Shana Galen (5 page)

Her illusions evaporated as soon as she stepped foot in Lady Hollingshead’s vestibule. The house was in a frenzy of madness, servants running to and fro, crashing into one another, and dropping platters, plate, and silver.

Elinor stepped in front of a harried-looking maid. “Where is your mistress?”

“In the garden, my lady.” The girl bobbed a quick curtsy and rushed away.

Elinor narrowly avoided several collisions as she made her way to the garden. The scene outside was as bad as in the house proper, if not worse. As soon as Jane saw Elinor, she rushed to her side. “We are done for. Done for!”

Elinor spotted Mary, Lady Ramsgate, coming toward them. She’d been speaking to a small group of servants, and she rolled her eyes.

“Jane, you must calm yourself. It is only a garden party.”

“Only?
Only
a garden party? Do you know who has promised to attend?”

Elinor glanced at Mary, who only shook her head and pressed her lips together. No help there. Elinor looked about at the mad preparations. “The Queen?”

“No.” Jane frowned, her blue eyes creasing. “Although that would be very exciting. Someone almost as illustrious as the Queen.”

“The prime minister?”

“No. Now I know why you keep referring to this as
only
a garden party. No one of any consequence is attending!”

Elinor sighed. “Jane, I don’t think I should guess anymore. Simply tell me.”

“The prince regent.”

Elinor tried not to grimace. “Oh. Prinny. Well, that should be exciting.”

“Yes!” Jane clutched Elinor’s arm and looped her other arm through Mary’s. “And I want everything to be perfect, but nothing is ready. Nothing! And the party is tomorrow evening.”

Elinor glanced about. There was a great deal of activity, but little had actually been accomplished. Mary finally spoke. “Jane, all you need is a bit of organization.”

“I am no good at organizing, you know that. Elinor, could you please,
please
help me?”

“Of course.” What were friends for if not to assist in times of need? No matter that Elinor’s head was still reeling from Winn’s strange behavior last night. No matter that he’d been gone before breakfast, and the girls had not even had a chance to see him. No matter that she would have to be the one—as usual—to witness the girls’ disappointment when he did not attend their play. No matter.

The one thing she could do was organize a party.

“Very well. Stand back.” Elinor stepped forward.

“Here we go,” Mary said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Elinor raised her hands. “Stop. All of you, stop.” She did not raise her voice, only spoke in an authoritative tone. Slowly, the bevy of servants ceased their mad flitting about and looked at her. “Now, gather around and listen carefully. This is what you are going to do.”

She laid out a simple list of what needed to be accomplished in order of priority, and then she went about assigning groups of servants to each task, with the highest-ranking servant in charge and the others as assistants. She told them to report back to her in one hour, then calmly walked about offering encouragement, suggestions, and resolving disputes. After an hour, the group in charge of the lanterns had finished, and the others were making splendid progress. The household looked busy and industrious. Even the viscount stepped outside for a moment and peered about at his diligent staff with something akin to wonder.

Lady Hollingshead beamed and insisted on showing him
her
preparations. Elinor let her have the credit and then sent the group of servants who had finished to the kitchen for refreshments for the rest of the staff. Finally, she strode to where Mary sat under a large white canopy. “We should have another update in three-quarters of an hour. I think we are well on our way.” She took a seat on the chaise longue and finally had a moment to enjoy the day.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Mary said, looking about and shaking her head. “Jane was desperate when I arrived, and I simply couldn’t think where to begin. Now it seems all is underway.” She gestured to Jane and Lord Hollingshead. “Are you going to allow her to pretend this is all her doing?”

Elinor laughed. “Of course.”

“And when all falls apart after you return home?”

“I shall come by in the morning to make certain all the last-minute preparations go smoothly. We don’t want to disappoint the prince.”

Mary smiled. “No, heavens no!” She looked down at her hands. “Will you be attending alone?”

Now Elinor took a deep breath. She would have been much more comfortable discussing party details. “Most probably.”

