I Spy a Duke (27 page)

She drew back from him, reaching for her teacup. Her hands shook as she raised it to her lips, buying time to process what he’d said in silence.

He thought she might agree with him. She was quick-witted. James wouldn’t be surprised if she had noticed something was off about her brother. About
him
.

“You’re wrong,” she declared. “We lived together. If Evan was spying, I would have known.”

“He traveled often, and you didn’t accompany him on those trips. Nor were you with him when he went to his supposed work place every day.” He wanted to reach for her, to take her hand in his, but he knew from her icy blue eyes that she’d refuse the contact. “I’m sorry, Vivian. Evan did not deserve to die. I know it is little consolation, but he died defending this country.”
 

“How dare you talk as though as you know him.” Her voice trembled, but he felt every ounce of venom aimed at him. “You never met him. I’m done listening to you.”

She set her teacup down so fast that liquid streamed over the sides, sloshing onto her saucer. She burst up from the couch, trying to go to the door.
 

He stopped her, his hand on her shoulder. She tried to shrug him off, but he held firm, anchoring her in place. The worst was still yet to come, but they would get through it. They had to. This was their life now. No more lies. No longer would they allow the gloom to hide their true selves.

He’d stand there as long as it took her to understand.

This was madness.

Lies piled on top of lies until there was no space in her mind for veracity. Were it not for his hold on her arm, she would have thought this was some sort of waking nightmare. But no, James stood in front of her, the bulk of his body positioned against the door. She’d tried the same tactic when arguing with him about leaving on this very trip, but unlike her, he was effective. She could not skirt around him. She could not tug him away from the door.
 

He blocked her exit. Not that she had anywhere she could go. Even if she had transportation to take her from Guildford, she didn’t know the way back to home.
 

Sweet Mary, she didn’t
have
a home anymore. She’d given up her independence when she’d married him.

She whirled on her heel, stalking back to the couch. She ignored her abandoned cup. Tea wouldn’t make this better. Nothing could make this better. She’d gone from being controlled by a madman to being married to one.

She parked herself on the couch. Closed her eyes. Tried to slow the hammering of her heart. Evan couldn’t have been a spy. She knew him better than herself.

Yet she couldn’t quiet the niggling doubt at the back of her mind. How quickly Evan had agreed that they should move to London, when he hated being in Town. How he’d never wanted to talk about his trips once he returned. He’d always claimed that reflecting on the past accomplished nothing—he wanted to live in the present. The time he’d come home with a jagged cut down his cheek, which he’d said he received in a scuffle with some footpads.

She opened up her eyes, letting out a long, tremulous sigh. “I want to see some evidence. If Evan was truly a spy as you claim, surely there must be some sort of record.”

James did not move from the door. “It doesn’t work that way. Spies depend on anonymity. Any records kept are heavily guarded. If I could, I would show you the files, love.”

She let out a derisive snort at that term of endearment. “Do not patronize me. I’m not your love, for if I were, you wouldn’t insult me with such lies. There’s no way you could know all this about Evan.”

He pushed off from the door, making his way to her. “I know because I work for Wickham too. In a top-secret division of the Alien Office called the Clocktower. I’m a spy, Vivian.”

“What? How? What?” Her chest hitched. She could barely hold her head up. She sagged back against the couch, the soft cushions offering her no relief.
 

Sauveterre had been right.

James Spencer worked for British intelligence.

She stared at James, her glassy eyes barely registering him when her ears rang so loudly. “You work for the organization that got my brother killed.”

“
My
work did not do this. The Clocktower may be a subset of the Alien Office, but your brother was not one of my people.” He said that distinction as if it mattered, as if she shouldn’t be angry with every damn British spy that still lived. “And even if it had been my organization, we are not the ones who ended Evan’s life. That was Sauveterre.”

“Who he only came into contact with because he was spying.” She reached up, running her thumb against the locket she wore around her neck. Evan’s locket. He’d be here to give her a new ribbon for it himself, if he hadn’t been a spy. “You know how much he meant to me.”

“I do,” James said again, such a simple phrase that she had begun to loathe. He knew everything, while she fumbled for clarity. “And that’s why I’m going to make damn certain Sauveterre pays for murdering your brother. I catch bastards like him. I may not love the things I’ve had to do over the years to protect my country, but people are safer because of our work.”

She hadn’t married a madman. That would have been better—at least madmen had their mental degradation to excuse their actions. James Spencer was in full possession of his faculties, so much that he’d managed to manipulate her into marrying him. Though he might look remorseful right now, with his posture so slack and his hands in the pockets of his coat, she no longer trusted that he felt anything genuine for her.

Lord, she’d been such a fool.
 

His rough, calloused hands. The soundless way in which he walked. The guards at his house. How he always seemed to know what she was thinking—the cool, logical way in which he assessed everything. She’d seen all of these things, and she’d dismissed them, because she’d wanted to believe he was different from what Sauveterre claimed. Because she’d wanted to believe he was good.

Because she’d wanted to believe that a woman as inconsequential as her could attract a duke as influential as he was.

He was an expert at reading people because he’d been trained in coercion. Probably, all those little things she’d assumed were signs of his affection were just cleverly perpetuated tricks to win her over.
 

