The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five

by Taylor, Erica

  “Those two boys held up our carriage, pointed a weapon at you, and threatened to rob us,” he stated, though his tone was calm, the opposite of the frustration she’d felt from him earlier.

  “They wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “You didn’t know that when you confronted them.”

  “You needn’t have terrified them.”

  Turning his head towards her, Luke regarded her, no hint of humor on his face. “They’re lucky they have not yet chosen the wrong carriage with someone armed and willing to fight back. I likely saved their lives.”

  “You were no help passed out as you where. How you could have slept through all of that is beyond me.”

  His studied her. “I suppose I should have warned you. While travel by carriage is my least favorite mode of transportation, I tend to sleep rather deeply in a carriage.”

  Vivian’s brows pinched together in confusion, but he cut her off before she could ask more. “Does that adequately answer your questions?”

  “Does that… What? No! Absolutely not! It answers nothing!”

  “Do you even remember what your original query was?”

  “I…” Vivian trailed off, thinking back through the past couple minutes, past his hands on her ankles, on her hips, his lips against hers. What had she originally wanted to know?

  Before the kiss was a fuzzy bit of memory and she frowned, wondering if he’d kissed her to distract her from asking questions.

  Her narrowed gaze snapped to his, and she knew without a doubt his kiss had been exactly that. A distraction.

  “I wanted to know the reason for your brutish behavior. Your reaction seemed unmatching of the situation.”

  Luke smirked. “My brutish reaction to waking to find my betrothed missing was unmatching of the situation? To find her carousing around a meadow with two unknown men—”

  “I was not carousing.”

  “To learn she’d been held at gunpoint and they’d attempted to rob us?” he continued. “And to discover my betrothed charged into danger without thought of arming herself, or devising a plan, or thought to what would happen should she be shot?” Luke slumped further down onto his seat to better accommodate his long limbs. “Yes, Vivian, my reaction certainly did not match the situation.”

  Something in his tone caught her attention and realization dawned on her.

  “You were worried about me.”

  “Is that not allowed?” His gaze caught hers, a strange vibration passing between them. “I’ve asked you to marry me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I would be concerned for your safety and wellbeing.”

  And yet it was surprising.

  “Yes, but you don’t like me.”

  “I wouldn’t have proposed marriage had I not liked you. I may not love you, but I like you well enough.”

  Vivian’s jaw tightened shut painfully as his dismissive words washed over her. He didn’t love her, that much she knew and did not expect him to. Didn’t want him to. Yet, he could be less nonchalant about it.

  “Quan was with me the entire time. He never left my side.”

  “Quan is loyal to me, and therefore loyal to you. Keeping him close was likely the smartest thing you did in the entire situation. Please take your safety a bit more seriously. It would be quite a stain upon my character should I lose another betrothed.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It wasn’t my betrothed. It was my brother’s.”

  Vivian paused to understand what he was saying. “Your brother’s betrothed died?”

  “Gads no!” he exclaimed, but sobered. “Well, actually, yes, but not the one I’m talking about.”

  Vivian closed her eyes, rubbing her fingertips deep into her temples. “I cannot make sense of theses riddles.”

  Luke laughed again. “Andrew’s first betrothed left him at the altar and ran off with a footman, and later died. His second betrothed was kidnapped on my watch. But she’s safe and sound now, blissfully married to him and all that.”

  It clarified his previous statement, but created so many more questions, though Vivian dared not ask anything further. None of it would make sense anyway.

  * * *

  It was very late when the carriage finally rolled through city streets, though the size of the city didn’t make sense for the time they’d been traveling. It wasn’t possible to have reached London this fast.

  “We are in Bath,” Luke supplied, seeing her confusion as she stared out the window. “I’ve someone I need to see here before heading to London.”

  Nodding, she looked back out the window, not asking the burning question. If it was imperative they leave immediately for London, to be married as quickly as possible, why had they detoured through Bath, adding at least another day to their journey?

