Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) (11 page)

Freddie’s ears rang with a steady
click, click, click
.

A moment later, twin gasps punctured the air behind her. While clutching Tristan’s biceps for support, she peered over her shoulder.

Mrs. Biddleford, her gaze sharp despite the lack of spectacles perched on her long nose, beheld Freddie with unrestrained glee. Miss Maize, only as tall as her companion’s shoulder, fought a smirk. With her cheeks heating, Freddie faced forward, only to be confronted by Tristan’s panicked gaze.

He released her with alacrity. Freddie leaned against the wall for balance. Turning his gaze away from her, he said stiffly, “Yes, Miss Vale, the library is this way. Just down this hall. If you’ll excuse me, ladies?”

Without waiting for a response, he shouldered his way between the two older women and continued down the hall. His posture was stiff, his movements jerky. Had she noticed some heightened color in his face?

Her cheeks felt like a furnace as she met the two gossips’ examining gazes. As their attention roved over her, taking in every aspect of her from her staid coiffure to her modest walking dress, she felt as though they could see through to her very soul. She shifted in place, hoping her secrets weren’t shining on her face.

She cleared her throat. “I hope you’ll excuse me as well. I seem to be especially clumsy this afternoon. I believe I’ll go to my room and lay down.”

Mrs. Biddleford cackled as Freddie stepped forward. “Yes, I imagine you are…clumsy.”

Miss Maize beamed, her gaze sly. “I imagine I would be too, if I had Lord Graylocke’s strong arms to catch me.”

When the taller busybody nodded in answer, it looked a bit like the bob of a chicken’s head. “Yes, a sight better than the menfolk you’re usually accustomed to, isn’t it, Miss Vale?”

Freddie’s heart pounded faster. Were they talking about Harker? Surely they didn’t believe that she…entertained him the way her mother did. Freddie’s stomach swished at the thought. She would rather be cast out onto the street.

Ah, but would you rather Charlie was cast out?
Freddie swallowed hard. That was a future she dared not contemplate. It wouldn’t come to that. She would find the code book for Harker, and that would be that. However clever Tristan thought he was, he would not outsmart her.

She wiped her hands on her skirts. Throwing back her shoulders, she said in a prim tone, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Her eyes gleaming, Miss Maize pounced on the topic like a cat offered catnip. “If you’ll forgive us for saying so, that Lord Harker is hardly a pleasant one to look at.”

Freddie offered a tight smile. It was the closest to a pleasantry as she could come. “I hardly employ my time staring at him.”

When she tried to step past the pair, they shifted to block her.

Mrs. Biddleford added, “He does seem rather odious. One might wonder why you find yourself in his company at all.”

Freddie’s head spun. She bit the inside of her cheek to grant clarity. “I hardly have a choice. Lord Harker was kind enough to take my family in when we had nowhere else to go. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She stepped past the pair, her heart beating faster as she heard the rustle of muslin that indicated movement. Would they try to stop her?

Mrs. Biddleford called after her, “Is that why you’re so adamant in pursuing Lord Graylocke? To provide another choice.”

Breathing became difficult, like she tried to inhale sludge. She swallowed hard, but even then, couldn’t come up with something to say. Instead, she beat a hasty retreat. Her legs shook by the time she reached her chamber.

I’m not pursuing him. He’s pursuing me—and not for the reason you think.

L
ace tickled Freddie’s nose
. She batted it away, fighting a sneeze. When she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to puzzle out why the room was sideways. She must have fallen asleep. Guilt nagged at her stomach over a wasted afternoon—the light slanting in through the window indicated that sunset approached. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Charlie stood in front of her, beaming. A mint-green underdress was draped over her arm. The bottom six inches were tiered in lace with small white flowers embroidered above where it had been hastily added to the hem.

“I promised I would finish it, and I did.”

Freddie’s mouth fell open. “When did you find the time?”

Her sister grinned. “I made the time. You’ll wear it tonight, won’t you? I want to give you every advantage.”

Freddie reached out. When her fingers touched the smooth waterfall of fabric, she had to blink away tears.
I want the same for you, Charlotte.
She waited until she had her emotions under control before she craned her neck back to look her sister in the eye. Freddie’s throat was thick with tears. Her sister radiated satisfaction and pride.

“Is there no one who catches your eye here, Charlie?”

Her sister made a face. “No. Freddie, I’ve told you, I’m not interested in marriage yet. I have time yet before I have to decide.”

Not if I don’t procure the code book for Harker.
Freddie’s chest filled with a hot burn. She gritted her teeth. The look in Charlie’s eye, if anything, made Freddie even more determined to do his bidding. She would earn that promised cabin and dowry for her sister if it was the last thing she did.

