Once Bitten (The Heart of a Hero Book 3)

by Aileen Fish

  His gut tightened at the idea he wouldn’t enjoy her wild imaginings any more. His work would become even more dull without the prospect of her chatter. “You don’t wish to marry?”

  “No. Not now, at least. I’m trying to resign myself to it, pretending there’s such a man out there who’d allow me to continue to enjoy myself.”

  “Why can’t you enjoy being married? It’s not a prison.”

  “If my husband has the same image of a wife as my father, I might as well be leg-shackled.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I thought only men felt that way. Find one of those gentlemen and you’ll be happy to allow each other your freedom.”

  The music began, a beautiful waltz, and Adam enjoyed taking her in his arms. The subject of marriage behind them, he felt intently her gloved hand on his arm, as well as the cloud of sweet fragrance surrounding them. She was taller than most women, but still fit beneath his chin. Light on her feet, she moved with grace, flowing rather than stepping on the marble tile floor. For the length of the song he could pretend he wasn’t sworn to serve his King, and had the freedom to marry. She’d be the perfect woman for him, once he was free to consider it.

  There were enough people who’d feel his loss deeply, should he be killed, and he wouldn’t add a wife to the list. Of course, that meant she’d become some other man’s wife, but that was the only considerate thing he could do. So, he ignored her thinly veiled hints and enjoyed having her close.

  When the waltz ended, Adam kept her hand on his arm, strolling the long way toward her mother. He’d neglected to keep Boiselle in his sights while he danced, and had no inkling where the man was.

  Adam’s superiors would threaten every punishment short of a court martial if they knew how sloppy his surveillance had become since meeting Miss Watson. If this job wasn’t so personal, he’d ask to be reassigned somewhere he could keep his mind on his work.

  Patting her hand, he asked, “Does Miss Harrow have the same threat hovering over her Season?”

  “No, she wasn’t the one acting so foolishly; she only kept my secret.”

  “So you admit now you took risks being there? Leaving alone in the early hours of the morning?”

  “Not you, too.” She sighed, one side of her mouth pulling back. “I was certain you, of all people, would understand.”

  “What I understand is how dangerous the city is for young women.” He spoke softly, doing everything he could to give no appearance of lecturing her.

  “My only hope is finding a husband who enjoys the same activities.”

  Adam suddenly heard the creak of a trap ready to spring. “That can’t be too difficult. Miss Harrow has a brother, doesn’t she? He’d surely understand and be willing to compromise.”

  She shook her head. “He’s only interested in horses, like all of our Lumley cousins.”

  Catching sight of Boiselle’s bald pate, Adam quickened their pace, not paying attention to anything Miss Watson said. The spy had a woman on his arm, and they walked out on the brightly lit terrace.

  “Let’s take in some fresh air.” Adam quickened their pace to prevent losing sight of Boiselle again.

  “How delightful,” Miss Watson said. “The garden here is said to be superb.”

  It might have been so, but he wasn’t paying attention. Boiselle was disappearing down a sheltered path. Lanterns hung from the trees, providing a romantic setting, but that wasn’t on Adam’s mind. He forced himself to walk slowly enough for Miss Watson to keep pace.

  It did occur to him how she might perceive being taken into the secluded area, but other couples also strolled the path, so he wasn’t compromising her reputation. Still, she could very easily mistake this for a seduction that would lead to a proposal. He must make his position clear. “I promise not to keep you away long enough to detract from your search for a husband.”

  “I’d much rather be with you.”

  That trap creaked again. “I must be honest. I’m not in a position to marry. Your time would be better spent on others. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy your company,” he quickly added.

  “We do get on well, don’t we?”

  Boiselle and his companion continued past the last of the lanterns, into the shadows. Adam hesitated. If any meeting was to take place, this would be the perfect spot. He and Miss Watson followed.

  He felt the tension in her body shift when she caught on to their pursuit. “We’re following Mr. Tilney and his lady-love, aren’t we? A scheme is afoot!”