“Then I take it your reunion was not all you had hoped and more.”

“It was…” Elinor tried to find the appropriate word. “Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Mary leaned closer. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

Elinor laughed, then rose and took Mary’s arm. “Let’s walk for a moment. We can’t talk in private with all this hustle and bustle.” They strode into the garden and away from the main house.

When they were some distance from the servants, Mary said, “What happened? Did he have any explanation for his disappearance last night?”

Elinor studied the hedges near her and made a note to tell the Hollingsheads’ gardener to trim them. “Of course not.”

Mary sighed, and Elinor shook her head. “He chastised me for attending without him and looking like a harlot.”

“That is promising. Is he finally jealous?”

“I thought the same thing, and do you know, I do not care anymore.”

Mary clapped, surprising Elinor. “Bravo! Why you continued to hold out hope he would fall in love with you is beyond me. He is an idiot not to see how fortunate he is.”

Elinor smiled sadly. It was a lovely sentiment, but she did not believe it. She had never truly felt worthy of Winn. He was so charming, so amusing, so handsome. He could have married far better than the likes of her.

“I wish it were so easy to forget him. I look at Winn and my thoughts…” She could feel her face heating. “I want to do things to him I know would shock him. They shock
me
.” She scuffed her half boot on the gravel walk.

“Really?” Mary’s voice rose with interest. “I don’t think they would shock me. Maybe you should try one or two. And then give me all of the details!”

Elinor laughed, then wanted to cry. “He doesn’t want me, Mary. And I—you are right. I realized it last night. I deserve more. I want more.” She wanted more than a life of planning balls and waiting interminably for Winn to return home. She might not be pretty or witty or fascinating, but she had been a loyal wife and a good mother. She did not deserve his cold disinterest. “Even if Winn were to fall madly in love with me today, it’s too late. He’s killed the last feelings of love I harbored for him.”

“Which leaves the field open for Mr. Trollope. You know how I feel about liaisons.”

“Yes, but Mr. Trollope is exciting and passionate and…” Elinor clasped her hands together. “
Dangerous.
And he wants
me
.”

“He’s a rake, Elinor. It is one thing to dance with him at a ball, quite another to pursue anything more.”

“He’s not a rake—well, not as much of one as he portrays.” She glanced about to make certain no one was listening then lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t even tell you this, but Rafe—Mr. Trollope—told me he only acts the rake in public. It’s all a facade.”

“For what?”

“He’s actually a spy.”

“A spy? You’ve read too many accounts of the war.”

“But that is exactly how I know he is telling me the truth. Everything he says is in line with what I have read.” Elinor looked about again to make certain they were alone. “I told you, I shouldn’t even be confiding this to you. He’s a spy for the Foreign Office, an elite group called the Babylon group.”

“The Babylon group? Did you read about that in
The
Times
?”

“No. But the papers did mention an elite group, only not by name. Mr. Trollope is part of this group, and he was one of the men responsible for the capture of Bonaparte. He also passed on key information that led to Wellington’s success at Waterloo.”

“I had no idea.” Mary took out her fan and began wafting it in front of her face. “Why has he not been knighted for his service?”

“I asked him the same thing. He
has
been knighted, but he must keep the honor a secret, because he’s still working, and his enemies are always trying to kill him. Someday we will be calling him Sir Rafe.”

Mary fanned faster. “Oh, my! That sounds very dangerous.”

“Doesn’t it? Far more dangerous and exciting than spending all of one’s time peering at dusty ledgers and visiting estates.”

“Certainly more dangerous and exciting than going to White’s or Tattersall’s every day.” Obviously she was thinking of Lord Ramsgate.

“I want excitement. Passion. And I think I could assist Mr. Trollope in his work. He wants me to meet him at Hyde Park tomorrow morning.”

Mary pressed her lips together. “I don’t know, Elinor. You are a married woman.”

“It is only a meeting, and it will take place in the park. What could happen?”

“What do you
want
to happen?”

