Why had he confronted her that first night on the terrace at the Southbys’ ball? He’d seemed so certain she knew something, that she’d spoken with the duke about something of importance. He’d been adamant, in fact.
Then had come the night she’d discovered him in Viscount Stafford’s library. She still didn’t believe his ridiculous excuse that he needed a moment away from the crowd.
Why had he happened upon her in that bookshop? That was too much of a coincidence. And his skills at fighting the man with the knife couldn’t be denied.
And now this. She tapped a finger on her chin as she considered the various angles.
She’d already decided Richard was more than merely a rogue. Yet no matter how she shifted all those bits and pieces in her mind, she didn’t see an obvious answer.
There had to be a way to discover more about who Richard truly was.
Her goal of protecting her family hadn’t changed, and if she were to marry him—her breath caught at the thought—she needed to know what he was about, if she could truly trust him with her family. And with her heart.
~*~
A hint of dawn lightened the horizon as Richard stared out his bedroom window early the next morning. His room overlooked the garden with only a narrow view of the street out front. The neighborhood was eerily quiet this morn, or perhaps his unease came from the dream that interrupted his slumber.
He took another sip of brandy. Though the amber liquid burned his throat, it did little to settle his nerves. The dream—or rather, the nightmare—didn’t come as often as before but was disturbing nonetheless.
It wasn’t a surprise he’d dreamed of that terrible night—not when Dumond had lately been in his thoughts so often.
Dumond had convinced Richard to travel with him to the Continent after they completed their final year at university, despite the danger due to the war.
Richard hadn’t realized what his friend was about at first. He thought they were having their own version of a Grand Tour, seeing the sights and enjoying the local food, drink, and women while dodging areas of unrest.
But Richard had soon realized Dumond’s travel preferences were as deliberate as the people with whom he met. When Richard confronted him, Dumond confirmed his suspicions, sharing that his elder brother worked as a spy for the Crown, and he was following in his footsteps. Dumond found the work and travel interesting and entertaining and did his best to convince Richard to join him.
The idea of serving a purpose, of aiding his country, appealed to Richard, and he entered the intelligence efforts without hesitation.
He and Dumond spent most of their time on missions in France on and off for over a decade, collecting information wherever they could find it under the guise of English rogues in search of diversions.
Maria had been one of their informants, helping to connect them with those willing to share what they knew. Richard had been attracted to her from the start and the stressful situations they encountered brought them closer. She was an experienced woman, her husband killed by a French officer years before. She and Richard had spent many pleasurable hours together.
But when Dumond’s brother was killed, Dumond changed. He at last realized the serious side of spying, that men, and sometimes women, were willing to die to keep—or take—secrets. His anger toward the French had grown to the point where Richard had to stop him from killing those who didn’t cooperate. Proof of guilt shifted in Dumond’s mind to that of innocence, a much more elusive attestation.
That terrible night, they’d been dressed as peasants while they waited in a small tavern not far from Paris. By then, they both spoke excellent French and were able to fool most if not all of the people they encountered.
Maria was to meet them there. She remained the one soft spot Dumond had. Richard feared his friend was half in love with her, just as Richard was. Or at least as much as young, naïve men could love.
Her dark eyes and exotic looks spoke of Gypsy ancestry. Her voluptuous curves and sultry voice easily convinced men to talk. When she turned on the charm...Richard shook his head at the memory of the power of her skills.
So powerful that he and Dumond had been blind to her true mission. She was supposed to meet them to deliver the information she’d gathered from one of Bonaparte’s captains. The details she promised included French troop movements that would prevent the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of English soldiers.
Had she always been a double agent or had that last meeting with the French captain been the turning point for her? What might Le Sournois have done to coerce her into identifying him and Dumond? Offered her money? Threatened her family? Richard was haunted by the fact that he didn’t know—and never would—why she’d sold them out.
Richard was certain Le Sournois must have witnessed her meeting with the captain then followed her to the tavern to see with whom she’d share the traitorous secrets.
Richard had been seated some distance from Dumond, something they always did in public places with the hope of keeping at least one of them alive. Dumond had been far more skilled at spying than Richard, and to this day, Richard wished Dumond had survived instead. No doubt he’d have already killed Le Sournois.
Maria had seemed unsettled when she’d met Dumond at the tavern, as though she already knew things weren’t going according to plan. She’d stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. At least, that was what Richard surmised from his table across the room. He didn’t know what she said to Dumond when she rose from the table.
At Dumond’s gesture, Richard followed her outside but didn’t see her. Not right away. He’d searched in the dark before at last coming upon her just outside the stable, stumbling toward him.
Her breath came haltingly, her dark eyes wide with terror, a hand pressed to her middle.
“What is it?” he’d asked. “What happened?”
But words were nearly beyond her. He took her hand in his, only to find it warm and wet with blood. Each breath she drew rattled in her chest.