She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Will you take the rest of the party to enjoy yourself?”

Charlie draped the dress over the royal blue settee and straightened. Her smile was blinding in its brilliance. “I will, as long as you promise to do the same.”

Freddie choked back a laugh. Now that Tristan knew of her spying arrangement with Harker, she didn’t know how that would be possible.

* * *

F
reddie sat squarely
in the middle of the long table. The white tablecloth tickled her legs. To her right, at the very end of the table, was the Graylocke family, seated in a square next to the guests of honor, who Freddie gathered were also related to the Tenwick title in some peripheral way. The youngest, Lucy sat opposite her mother with the duke in between them. Diagonal from her, on the dowager duchess’s right, was Tristan. Several yards and myriad people separated them, but even so, every time Freddie cast her gaze toward the head of the table, she found Tristan staring at her. At that distance, in the shimmering light cast by the chandelier overhead, she couldn’t make out his expression.

Pressing her lips together, she focused on the food on her plate, spiced beef and creamed parsnips. With Tristan’s gaze on her, her stomach jumped and buzzed like it was filled with grasshoppers. She moved her food around her plate, but didn’t eat.

On Freddie’s left, her sister leaned closer. “I think Lord Graylocke is staring at you.”

Freddie didn’t look up. “You must be mistaken.”

“Am I?”

The wondering note in Charlie’s voice made Freddie rear her head in alarm. Her sister wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to her anymore. Instead, she was busy staring at the head of the table. Her eyes were narrowed, her thick brown eyelashes jutting out like the accusing point of fingers.

“I thought I caught him paying attention to you during Church this morning.”

Freddie didn’t like the look on her sister’s face. She gulped a hasty sip of wine. “How would you know? He wasn’t sitting with us.” Her voice emerged high and thin, not at all natural.

Charlie didn’t seem to notice. Her attention remained, unwaveringly, on Tristan. “He sat in the row behind us with his brothers. I saw him when I stretched my neck.”

Charlie always had a more difficult time concentrating during Church than Freddie.

She hazarded a gaze at Tristan. He appeared to notice her sister’s regard. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. He said something in reply to his mother and picked at his food, but a moment later, his gaze returned.

“Aha!”

The exclamation was no louder than a whisper, but Freddie cringed all the same. A quick glance down the table proved that no one appeared to have noticed. For that reason alone, Freddie was glad that Charlie had tenaciously claimed the seat next to her instead of adhering to the seating schedule that paired women with male partners on either side to encourage conversation. Freddie doubted that a man seated between them would have stopped her sister from engaging in this conversation. At least this way, they weren’t overheard.

Charlie leaned so close that the artfully arranged curl by her temple tickled Freddie’s cheek. “He did it again. He is definitely looking at you.”

“Are you certain he isn’t looking at you?”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Why would he be staring at me? We’ve scarcely exchanged two words.”

“And you think he and I have held a debate?”

“You spent the morning with him yesterday in battledore.”

Freddie winced. She was right.

And, judging by the shrewd gaze Charlie turned on her, her sister knew it, too. “You know him infinitely better than I do.”

That is closer to the truth than you know.

Freddie had difficulty finding her voice. She spluttered. “I would-ldn’t say that I know him well. He… He and I…” She stared around the room, hoping for an excuse. Weakly, she ended, “He is c-competitive, is all. We didn’t speak. At least, not much. We—”

Stop talking!

Freddie shut her mouth. She didn’t like the gleam in Charlie’s eye.

“If you’re certain,” Charlotte said, drawing out her words.

“I am.” Freddie answered a touch too quick, judging by the smug look in her sister’s eye. She remedied, “You’re bosom friends with his sister. He must be looking at you.”

As the servants emerged in a parade to clear away the guests’ plates and serve the dessert course, Charlie held her tongue. Freddie was thankful for the respite. She didn’t dare look at the head of the table now, whether or not Tristan was staring at her.

Somehow, she had to find a way to escape his company this evening, before her sister came to the wrong conclusion.

* * *

A
s the ladies
engaged in needlework, the chatter in the drawing room was low, like the soft buzz of insects on a calm summer’s day. Leaning forward in her seat, clad in a pink dress with seed pearls sewn into the bodice, Lucy matched the strength of the whispers. She laid her hand on Freddie’s knee.

“I hope you aren’t still angry with Tristan.”

“Angry with him? For what?” Freddie abhorred his association with the French, but Lucy couldn’t possibly know that.

She drew back, making a face. “For his crude behavior during battledore yesterday.”

Freddie shook her head. It seemed a lifetime ago. “I assure you, it is forgotten.”

