Charming a Spy (4 page)

Twelve years ago when Wickham first paired the two on the Versailles mission, Geoff thought he might go insane having to listen to Pennington’s constant lecturing about strategy, tactics, and risks. He was worse than his man of business, cloying the last bit of humor or interest from any topic. However, Pennington’s boring back-up plans eventually saved Geoff’s arse enough times that the duke grew to appreciate his strategic, if deadly boring, talents.

In fact, he’d come to rely on Pennington. Too bad he wasn’t a woman because Geoff would have considered marrying his partner and best bloke. (Best remember
not
to tell Pennington that one in the future).

“Really, Pennington, you must learn to enjoy your work more. There is no reason you can’t defend the crown and have a little fun while you’re at it,” Geoff teased.

“You certainly manage to do both. Why is it you always get to seduce the beautiful women while the rest of us are stuck on watch?”

Geoff frowned and opened his mouth to protest but shut it without saying anything. The man had a point. He didn’t need to know it though.

“Oh, really, Pennington, you exaggerate.”

“Do I? What about the servant in Switzerland? And the merchant’s daughter?”

“Coincidence. You know I will do whatever I deem necessary for the success of the mission,” Geoff said.

“No doubt about it, Your Grace. Well, I can safely say I think you will find this mission quite enjoyable.”

“Is that so? Have you already scoped out the suspects?”

Before answering, Pennington stepped closer so no one else could hear.

“I have. Ms. Grier is the blonde beauty in the yellow silk dancing with Spencer Jennings.”

“Ah yes, I can see what you mean. So far this assignment is shaping up quite nicely,” Geoff said, eyeing the way the golden fabric clung to the perfect curvature of Ms. Grier’s bottom. “What do we know about her so far?”

“She hails from a well-to-do family and stands to inherit quite a large dowry. Between her riches and her looks, she has a long line of suitors willing to overlook her less charming aspects,” Pennington said.

“A stutter? Peg leg? Don’t tell me… she’s really a man,” Geoff guessed, mostly joking, although stranger events had happened on previous missions.

“I hate to disappoint you, but it’s nothing quite so dramatic,” Pennington said. “The chit’s major fault is that she’s a chatterbox.”

“Not disappointing at all,” Geoff said. “It’s great news. I need her to talk a lot. I need her to tell me everything she knows.”

“Oh, she will, although I fear it may be frighteningly close to what the gossip rags print. At least she’s pleasant on the eye,” Pennington said.

The duke acknowledged his friend but turned in the opposite direction.

“Fortunately Ms. Dubois is no nag either.” Not a nag at all. More like a fine filly. One he wouldn’t mind taking for a ride.

“Then you’ve met her?” asked Pennington, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Twice actually. The second time I called at her aunt’s house last week to deliver the invitation. With all we’ve heard about how reclusive she is, I thought she may need some… encouragement.”

“Really, Stamwell, you surprise me. If I didn’t know better, that almost sounds like a strategic play. It’s as if you thought about your aim in advance. Maybe all hope is not lost,” Pennington said.

“Don’t get too excited. I would love nothing more than to take credit for having foresight. Unfortunately, it was hindsight. You see, I couldn’t get our first meeting out of my mind.”

“Oh? Where did you happen to meet her?’ Pennington asked.

“Under my desk,” Stamwell responded.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. Although it seems absurdly fast, even for you. The first time you met her? I don’t know how you do it.”

Geoff shrugged.

“It’s not how it sounds… unfortunately.” The picture of Katherine Dubois on her knees under his desk made Geoff want to leave the ballroom to find some relief. He sipped his drink and tried to recover his thoughts. “The minx was burglarizing our offices.”

“What? Why?” Pennington asked.

“Perhaps it was related to her brother, but I really don’t have a clue.”

“Well, if you caught her stealing it makes me think we’re on the right track with her as a suspect. Did you confront her?” Geoff heard the excitement in Pennington’s voice although others might mistake the emotion for a bad case of
ennui
or tedium. Emotive he was not.

“Of course not. She thinks she got away, which means she will make another attempt. Hopefully, whatever harebrained scheme she comes up with next will be as clumsy as her last. If so, we should have no trouble solving this puzzle. That’s why I’m keeping my eyes on her,” Geoff said.

“Where is she?” Pennington asked, turning to face the guests in the ballroom.

Geoff shook his head. “I don’t mean my eyes are on her this minute… oh, never mind, Pennington. You really must try and be less literal.” he said scanning the room. “There,” he said, tilting his head towards the southeast corner where she leaned against a column.

“Ah yes,” Pennington said. “Not a nag at all.”

Katherine Dubois was a voluptuous hourglass draped in blue. Her tiny waist was sandwiched between perfect round mounds of fleshy breasts and hilly hips. Her nest of hair was fashioned into tiny brown ringlets pouring into her ample décolletage. She was delectable. And she must have felt Geoff’s eyes boring into her body because she turned in time to catch him devouring her with his stare. He didn’t avert his gaze but enjoyed her watching him.

In an instant, she paled, and then practically jumped off the wall. He studied her as she scurried to her aunt’s side, the deer hiding from the panther yet again. Geoff was ready to begin hunting.

‡

K
at’s fable about
a headache was apparently convincing enough that Aunt Ellie afforded her a brief escape to visit the retiring room. Her ruse allowed her at least a half hour to search the duke’s house for a secret she could use to blackmail him, which should be more than enough time.

Considering the way he looked at her, Stamwell no doubt had countless things to hide. He’d peered into her eyes with a gaze that could scandalize Marie Antoinette. His eyes set her skin on fire. He made her feel as if she were standing naked amongst the crowd.

It was exciting and terrifying all at once. Something about him was unsettling. How could he want something from her? They’d only recently met. She better get over this silly fear if she had a chance of intimidating him into doing her bidding.

