Midnight Bride (44 page)

"Love.
Ha."

"You do not believe in love?" Louisa
asked,
a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"Not much good comes of it," he told her firmly. "Most marriages made for the sake of love that I have known have been disasters. Give me something more substantial any day. Property, advancement—those are good reasons for marriage."

"I disagree. My husband and I married because we loved each other. And our marriage was a happy one."

"If he had lived, I believe you would have grown apart," the earl said, not at all happy to have his ideas questioned.

"And what is your basis for thinking that?" she asked. "Have you made a study of marriage?"

"Only those around me.
Most of them are less than felicitous." The earl frowned as he watched Elizabeth walk onto the floor with someone other than her husband. The look in Dunstan's eyes revealed his annoyance. When a gentleman of her acquaintance asked Louisa to dance, the earl scowled. Then she stood by the door, his head tilted back, his eyes on the grandson and his wife.

"At least Dunstan and Elizabeth are not making themselves the center of all eyes," Charles said, noticing that the couple was at opposite ends of the room. "I would never wear my heart on my sleeve like they were doing for a time." The earl coughed to cover his laughter. Even he had been aware of Charles's infatuation.

"I presume you are referring to your sister and my grandson?" the earl asked.

"You have seen them.
Staring into each other's eyes as though they were alone.
Just yesterday I surprised them in the library. Startled, that's what I was, to see them kissing that way. They are married." Charles's voice was filled with disgust.

"And married people are not allowed to kiss?"

"Not in public. And look at them now." The earl looked back to the dance floor. The music had ended, and Elizabeth had returned to Dunstan's side.
"Gazing into each other's eyes like young puppies.
Someone will have to speak to them before they go to town."

The earl took another look at his grandson and his wife. The sight did not reassure him. Glaring would have been a better word than gazing. "Whom do you suggest for the job?" The question brought Charles's commentary to an end. "Perhaps you can convince them."

"Not me. They will never listen to me. Mama or you,
that's
the best. They will listen to you."

"I believe I will pass the opportunity on to your mother. Have you been to the card room tonight?"

The rest of the evening the earl spent in the card room, only emerging when it was time for supper to be served. Once again his eyes followed Elizabeth and Dunstan, noting that even though his grandson filled her plate, there was
a coolness
between them. But Elizabeth's eyes seemed to follow Dunstan everywhere. Even when he was speaking to someone else, she knew where he was, what he was saying. The earl sighed, his eyes hooded once more.

The trip back to Clarendon had been a reminder of Elizabeth and Dunstan's first journey. The earl, who enjoyed his privacy, had chosen to take his own coach, and the servants had traveled with the luggage. Once again the couple had dallied along the way, arriving hours after the earl. They dashed into the Hall, flushed and laughing. They handed their cloaks, hat, and bonnet to a waiting footman, being careful not to look at each other. Dunstan, freed of his apparel faster than his wife, waited impatiently. As soon as she was free, he grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the stairs.

They had only taken two steps upward when the butler appeared. "Lord Dunstan, this message arrived for you a short time ago. The man who delivered it said it was urgent." As though he were handling a dangerous snake, the butler held out the letter. It reeked of roses.

Dunstan stared at it, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Elizabeth took one look, glared at her husband, pulled her hand free, and ran up the stairs. "Elizabeth," Dunstan called, but she ignored him. He heard the door slam, but by then he had read the message. "Send word to the stable to saddle our fastest horse." He grabbed his hat and cloak and looked up the stairs longingly. "And tell the
chef to pack me something I can eat while I ride. Tell my wife and my grandfather I should be home within the week." He drew his cloak around him and pulled his hat over his ears.

"Roses," Elizabeth fumed.
"Cheap scent and a cheaper woman, no doubt.
And to think I had forgiven him." And she probably would again. But their first enjoyment of each other was lost. "My husband is not even my own. I have to share him as I shared Charles's mother." Her sense of abuse grew by the day. By the time Dunstan returned, Elizabeth's anger had grown to epic proportions.

He arrived four days after he had left. He needed to be shaved. His clothes looked and smelled like he had slept in them as he had. After four days of a mistress who found fault with everyone, his servants took one look at Dunstan and decided to make certain they were far away when he and Elizabeth met.

