by Aileen Fish
He glanced askance her way before looking back at the spy. “It’s not safe for a young lady to wander the house alone. One of those poets might have followed you.”
She pressed her gloved hand to her bosom, lifting her gaze to the ceiling. “For their sake, I hope not. My patience has been spent. They don’t deserve what words might escape me.”
Adam had to laugh. She was certainly a character, and as beautiful as those poets likely claimed. Her hairstyle was softer tonight, no curls dancing free. Pale pink flowers, which matched those embroidered on her gown, were sprinkled into the waves. Those hazel eyes that drew such attention her way sparkled. She was a minx. “Why do I think your father’s patience has grown equally thin?”
She surprised him when a delicate shade of rose warmed her cheeks. “Yes. He’s close to sending me to my grandfather’s home in the country to care for my young cousins.”
“Why do you continue to refuse the attention paid to you, if you know you must marry soon?”
Meeting his gaze directly, she said, “I can’t pretend something I don’t feel. I won’t give them hope for an attachment on my part when it will never happen.”
She continued to watch him closely, as if looking for his reaction. Where he might call some young ladies foolish for such a statement, he respected Miss Watson’s honesty. “When you do marry, your husband will have to work hard to deserve you.”
He turned to watch Boiselle, but his attention remained on the woman at his side. She looked to be in her early twenties, certainly not on the shelf, but she must have been out in Society for several years. Such a character she was. Far too pretty to spend her life alone, and far too stubborn to settle for less than she wanted. She might be useful in Adam’s need to blend in with the haute ton. “What brings you to wander the halls, aside from avoiding those lotharios, of course? What excuse did you give?”
“I seek the ladies’ retiring room, or so Mrs. Harrow thinks. I planned to visit the library for an hour before returning.”
“Is the library nearby?”
She smiled, quite proud of herself. “I have no idea. Puzzling out what you were up to sounded much more intriguing. Now, what are you doing here?”
Adam heard chairs sliding in the card room, and saw Boiselle approaching the doorway. Without thinking, he took Miss Watson by the shoulders and kissed her soundly. She remained stiff in his arms, yet her lips were soft and pliable. And sweet, he noticed just before inhaling a soft scent of lavender. Panic set in and he let her go.
Boiselle turned toward the staircase up to the ballroom. Adam needed to follow.
“That was certainly not the answer I expected,” Miss Watson said.
He was relieved she hadn’t read more into the kiss than it was. “It seemed like the right thing to do at that moment.”
“The moment our friend might recognize us?”
He slanted her a glance, then moved away from her. She was far too perceptive. For the first time, he wondered if she might be the connection to Boiselle Adam sought. If so, he needed to keep her close. If not, she was too tempting a distraction. Could he take the risk? Should he? This bore more thought than he had time for.
“Precisely,” he answered, bowing his head and following Boiselle, with no apology for the kiss.
Miss Watson boldly took his arm. “An intrigue. Now I’m certain you have no interest in acting.”
Every remaining hope of her being the perfect cover vanished. “Allow me to return you to Mrs. Harrow. She must be worried about your health, being away so long.”
“Must you? You haven’t given me any answers. I promise not to tell anyone—not even Charlotte, although she’s as discrete as anyone we might need assistance from.”
Having entered the ballroom where they pressed between couples and small groups, Adam was determined to stop her before anyone overheard. “I need no assistance. It must be time for my dance with Miss Harrow. I thank you for a most…unusual…distraction.”
Adam was correct about the timing. Mrs. Harrow squinted her frustration when he approached with Miss Watson on his arm. Ignoring her, he smiled at Miss Harrow. “I believe this is our dance.”
Leading Miss Watson’s friend into the space cleared for dancing, he reverted to polite conversation.
Miss Harrow was having none of it. “How curious Miss Watson left alone and returned with you. One might suspect an assignation.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know your friend better than I do. She’d never do such a thing.”
Her eyes widened, her rosy lips parting before she schooled her expression. “And you know her better than I would imagine for such a short acquaintance. Or are there some other activities he hasn’t mentioned?”
“She’s outspoken, presents her opinions quite plainly. One need only know her a few moments to understand her.” He left her to take the arm of the other woman in their set.
When Miss Harrow met him again, she said, “To my knowledge, she’s never told a man such unless he tried to seduce her.”
“Then that proves there’s no attraction between us. She doesn’t treat me as an enamored sap. She can speak honestly with no fear of damaging me.”
Charlotte laughed and waited until they connected again in the steps. “I agree. She must feel differently about you, but not in the way you profess. She trusts you. I look forward to seeing where your friendship goes.”
Adam needed to rethink seeking Miss Watson’s assistance any further. If her best friend suspected something more lay between them, there could be trouble ahead.
Chapter Six
When Adam reached the theatre the next evening, he looked forward to slipping in a conversation or two with Miss Watson. Despite all the reprimands and reminders he gave himself since he rose this morning, he wanted to know more about her. To learn why she felt the way she did about marriage, and what she enjoyed beyond reading and acting.