Kat walked down the halls until she was sure she was out of view from other wandering guests, and then ducked into the first door she found. It was a library. Books lined circular shelves three stories high leading up to a glass-domed ceiling. It reminded Kat of a painting she once saw of the Tower of Pisa, all columns and arches and glass.

She ran her fingertips lightly over the leathery spines of the books as she walked the circumference of the room, thinking of all of the immense possibilities contained within these walls. After spending a lifetime in a library like this, she might only ever learn a fraction of the knowledge contained in all of these books. There might even be a few detective novels tucked amongst the more heavy tomes.

Of course, the duke probably never read any of them… the royals rarely did. He most likely collected them to stand on his shelves as trophies of his mental capabilities. What a waste to have such a beautiful library and not even read the books.

Barely enough moonlight streamed through the rotunda glass ceiling for her to make out the titles.
A Way with Words, Dissecting the Aviary, Heavenly Bodies
and
Celestial Spheres
. Kat took a volume off of the shelf, opened the cover, held the worn pages to her nose and closed her eyes. The musty vanilla smell of the old book had an instant calming effect on her.

Wait, she didn’t have time for this. She had to focus. Where would she find secrets in the duke’s home?
Think.

In the library? Highly unlikely. Maybe he had a naughty book or two tucked amongst the stalks, but it would take hours to find in a room of this size. Besides a naughty book would hardly be enough to ruin a man’s reputation. Especially a duke. She needed something far juicier.

Perhaps in his office. Maybe he would have correspondence—letters to another man’s wife—bribes for lascivious things he’d done.

“Do you always smell books like roses?” A voice startled her. She glanced up to see the very object of her thoughts standing before her.

Kat tried to think of something to say, something witty or seductive to explain why she was alone in his personal library, unchaperoned. Unfortunately, she was several years out of practice with flirtatious banter.
Bollocks.

“Ah, so you’re back to being speechless. What an enigma you are, Ms. Dubois. One moment you are as silent as a mouse, the next you have a serpent’s tongue. And now, back to being a mouse,” Geoff said.

“If anyone is a serpent, it is you! Look at how you slithered in here and caught me off-guard.”

“I caught
you
off-guard? Might I remind you, Ms. Dubois, you are currently standing in my private library?”

“Might I suggest if you don’t want visitors in your library, you shouldn’t leave the door unlocked with so many guests around?” Kat retorted. Belatedly, she added, “Your Grace.” She probably shouldn’t be so defensive, but something about this man infuriated her.

“You misunderstand me, Ms. Dubois. I am happy to find you here. Alone.”

“Spoken like a true viper.”

“How is it we’ve only met recently and yet you think the worst of me?”

“Is it undeserved?” she asked.

He smiled. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “I suppose I occasionally behave wickedly. And you? Do you ever do anything you’re not supposed to, Ms. Dubois?” He was deliberately baiting her and she wasn’t about to fall for it. Above all, she needed to maintain her composure.

“Never. I am a wallflower. Hermit. I am the least adventurous woman you’ve met,” Katherine insisted.

“Or so you want me to think,” he said. Blast, he was perceptive. How could he be self-obsessed and strangely aware of others at the same time? “Perhaps, Ms. Wallflower, you would care to share what were you doing in here? Why sneak away if you’re not seeking any sort of adventure?”

Kat feigned surprised and tried unsuccessfully to flutter her eyelashes.

“Beg your pardon?” she asked in a hopeless attempt to buy time, still trying to think of a plausible excuse. She couldn’t exactly admit coming here to search for evidence she could use for blackmail.

“Why are you here?” he asked again, obviously knowing full well she heard him the first time.

Still, she couldn’t think of anything significant to say that would be remotely believable. “I should be getting back,” she finally said. It was an obvious dodge, but it’s all she had at the moment.

“No,” he said.

“Your Grace?”

“Please call me Geoff. And please stay,” he said. He perched on the arm of a leather chesterfield sofa and gestured to the opposite armchair, inviting her to take a seat.

It didn’t make any sense. One moment he was berating her for being in his library, the next he requested her to stay. Part of her desperately wanted to stick around and figure him out, but she knew it wasn’t smart. This room, him and her, it was too intimate. Too dangerous. Kat knew she should scurry back to the ballroom to avoid being caught alone with him. Gone thirty minutes… Aunt Ellie was probably starting to wonder where she was… or even worry.

“I should go,” she said again, this time moving towards the door.

“Stay,” he commanded. Commanded. As if he were the bloody King of England. Well, he was the Duke of Stamwell, and as such was probably used to getting his way from everyone around him. Not this time.

“I am not a puppy you can order around,” Kat said, whirling around.

“No, not a puppy,” he said moving towards her. He was alarmingly close. “You are a cat. Katherine, the cat,” he said, reaching a hand up to her head and stroking her hair, petting her. She knew the action was meant as intimidation but Lord help her, it felt good. Really good.
Remember why you’re here.
She wanted to stay mad but she also wanted to purr with delight. Involuntarily she closed her eyes.

Geoff pulled her head closer to him so it rested on his shoulder, still stroking her hair. She knew it was horribly inappropriate. She should run far away from this dangerous man. But try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to raise her head. His shoulder was warm and he smelled like Christmas. Blast, if he didn’t keep petting her. If he kept this up she might melt into a puddle at his feet.

His breath was hot on her ear. “Do you like that?” he whispered in a voice stirring something primal inside her.

She couldn’t answer, not in coherent words her mouth had suddenly forgotten how to form. “Mm-hmm,” she managed to mumble.

“Good,” he whispered again, warm and humid in her ear, dripping with promise. “Relax, Katherine, my little cat. My little cat burglar.”