“Who did this?” he demanded.
“Le...Sournois.”
The Sly One? Richard had had no idea to whom that name referred at the time.
“Hurry. Dumond...I’m sorry.” The barely audible words came out with the last of her breath. Then she’d collapsed to the ground.
Richard rushed inside to get help, though he feared it was too late, only to find Dumond nowhere in sight.
He hurried out the back and came upon Dumond lying on the ground on his side.
As he reached for his friend’s shoulder, he knew. “Dumond?”
He rolled onto his back at Richard’s touch, revealing a jeweled dagger stuck in his chest.
The sight of a pistol firing, the glare of its spark hiding the face of the man who’d fired it, were the last things Richard remembered. Several days had passed before he’d recovered enough to leave his bed.
Once he’d regained his health and his wits, he traced the unusual dagger he remembered vividly to a shop in Paris, where the shopkeeper revealed that an Englishman had purchased it. An English lord visiting relatives in Paris.
Other duties had pulled him back to England, but he’d continued his quest to find Dumond’s murderer from London as well as each time he returned to Paris. Only so many lords had relatives in France and were the approximate age and appearance of the man described by the shopkeeper.
With much effort and pure luck, Richard had eventually narrowed Dumond’s murderer to three men who fit the basic description and had been in France at the time. Now those three had become two—Stafford and Wayfair.
He couldn’t help but feel the dream was a reminder of his vow to find Dumond’s killer. Caroline had become a distraction but one he couldn’t remove when he was bound by honor to protect her.
With a shake of his head, he acknowledged how much more she was to him than someone to shield. She’d captured his interest from the start with her beguiling green eyes. Her cool reserve hid a passion he’d never expecte
d. He admired her loyalty to her family and the way she did her best to protect them, especially her father, when it should be the other way around. She’d made the best of their difficult situation using her intelligence and wit. She never did what he expected and had her own brand of logic.
Life with her would be a joy with a few trials thrown in to keep things interesting. Whether that would come to pass, he didn’t know.
He had to find the focus to fulfill his vow to Dumond while protecting Caroline. That began with Wayfair.
He didn’t know what exactly the duke was up to, but he intended to watch him closely. Part of him demanded he confront the duke about his request to Caroline. But another part wanted to watch and wait.
Taylor had yet to talk but, given the appalling conditions in Newgate, chances were he’d soon share for whom he worked. His testimony could be the proof they needed to close in on Wayfair.
Patience was a learned skill, one Richard had yet to master.
The sounds of the street below echoed between the houses to reach him—the call of a gas-lighter as he extinguished the lights along a nearby street, the rumble of the coal cart making deliveries. It all sounded familiar and normal, but he knew events were spiraling tighter and tighter. Much like an overwound spring in a clock, something was bound to give.
Perhaps that was what the dream was suggesting. If so, he needed to stay on high alert, regardless of his growing feelings for Caroline.
Chapter Sixteen
Richard entered the brightly lit foyer of the Torringtons’ ball that evening. Though he preferred to come through the garden doors at these functions, he hated to be predictable. He hadn’t spoken with Caroline since their brief time together at the bazaar but assumed she would be here. Several other parties were being held this evening but this one was “the” event to attend if one had an invitation.
He spoke briefly with the hosts then made his way down the steps into the ballroom. This was a more intimate affair than the balls he’d attended in previous weeks, but it was still a crush. Less people in a smaller space.
He paused along the wall to look over those in attendance. He caught sight of Caroline across the room, his heart lifting at the sight of her. That was the only way to describe it. He wasn’t sure what to make of the sensation.
But he did his best to shove aside the feeling. He had to concentrate on his mission. His feelings—whatever they were—would have to wait until he claimed justice. Remembering the order of his priorities was vital at this point.
Richard understood the danger he faced, especially after having such a close miss during his last encounter with Le Sournois. He couldn’t help but rub the scar that he bore just below his heart. Whether it had been luck or fate, an inch or two higher and he wouldn’t be standing here.
Funny how the sight of Caroline had him thinking it had been fate. That perhaps she was the reason he’d survived that night.
He realized he walked toward her without consciously deciding to do so. Already his determination faded. After all, little could be done at the moment with Wayfair or Stafford, which left him to enjoy Caroline.
She caught sight of him, the joy lighting her face causing his chest to expand. The array of emotions crossing her face that followed made him wonder what might be going through her mind. But the very first emotion had been joy. That only made his chest feel lighter.
She excused herself to one of her sisters and two other ladies before meeting him. “Good evening, my lord.”
“And to you. How are you faring?”
“Well.” She nodded as she looked over the crowd before catching his gaze once more. “Very well, actually.”
“Oh?” His curiosity caught, he waited to see if she’d explain.
She moved closer, bringing her lilac scent to his notice. The light fragrance suited her perfectly and made him long to press kisses along her elegant neck and breathe it in.