To his disappointment, she hadn’t arrived, and an hour later when the actors began to dress, she was still absent. As Adam strode down the hall peering into any open door to no avail, he wondered if she’d taken ill.
The noise level backstage before the theatre doors opened was a huge contrast to later in the evening. Men lugged scenery backdrops about while others shouted to a man on a scaffold. The actors hadn’t arrived yet, but Mr. Billups slipped in and out of Boiselle’s room, with nothing in his hands to show his purpose.
The third time Mr. Billups left the spy’s room, Adam approached, using the Miss Watson as an excuse to talk to him. “I don’t see her. Does she often miss the Friday evening performance?”
He shook his head. “She won’t be coming anymore. She sent a note ‘round to the manager.”
Disappointment made his shoulders sag. If nothing else, she kept the hours of surveillance entertaining. He steered the conversation toward his real questions. “Does Mr. Tilney arrive early?”
“No earlier than any of the other nights you’ve been here.” Billups studied him through narrowed eyelids, and Adam felt his layers of secrecy being peeled away one by one.
“I see. He’s an interesting sort, wouldn’t you say?”
“I wouldn’t say. Just as you haven’t said why you come night after night only to linger backstage.”
Adam stiffened, looking down his nose at the man, a method that usually silenced strangers. “No, I haven’t. I shall take no more of your time.”
Refusing to leave, regardless of Billups’ observations, Adam took up a spot out of the way and settled in to watch Boiselle’s door.
Unable to believe Miss Watson stayed away willingly, he wondered if she’d been found out by her parents. Her father would punish her, certainly, in addition to barring her from attending the theatre. She’d mentioned Miss Harrow having covered for her—did that mean contact with her would be forbidden?
Such thoughts shouldn’t be distracting him. Pushing them aside, he muttered under his breath. “Anyone could be here, it doesn’t need to be me.”
About thirty minutes later, a strange man slipped inside the building and looked about. Adam pretended not to notice, but watched as he entered Boiselle’s room. The man remained about five minutes, then left just as quietly as he came.
This was what Adam had been waiting for. He strode toward the dressing rooms, only to divert when Billups beat him there. What role did he play in this? If he picked up a message left by the stranger, Adam would leave empty-handed yet again.
Billups left as quickly as the other man had, and Adam waited until the hallway was empty before going into the room.
Boiselle clearly wasn’t a neat person, and had no valet cleaning his mess. Cosmetic jars were strewn about on a table in front on a mirror. Clothing hung from hooks inside an open wardrobe, or lay in a heap on a chair. How the man found his next costume was beyond Adam’s comprehension.
Adam searched every pocket he could find, to no luck. He pulled out the drawer at the base of the wardrobe, but it was empty. Other than the mess of clothing, there was nowhere else to hide a message.
Lifting each garment off their hook and checking inside didn’t yield anything except the fact the man wore too much cologne. He went through the pile again, more slowly this time, and shook out each one. Halfway down the pile, a folded paper dropped to the floor.
Success.
Without waiting to read it, knowing the urgency to leave the room, Adam pocketed the note and slipped away. Only when he was on the street outside did he pause long enough to look at the message. Under the light from a streetlamp, he unfolded it.
The message was encrypted, as expected. All Adam could do was pass the note along to the men who deciphered for the Crown.
~~~
Mary Jane leaned her head back to find clean air, trapped in the arms of her waltz partner, who clearly felt enough perfume could mask any amount of body odor. The blend of the two was unbearable, and holding her breath was making her lightheaded.
A full two weeks had passed since her parents discovered how she spent her nights. Mama and Mrs. Harrow happened to call on the same esteemed member of the ton and discussed all the times Mary Jane and Charlotte weren’t where they’d claimed.
Father had exploded in a rage when he heard. The words Morningside, country house and small room in the attic weren’t as chilling as nunnery.
She’d go mad being cloistered. Even the benefit of not suffering the dull conversation of too many hopeful gentlemen couldn’t make the idea tolerable.
Once again, he was stomping about, his voice rattling windows. Mary Jane couldn’t make out his words, but she had a feeling the ultimatum had come.
Mama calmed him some, although his voice still carried to the morning room where Mary Jane sat with a book. At that moment, she couldn’t have recalled its title if asked, her trepidations were so great.
Not long after Father’s voice calmed to conversational tones, Mama came and sat with Mary Jane on the cushion in the window seat.
“You heard your father, no doubt.”
“Yes mum.”
“He’s quite upset.”
“Yes mum.”
“His final decision is that you’ll marry his vicar friend, the widower with three children under six years of age.”
Mary Jane choked. A widower with children was bad enough, but a vicar? All her desire to act wouldn’t help her pretend to be the proper wife of a vicar.
“Unless you are engaged at the end of the Season.”
Many of the households in London had returned to their country homes to escape the summer heat, meaning she had days, at most weeks, to find a husband. “There’s not enough time—”
“You’ve had four years, Mary Jane. We’ve been patient long enough. We’re attending an assembly each night until you find someone, so please be reasonable and don’t chase them all away.” She rang her fingers through Mary Jane’s hair that hung loose down her back. “I don’t know you haven’t found the man you think will make you happy, but true happiness can be found wherever you are. You’ll have children to fill your life. You’ll be allowed to decorate your home to your tastes. If you’re lucky, your husband will allow you to buy as many books as you please.”