  The carriage rolled through the quiet, deserted streets, inky black and glistening from an earlier rain.

  “Who are you stopping to see?” Vivian asked absently, watching the rows of houses as they passed.

  “Viscount Halcourt. He will give us lodging for the evening and we can be on our way tomorrow.” Luke pulled his gloves onto his hands. “I must warn you, Halcourt is a strictly traditional gentleman. He likely won’t be thrilled by your unchaperoned presence. Do not take it personally if he gets puffed up.”

  Vivian’s brows peaked to her hairline in surprise, but she didn’t comment.

  The coach pulled before an unremarkable home in the middle of the row, red-bricked with white accenting. It could have been any house on any street.

  Luke bounded out of the carriage before Quan could open the door, turning to offer her assistance. The night air was cool, a welcome change from the closeness of the carriage.

  They were quickly admitted entrance and shown to an occupied sitting room, the change from carriage to night to brightly-lit townhome rather disorienting.

  The room was masculine to a fault, dark leathers and plush green chairs, dark wooden paneling lining the walls all adorned with an indecent number of candles. For someone who had spent the better part of three years savoring the use of candlelight, it was a little offensive.

  “Gentlemen,” Luke said with a bow to the three men occupying the room. “Allow me to present Miss Vivian Burke.”

  The three glanced up at Vivian in mild surprise before scrambling to their feet when they realized a lady was present.

  “Vivian, this is Viscount Halcourt,” Luke said.

  A gentleman stepped forward, offering a bow. He was a severe looking man, dark in features and in presence. His shadowy eyes bore into her, sending a cold shiver through her. Somehow, she knew he was a man to be wary of.

  “Welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Vivian said, forcing the polite formality past her apprehension.

  Luke nodded to the two other gentlemen. “Mr. Adam Poppins and our resident émigré, Monsieur Jean-Pierre Martin.”

  Mr. Poppins’s smile was polite, but tight across his lips. He had an olive complexion with dark hair and eyes that made him dramatically attractive.

  Monsieur Martin rose beside Mr. Poppins. His dark hair was pulled back and secured with a ribbon, startling green eyes lit with amusement.

  “Lovely to have a lady en résidence,” Martin replied, his voice laced with a thick French accent.

  A fourth gentleman strode into the drawing room, and as Vivian turned towards him, a cold dread swept over her, and she took a step back, bumping into Luke behind her.

  “Ah, Redley,” Luke said in greeting. The stranger glanced from Vivian to Luke, and back again. Vivian blinked quickly and swallowed down her fright, straining to compose herself.

  A memory a distant memory floated to the surface at the sight of the man’s face. Something from years ago. She’d convinced herself he was a fairy or a spirit or the product of her own vivid imagination. But she had seen this man before.

  Shuffling from behind her, Luke moved to take the stranger’s hand in his own and gave it a hearty shak
e.

  “Redley, meet Miss Vivian Burke,” Luke said in introduction with a broad, happy grin. Vivian was frozen to the spot, her limbs not working. She knew she should drop to a curtsy, a nod, something closer to proper than the struck dumb she was feeling now.

  Luke didn’t seem to notice. “Vivian, this is my cousin, Redley Ralston, the Earl of Longfield.”

  “Hello,” Vivian finally forced out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Longfield.”

  The earl nodded and dipped into a bow.

  “Gentlemen, Miss Burke has agreed to be my wife,” Luke announced, looking around at them.

  There was a long moment of silence, quickly filled with good wishes and congratulations, though it all seemed forced and superficial.

  Redley took her hand and tucked it into his arm, his brows arched towards Luke in challenge.

  A broad grin broke across Luke’s face. “Oh, this is how it’s going to be then?”

  Redley shrugged and led Vivian past her betrothed to a seat near the fireplace.