Perhaps recognizing the problems he might be facing, Dunstan chose to have his bath in his dressing room. Then clean, shaved, and fed, he sought out his wife. He had seen her face when the butler put that letter in his hand and had spent the last four days trying to decide what to tell her. Fortunately, the decision had been taken out of his hands. He had been recognized and almost taken. Only the quick work of another agent had saved him. After Seward had heard his report, had blasted him for his carelessness, he had also given Dunstan permission to explain things to his family.

Taking a deep breath, Dunstan entered their bedroom. He had heard Elizabeth's voice a moment ago. When he walked in, she was in front of the fire, her brown curls wrapped in a towel. "So the prodigal returns—again," she said bitterly. "How soon will you leave this time?"

"Elizabeth? Love?"

"Interesting that you should call me that.
It must make it easier to convince the woman you are with that you are talking to her."

Dunstan walked in front of her, his blue eyes flashing. "I have never been unfaithful to you, Elizabeth."

"And I imagine you will tell me that you have never had a mistress either. A friend you went to school with has a passion for roses."

"That is not what I said. Besides, any mistress I had was before I met you."

"Before my first Season, then?"

"No, before I met you again last spring," Dunstan said between clenched teeth. He kept reminding himself that she had a right to be angry, but that did not make him feel any better.

"Interesting how your story changes." She twisted around so that her back was toward him.

He walked over to her, grabbed her shoulders, and turned her to face him. "You are going to listen to me now. And you can believe what I say. If you don't believe me, I have witnesses."

"They must have seen some interesting sights," she said in her most biting tones.

"What they saw was my capture by a French spy. If the other men working for Seward had not been there, I would be dead." Her face blanched. "I could not tell you before because Seward would not let me. We have been trying to catch this agent for months. She worked out of Bristol and did great harm to British shipping."

"She?"

"The agent's name is Angelique
Martine.
She worked the brothels in Bristol, choosing her prey carefully. Somehow she learned my name and sent me a message offering to sell information about Napoleon's plans for the invasion."

Elizabeth
pulled free, not at all certain whether to believe his story but hoping it was true. "I suppose she got away.'

"No. She will be brought to trial in a very short time. And, woman or no, she will hang." Dunstan stepped back, watching his wife's face.

"Did your grandfather know?" she asked, wondering what she would do if he said yes. A faint glint of anger simmered in her.

"No. Oh, he made a game of guessing, but I did not tell him anything." Dunstan took her hand. "If I had told anyone, don't you know that I would have told you?"

Elizabeth looked at him, noting the way he looked into her eyes, apparently unafraid of what she would see there. She sighed, remembering how Edgerton had betrayed her trust. Could she trust her husband's story? She closed her eyes. "Will this happen again?"

For the first time Dunstan felt hope. "I cannot promise that it will not. At the present time it seems
an impossibility
. Too many people know who I am. A spy or spy catcher is only useful if he or she is anonymous." He watched her carefully.

She took a turn around the room, picking up small objects here and there and moving them to another spot. Then she stopped. "I thought I was losing you or would be forced to share. And one thing I refuse to accept is sharing my husband." Her voice was very quiet and calm, almost too calm. Its normal huskiness had an edge. Her face revealed little of what she was feeling, what she was hoping.

Dunstan looked at her set face and realized the importance of that statement. In a tone as serious as hers, he replied. "I will never leave you. If my country needs my services, I will go," he said, his
voice
ringing with honesty. "But what I can promise is that as long as there is life in my body, I will come back to you."

Elizabeth said nothing, letting the silence grow. Then she sighed. "You were working for Lord Seward?" she asked as if for confirmation. He nodded, refusing to add his pleas to the facts he had presented. He watched as she walked aimlessly around the room, her face thoughtful. Finally she stopped and faced him, her decision made and her resolve firm. "Where were we before you left?" she asked. He smiled broadly and reached out to pull her into his embrace.

After the turmoil of the first few days of January, the next week or so was calm. Elizabeth reviewed her plans for refurbishing the Hall, and Dunstan helped the men check on the stock. They would be leaving for London before very long;
Cecile
had insisted that they both swear blood oaths that they would be close at hand to support her. Mrs. Westin had added her mite to their decision. "I so dread going out in company again. What if
Cecile
becomes infatuated with a fortune hunter? Her grandfather would never forgive me."

Nor would Charles, Elizabeth said to herself. Aloud she merely said, "You will be a wonderful chaperon.
Cecile
loves you so much that she will follow your lead in matters of society. And my family will be there to help you."