“Those aren’t what I want.”
“Don’t think you can marry an actor, your father would send you straight to a nunnery.”
It wasn’t an actor who filled her thoughts, but someone who suffered through the same restrictions she did. Lord Adam would delight her parents, and stun all Polite Society. Seeing their faces would almost make marriage tolerable.
She and Lord Adam could agree to allow each other their unusual pursuits, perhaps even open a theatre of their own. Then she could be there every night—with the right costume and makeup, she might even play a role or two.
Yes, this was the perfect plan. The only problem was finding Lord Adam and convincing him of its value. Other than the one ball, she’d only seen him at the theatre. She had no idea where he lived, so she couldn’t send him a note, as scandalous as that would be.
She jumped to her feet, eager to plot her seduction. “What time will we leave, Mama? I must have my maid wash my hair.”
~~~
With much of the ton no longer in Town, the smaller crowd made it easier to see who was in the ballroom. Mary Jane waved to Charlotte, who hurried across the room to her. Mary Jane pleaded with her mother. “May we take a turn about the room?”
“Can I trust you to remain inside?”
Mrs. Harrow had followed in Charlotte’s wake. “I think between us we can make certain of it.”
Mary Jane shivered at the determined glare Charlotte’s mother gave her daughter. “Let’s go,” she whispered, tugging Charlotte’s arm.
“Have you been kept prisoner as I have?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes. This is the first time I’ve left the house. I must marry before the end of the Season.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have as severe a threat, but I’m not allowed out unless my mother or brother is with me. What will we do?”
“I have a plan, and if I can find Lord Adam, it might come to pass as I hope.”
“You believe he’ll take part in some charade? Be careful, Mary Jane.”
“Don’t worry. Father has chosen a widowed vicar for me if I fail. I can’t fail.”
Mary Jane slowed to be able to see who was at the ball. Most specifically, Lord Adam. “Do you know what his brother the duke looks like?”
“I’ve seen him once, but he doesn’t go to many assemblies.”
“Does he have any friends? He’s always been alone when I’ve spoken to him.”
“I only saw him that one night, so I’m of no help to you. Do you think we could ask out hostess without causing a stir?”
Mary Jane glared.
“No, I didn’t think so either. What about the butler?”
“Mama would instinctively know I’ve left the room.”
“I know. Let’s find a footman.” Charlotte dragged her to the refreshment tables, where several footmen stood at the ready. Stopping in front of one, she said, “Please enquire if Lord Adam St. Peters has arrived.”
The young man nodded and left.
“You see how easy that was?” Charlotte asked.
“As long as no one heard you, we’re safe.” Mary Jane continued to search the guests for the familiar face. Suddenly, she saw him.
“There.” She nodded in his direction.
“I don’t see—oh, yes I do. I shall envy you forever if you convince him to marry you. That is your plan, isn’t it?”
“Since a faux engagement wouldn’t convince father, I have to go through with the wedding. After that, however, he’s free to do what he wishes.”
“You speak as if this agreement has been made. You are quite sure of yourself.”
Mary Jane sighed, taking a first step toward Lord Adam. “I’m quite sure no other man will do.” If only she felt that way because she loved him madly.
Chapter Seven
&n
bsp; Adam had followed Boiselle into the ballroom, but then lost sight of him. Wandering, he searched through the faces of all the portly men in the room. He’d given up looking for Miss Watson, assuming her family had retired to the country, since she wasn’t at any assembly he’d attended recently.
Then he heard her voice. Turning, he saw her and Miss Harrow strolling as though they had not a thought on their minds. He suspected the opposite was true. While neither of the ladies looked at him, he was certain he was their target.
Miss Watson gave a surprised gasp when her gaze met his. “How delightful to find you here.”
“Miss Watson, Miss Harrow. You both are well?”
“Quite well,” Miss Harrow said. Her smug smile hid a secret.
“As am I,” he responded. He waited a moment to see if Miss Watson would reveal her intent.
“Have you been to the theatre recently? I gave up my position assisting Miss Clarke, so I haven’t heard any news. Did it close as scheduled?”
“It has, to excellent reviews, I think.” He knew this wasn’t her intent. She wanted something more.
As boldly as hi expected, she said, “Our dance cards have many blank lines. Are you able to fill one?”
Still not her true pursuit. He smiled, enjoying the game. How long must he wait for her to speak? The musicians warmed their instruments, calling the dancers. “I would love to stand up with each of you. Who first?”
“You go, Mary Jane,” Miss Harrow said. “I’ll wait with our mothers.”
Miss Watson smiled brightly up at him. “I must confess I’ve missed you.”
He slanted her a glance. “As much as the theatre?”
“Well…”
They both laughed, and Adam realized how comfortable he felt beside her. “We must have received different invitations.”
“It’s likely I received just as many, but my father discovered how I spent my time and my entertainments were curtailed.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“And here I am.” She looked down, her smile fading for a moment. “He’s determined to see me married.”