“Why are you telling me this now? You had plenty of opportunities to tell me before we were married. Instead you waited until we were completely secluded.” Damn the quiver in her voice, the way her head felt so blastedly light.
 

He came closer, stopping in front of where she sat. He towered over her, all muscles and brawn. She remembered how he’d glowered at that rogue in the Jester and Trader Tavern. Her bottom lip quaked as she recalled watching him bare-knuckle box.
 

She swung her gaze back to the door. There was no way she could escape without him following her. So she brought up her chin higher, looking him in the eye. If he wanted to hurt her, he’d have to do it without her cowering. “Did you bring me here to kill me?”
 

He reared back from her so abruptly he stumbled over the low table, barely managing to right himself before he toppled to the ground. When he stood back up, the whites of his eyes were eerily visible, reminding her of a spooked horse.

“Christ, Vivian,” he grated, the sheer anguish in his voice seeping into her body whether or not she wanted it to. “How could you think that? I
married
you! I pledged before God and my family to cherish you and you think I could kill you? I would rather cut out my own heart and devour it than harm you. Bloody hell, woman, I love you, can’t you see that?”

Of all the times she had dreamed that a man would profess his undying devotion to her, it had never been in a profane shout. She shouldn’t believe him—everything he’d said and done told her she shouldn’t—but still her heart soared.
 

This man would consume her. He’d leave her wrecked. All because he loved her.

She forced herself to tear her gaze from him. “If this is how you show your love, I don’t want it. Take it back.”

“I can’t.” His voice broke, agony lancing through his words like the blade of her favorite fencing foil. “I love you, Vivian. It’s why I asked you to marry me. It’s why I brought you here, so that I could teach you how to protect yourself. It’s why I’m telling you what I actually do.”

“You married me when you knew we were going to spend our life deceiving each other.” She couldn’t comprehend how that equated with love. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I deserved to know what kind of man I was marrying.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to so damn badly.” He hunkered down on the couch beside her, moving farther over when she glared at him. “The organization I work for has rules governing who can know a spy’s true identity, especially one as high up in the organization as me.”

“Ah yes, because you are the Duke of Spies, head of the Clockbridge.”

“Clocktower,” he corrected.

“Sauveterre would have
loved
that. I would have been his favorite little helper if I’d sent him that tidbit.” She threw her back, releasing a loud, barking laugh. “I wonder if he’d still be trying to kill me.”

“Yes.” The certainty in his voice made a shiver crawl up her spine. “A good spy takes care of the loose ends, and you would have been able to identify him.”

“Aren’t I a loose end to your organization then?” She was suddenly cold, so very cold. She hugged her arms to her, running her hands up and down to stimulate warmth. No matter how she examined this situation with Sauveterre, it always seemed to end in her death.
 

“If I had told you before I married you, yes, you would have been.” Again that conviction of his brought her no comfort. “My superiors would have claimed your loyalty couldn’t be ascertained, when you were so willing to trade information about me in exchange for the name of your brother’s murderer.”

She swallowed. This just kept getting worse. “And now?”

“Now you are not only a peer, but
my
wife. No one that I would work with would dare take you into captivity. And as for my enemies, the smart ones wouldn’t risk infuriating me. Those foolish enough to try, I can dispense with easily.”

“Because you’re such a bad, bad man.” She ought not to taunt him, but she could not resist.

“Darling, I’m the worst.” His voice lowered, that husky quality doing wicked things to her core. Almost as if he’d made her another promise. “But my savage reputation works in your favor. There is not a man on this green Earth that will protect you better than I can. If you have another agent assigned to you, it’d be about duty for them.”

Devil take him, for she found herself leaning forward to catch his every syllable. “What is it about for you?”

His intense regard made her heart tumble. “Love.”
 

There was that damn word again.
 

“How can I trust you when you say you love me? I asked you if you were a spy.” She sat up straighter, channeling every ounce of ire into her tone. “After I had bared my soul, you looked me in the eye and you
lied
to me. At least when I lied, I had the decency to confess before you entered into any partnership with me.”

“I never lied.” His chin dipped to his chest, but his voice remained level, and she hated him for that. “I might have allowed you to form incorrect conclusions, but I never lied.”

She couldn’t believe his audacity, lying to her now still. “You must be unclear on what the word ‘lie’ means. I directly asked you if what Sauveterre suspected was correct, and you told me no.”

He shook his head. “You asked me if I had financed a revolution. I told you I preferred to take a more active stance, and I do. As head of the Clocktower, I oversee all our missions. Before that, I was a field agent. But never, in my entire lengthy career as a spy, have I
ever
been the bankroller.”

“Semantics,” she spat at him. “You knew what I meant and you chose not to tell me the whole truth.”

“Never underestimate the importance of semantics,” he said solemnly. “I told you that my contacts would help you find Sauveterre, and they did. My agents went to that inn.”

Her head spun once more from trying to keep the facts straight. “I thought the Runners were investigating.”
 

“The Runners are bloody useless.” He sneered. “Even if I’d applied pressure to them, they’d just muck up the entire investigation. They’re lionized thief-takers, in it for the money.”