A Spy Unmasked (Entangled Scandalous) (13 page)

He had the feel of the lock now, and it took him less than half the time to manipulate and raise the levers. Opening the safe, he glanced inside.

The list remained.

The gold gear was gone.

Just as he’d suspected. Another member had been inducted into the secret group. With only three days remaining of the house party, time was running out.

Chapter Seventeen

Sophia was playing bowls on the expansive lawn when she spotted Henry Heinz making his way back to the house. She suspected he was returning from a brief walk to change for a hunt that the viscount had planned for the men.

Just then a heated argument began between Lady Falk and Lady Maxwell over whose bowl had come closest to the smaller white “jack.” Sophia took advantage of the distraction to slip away and return to the house.

Taking the grand staircase to the second floor, she hurried down the corridor. It was before luncheon and if she was spotted by servants or guests, it would appear as if she was returning to her room to rest.

She rushed past her chamber and slipped into a cleaning closet at the end of the hall. She left the door open a crack, and a pie wedge of light lit the small space. A mop, bucket, and broom were crammed to the side. The strong odor of linseed oil filled the air.

Soon after, Henry ascended the stairs and strode down the hall. Opening his bedchamber door, he disappeared inside.

She forced herself to remain still. The closet air was stale and warm and a rivulet of perspiration formed between her breasts in her tight bodice.

Her efforts were rewarded twenty minutes later when Henry left his room wearing brown trousers and a moss-colored hunting jacket. Whistling, he made his way to the landing at the top of the stairs. Only after he descended and she heard the front door slam closed did she step out of the closet.

Quickly making her way to his room, she opened the door and slipped inside. The cloying scent of a cheroot and strong cologne lingered. The maid had not yet entered his room, and a jacket, cravat, and stockings were haphazardly tossed upon the bed and across an armchair.

She removed her gloves and tucked them into a pocket of her gown. After hurrying to a chest of drawers, she searched each drawer for a document, a gold gear, anything that would indicate his affiliation with Lord Delmont, the mastermind, or the secret group.

She ran her fingers along the inside edges of the drawers, feeling for a hidden crevice or nook out of place. Her pulse raced and her breath rushed in and out of her lungs. She pushed loose tendrils of her hair away from her face and brushed a film of perspiration from her brow. Every minute counted. At any moment a maid or Henry himself could walk through the door.

She moved to the wardrobe, then the nightstand.

Nothing.

The mantle clock chimed, reminding her of the time. Nervousness made her gut clench tight.

Spying takes nerves of steel
, she thought
. How does Robert accomplish what he does with the safes?

In a last-ditch attempt, she thrust her hands beneath the mattress hoping to find some evidence.

The tips of her fingers grazed an object. Not metallic, but paper. She fell to her knees and reached as far as she could beneath the mattress until her fingers wrapped around a bundle. Pulling it out, she stared at a stack of banknotes.

English banknotes, not German.

More money from the viscount?

It wasn’t unusual for a gentleman to carry banknotes. But Henry Heinz was not titled and she thought he was in need of funds. She made a mental note to convey the information to Robert.

She carefully replaced the banknotes beneath the mattress and rose. Opening the door several inches, she looked both ways before emerging from the room. She closed the door behind her and attempted to steady the wild beating of her heart. Another minute and she would be safely in her own—

A hand clamped down upon her shoulder.

Whirling around, she stared up into Delmont’s stony face.

“Well, well…what have we here?”

Her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her chest where her heart hammered erratically against her palm. “My lord! You startled me.”

The viscount’s eyes darkened like volcanic glass. “What are you doing leaving Mr. Heinz’s chambers?”

Her mind panicked at her precarious position, and a swiftly spreading sense of dread skated along her nerves. Her thoughts were jumbled, and she struggled with a quick response. “Mr. Heinz was kind enough to offer to demonstrate his new spectroscope for me.”

“So you sought him out alone in his bedroom?”

She stifled a thick swallow in her throat. “He’d mentioned he was returning to rest.”

“You’re mistaken. He’s hunting with the men.”

“Yes, I realize my mistake,” she said quickly. “I’ll just be on my way.” She made to move past him, but he shifted to block her path. His massive chest loomed before her.

Her eyes flew to his. “It was a misunderstanding, my lord.”

His rapier-like gaze raked her figure. “If I didn’t know any better, Lady Sophia, I’d say your interest in me your first night here was feigned. Regardless of my efforts, I find you elusive.”

A cold shiver spread over her as she remembered her father. Her parent had suffered and perished at this man’s orders. Despite the fact that they stood in the center of the hall and any shout would easily send a bevy of servants running, her skin crawled and the hair on her nape stood on end.