Lucy perked up a bit. A black curl tumbled into her forehead, lending her a girlish look. Her brown eyes gleamed. “Then you like him.”

Not in the least.
Freddie caught herself from gritting her teeth and tried to smile instead. “I like him as well as may be.”

Lucy exchanged a sour look with Charlie, on Freddie’s other side. They had boxed her into their usual corner, not allowing Freddie to move so much as an inch without gaining a sharp glare. Both women now looked as though they’d bitten into a lemon.

Good. They can suck on that response for a while.
With luck, it would convince her sister that she and Tristan harbored no feelings for each other whatsoever. None, at the very least, that didn’t sprout from acting as spies on opposite sides of the war.

In the corner of the room, the pendulum clock swung back and forth with a steady tick, tick, tick. Each swing settled between Freddie’s shoulders, growing tighter and reminding her that she had a mission to complete. She’d already wasted two days.

She had to find that code book at all costs.

“I’m dreadfully tired. I believe I’ll turn in early for the night.” Freddie’s voice was strained and her cheeks were hot. She didn’t think her claim was that far from the truth.

The moment she stood up, Lucy—on her left—latched onto her arm. “You can’t!” Something close to desperation lit Lucy’s voice. “Not yet. The festivities are about to begin.”

Between her dark gaze and Charlie’s light one, Freddie felt as though she treaded a thin line. She bit her lower lip, uneasy. She hesitated just long enough for Charlie to grip her other arm. Her sister’s blue eyes turned pleading.

“Please, Freddie? Stay a moment more. I didn’t spend all that time on adjusting the dress for you to sit in your room.”

Guilt sank its claws into Freddie’s stomach. Charlie had worked hard on the dress. Beneath one of Freddie’s thin, net muslin overdresses, it looked divine. The neckline plunged a bit too low for Freddie’s comfort, but she’d solved that problem handily by wearing a fichu. The gloves she’d chosen, with the sunny yellow flowers on the back, sported leaves that closely matched the color of the underdress. Even her slippers were embroidered with threads that complemented the shade.

Slowly, she slipped back into the chair. “Thank you again for your effort, Charlie. I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”

Charlotte beamed. “Not at all. I’m happy you like it.” With a smirk, she retracted her hand and returned to her embroidery.

Freddie hoped she wasn’t altering another of her dresses, but she was too afraid to ask. She leaned back in the chair, surveying the room as she searched for her mother’s comforting face. She couldn’t find her. Where was Mama? She’d seated herself alongside Lady Graylocke earlier this evening.

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Freddie dropped her gaze to her hands. She couldn’t have returned to her room to await Lord Harker, could she have? No, not two days in a row. It would have been suspicious in the eyes of the guests.

Not to mention in Freddie’s eyes.

To her left, Lucy held her lower lip between her teeth as she furiously scribbled her thoughts into her notebook. As Freddie watched, Lucy filled a page with indecipherable script and turned it to cram more words on the other side. Whatever her idea, it must have a tenacious grip.

On Freddie’s right, Charlie shivered with a jolt. A moment later, she did it again.

“Are you cold?”

Charlie made a face. “Only a touch. It’s my neck. I should have worn a fichu tonight.”

Without thinking, Freddie’s hand rose to her neck. “Take mine.” In an instant, she pulled it free and offered it to her sister. A thin, sheer bit of cloth, it wasn’t much protection, but it was better than nothing.

With a sweet smile, Charlie said, “Thank you, Freddie. How thoughtful of you.” She tied the triangle of cloth around her neck as if she hadn’t a care how fashionable it looked.

Freddie’s fingers twitched. She itched to adjust the set of the fichu, but she feared offending her sister. Finally, she could take it no longer. “Let me fix that.” She leaned forward, straightening the neckline filler until it hung better.

Although Charlie usually fussed when Freddie straightened her clothes, tonight she remained quiet. Freddie narrowed her eyes, but didn’t comment on that fact.

A moment later, the gentlemen poured into the room. Lucy bounded to her feet, waving her hand through the air. “Tristan, over here!”

Freddie’s stomach dropped. Lucy had positioned herself facing the door, but Freddie had only to look to her right to spot Tristan’s tall, muscular form. The other women in the room appeared to be staring in his direction as well. At least, those whose attention was not squarely focused on Freddie’s group. She battled a blush as she leaned back in the chair, thanking her luck that her back was to the rest of the room.

Two men separated from the flood at the door, Tristan and the duke. The duke’s expression was stoic, almost forbidding as he crossed a pace behind Tristan to reach them.

When he reached the three women, the duke raised a sardonic brow. “A wave would have sufficed, Lucy.”