Shana Galen (15 page)

“Is this because she is a woman, or is this because you truly do not see how she would be beneficial?” Lady Smythe asked. Elinor could not help but stare at her. She did not seem to care one whit that both her husband and Winn were glaring at her. She stood, twirling her dagger in some fancy dance across her fingers and looking as pretty as a debutante at her first garden party. “Because any day you want to test your skills against mine, Baron, I’m open to the challenge.”

Elinor barely had time to flinch, much less scream, before the dagger flew across the room. She whirled about and saw it had wedged itself directly in the center of the nose of the man in the portrait opposite.

Winn did not even turn and look. He might have fooled the others into thinking he was unimpressed, but she could see his fingers flexing. That was a sign he had taken note of Lady Smythe’s agility with the dagger. “This is not about you, Lady Smythe. This is a domestic issue.”

“Really? Well, tell that to Foncé, because he seemed to think he had every right to abduct your wife.”

“Sophia, perhaps we might assist with the search,” Lord Smythe said, taking her arm and leading her from the room.

Elinor prepared for another argument with Winn, but Melbourne spoke first. “Saint has a point, Baron. Sending her away will not protect her. The only thing that will do that is capturing Foncé.”

“Are you suggesting I involve my wife further in this mission?” Winn asked.

“I’m not suggesting it, old boy. I’m ordering it.”

Winn did not understand what had happened. When had women become spies? And when had they taken over the Barbican group? He’d never even seen a woman step through its doors before, and now there were two women in Melbourne’s office, and they were wreaking havoc. Wolf did not look as though he shared Winn’s opinion. He was watching Saint and smiling. “What are you smiling about?” Winn asked.

Wolf laughed. “It was a shock to me at first, but you’ll become used to the idea.”

“What idea?” Winn was appalled. “My wife is not going to become a spy.”

Wolf shrugged. “Too bad. She’d make a damn fine one.”

Winn could not argue with that. He’d always admired her efficiency and eye for detail. He’d watched her organize a lavish ball in three days flat. She could coordinate food, invitations, decoration, and musicians all at once and make it look easy.

But this was not a ball. This was serious. The Maîtriser group was a threat to the sovereignty of the nation, not a social event. “The problem,” Winn said, interrupting whatever the women were prattling on about, “is now that Foncé has relocated, we are back to where we started. Not to mention, I was not able to gather any intelligence regarding the plot to assassinate the prince regent. I’m afraid His Highness is still in grave danger.”

“Well, fortunately, as I was saying before you interrupted, I was able to gather intelligence on the plot,” Saint said.

“The
assassination
plot?” Winn asked incredulously. “I don’t think so.”

Wolf leaned closer. “Would you like me to hand you a shovel? That hole you are digging grows rather large.”

“I think Lord Melbourne can be the judge of that.” Saint opened the beaded scrap of fabric dangling from her wrist and pulled out two sheets of parchment. She unfolded them, smoothed them, and handed them to Melbourne.

Melbourne, who was leaning back in his chair and sipping brandy, took the papers and perused them. Winn had to resist the urge to snatch them out of Melbourne’s hand. Melbourne looked up at him, almost as though he’d read Winn’s mind. “Interesting reading. Where did you find this?”

Sophia smiled. “Adrian and I rifled one of the bedrooms. Those were in the desk.”

Winn scowled. He’d never even had a chance to search the house.

“The plans are not specific as to time and place,” Melbourne said, “but they do contain coded references. I’ll have one of our ciphers take a look.”

“I’ve already deciphered it,” Saint said, handing Melbourne a sheet of foolscap. “It lists names of agents working for the Maîtriser group.”

“If those agents are mentioned in the plans,” Elinor said, “they must be in London. Finding one of them might be the key to finding Foncé.”

Of course it was, Winn thought, still scowling. But it was annoying to have his wife think of the idea. She was
not
going to become a spy.

“Good point,” Melbourne said. Winn wanted to roll his eyes. Damn the secretary for encouraging her. “I’ll have some of our agents start canvassing the area. Unfortunately, most of our men are abroad.”

Winn was relieved to hear the secretary say
men
. He did not think he could have tolerated more women in the group.

“You four—”

“Three,” Winn interjected. Elinor gave him an annoyed glance.

But Melbourne continued unperturbed. “—will have to investigate as well. And that’s not all.”

“Bodyguards,” Wolf said, even as Winn thought it. Were they now going to be reduced to acting as the prince’s bodyguards?