“We received a surprising letter.”
He raised a brow, doing his best to keep his thoughts on her words.
“A letter from the shipping company with which Father made that unfortunate investment. A banknote was included.”
Richard did his best to hide the satisfaction that filled him. “That is surprising indeed. Whatever did the company say?”
“The ship was not lost at sea after all but had been damaged in a storm. Repairs took quite some time. At any rate, the ship arrived safely in London not long ago and sold its cargo for a high profit.”
“That’s excellent news.”
“Did you have anything to do with the matter?”
He glanced away, surprised how tempted he was to admit his involvement. The need to have her see him in a good light after she’d expressed her lack of faith in him at the bazaar took him aback. But if she knew he’d succeeded in forcing the company to pay her father, it would only create more questions—questions he couldn’t answer. “I don’t know what you mean. Why would you think so?”
She frowned, studying him closely until he wanted to fidget like a schoolboy. “I think it an odd coincidence that soon after I mentioned the investment to you, we received both a letter and money.”
“Very odd indeed. Would you care to dance?”
She blinked at the change in topic. “Of course, but I have additional questions.”
“Certainly.” He took pleasure in holding her gloved hand and tucking it in the crook of his elbow, pressing it close against his side.
That small contact with her settled him, much to his surprise. He blamed the dream but wondered if it was more than that. As if touching her somehow soothed his soul.
A cotillion was just beginning. He’d never really cared for the dance due to its length, but the movements felt quite different when he danced with Caroline. She was graceful, executing the steps with ease as they moved in a square shape across the floor.
He had to admit that everything done with her was more enjoyable.
The dance didn’t allow much opportunity for conversation, so he was easily able to deflect her comments. At least until they left the dance floor.
“Are you certain you didn’t have anything to do with the return of that investment?”
He smiled and patted her hand. “How could I have? Do you know the Torringtons well?”
“We visit with them when we meet at various events, but we don’t call upon each other. Why?”
“Merely curious.” And trying to shift your focus away from the investment.
They paused at the edge of the dance floor to watch the next set of dancers.
He searched his mind for a new topic to distract her. “I thought Viscount Stafford might be in attendance this evening.”
“I understand the viscount and his wife have left London for a few days.”
Richard’s interest was immediately caught. How timely that Stafford had decided to leave town. This was precisely the opportunity he needed to see what he could find in that locked drawer in his library. “Do you happen to know where they went?”
“I believe someone mentioned they travelled to Southampton. Isn’t that the same place Wayfair ventured?”
Damn.
That bit of news made him even more determined to pay a visit to Stafford’s home. Could Stafford and Wayfair somehow be working together? He’d need to see if one of his associates from Whitehall could venture there to discover what he was up to.
Realizing Caroline continued to stare at him, he answered her question. “Yes, I believe so.”
“And?”
Nonplussed, he only held her gaze. He had no idea how to respond nor what might be going through her mind. Did her question have anything to do with the gamut of emotions that had crossed her face earlier?
“I have to ask what you intend to do.” She lifted her chin as though to make it clear she expected an answer.
“I intend to enjoy this time with you.” He again tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, offering her a smile.
An answerin
g smile touched her lips, and she wrapped her fingers around his arm.
He breathed a sigh of relief that her questions had ended.
“And then what do you intend to do?”
His relief vanished in an instant. He could only deny whatever suspicions she had. How he hated to lie, especially to her. If there were any way to avoid it, he would, but she was pressing him into a corner, leaving him no choice.
“Perhaps you’d care to explain your question.”
She paused as though debating her response then glanced around to make certain no one could overhear. “Are you returning to his house to look in his library?”
He stilled, his mind racing for a way to deny her charge without lying. “Whatever for?”
She scoffed. “For whatever you didn’t find before you were interrupted the last time.”
“I told you that I—”
With a graceful wave of her hand, she dismissed his protest. “Yes, yes, but we both know that wasn’t the truth.” After several moments of silence, she held his gaze once more, a strange light glittering in her eyes. “I want to come with you.”
“No.” He realized too late that his response confirmed her suspicion. Yet the idea of her breaking into Stafford’s home with him stole his breath. Where were his espionage skills when he most needed them? He should’ve easily been able to deflect her questions and deny her allegations.
“I insist. Should we go now? We could return before anyone notes our absence.” She looked about as though seeking the closest door to make good their escape.
“Have you lost your senses?” He swallowed back the panic that threatened at the idea of her in danger. Because of him. “We will do no such thing.”
“I will keep watch and alert you if anyone is coming.”
“And if we’re caught?”
“We won’t be. I have faith in your ability to avoid such an outcome.”
Her confidence caused the oddest sensation to spread through him, heating him from the inside out. The treacherous feeling had him actually considering the idea. “I thought you had to save me the last time I happened to be in Stafford’s library.”
Romancing the Rogue (Regency Rendezvous Book 9) Page 16