Charming a Spy (8 page)

This was no regular guest room, but a tiny guest palace. A Scheherazade in the middle of the English countryside. Was it possible to fall madly in love with a room? Perhaps love was an overstatement, but Kat could confidently say she was smitten.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Jessica Grier’s bedchamber was as grand, or worse, grander. Not that she cared. Geoff was interested in Jessica, even if she was a vicious take-no-prisoners gossip who didn’t have a true or loyal bone in her body. Then again, Geoff’s joyride with Jessica on that morning, after he practically took Kat’s womanhood on the library floor, proved he wasn’t particularly loyal either. They were two of a kind. Jessica and the duke would probably be perfect for each other. She could picture them now, standing in a church promising to be faithful to one another and then slinking off to their paramours the same night.

However, if Kat played her cards right, she would be Geoff’s midnight excursion. Paramour. Amante. Lover. Shaking her head at the thought, she still couldn’t believe she was considering giving herself to Geoff. The thought took root and then crept up her body like a fast-growing vine, tickling her senses aware.

Geoff was going to make love to her. His warm lips on her mouth… hands on her waist, pulling her nearer. The sensation of his muscled torso pushed against her breasts. A tingling of anticipation of more to come. She knew there was more and wanted it. All of it.

Kat just had to be careful to keep her heart out of it this time.

‡

“Y
our rose gardens
are absolutely charming,” Jessica gushed to Geoff as they walked around the perimeter, still in view of her mother, for propriety’s sake. “Of course, they could benefit from several more Queen Anne varieties. It’s no wonder though, without a lady of the manor to guide the gardener’s hand… well, you can’t expect he would get it all perfect.”

“I’m quite fond of roses,” Geoff responded cryptically, not wanting to acknowledge her obvious implications that she become the lady of the manor.

“I could speak to your gardener while I’m here if you like, Your Grace. I would be very gentle, but I could have a word with him to ensure your comfort.”

“Very kind of you,” Geoff said.

“I could also talk with the housekeeper, with your permission. The guest rooms are lovely, but wouldn’t it be charming if they had lavender soap? I have the most wonderful scent shipped from the Americas and I would be happy to share my source with her.”

“As you wish, Ms. Grier,” Geoff replied.

“Another little woman’s touch,” she said, lifting her free hand and turning over his. She ran a long fingernail along the inside of his palm in swirly patterns. He glanced down and then up at her face, her chin tilted downwards and her eyes coyly peeking out from the bottom of her lashes.

This mission was too easy. Jessica’s outrageous flirtation was taking all the fun out of his pretend seduction. No proper hunter wanted the pheasant to lie down and die in front of him.
Too bad
. Keeping up the ruse, Geoff lifted her hand and kissed the back of it slowly. Jessica shuddered. He locked onto her gaze and leaned in for a kiss. Before their lips touched, he pretended to remember that her mother was watching and pulled away. Jessica pouted, miffed by his propriety.

“Tell me about your childhood.” He led her down the path towards the house.

“I was very well educated if that’s what you’re wondering, Your Grace. Mother made sure I had the best governesses. I can cross stitch, play pianoforte, speak Latin and although I’m not one to boast, my friends would say I’m an accomplished painter. I have all of the qualities a husband could wish for.”

“Indeed, Ms. Grier. Tell me more about your family.” Geoff needed to turn this conversation towards his aim.

“I can assure you my lineage is unquestionable. My father’s side, the Griers, goes back nine generations…”

“No, you mistake me, Ms. Grier. I am not concerned with your peerage. I was attempting to know you better. I wondered about your Mother and Father. What type of people are they?”

Jessica stared at him as if he had sprouted multiple necks. She had obviously been coached to impress upon Geoff her marriageable qualities and not her personality.

“Do you really care to learn about my family, Your Grace?” Jessica was clearly treading in unfamiliar waters now, being wholly unprepared to talk about personal matters.

“Yes, I’m interested. If the topic does not make you too uncomfortable.”

Jessica suddenly grew very interested in one of the roses, studying it up close. “Not at all.” She paused. “You have the pleasure of knowing my mother, of course. She is quite accomplished. A beautiful painter. Knows all of the best modistes. She has many friends. Oh, and she throws the most extravagant masquerade each March. Everyone always says it is the event of the year. I do hope you’ll attend this spring,” Jessica rambled.

“And your father?” Geoff interrupted.

Jessica unlocked her hand from the rose and wrapped both of her forearms about her own waist, hugging herself unconsciously.

“He passed away when I was a child.” She paused and inhaled deeply before continuing on. “My mother ensured that my brother and I both had proper upbringings and I can assure you we would never embarrass you.”

“You mistake me again, Jessica. Do you mind if I call you Jessica?” She immediately softened as he hoped she would.

“Of course not.” She smiled.

“Jessica, how did your father die?” He knew he was pushing her to speak about something she clearly had no desire to discuss but he needed to understand Rafe better. Siblings were always the best informants.

“It was an accident.”

“Horse riding?”

“No…there are some ruins on our property where Rafe and I used to play as kids although our parents told us repeatedly not to. We paid no attention, you know, as children rarely do. We would pretend we were King and Queen of a land we made up. I’d hold grand balls and Rafe would slay dragons. Usual child’s play.