“I apologize if I’ve misled you, my lord. I’m engaged to Lord Kirkland,” she said.

“Ah, yes, Lord Kirkland. What would he say if I told him of your surreptitious activities?”

She wasn’t certain if she should act outraged or acquiescent. She opened her mouth to argue. “I’d hardly call scientific curiosity a surreptitious activity.”

“I wonder. Were you truly interested in Mr. Heinz’s invention, or were you searching his belongings?” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to—”

Footsteps sounded down the hall.

“There you are, Sophia. I’ve been searching all over for you.”

She spun at the familiar masculine voice to see Robert approach.

Thank the Lord!
she thought.

Robert was smiling, strolling lazily…almost cockily down the hall before stopping before her and Delmont. Dressed in an unbuttoned navy jacket, loosely tied cravat, and buff-colored trousers, he appeared like any at-ease country guest, fully enjoying the festivities and everything their host had to offer.

She wasn’t fooled. Beneath the polished veneer, he was all lean muscle and coiled power, and she had never been as happy to see him. She prayed her relief wasn’t obvious to Delmont.

“It’s time for our garden stroll, my love. You do remember, don’t you?” Robert said, his tone light.

She was quick to catch on. “Of course, I remember.”

“Good. I don’t want to leave Lady Stanwell waiting. She’s agreed to escort us.” Robert winked at Delmont. “I’m sure you can understand why I’m passing on the hunt.”

The viscount nodded tersely, remaining silent.

Robert steered her away and down the corridor. Once they turned the corner, his pace changed and quickened. Priceless landscapes hanging on the walls whirled by in a myriad of color. They rushed down the stairs, and the heels of his Hessians clicked on the marble vestibule. She hurried to keep up with his brisk pace as he escorted her out of the front door.

Glancing at his profile, she saw he was no longer the relaxed suitor come to take her for a garden stroll. She was struck by his serious expression, his narrowed eyes, and the muscle that ticked at his jaw.

He was angry, furious.

He followed the stone path into the well-kept gardens, and she dragged a breath of air into her lungs. His grip on her arm was like a vise, pulling her along beside him.

“Stop,” she said.

His voice was like finely sharpened steel. “Not yet. Into the maze.”

Chapter Eighteen

Having little choice, Sophia followed Robert into the immaculately trimmed maze. Once they were deep in the shrubbery, he halted beside a stone bench and turned on her.

“First Delmont, then Heinz. What are you up to?” he asked.

“I’m trying to discern the truth.”

His eyes narrowed. “Delmont mistrusts you now. Any scrutiny on his part can reflect upon me. It could compromise the mission.”

Her chin jutted out defiantly. “I’m sorry. Since you tell me little, I thought to find out more on my own.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, madam.”

“Then tell me more, let me in.” At his silence, she prodded, “I won’t stop. I will keep asking questions.”

An emotion flashed across his features before he hid it with a sardonic smile. What had she seen? Admiration? Irritation?

He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his scalp. She watched, fascinated by the multihued color as the strands threaded through his fingers.

“All right,” he muttered. “I’ll tell you everything I have discovered so far. I’ve searched most of the safes in this pile of stone and have found nothing but banknotes and the viscountess’s jewelry. Other than the list of names I discovered the first night in the study, there is nothing that hints at who the mastermind is, what the gold gears stand for, or what the secret group is up to.”

“Are we back to the beginning then?” she asked.

“Not entirely. The last gold gear is gone and I suspect another inventor has been inducted into the group.”

She bit her bottom lip. “It has to be Henry.”

“It’s Henry now, is it?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “Mr. Heinz told me that he is staying in London and all his expenses will be paid by the viscount courtesy of the Inventors’ Society.”

He whistled through his teeth. “Heinz is a likely candidate. His fast-burning gunpowder should bring a good profit on the black market.”

“I’ve thought the same thing,” she said.

“There are other members who are not present at the house party. I suspect Delmont is paying their way in town as well.”

“How?”

“The members pay dues; however, they are not sufficient to cover living expenses. Research costs even more money. I sent a missive to Wendover requesting a search of Delmont’s finances. It seems the man has plenty of blunt, but his sources of income remain a mystery.”

“I wondered that as well after speaking with Mr. Heinz,” she said. “I searched his room but found nothing incriminating, only a few English pounds stuffed beneath his mattress.”

The tick at his jaw returned. “That was foolish and dangerous. What if he returned and discovered you?”

“He didn’t.

“You should have told me of your plans.”

“I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

“You are the most maddening woman I have ever met.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“It was to me.” She met his hard gaze. “I want to be a full partner, not just someone to whom you give a spattering of information when you deem it necessary.”

