It Takes a Spy...: A Secrets and Seduction book (3 page)

“His parents? Then they don’t know a good thing when they see it. You make him happy. That’s what matters.”

Cecilia couldn’t stifle her snort of disbelief. She was snorting altogether too much tonight. “Not to them, but I thank you for your kind words.”

The waltz came to an end, and they drifted to a stop, but Mr. Raven didn’t release her. “Don’t disparage yourself. There are enough hurtful people in the world who will gladly do it for you. There’s no reason to help them.”

She glanced away. He was right, of course. Wasn’t he? Despite her confidence in Devin’s noble nature, she couldn’t stop the niggling self-doubt that kept creeping into her mind. She wasn’t convinced that Devin still truly wanted to marry her, and until she was, she’d never be completely at ease with her decision.

Devin tracked her approach, and she immediately knew that he’d been watching them dance, just as Mr. Raven had said.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Devin asked her.

She looked at him blankly for a moment before comprehension dawned on her. “Do you mean the auction?” She almost said ‘no,’ but then remembered her role tonight. She was supposed to be happy about the auction, so she’d need to pretend, at least when she was anyplace she might be overheard. She smiled brightly. “Certainly. I’ve never been to one as glamorous as this before. I’ve only attended little country auctions. I wonder how different it will be to hear jewels being bid on rather than horses.”

One corner of Devin’s mouth tilted up in a half smile. “I imagine the bids will go much higher than they would for a plow horse.”

She gave a slight shrug with one shoulder as though she didn’t really care. “Probably. Father’s counting on it being a success. He invited everyone he thought would be interested in attending tomorrow’s auction to come to the ball.”

Devin indicated the crowded ballroom with a jerk of his chin. “Judging by the number of people here, the auction is certain to be well attended.”

“I hope so,” she said, turning to sit next to her mother. “I just want it over with.”

“Cecilia, for shame,” her mother scolded. “You know how important it is. We’re doing this all for you, my dear.”

She whipped her hand up to cover her mouth as she widened her eyes. She could hardly believe she’d forgotten for a moment. “Was that indiscreet? I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t have been so…I don’t know,” she said, searching for the right word, “so thoughtless.”

Her mother snapped open her fan and began fluttering it. “You need to learn to be more circumspect.”

Another of Devin’s acquaintances, Harris Kenning, joined them. “Good evening, Lady Babbage, Miss Paring.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be here this evening, Mr. Kenning,” Mother said. She flashed the man an unusually bright smile. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“And you, Lady Babbage,” Kenning replied. “Would you care to dance?”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit weary this evening,” Mother replied, looking disappointed, “but I believe my daughter is free for this dance. Perhaps you’d like to be her partner.”

“I’d be honored,” Mr. Kenning said, offering his hand to Cecilia.

She took it as she rose from her chair. “Actually, I’m not particularly fond of dancing the quadrille. Would you mind walking with me instead?”

Devin frowned.

Cecilia stiffened. Apparently she’d made another social blunder. But the gardens were busy and well lit. It wasn’t as though some illicit tryst could take place there. Any guest could look out his hotel window and see the guests wandering among the paths.

Did Mr. Kenning look disappointed? She wasn’t sure, but if he was, he hid it well. “I’d be delighted to,” he said, offering her his arm.

She accepted it and he escorted her away from her family and out through a set of double doors leading to the hotel’s gardens. A number of guests gathered near the refreshments table, but Mr. Kenning maneuvered past them and onto the wide path.

Small torches were scattered throughout the grounds lit the way. London’s night noises were soothing after the cacophony of the ballroom. The buildings surrounding Mivart Hotel’s interior courtyard muted the sounds of hoofbeats and carriage wheels along Brook Street.