One day we were at the ruins preparing for a battle against our neighboring enemies when we heard an enormous cracking noise. A piece of the ruins came tumbling down on Rafe’s arm, trapping him underneath the rock. I ran to get my father. He came and got Rafe free, but not before…there was another rock fall…he was crushed.”

“I’m so sorry,” Geoff said. He was too. Although he never knew his father, he certainly knew how the absence of one could shape a person.

“I think poor Rafe always felt responsible for his death although no one blamed him. My mother and I told him so many times it wasn’t his fault, but he became such a serious child after it happened. No more make believe. No more laughter.”

Jessica had also grown serious retelling the story. Gone was her usual lightness and gaiety. He wondered then how much of her constant talking was just a tactic she’d developed to avoid silence where grief might creep in. In his years of investigation he’d found people’s inner selves were rarely how they presented outwardly.

“I don’t mean to make Rafe sound depressed. My brother is a really wonderful person. You will see when you meet him tonight. Oh dear, I’ve blabbered on too long,” Jessica said sheepishly.

“Not at all. Thank you for sharing that with me, Jessica.”

She offered him half a smile but said nothing.

“Now, tell me your ideas for sprucing up the Dowager house,” he said. She brightened at the chance to speak about something else and launched into an overly thorough accounting of potential improvements she’d catalogued. He pretended to listen while processing this new information.

Rafe lost his father tragically and blamed it on himself. Years later he had to call out his childhood friend as a traitor. Two major losses that could devastate a person. No wonder Rafe retreated to Germany to be alone. He couldn’t blame the man for wanting to leave all of that behind. Yet he’d returned to England for the house party this weekend, so he obviously cared for his sister a great deal. Or perhaps he had some other motive for his attendance. Geoff intended to find out.

‡

T
he crowd of
guests gathered in the drawing room before dinner surprised Kat. She didn’t realize Geoff’s potential marriage pool was quite so large. Half a dozen women with their families were in attendance, and she was growing intimidated by the competition, but then reminded herself she wasn’t actually competing. At least not for the duke’s hand. She did, however, have to steal his attention away from all of these women and make him want her enough to do whatever she commanded.

Luckily, she’d come prepared to do battle, wearing her armor, so to speak. In this case she’d traded chain mail for a crimson dress, based on Aunt Ellie’s advice. She had made the gown as part of a Queen of Heart’s costume for Mrs. Musgrave’s annual costume ball and brought it in case the house party decided on a masquerade. With a few artful adjustments by the maid, it was less costume-like and cut low enough to satisfy the décolletage recommendation.

Kat stood out like a cardinal in a flock of doves, her red dress sparkled in contrast to the sea of pastels en mode amongst the debutantes. Kat knew red was completely out of fashion these days. However, after careful consideration, she decided the point was to distinguish her from the other possibilities, to be the only memorable one amongst them.

She studied the competition, taking a mental roll call of the other possibilities. The Townsey Twins, Ivy and Rosemary, stood with their parents and brother, Sage. Kat liked to imagine Mrs. Townsey gave birth to all of her children in the garden and thus named them whatever plant she saw when she opened her eyes. The Townsey Twins had enormous dowries and unquestionable lineage, but Geoff couldn’t possibly want to marry a twin. The situation would be too rife for potential mishaps, such as accidentally asking the wrong one to dance… or worse, waking up to find the wrong one in bed. Marrying a twin would be too ridiculous, wouldn’t it?

Kat scanned the room for Maribel and found her, not surprisingly, chatting with Trig Trannen. Maribel caught Kat’s eye and waved discreetly, but made no attempt to leave her conversation with Trig. No matter, there would be plenty of time to catch up in the coming week. Kat was thrilled Maribel was going to be there. Early instincts told her she might need an ally.

Trig’s sister, Jane, stood with her parents, looking dutiful and demure. Jane was also apparently in the running for Duchess of Stamwell. She would actually fit the part perfectly. She was pretty in a classic way with high cheekbones and straw-colored hair piled atop her head in the latest fashion. Kat recalled her laugh resembled a hyena, high pitched and lilting, but it made her even more likable.

Four eligible ladies in all. Five if she counted herself, which she didn’t.

Then Jessica entered the drawing room, clutching Geoff’s arm, looking as though she’d already won the position. Now they were six. Kat had to give her credit; she certainly knew how to make an entrance. Leave it to Jessica to find a way to get to the start of the race already holding the trophy.

Kat was trying hard to remember to cover her spite with a smile, and she almost missed seeing Jessica’s brother, Rafe Grier, parade behind the couple with his mother. She didn’t expect him to be there. It had been years since she’d seen him. Since before the war.

He appeared thin. Pale. His eyes met hers for a brief moment and she could almost swear he was scared. She supposed war could do that to a man. The last time she’d seen Rafe he was boarding the same coach as Luke, destined for the battlefield.

Aunt Ellie must be having the same memory because she suddenly tightened her grip on her Kat’s arm. She swayed. Kat quickly glanced around the room for a place to sit, but before she could take a step, Geoff was there taking her Aunt Ellie’s other arm and escorting her to a chair. He did it so discreetly, no one else noticed anything wrong. How did he catch that?

“Are you alright, Mrs. Seymour?” Geoff asked in a calming, quiet voice.

“Oh yes, just feeling a little peaked. Probably from the traveling. Nothing to worry about,” she twittered.