  Her earlier fear of him made no sense. She was sure she’d never met him, and his name was unfamiliar to her, yet as soon as she’d laid eyes on him, she’d felt such a blinding irrational fear. Something in the earl’s ice-blue gaze, or the stillness of his movements, perhaps.

  No one else seemed to think there was anything amiss with Redley, and no one else seemed to hold him in fear.

  Luke moved to take one of the unoccupied chairs, but at a look from Redley, he shrugged and took the seat beside Vivian.

  Conversation swelled around her, though she wasn’t really listening to it. Something about a horse race, and wondering if Lionheart would pull through, or if Sovereign would cut him off in the end. Wizard was somehow involved as was Arrow and Saturn, though their participation in the race seemed inconsequential. Watching the men together, Vivian felt as though she was glimpsing a forbidden world, this strange realm of man where cigars and brandy was currency, traded for gossip and political information. It wasn’t that different from their female counterparts, though Vivian had little experience of that realm either.

  Realization dawned, like the brilliant moon cresting over the horizon. Redley Ralston didn’t speak. He participated in the conversation without speaking a word. His face was full of expression, and his hands moved in various ways of communication so there was no doubt to what he was saying, just without actual words.

  Redley’s lack of speech didn’t diminish his ability to converse with his friends, and the conversation flowed jubilantly around the room. Luke, Monsieur Martin and Mr. Poppins were energetic enough to fill the gaps of Redley’s silence. Everyone around him took it as normal, and Vivian supposed it was. If that was how he’d always been, then that was what was normal for him.

  Vivian felt a softening of sorts towards her betrothed, and it was a sensation she did not enjoy. She wanted to hate him, or at the very least detest him. She didn’t approve of his flippancy, or the way he spent his time. His personality was outrageous, and yet, there was a gentle side of him, a deep well of compassion buried beneath the humor and the silliness. Gads, if she wasn’t careful, she might end up liking the man, and that was a direction she could not trust herself to venture down.

  This was a business arrangement, simple and with an end. Six months and she had her freedom. Six months and she would have the means to take care of the woman who had lost everything.

  Vivian shifted uncomfortably, the fatigue from their day traveling seeping into her limbs.

  With a glance at her, Luke appeared briefly surprised to see her, but the cocky grin returned to his face.

  “Gentlemen, it seems I’ve broken the first cardinal rule of having a wife.” Luke rose from his seat and offered her his hand. “My apologies, Vivian. I should have settled you upstairs sooner.”

  Vivian accepted his hand as she rose. “It is quite all right. Your conversations are amusing. The passion with which you all speak about horses is enthralling.”

  Luke nodded. “We are all avid patrons of the horse track.”

  Halcourt rose from his chair. “Your usual rooms along the first floor have been prepared for your stay.”

  “I suspect Vivian might appreciate a warm bath to ease the soreness from our journey.” His gaze flicked to her, amusement glistening in his lavender blue depths. “With bubbles and luxury and whatnots.”

  Vivian bit her lip and looked away, not wanting to laugh at his ridiculousness.

  “Whatever you require, Miss Burke. You have but to ask,” Halcourt said with a bow.

  Vivian replied with a curtsy to the dark viscount. He was still unsettling, but not as much as Redley.

  The other gentlemen rose and bowed as Luke led her from the room.

  “Your friends are charming,” Vivian said as they ascended the staircase.

  “Less friends and more colleagues. I haven’t seen Martin or Poppins in years. Had I known they were in residence we might have bypassed the visit.”

  “Whatever for? It seemed you all had a lot to catch up on.”

  Luke shrugged, his lips slanting into his easy crooked smile. “Maybe.”

  They reached the first-floor landing and Luke chose the third door on the left, opening to a well-lit bedchamber. Their trunks were already settled at the foot of the bed.

  Vivian nodded towards their luggage. “Rather presumptuous for a gentleman you claim to be a traditionalist. This seems forward of him.”

  “Ah, no. This simply indicates he expects me to choose your room for you.”