“I’ll speak to His Royal Highness,” Melbourne said, “but you know how he is. He will be initially terrified and amenable to staying out of the public eye.”

“And then he’ll grow bored,” Saint added, “and want to venture out. I think this is an area where Lady Keating and I could prove even more useful.”

“How is that?” Elinor asked.

“No one will suspect two women as part of the prince’s entourage. I can protect him while Lady Keating watches for anyone or anything suspicious. If the Maîtriser group thinks the prince is unprotected, it might make Foncé’s men bolder. And if they act, I can intercept them.”

“Capital idea,” Melbourne said.

Winn clenched his hands around the arms of the chair. It was not capital, not at all. What Saint had not said explicitly was that everyone would think Lady Smythe and Lady Keating were the prince’s mistresses. Winn glanced at Wolf, who seemed to find the whole situation… if not amusing, not distressing. But Winn did not want his wife associated with the prince and the man’s lascivious tastes.

“All of you should go home and rest,” Melbourne directed. “I’ll send for you later and let you know my plan.”

Wolf and Saint rose to depart, but Winn hesitated. Elinor did as well, clearly waiting to hear what Winn had to say. Fine, let her hear it.

“My lord,” Winn said, “I respect your experience and authority.”

Melbourne’s brow rose. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“But I prefer my wife not become involved in this. She is not an agent of the Barbican group. She’s my wife and the mother of my children.”

“And you think that means I would not make a good agent?” Elinor challenged him, hands on her hips. He glared at her, willing her to silence. He planned to deal with her when they arrived home.

“I’m aware of Lady Keating’s identity,” Melbourne said, “but I believe she has skills that might serve us well. She managed to incapacitate one of Foncé’s men, remained calm and collected in the face of danger, not to mention she escaped Foncé himself. Many of our own cannot make that claim. However, I respect your authority as her husband. If you do not want her involved—”

“How dare you!” Elinor stepped in front of Winn and poked her finger in his chest. “How dare you treat me as though I were a child. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I have done so without you for the last fourteen years. And my decision is that I wish to be a part of this case. I am already involved, and became so the moment Foncé abducted me.”

“She has a point there,” Melbourne muttered.

Winn gave him a dark look. “We’ll discuss this at home,” he told Elinor.

“Oh, no we will not.” Elinor turned to Melbourne. “I am going to assist, one way or another. If you leave me out, you will be sorry.”

Winn grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the room and into the corridor. The Smythes were not to be seen, and Winn thanked God for small mercies. “What the devil are you about?” he demanded. “You do not threaten the head of the Barbican group.”

“What the devil are
you
about?” she countered. “Who are you to tell me what to do? It’s your fault I am involved in this to begin with.” She pulled away from him and marched ahead.

“And I’m ending your involvement right now!” he called after her.

“Go ahead and try!” She hailed a hackney cab at the corner, and when Winn went after her, she told the jarvey to drive on. Winn had to flag his own hackney down, and he did so fuming. She wasn’t going to escape him long. He would show her he was not so easy to dismiss.

When Winn arrived home, Bramson took his coat and informed him Lady Keating had also just arrived. “I know,” Winn snapped. He knew he should take the time to reassure the servant that the baroness was well and unharmed, but he was in no mood to deal with anyone. “Where is she?”

“I believe she retired to her bedchamber, my lord.”

“Good.” He took the steps two at a time, marched down the corridor to his room. He entered, tossed his cravat on the bed, and went to the adjoining door. It was locked.

Fury engulfed him, and he gritted his teeth. He was not going to knock on his own door in his own house. She had never locked him out before, and she was not going to start today. Winn raised one booted foot and smashed it into the door. The door splintered but held.

“I see you do not require my assistance at the moment, my lord,” his valet said from the doorway.

“No, I do not,” Winn said, stepping back and preparing to kick the door again.

“I might have a key for that door,” the valet offered.

Winn considered. “Thank you, but I prefer this approach.” He took a final step back, raised his leg, and kicked the door in. He stormed in and stared at an empty room. And then he heard a woman’s voice and started for Elinor’s dressing room. The door was closed, but he did not let that stop him. He kicked it open and burst inside. And was greeted with two shrieks.

Elinor sat in a hip tub, her back to him, but her head turned so he could see her wide, startled eyes. Her maid was kneeling on the floor, holding a washcloth and soap.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Elinor demanded.

Winn looked at the maid. “Get out.”

The woman rose hastily. “Yes, my lord.”

“No! Bridget! Stay!”

