Charming a Spy (5 page)

That last comment brought her out of the reverie. Kat jerked her head away from his hand and stared him straight in the eyes. They twinkled playfully. He smiled.

He knew.

Kat turned to escape, run towards the door.

Stamwell caught her arm in his hand. He whirled her around and then brought his lips crashing down on hers. He held her close to him, trapping her against his body with one hand wrapped around her waist and the other on the back of her head. She couldn’t escape his kiss and wasn’t sure she wanted to. There was nothing gentle about the embrace. It was rough and possessing and like nothing she’d ever experienced. He was kissing her as if she was his lifeline to air.

She half-heartedly struggled for a moment and then surrendered to his mouth. It was no use fighting and she didn’t really want to anyway. She wanted this… wanted him to take control of her, to show her how wicked he truly was.

Wrapping her arms up around his neck, pulling him even closer, she melted into him. He rewarded her bold move by parting her lips with his warm tongue and licking the inside of her mouth. It felt foreign and sweet, like spiced-honey drizzling onto her tongue. She desired more.

Suddenly the library door opened and they heard, “Actually, I heard the duke was a spy.”

‡

S
tamwell took her
hand, whirling Kat behind a window curtain before they could be seen. They were unable to see who’d interrupted their
moment
, but she recognized the voice. It was Sir Walter Musgrave. Not only was he an influential member of the House of Lords, but his wife, Melinda Musgrave, was renowned as the
ton’s
primary source of truth. More often than not, it was all gossip. The Marquess of Musgrave could make a scandal from a curtsey not quite deep enough, let alone finding out about a young unmarried woman alone in the presence of a duke.

Geoff pressed a finger to Kat’s mouth to prevent her from speaking. It was a wasted effort as she was barely breathing for fear she’d be heard. Still, the touch of his finger on her lips sent shivers through her body.

“Stamwell, a spy?” the other man asked. Kat did not recognize his voice.

“Heard he worked for Wickham during the war,” Musgrave responded. Sometimes Kat wondered where people came up with this ridiculous drivel. They must be bored with their own staunch lives and have nothing better to do except invent tall tales to keep themselves entertained. It was probably killing Geoff listening in silence to their lies about him and not calling them out. Kat rolled her eyes at him, hoping to impart what she could not with her voice.

Surprisingly, his eyes did not hold a look of annoyance. Instead, the turquoise orbs stared back at her with an almost apologetic look. He did not move so much as an eyelash.

“Maybe he’s here on a top secret mission.”

“Always the conspiracy theorist. Unfortunately, I think his mission is much more banal. My wife tells me he is in town to bag himself a good English bride.”

“What would he want with a wife? I’m sure the man has no shortage of doxies knocking on his tent door in the evenings.”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Poor chap doesn’t know what he’s in for. Perhaps we should let him in on the secrets of marital bliss?” The men laughed loudly.

Somebody coughed and Kat flinched.

“Maybe he has some other reason to get hitched. By the judge of this house, he has no need to marry for money.” Geoff’s fingers were starting to dig into the skin on Kat’s upper arms, but she didn’t dare move. Aside from not wanting to ruin her reputation, she didn’t want him to take his hands away from her body.

“Probably wants to get some young thing with child so he can secure the dukedom before he heads back out on the campaign.”

“If it were me, I would take the Grier girl to bed. Wouldn’t mind her round arse warming my bed at night.” It was disgraceful what men would say when not in the company of women. Even the gentlemen sounded like stable boys when amongst themselves.

“Not me. The Darlington chit would do me fine,” the other one said.

“What about the Dubois girl? The recluse. Saw her tonight for the first time in years and I’d forgotten what a sweet little morsel she was. I could sink my teeth into her charms.”

Kat froze. She looked at Geoff, willing him with her eyes to somehow put a stop to it. Even though she knew he couldn’t. Not without compromising them. He ran his thumb up and down her arm in a calming motion instead.

“She’s a loon, hasn’t left the house in years. But she’s certainly a good-looking loon. I’d sample her a time or two before dropping her off at the asylum,” the other man said. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Geoff looked as if he were on the verge of explosion.

“There you are, my darlings,” a woman’s voice cooed. “We thought we’d have to call in the guard to search for you in this castle.” Kat never thought she would be grateful to hear the Marquess of Musgrave’s voice.

“Sorry ladies. We got to talking and the time must have flown. Why don’t we get our gorgeous wives some punch?” Sir Musgrave said.

The men ushered their wives out of the room and finally the voices drifted away down the hall. They were alone again. Yet neither moved away from the window where they were hidden behind the curtain. They remained tucked into the crimson velvet cocoon, and in each other’s arms, shielding them from the outside world.

“Is it true? Are you a spy?” Kat asked.

“Are you a thief?” He shot back.

“You knew?”

“You’re not exactly an expert at sneaking around,” he said. “No offense intended.”

“Then why?”

“Why did I invite you here after I knew you were the robber? Why didn’t I turn you into the police? Why did I kiss you?” Geoff asked.

“Yes. All of those. Why?”

Still standing close together behind the draperies, he caressed her arm again.

“I invited you here because I wanted to find out why you were breaking into government offices. Not turning you into the police was easy because I deemed you harmless, if somewhat desperate. And I kissed you, well, I kissed you because I wanted to.” Kat’s tongue caught in her throat momentarily.

