he had not.

  “Sometimes, Finch, I don’t think I understand you at all.”

  “You’re better off with your sheep,” said Finch taking a sip of his whisky.

  Meldon didn’t rise to the bait and they sat in companionable silence for a while. Finch gazed into the fire, watching the flames leap and turn. His thoughts turned to Mary, as they usually did these days.

  “Meldon, if things don’t work out, would you look after Miss Wilding, as well as Freddie?”

  “Miss Wilding? I don’t...”

  “She wasn’t born to a life of poverty and Freddie loves her. Before we left for Birmingham I wrote a new will, leaving her the house in Southampton. I would have Freddie live there with her until he goes to school, so that he’ll be near enough for you to keep an eye on him. Although, when you’re here in London, I should prefer them to live in what will be Freddie’s house here. I have left her an annuity, but if her needs are greater than I have foreseen, you have discretion to give her more.”

  Meldon said nothing for a while. He was obviously struggling with something and not the prospect of losing his friend.

  “If she should marry,” said Finch, suddenly guessing his friend’s problem, “the house and the annuity are still hers and she may see Freddie whenever either of them wishes it.”

  From the moment she had turned down his proposal he had had to accept that she would marry someone else. If he could love her, so could others.

  “I understand,” said Meldon.

  “Possibly,” said Finch.

  Meldon clearly wanted to ask, but did not dare.

  “She might try to refuse the house,” Finch continued after a moment, “and the money.”

  “No,” said Meldon, “she won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Her love for Freddie is absolute and she will accept anything that means she can be with him, especially if you’re not... if you’re not there to...”

  He couldn’t go on and, although relieved that he had made proper provision for Mary, Finch was grieved that he had caused his friend a moment’s discomfort.

  The day came when Finch was able to leave the house without any assistance. After a prolonged consultation with Perkins he had made an appointment in Piccadilly. The very thought of leaving the house on his own made him feel better. He said farewell to Mary and Freddie and set out with two soldiers in attendance. He was armed, but lack of practice over the last two months meant that he could not rely on his accuracy should he be required to use his pistol or a knife.

  He kept the appointment with some trepidation, for this was his first decision in his new rôle. Although he would have trusted the person concerned with his life, he wasn’t sure that he was capable of taking the decision that would change their life completely. It had cost him many sleepless nights, but General Warren had insisted that the decision was his own to make.

  The general had married at the end of October. Finch had missed the wedding, but the general and his wife had visited him shortly afterwards. Lady Jane had been content with her new life, however short it might be. The general himself seemed younger. Finch suspected that it was as much due to relinquishing the job of running the intelligence service as his marriage. Lady Caroline had told Finch how happy she and Arthur were that the general had finally married his lover. Arthur’s brothers were not so pleased, but Arthur and Lady Caroline were relieved that the old man no longer felt the need to lie to his family.

  Finch resolved not to dwell on it as he travelled in Meldon’s carriage. A moment’s inattention would put his life, and the lives of the two men sent to guard him, at risk.

  It was only during his return to Meldon House that Finch began to understand the power that he now had. He had accepted someone barely older than Mary into the brotherhood of spies. That person would learn to kill and to dissemble and he, Finch, was responsible. It was a heavy burden.

  Meldon was waiting for him when he returned.

  “What’s happened?” Finch asked.

  “Miss Wilding went to your house this morning to collect some books from your library. She hasn’t returned. Her escort was killed.”

  Finch sat heavily in a chair as his knees gave way.

  “There are many ways she could have gone,” continued Meldon. “I’ve sent Palmer and Croft to trace all the routes she could have taken.”

  A cold dread filled Finch.

  “They shouldn’t bother. I know where she is.”

  Meldon nodded.

  “Thatcher, Sutton and Wheeler are watching at
the Frenchwoman’s house. Carpenter is the runner.”

  A small part of Finch, the tiny part that wasn’t worried sick about Mary, saw that Meldon was enjoying this. Meldon’s strategic mind was planning his battle and his plan would be good, but Finch couldn’t wait for Meldon to come up with a plan.

  “I’m going for her now,” said Finch, standing.

  “Are you mad? You’re only just well enough to leave the house. You don’t know how many will be there, or even if Miss Wilding is there at all.”

  “If she’s not there, I’ll find out where she is.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Leave it an hour and come accompanied. If you call at the front door, it will provide a distraction, should I need it.”

  “She’ll be expecting you,” said Meldon sadly.

  “I’m counting on it. If she’s not there, I don’t know where to start looking for Miss Wilding. They know I’ll come after her if I can guess where she is. They must have waited until they were sure I could leave the house unaided. I won’t say goodbye to Freddie, if you don’t mind. It would only upset him.”

  “He’s with Anna. He doesn’t know she should be back by now.”

  “Let’s pray I can get her back before he misses her.”

  “Take care.”

  “Always.”

  Unsure whether they would be watching the house or not, Finch decided to leave alone by the back entrance. He sought the detachment that usually came so easily, but could not find it. Both his mind and his body were affected by fear for Mary’s safety. His stomach protested and he wished he had taken some whisky before he had left Meldon.

  He walked quickly, ignoring the dull ache in his side. He would have to remember to protect the wound should there be any fighting; a blow there would immediately render him incapable. He tried to gain his focus by concentrating on the moves he could make without exposing himself to too much harm, then gave up, realising that the Frenchwoman knew the nature and location of the wound. They would doubtless know how to take advantage of his weakness.

  All too soon he came to the Frenchwoman’s house. He had no plan and his raging emotions prevented him from forming one. He went over the layout of the house in his head and concluded that they would be in the cellar, one of the parts of the house he hadn’t visited. If the servants were all involved, he was lost the moment he crossed the threshold, but there was a chance that the servants really were just servants and there were just a couple of men hired to do the physical work.