It annoyed Winn that the maid hesitated, but he was also pleased to see his wife inspired that much loyalty in the servants. It explained why they rarely had to hire new help and why Society never buzzed with rumors about them. The maid glanced up at him, and Winn raised a brow. “I imagine you have something to press or sew, Bridget.”

“Yes, my lord.” The maid bobbed.

“Her ladyship will send for you when we have finished our conversation.”

“Yes, my lord. I am sorry, my lady.” And the maid rushed from the room. Winn waited until he heard the outer door close, and then he folded his arms. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, the wet chemise revealing the pale skin of her legs. She had her arms crossed over her chest, but Winn could imagine the way the wet material would cling and mold to her skin there too.

Suddenly, he was not so angry.

“Not so easy to escape me now, is it?”

“I was not trying to evade you. I simply did not wish to continue our conversation.” She shifted, leaning down and wrapping her arms about her knees. “If your intent is to come in here and dictate what I can and cannot do, then you might as well leave.”

Oh, he was not leaving. Not now. Not until he had her stripped bare.

“Why is it so unpleasant to obey my orders? You might find it pleasurable. If you were willing to try it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are we speaking of the Barbican group?”

He approached the tub and held a hand out. “Stand up, and we shall see.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want this.”

“You’re my wife. You do not have a choice.”

Her brows lowered in annoyance. Winn was annoyed himself. What was wrong with him today? Even if the law dictated she was his property, reminding her of her subordinate status was not the best approach.

“Do you intend to rape me then? Is that why you came in here?”

“No.” Didn’t she know him any better than that? Or did she know him just well enough to realize how much that barb would sting? “Although I must admit I am on unfamiliar ground. You have never refused me before.”

“Accustom yourself to it.” Her voice shook slightly, and he realized she was probably getting chilled in the cooling water. And still, she’d rather sit in cold water and shiver than step into his arms. The idea would have deflated the ego of another man. Her reaction didn’t exactly speak to his prowess as a lover. So perhaps he would have to show her he was preferable to chattering teeth and shivering flesh.

“Or perhaps I might persuade you to try things my way.”

She shook her head. For the first time, Winn began to feel that perhaps he was not going to be able to earn her love again. Perhaps his efforts were futile. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He had to try. “Just this once. If you don’t like what I’m doing, you may stop me at any time.”

“Really? You will stop?”

“Test me.” But she wasn’t going to want him to stop.

“Fine. Hand me that robe.” She stood, and though she crossed her arms over her chest, she could not hide everything at once, and the material clung to her rounded hips and thighs. Winn felt his throat go dry. The last thing he wanted to do was hand her a robe, but she was shivering, and he didn’t want her to catch cold either.

He handed her the robe and watched her shrug it on, then step out of the tub and disappear behind a screen. A moment later, the wet chemise appeared over the edge of the screen, and Elinor emerged, brushing her hair over one shoulder.

“Come here,” he said, holding a hand out. It was extremely hard to be patient, knowing she was naked beneath that flimsy robe. Knowing one tug of the knot at her waist would bare all of her to him.

“Has the test begun then?”

“Come here.”

“What if I do not like the way you order me about?”

He smiled, masking his annoyance. He had been trained in the art of patience and endurance. He could wait her out. “Why don’t you come here? You might like what I order you to do.”

Her face flushed, and if he was not mistaken, her chest rose and fell just a little quicker. She still wanted him. Now he had to show her that her desire would be rewarded. In the back of his mind, he was aware this had begun as a way to force her to give up the Barbican group. But at some point he had forgotten that goal. Perhaps it was when he’d seen she was in the bath. Perhaps it was when she’d stood.

All Winn knew was at that moment he didn’t care one farthing whether she became a spy or not. He wanted her naked beneath him. Or on top of him. And she thought he wasn’t adaptable.

She took one step and then another, and Winn took one himself to meet her in the middle. The bed, and his goal, were in the next room, but he would find his way there. In the meantime, he saw a sturdy dressing table he might make use of.

Winn put an arm around her waist and drew her close. She smelled of the soap she’d been using, something clean and sweet and not too heavy. That was Elinor. She never overpowered.

For once, Winn thought he might like to be overpowered.

But that was not for today.

“Do you know why I was so angry at the Ramsgates’ ball?” he murmured, stroking a finger over one warm cheek and down the curve of her jaw.

“Because you are unreasonable?”

He laughed. Had she always been this amusing? “Try again.”

“Because I was dancing with that boy?”