“I’m not desperate,” was the only she could think to say, not knowing whether to be angry or relieved.

“Beg your pardon, but I think you are. Why else would you be sneaking around offices and libraries looking for Lord knows what? What
are
you looking for, by the way?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“I believe it matters because they were
my
office and
my
library. If you’re going to rob me of something, at least have the decency to tell me what you want.”

“If you must know, I am searching for some proof my brother is still alive.”

“Oh, I see. And what, pray tell, makes you think I would have some information about your brother?”

“Because you’re a duke. And a military officer.” He quirked his devilish eyebrow at her and she knew he believed she was grasping at straws. “And you were there at the Battle of Corunna and at the office the other night when I broke in. I don’t know, I ran out of places to look and you were the only thing I had to go on,” she said, fear and emotions making her voice tremble.

He inched even closer and put his enormous hand on her upper arm, rubbing her sleeve reassuringly. “I’m not going to turn you in,” he said. She exhaled, a flood of relief washing over muscles she didn’t even know she was tensing. “I want to know what you’re playing at. Do you have cause to believe your brother is still alive?”

“Yes,” she answered candidly.

“What proof do you have?” he asked.

“I feel it.”

“You feel it?” Stamwell said skeptically.

Kat pulled her arm away. “This is exactly why I have to go sneaking around looking for proof. No one believes me. I’ve been called a hysterical female and a loon more times than I can count. That man,” she said, gesturing to the door where the intruders had exited, “said he would drop me off at the asylum. But I’m telling you, I know Luke is still alive.”

“Okay, okay, stand down, soldier,” he said. “I’m listening. Tell me what you
feel
,” he said.

Maybe she was too reactionary. She was so tired of no one believing her. At least Geoff was willing to listen. Maybe he was different.

“I know this sounds far-fetched. But I’ve always had this strange ability. When Luke and I were little, sometimes I would start crying for no reason. Mother would ask what was wrong and I would hold my knee and tell her I was hurt even when I obviously was not. But then Luke would come home with his knee scraped up from climbing trees.”

“So you’re able to feel his pain?”

“I know it sounds improbable. But that was always how it was. I knew when my best friend was sick or the cook cut her finger. I’ve always sensed.”

“Do you sense things about everyone?” he asked. She could tell he still didn’t completely believe her. She knew how it must sound. Nevertheless, it was the truth.

“No, not everyone. Only people I have a strong connection with.”

“How… unusual,” he said.

“Unusual, yes. But also true. Have you ever experienced anything you couldn’t explain rationally?” Kat asked.

He paused before answering. She could tell he was seriously pondering the question. “Maybe once. I’m still not sure. I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s unusual,” he said again.

“When I was nine years old, I was out riding with my governess when I got a horrible feeling in my stomach, and I purposefully pitched myself from my horse. I don’t know why I did it. I just sensed something was terribly wrong. I didn’t hurt myself much, some scrapes and bruises. But later that day, I learned both of my parents had been killed. They were thrown from a carriage when their horses spooked.”

“I’m sorry, Katherine. That’s a lot for a child to take in,” Geoff said, touching Kat’s shoulders with soft fingers.

“Yes, it was,” Kat said. “I miss my parents every day. Terribly. But the point is, I knew something was wrong right away. I sensed it.”

“And you haven’t felt anything about Luke?”

“Not once. Not even for a moment since he left for battle. I know this is all implausible and you probably think I should be committed. But Luke is alive,” Kat said.

“You could be right,” Geoff answered.

‡

T
his was going
to be a long ride through Hyde Park. They scarcely left the gates of her home when Jessica Grier launched into a critique of every guest at the ball. Pennington was right about her ability for inane chatter.

Geoff could not believe the capacity she had to remember precisely the color of every lady’s evening gown and the number of petit fours each guest consumed. Ironically, her talent for details could be a significant advantage were she to pursue his line of work. Instead, she used it to recount the fashion elite’s every move. Wickham would be so disappointed.

“Mr. Blanc obviously thinks purple is still in fashion. Can you imagine,” she asked, cackling.

“I’m honored you agreed to come for a ride with me this afternoon, Ms. Grier.” Geoff forced a change of subject. If he had to talk about clothing for one more second, he might expire.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t at all surprised when I received your invitation this morning, Your Grace.”

She wiggled in her seat, scooting closer to him on the cushioned bench.

“No?”

“Although we barely had the pleasure of an introduction last evening, I could tell you were a man who appreciated quality,” she said in a not-so-veiled reference to herself. Jessica was obviously no stranger to the art of flirtation. Good. Women always gave away the most while trying to be coy.

“Yes, well, that’s exactly why I insisted upon taking a turn with you this morning. After all, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“So it’s true what I’ve always suspected,” she cooed.

“What is, my lady?”

“Gentleman gossip as much as gentlewomen,” she giggled.

He forced a polite chuckle in return. “Actually, I learned of you first from your brother.” It wasn’t accurate, but Geoff decided at the moment Pennington’s suggestion to pretend a friendship with Ms. Grier’s brother was probably the quickest way to get her to divulge information. Pennington did have a knack for interrogation, even if the old dog was no good at seduction himself.