  “Shh. He mustn’t know we’re here.”

  “Of course.” She moved so stealthily, Adam couldn’t hear her steps. He bit back a smile.

  He didn’t hear steps in front of them, either, so he stopped, listening for conversation. The only sounds came from behind them, toward the house. Then he heard the rustling of a bush and the moonlight flashed on a woman’s pale gown.

  In an instant, Adam had Miss Watson in his arms and was kissing her soundly. Her lips moved hesitantly beneath his, and her sigh was quite audible. She was more perfect than he remembered—and more distracted. He lifted his head and looked down the path. Boiselle was gone.

  “I suppose if I want another kiss, I must ask Mr. Tilney to appear?” Her voice held restrained laughter.

  Adam chuckled. “You’ll have to ask your husband. Let’s go inside before your father sends for a special license.”

  Holding his arm, Miss Watson rested her head playfully on his arm. “Would that be such a horrid thing?”

  Despite himself, and all the reasons he knew he couldn’t marry her, he couldn’t insist it would be horrid.

  Chapter Eight

  Adam couldn’t allow her to make more of their relationship than it was, than it could be. He paused before they reached the terrace, pulling her to one side, well within the lantern light. “You’ve obviously come to understand I have reason to spend so much time observing Mr. Tilney’s activity. Since I’ve pulled you into the scheme, you deserve to know the truth, or as much as I’m free to tell you. This cannot be spoken of to anyone, not even Miss Harrow.”

  Miss Watson nodded, nibbling her lower lip. She looked so innocent, and he longed to kiss her again, but he restrained himself.

  “Mr. Tilney is responsible for the death of my uncle.”

  She frowned, tilting her head. “Then why not have him arrested? Why have you just been following him?”

  “There’s more to the story, but I can’t say more without putting you in danger.” She was already in danger, if the wrong people had seen them together.

  Her hesitant smile showed she didn’t believe him.

  “I’m serious, Miss Watson.”

  “Please, call me Mary Jane. You know me well enough, and I won’t take it to be a proposal.”

  She was certainly a minx, he thought yet again. “You’re familiar to Mr. Tilney, so I’m not afraid of him seeing you, but if he recognizes me, there will be trouble.”

  “Why can’t he be arrested?”

  “He’s part of a scheme. He didn’t kill my uncle himself, he ordered someone else to do so.”

  “How awful.” She placed the palm of her gloved hand on his cheek and he leaned into the warmth. “I won’t press you for more details. I understand now. Promise me you’ll be careful. I couldn’t bear hearing you’ve died.”

  Her words tugged at his heart and made it even more difficult not to kiss her again.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  “I can’t ask you to continue to be at my side. You must find a husband.”

  Even in the dim light, he saw the sadness wash over her, and it broke his heart. He wished it was in his power to give her everything she wanted, but that was impossible. But he understood her feelings toward him.

  Clutching her hand to his heart, he confessed, “I feel the same way. We would be good for each other, wouldn’t we?”

  “Aren’t we?” she countered. She held his gaze without saying more, forcing him to think.


  They were very good. She wasn’t demanding, and she loved adventure as much as he. She didn’t read his actions to be something they weren’t.

  Yet she saw through his arguments to know how much he cared for her.

  “I can’t make you wait for me. Your father won’t wait. Tomorrow I must leave for Dover on similar business. I can’t be certain of my safety. When I return, if others haven’t gathered the proof we need, I’ll continue to pursue Boi—Mr. Tilney.”

  “Tilney isn’t his real name,” she said, catching his slip.

  “You must forget anything I’ve said about him, except that he’s dangerous. This isn’t a game, Mary Jane. I know you understand.”

  “I do. But Lord Adam, my father hasn’t given me a specific date to marry…”

  “Don’t wait on my return. I want you to marry happily, not mourning me.” Their conversation suddenly struck him as funny. “Here we speak of marriage to each other as if it’s all I can think of, yet I haven’t proposed. Do all men turn to clay in your hands?”