Several heartbeats passed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re right.”

“You have?” She had expected a fight, not his agreement.

“Yes. You should be involved in safer aspects of the investigation.”

“Such as?” She wasn’t sure this was much of an improvement. She was already assigned to speak with the women.

“Aspects that I cannot do. Such as talk to Mr. Heinz to see whatever information he may unwittingly reveal to you. However, you must only do so when you advise me in advance that you will engage him, and you must never again conduct a clandestine search without my knowledge. In return, I will continue to keep you apprised of all that I discover.”

“I see. And what about Viscount Delmont?” she asked. “Should I encourage his attentions and try to learn more from him?”

His tone was hard. “No. That issue is not negotiable.”

She decided not to push him or her luck. He was agreeing to keep her informed and let her take a more active role. At least he recognized that she could glean more information from a bachelor like Henry Heinz than he ever could.

“All right,” she agreed.

He nodded curtly. “Since we are both in agreement that Mr. Heinz is most likely the newest member of the secret group, we need to look at him more closely. See if you can encourage him to keep talking.”

“How?”

“He’s clearly enamored. Under normal circumstances, I would advise any female spy to use that to her advantage.”

“I fully intend to—”

He steeled his jaw. “But not you. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t?”

The iris-blue hue of his eyes sharpened. “I despise the idea of any man touching you, gazing upon you with ill-disguised lust.”

“Why? Because we are supposed to act the loving couple?”

“No. Because it makes my gut clench and my blood pound and because I want to beat any admirer to a bloody pulp.”

Her breath caught. “Oh, my.”

She couldn’t think of anything else to say so she simply reached out and touched his cheek. He was warm…warm and hard and…heaven help her, deliciously enticing.

“You have tested my patience like none other,” he said, his voice harsh.

“I know.” Her hand remained, cradling his cheek.

And she felt the slight tremble in him.

The tremble that revealed more to her about him than his medievally possessive words. He desperately needed human contact, was starving for it like a thirsty man traveling through a long, desolate stretch of desert. He was isolated, alone. Without the caring touch of another for so long, his need strained in every sinew of his body. There was no question: something had happened to him…something cataclysmic and devastating.

But how far would he let her go?

“What happened to you?” she asked.

His gaze sharpened. Became cautious.

Undaunted, she traced her finger down his chiseled jaw to the cleft in his chin that had fascinated her the first time she’d seen him at Delmont’s masquerade ball.

He grasped her ungloved hand, but didn’t push her away. Rather he pressed his lips to her palm.

Her breath hitched at the touch of those perfect lips on her skin.

“I tried, dammit. I tried to warn you…tried to warn myself to steer clear,” he muttered.

“Why?”

He lowered her hand, but didn’t release her fingers. “I’ll end up hurting you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I’m a grown woman, and I can look after myself. I trust you.”

“No. Don’t say that.”

“I do. I trust you.”

“I’m a bloody fool.” His head lowered an inch, his breath fanning her lips.

She tilted her face toward him, and her lashes fluttered, every nerve ending tingling…waiting, wanting, craving his kiss.

He hesitated; her eyes opened.

I want this,
she thought.
I desperately want him to kiss me.

She rose on tiptoe and closed the distance.

At the first touch of their lips, a yearning growl rumbled deep within his chest. He drew her tight against him, and his kiss was like the soldering heat that joined metals. She felt her knees weaken and her fear and inhibitions melt away. It didn’t matter that they were in the center of a garden maze in broad daylight with the sun streaming down upon her upturned face. The threat of discovery only heightened the forbidden…the excitement. There was a strange bond between them, as if he had been waiting for her to heal him and she had been waiting for him to show her the mysteries of pleasure.

He cupped her buttocks and pulled her against him, holding her tight against his hardness and letting her know of his desire. Liquid heat pooled low in her belly and between her legs.

Her hands slipped beneath his jacket and roamed the muscles of his shoulders and back. She felt a rope-like scar through his shirt, and she had an overwhelming urge to remove the barrier of his clothing and study every inch of his flesh.

He carried her to the stone bench and sat, sweeping her onto his lap. His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time, while one hand cupped her breast. Then his finger slipped inside the bodice of her silk gown to graze her nipple, and the sensitive peak instantly grew taut from his touch. Pleasure radiated outward, sending currents of desire through her.

He whispered against her lips, “Sophia…I was right. You’ll drive me mad. You’re untouched and deserve better.”

In response she arched her back, eagerly inviting him. She was vaguely aware of him working the fastenings at the back of her gown. The silk gaped away, and he tugged at the low neckline exposing her shift. He cupped one soft mound, then returned to kissing her, until her senses whirled from his lips and his touch. His lips trailed a path down her throat to her breast, and he kissed and licked her nipple through the thin cotton.