“It’s lovely out here,” Cecilia said as they walked a short way along the path next to the hotel. “It’s hard to imagine that winter will soon be upon us. My parents will escape it this year since they’ll soon be leaving for Cannes. I almost envy them.” Perhaps, for a change, Father would be correct in his predictions. If the region became a new favorite destination for British travelers, as many prophesied, investing now would show brilliant timing on his part. But from what she’d learned, the area was still quite rustic. It was hardly more than a fishing village. No matter what happened, her parents’ futures would be tied to the place. She could only hope her father’s ability to forecast trends had improved.

“I must admit,” Mr. Kenning said, “Cannes has an allure about it that is difficult to deny. I’ve heard your father plans to invest there, and I’m inclined to believe he’s quite forward-thinking in attitude. In a few years, you may find that he led the wave of British arrivals there.”

“I hope you’re right. After Mr. Montlake and I marry, we plan to set up residence here in London, so I won’t be there to witness the construction of the hotel he plans to build. Father plans to transform Cannes from a fishing village into a destination that will attract everyone in England. It’s a daunting task.” A small sound near a door leading back into the hotel caught Cecilia’s attention, and she turned to look. As she stared more closely, she was surprised when she identified the bit of pale green dress peeking out from the slightly open door. This was the second time tonight. Evangeline must be slipping.

“Someone’s watching us,” she told Mr. Kenning.

He tensed. “What do you mean?”

Cecilia made a slight gesture toward the door. “My sister’s peeking out from just over there. Our parents won’t allow her to attend the ball, since she’s only fifteen. She’s quite disappointed.”

Kenning’s shoulders relaxed and he glanced in the direction she’d indicated. “I see her. Or, at least, I see her dress. Shall we go and speak to her?”

“You wouldn’t mind? I think it would make her quite happy.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, turning toward the spot where Evangeline was hiding. “I remember what it was like to be her age.”

As they approached her sister, Cecilia called out, “We can see you.”

Evangeline didn’t even hesitate, but immediately stepped through the doorway. “Is the ball as much fun as it looks?” she asked as she moved toward them. But then she stopped short and peered at Mr. Kenning more closely. “I’m sorry. I thought you were Mr. Montlake.” She frowned. “You gentlemen all look alike when you’re dressed in those identical black cutaway jackets.”

Cecilia introduced them. “We were just taking a short walk and were about to turn back. They’re playing a quadrille,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Ah,” Evangeline replied, looking faintly disdainful. “The dreaded quadrille. Why do you dislike it so much? It isn’t much different than dancing a schottische, and you claim that dance as your favorite.”

“I don’t know why, I just
don’t
.” Cecilia hated it when her sister tried to argue her out of her likes and dislikes. Why did her preferences matter so much? After all, she never chided Evangeline for not liking to eat peas. How was not liking a particular dance so different? She searched for a new topic of conversation. “Mother seems a bit weary tonight.”

Evangeline frowned. “Perhaps she should rest.”

“You know she won’t.”

Evangeline let out a sigh. “But she should. You know it’s the logical and prudent thing to do.”

“Mother’s determination won’t be swayed by logic. She already decided to attend the ball. You know there’s no swaying her once she sets her mind to something.”

“How was I born into this family?” Evangeline asked, not for the first time. “Not one of you is the least bit logical.”

“But we make up for it with our charm and intuition,” Cecilia quipped.

A man’s voice came from behind her. “And you have that in spades. I can vouch for it,” Devin said.

As Cecilia turned to face him, a smile spread across her face. It was nice to hear him compliment her. Well, he
sort
of complimented her, didn’t he? “Look who we found,” she said, gesturing toward her sister.

“Miss Evangeline,” Devin said. “This is a surprise. I thought you’d be in your bedchamber, enjoying the novelty of having it to yourself while sister was at the ball.”

“I tried, for a while, but since I couldn’t ignore the music of the orchestra drifting upstairs, I found it hard to concentrate on reading
David Copperfield
.”

“I thought you already read that,” Cecilia said.