  “That seems more presumptuous, I suppose. On your part.”

  It occurred to her they were alone in a room. A room with an inviting looking bed.

  He moved towards the open door, not looking at her. “You will be more comfortable in this room. I will take another.”

  “He said this was your usual room,” Vivian interjected as he moved to grasp the handle of his trunk. “I can sleep in another room.”

  “I will hear nothing of it.” Luke pulled his trunk into the hall. “Breakfast will be in the dining room closest to the kitchens, just past the library where we were earlier. Pull the bell on the wall should you need assistance with anything.”

  Vivian laughed. “I know how a bell pull works.”

  “Right.”

  They regarded each other again. Longing crept into the carefully-crafted shell of indifference Vivian fought to retrain control of. She was close to deciding there was no point. She didn’t have to love the man, but she could playact his wife. She was eager to get to that part, as a matter of fact.

  Luke moved forward, as if to kiss her, and Vivian tilted her head up to welcome his kiss. But he had intended to kiss her forehead and her movement merely meant his lips smashed up against her nose, rather painfully.

  “Ow!” She took a step back, covering her nose with her hand.

  “Sorry!”

  “I thought you were—”

  “I merely wanted to—”

  They regarded each other another long moment before Luke dipped his head and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, then, with a quick “Good night!” disappeared from the room.

  * * *

  For a rake and a flirt, Luke felt terribly awkward around his bride-to-be.

  It was also increasingly difficult to be a gentleman when his betrothed clearly had other intentions.

  He moved his trunk into an empty room before returning to his colleagues downstairs.

  What he found was an irate-looking Viscount Halcourt standing outside the closed library doors.

  A deep frown had formed over Halcourt’s dark brows. “What were you thinking bringing her here?”

  Luke shrugged. “Where was I supposed to take her? It’s not as though I could find accommodation this late.”

  “This house is not the place for a lady.”

  Luke nodded in agreement. “We will only be here for the night. Had I not wanted to check in with you, we would have headed directly to London.”

&
nbsp; He pinned Luke with a pointed look. “You could have sent a note.”

  “Thought it would be better to do it in person.”

  Halcourt could see the truth, could always see right through him. It’s what made him an excellent spy master. “You wanted to weasel your way onto a mission.”

  “I simply wanted to keep you apprised of my circumstances, in case anything came up you needed assistance with.”

  “The Prince Regent retired you.”

  Luke laughed. “Can anyone really ever retire from this life?”

  Halcourt glared at him.

  “Sir, if I can convince the Prince Regent the earldom is running smoothly, he might agree to reinstate me,” Luke argued. “It’s three months till the year mark of the creation of Kenswick, and if I can show I’ve taken this earldom seriously, I know he will reconsider.”

  “And what of Miss Burke?”

  Luke shrugged. “Marriages fall part all the time. When Vivian and I separate, I will simply go crawling back and beg for something to take my mind off the my disastrous marriage. The Prince Regent will understand.”

  Halcourt regarded him, not convinced, and truthfully Luke knew it was a weak plan at best. But what choice did he have? Be Kenswick? Sit in the House of Lords and tend to his tenants and talk about politics?

  Luke grimaced, the idea of monotony and a boring existence sounded like hell.

  He avoided Halcourt’s gaze. “She’s getting a house out of it. I will settle a sizable income on her and claim whatever children she should come by. It is a win for both parties.”

  Luke heard the heartlessness in his statements but ignored the pesky voice of his conscience. In the end he would treat Vivian dreadfully. The best he could do would make the intermediate time as pleasurable as possible.

  Pleasure did not seem to be their problem. It was their constant battle of wills. Not that he wanted a wife who was perfectly amiable to bend to his every whim, but he didn’t understand her need to argue with his every move.

  “Come, let’s discuss this heartless plan of mine comfortably in chairs with glasses of brandy.” Luke stepped towards the door, but Halcourt blocked his path.