  “They usually turn to thoroughbreds and race away. I frighten any reasonable man.”

  He nodded, barely keeping a straight face. “If I were reasonable, I’d let someone else deal with Tilney. But I’m not. I’m angry, I’m determined, and unrelenting. I won’t make a good husband until this is done.”

  “I can wait. We’ll tell Father we want to marry in the fall, or next spring, which would give you plenty of time—”

  “My uncle spent five years chasing these men before he was killed last year.”

  “I see.” Her gaze dropped to her hand, still pressed against his heart. He dropped it, stepping back.

  “Let’s go inside. The night is growing cool.” His feet had never felt as heavy as those steps he took to the French doors into the ballroom. He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her.

  Mrs. Watson also hoped it wasn’t the last time. “There you are,” she said when they approached. Her silver turban sported a white peacock feather that danced each time she moved her head. She was a slender woman, still pretty, probably in her early forties. Her eyes were gentle, belying her stern brow.

  “I’ve returned your daughter safe and sound.” He gently removed Mary Jane’s hand from his arm.

  “You were gone an exceedingly long time.”

  “Forgive me. On occasion, I have spells where I can’t catch my breath, and Miss Watson was kind enough to stay with me until it passed.”

  “She is such a good girl.” Her tone hinted she was thinking something quite the opposite. Not that she suspected Mary Jane of acting unladylike, but that she’d failed to secure an offer from him.

  Refusing to let him get away, she said, “Mr. Watson and I would be happy to have you join us for dinner tomorrow, if you’re free.”

  Adam smiled in relief at having a legitimate excuse to avoid entrapment. “As it happens, I’m expected at my brother’s home tomorrow. He’s hosting a ball to celebrate our cousin’s birthday.”

  “Why, we received an invitation to the duke’s ball. And you did, too, Mrs. Harrow, am I not correct?”

  “Yes, Charlotte is looking forward to it.” Mrs. Harrow was rounder, her expression much less like a huntress.

  “Of course,” Miss Harrow said, looking as though she’d been forced to eat cow’s tongue.

  “Delightful.” He was trapped. “I shall see you all there.”