“It bears a second, and even a third reading. Mr. Dickens is a wonderful writer.”

Cecilia opened her mouth to retort, but Devin interrupted her. “I believe our waltz is about to begin,” he said, cutting off the disparaging comment that was already on Cecilia’s tongue.

She shot him a sidelong glance. He’d done that intentionally.

Mr. Kenning cleared his throat. “Miss Paring, if you don’t mind, could Mr. Montlake escort you back to the ballroom? I’d like to walk farther down the path.”

“Of course,” Cecilia said.

Devin offered his arm and she took it.

“A good evening to you both, Misses Paring, and a good evening to you too, Mr. Montlake,” Kenning said, and then took his leave.

The buildings surrounding the garden blocked most of the cross breezes, but the brisk wind that swirled straight down on them from the sky above had changed. It was significantly cooler now, and Cecilia could sense a change in the air that suggested a storm was coming. As gooseflesh pebbled her forearms, she wished she had her wrap with her. She moved closer to Devin, pulling his arm a bit more snugly to her side. His muscular arm pressed intimately against the side of her breast, sending a tremor of sinful delight coursing through her entire body. After a moment, the heat he radiated suffused her with warmth and her gooseflesh faded away.

As an afterthought, Cecilia glanced back at her sister, but Evangeline was already gone. She’d disappeared as though the breeze had whisked her away.

Was that Mr. Kenning walking past one of the torches? She couldn’t be certain. He was farther away than she’d expected. A moment later, she couldn't see him at all.

They were alone for the moment, so Cecilia paused on the path and turned to face Devin. "I'm nervous," she said.

"Why?" He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. "Is it the auction? Are you worried about the outcome?" When she didn't say anything he continued. "I don't care about the auction. All I care about is you."

Cecilia's jaw dropped, just a little. "But I thought…"

He wrapped his hands around her elbows, pulled her closer, and gently kissed her. "It's you I want, Cecilia Paring," he murmured. "Remember that."

A tingle ran down her spine. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear him speak those words of comfort until he said them. But was he being honest?

The door to the ballroom opened, and Devin took a quick step away from her, ending the moment of intimacy. He took her arm in his and they slowly wandered back, giving the couple approaching them a nod of greeting.

As they stepped into the ballroom, Cecilia very nearly walked directly into Monsieur LeCompte. She’d met the tall, slim Parisian when she’d returned to London just a couple of weeks ago. He’d immediately impressed her with his knowledge of the people living here, especially the French expatriates who’d taken up residence in the city. He seemed to know all about their comings and goings and their activities.

She had been curious about him at their first meeting and had started observing him closely. She quickly discovered that there was more to him than he let people see. As she watched him at the various events they’d both attended, she’d come to understand that he wasn’t the shallow man he appeared to be. He was much more complicated than that, but her inner sense told her that he was essentially good, and she’d learned to trust that sense. It had never steered her wrong.

“
Bon soir, M LeCompte
,” Cecilia said.

M LeCompte’s cool gray eyes were focused intently upon Cecilia, and judging by his raised eyebrows, she’d managed to pique his curiosity. “
Mademoiselle
Paring,” he said, with a slight tip of his head. “
Quelle surprise
. You left with Mr. Kenning yet you return with Mr. Montlake.”

Startled, Cecilia could only stare at him blankly. It had never occurred to her that anyone would note that she’d acquired a different escort, let alone comment on the fact. It was unnerving to find that he was watching her so closely, but she did her best to shrug off her disquiet. “It isn’t surprising at all. Mr. Montlake is my partner for the next dance.”

“And so he stole you away from Mr. Kenning?” M LeCompte shot Devin a conspiratorial grin. “You must be a very eager fiancé.”

A muscle tightened in Devin’s jaw as he moved a little closer to her in a protective gesture. “You’re very observant,” Devin commented in a relaxed tone. It was so perfectly calm that Cecilia could imagine him using it in a courtroom.