Gasping from the pleasure, she looked down as he laved her breasts. Her swollen nipples stood out through the wet garment. She felt no shame, only the exquisite feelings flooding her limbs.

“You’re so passionate. So beautiful.”

She felt beautiful. He kissed her again. Melting kisses. Slow, shivery kisses. She squirmed in his lap, rubbing against his hardness. Lifting the hem of her skirt, he let his hand travel up her calf and past her silk stockings and frilly garters to caress her thigh. His fingers found the slit in her drawers and brushed the silken curls between her legs. She inhaled sharply when he found her most sensitive woman’s flesh. He stroked the bud slowly, skillfully, until she was wet with need and her body quivered from his slightest touch.

“I want to kiss you here,” he murmured.

She was shocked. Could a man do that to a woman?

She clutched his arms. “I’m so hot, Robert. Is it always this way?”

He lifted his head and the passion in his sapphire eyes was startling in its intensity. “God, yes. Hot. Wet. Let me show you what it can be like for you.”

She wasn’t ignorant of how humans mated. Her father’s library had been full of scientific books and treatises. But none had mentioned the rioting emotions, the delicious sensations coursing through her body. This was different.
He
was different. And she wanted to experience more.

“Yes. Show me,” she breathed.

She was urgent in her need. He held the key to some indescribable release. It was a purely sensual experience, and her heartbeat throbbed in her ears. He touched secret places she didn’t know existed, and she surrendered completely to his masterful touch.

His tongue thrust into her mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers. She grew desperate, clawing his shoulders, returning his kisses with wild abandon until a sudden cry tore from her. Her body tightened like a bow and a sharp release pushed her beyond the precipice, leaving her clinging to him.

She looked up at him through half-closed lids. His eyes were shut. His body tense. Perspiration beaded on his brow. He didn’t look like a rogue or a womanizer, but a man riven with need.

With sudden certainty, she knew that she wanted him. Wanted all of him. She had no illusions. The fact that he was a government agent, a man who could never offer a commitment—whether through marriage or with his heart—did not deter her.

She was twenty-four years old and had come to the conclusion long ago that she would not marry. She’d never been interested in carnal passion, only the intellectual passion she’d felt while working on her inventions in her workshop. No men had drawn her, not Henry Heinz or any of the gentlemen she had danced with at the many fancy balls she’d attended. Only Robert, with his thin veneer of respectability, made her feel weak with longing. He alone drew her like a lodestone and was impossible to resist.

With shaky hands, she reached for the closure of his trousers.

“Wait.” His eyes flew opened, and he grasped her wrist.

She looked up at him. “I want to touch you, too. Please, let me.”

He groaned low in his throat. “God, yes.”

He was a man of nimble and agile fingers, able to finesse open the most complex mechanical locks, yet he was unable to accomplish the simple task of unbuttoning his trousers.

Pushing his hands aside, she pulled his shirt free of his waistband. She glimpsed the sprinkling of crisp hair on his chest that trailed downward to the muscular ridges of his abdomen, and lower still…to the prominent bulge in his trousers. She reached for the buttons and flicked them open. The fabric parted to reveal his manhood.

Heavens!

Once again, books had not adequately prepared her. A shiver of fear rippled down her spine at the size and length of him. Eyes wide and heart pounding, she reached out and touched him. He was like smooth iron—hot and hard—a fascinating, erotic contradiction.

How could he fit inside her?

Then he groaned again and all her apprehension fled. She touched the vermillion tip and a pearl of liquid lubricated her hand. She ran her fingers down his length and he moaned with pleasure. Encouraged she wrapped her fingers around him.

He jerked and hissed.

She pulled back. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…no. It’s just been too long.”

Too long? A man like him would have flocks of women eager to bed him, yet all her instincts cried out otherwise. His response told her otherwise.

She met his hot gaze. “I want to be with you.”

“No. Not with me. I can never marry.”

“Good. I don’t want to marry.”

“I’m not worthy, Sophia.”

“Stop. Don’t speak that way.”

He shook his head. “Not here. Not now.”

“Then let me please you.”

“Yesss.”

He showed her how to hold him, and she watched as he began to pump in her hand. His hips rose and fell, and she was fascinated by his muscles straining and his masculine beauty. With knowledge as old as Eve, she knew she held great power over him. He closed his eyes, threw back his head. The corded muscles of his neck strained against the loose cravat. She sensed he was close to his own release…

Feminine voices sounded over the high hedge. A trill of laughter followed.

His eyes snapped open. She was struck by the raw, desperate need in the blue depths.