  Bowing his head, he took his leave as quickly as possible.

  ~~~

  Mary Jane sat on her bed while Charlotte pulled gown after gown from her clothespress. “I don’t see why you bother. There isn’t a gown in there that will make Lord Adam decide to marry me.”

  Charlotte stopped, dropping the garment in her hands. “Has he said so.”

  Turning away, Mary Jane mumbled, “Not exactly.” She couldn’t tell the whole truth without breaking her word to Lord Adam.

  Rounding the bed, Charlotte sat and turned Mary Jane’s face to look her in the eye. “What, exactly, did he say?”

  “Oh, you know men. He must travel soon. He’ll be gone a long time.”

  “You discussed marriage. Specifically, not in general conversation.”

  Mary Jane rolled away, hiding her face. “He knows why I’ve not been out in Society.”

  “He knows your father’s ultimatum.”

  She said nothing.

  Rising, Charlotte paced the floor. “If he’s willing to speak of marriage, he can be convinced to marry you. Wait, you didn’t propose to him, did you? Or ask him to?”

  “No, it was nothing like that. We speak plainly to one another, though, so when he commented on my absence, I hinted at Father’s orders.”

  Mary Jane ran to her friend and clutched her hands. “Oh, Charlotte, he feels the same way about me as I do, him. We would do well together, be so happy, but he has to be chivalrous and not speak of an engagement until he is free to do so.”

  “What do you mean? Why isn’t he free? Is there another engagement he must break?”

  Realizing how close she’d come to revealing the truth, Mary Jane scrambled for an explanation. “No. It’s—it’s a promise he made to his deceased uncle. There are matters he must see to before he’s free to look to his own life.”

  “But why can’t he explain to your father that he loves you and you’ll be married in the future?”

  Mary Jane ducked her head between her arms, pressing tightly to make her frustration vanish. It didn’t help. “Father wouldn’t believe it. Isn’t this ironic? I find a man who wants to marry me—wants to—and my father would presume it’s a lie, the engagement would be broken in a few months and I’d be free of his threats.”

  “Talk to him tonight. If you haven’t scared him away by now, he must truly care for you.”

  Mary Jane laughed. “Isn’t that a sad truth? He appreciates in me the same qualities that other men run from. I must have him.”

  Chapter Nine

  Before the ball that evening, Adam’s Aunt Caroline and her children gathered at Thorn’s Mayfair home for a quiet celebration of Susan’s birthday. They sat together in the drawing room, each presenting her with a gift.

  Thorn handed her a small box. Removing the ribbon, she opened it and gasped, looked up at Thorn with rounded eyes, then back at the contents of the box.

  “What is it, dear?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, what did Cousin Thorny give you?” Her younger brother snorted.

  Susan lifted a delicate necklace and held it aloft for all to see.

  “The necklace belonged to our grandmother. Our grandfather gave it to her on her eighteenth birthday, a month before they married. As the oldest granddaughter, she wished for it to go to you.”

  Adam wasn’t sure who sniffled first, Susan, her mother, or her twelve-year-old sister. He simply smiled.

  Thorn approached their cousin, lifted the chain from her fingers and opened the latch. “Allow me.” Standing behind her, he fastened it, then returned to his place.

  “It’s beautiful,” their aunt said.

  “Thank you,” Susan said, her voice thick with emotion.

  More packages were opened, and the younger three children returned to the nursery to raise havoc. The six of them, all told, had recovered from their father’s loss more quickly than he’d expected—was that due to his being away from home so often?

  This proved Adam was right to wait to marry. Even when they’d arrested all the men responsible for Uncle Fitzwilliam’s death, there were other men to be captured, other plots against Wellington—against their King himself—to be thwarted. Napoleon’s men were spread over the Continent and England, men like Boiselle who blended in to their surroundings. Careful surveillance was required before the King’s men had the information needed to make an arrest.

  Adam knew realistically they’d never capture all the spies, so he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d stay in the army until then. What Wellington needed was for Adam and the others to intercept encrypted mes
sages and pass them to those who could figure out the cypher code, allowing the King’s men to interpret quickly enough to stop a scheme before it started. How long that would take, he had no idea.

  When Susan and her sister ran upstairs together, and her brother wandered off to his own devices. Thorn excused himself, leaving Adam alone with their aunt. He sat in the chair beside her. “My uncle would be so proud of how lovely Susan is. She’s so composed, and a pleasure to be around.”

  “She’s such a good girl.”

  “Have any gentlemen hinted at an attraction? Or something more?”

  “There are a few who’ve tried to catch her eye, but she’s very particular about who she marries.” Aunt Caroline smiled at Adam, a wistful, sad look in her eye. “I have hopes she’ll find a man like you or Thornton, one who’s deserving of her.”

  Before Adam could protest, she raised a hand. “Don’t pretend to be humble. You know very well both of you are more honorable than any six men in Town.”

  Six men. That was a high standard to live up to. “I only do what I must.”

  “You do what you think people expect of you. My husband wouldn’t want to you waste your life avenging his death. If that’s the only reason you are still unmarried, I want you to quit. Stop this investigation before something happens to you. I couldn’t bear losing you, or anyone else, to Napoleon’s evil.”

  “I will stop, soon.”

  As soon as Boiselle was securely locked away in Newgate, and his men either dead on chained beside him, he continued in his thoughts.

  Leaving her, Adam went to Thorn’s study, where his brother could always be found.

  “Come look at this.” Thorn held out a sheet of paper.

  On the first was written Vistula, Neman, Vilna.

  “What are these?” Adam set them back on the desk and sat.

  “Translations of locations in recent encrypted messages taken from two spies here in London. Napoleon has been gathering his armies in Vistula, Poland. Three days ago, they crossed the Neman into Russia.”

  “On their way to Vilna. Are we moving in that direction?”