The two women moved away, and Winn let out a slow breath. It had taken all of his considerable willpower not to plunge through the thick shrubbery, grab his wife by her long, graceful neck, and throttle her. Who the hell was this
Trollope
? No member of the Barbican group—Elinor must have substituted Babylon for Barbican—would ever reveal his membership. Winn had never even told Elinor—his own wife—he was an agent for the Barbican. He had never told anyone.

But he wasn’t the kind of man who preyed on other men’s wives. He wasn’t the kind of man who used his position to try and tempt women into bed. Besides, if Elinor knew what the true work of a spy involved—long hours of surveillance in cold, drafty buildings; days hunched over maps and coded messages, strategizing and decoding; meeting after meeting with superiors, debriefing and dissecting one’s every move—she wouldn’t be so enthralled. The exciting times were few and far between.

And yet, somehow this Trollope had intrigued her. Winn had not known Elinor longed for danger and passion. She always seemed to enjoy being home with their daughters.

Obviously, he did not know her as well as he thought. When he’d come looking for her in the garden, he had certainly not expected to overhear her contemplating an affair with a man named Rafe. He hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop. He’d left his meeting with Melbourne, and with nothing to occupy him until the evening, he decided to join his family at home. It was a pleasant day. Perhaps he might make amends for his recent absences by taking Elinor and the girls riding in the park.

When he’d arrived home, he’d found his daughters busy with their tutors and lessons and his wife gone to her friend Lady Hollingshead. Very well. He would surprise her at her friend’s house.

But he’d been the one surprised. Once he’d arrived, he hadn’t been able to find her. One of the household staff—the whole place was busily preparing for some to-do or other—had told him Lady Keating and Lady Ramsgate were walking in the garden. He’d gone after them, heard their voices, and was about to reveal himself when his wife had said,
I
look
at
Winn, and my thoughts…

He’d gone absolutely still. He wanted to know exactly what those thoughts entailed. Elinor had told Lady Ramsgate they would shock him. Winn was not a man easily shocked. True, he and Elinor had never shared much passion, but then his work had always been his passion. Not so anymore. And the devil take him if Elinor’s words did not trigger the first stirrings of unexpected desire.

Until she began speaking of another man.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to do now? He wasn’t about to allow his wife to go to bed with another man. He didn’t know who this Trollope fellow was, but he was going to find out.

***

Elinor looked up, startled, as the dining room door opened. She and the girls had just sat down to dinner, and they were not expecting any visitors. Georgie and Caro were talking over one another in their excitement about the play they would perform tonight, and Elinor was listening to their happy voices, if not the details of those voices’ content.

“Papa!” Georgie, who was sitting closest to the door, squealed. “You’re home!” She rose and threw herself into her father’s arms. He swept her up and kissed her on both cheeks, then set her down and darted a quick glance at Elinor. If he noticed his younger daughter didn’t receive him quite so enthusiastically, he made no sign.

“My lord,” Elinor said, sipping her wine as Winn took his seat. “We did not expect you.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he said. He was carefully laying his napkin on his lap, so she did not catch his expression, but his tone was unfamiliar. Somewhat strained. He looked at Caroline. “I hear there is a play to be performed tonight. Something about a princess and a pirate.”

She nodded at him. All of Caroline’s bravado, so familiar to Elinor in Winn’s absence, seemed to have leached out of the girl. Winn had that way about him. When he was present, when he turned those green eyes on someone, he made her forget he’d ever been away and would probably go away again very shortly. Perhaps that was why she had forgiven him so many absences for so long. But it seemed he never turned those green eyes on her anymore and didn’t care if she even noticed his absences. And after fourteen years, even someone as pitiful as she acquired some immunity.

And still she couldn’t help examining her blue gown and wishing she had chosen something else to wear to dinner. This color did nothing for her, and she already felt drab and dull in Winn’s presence.

“I am the princess,” Georgie was saying, “and Caroline is the pirate.”

“Really?” Winn lifted his fork. “I would have thought you the pirate and your sister the princess. After all, Caro is so gentle and demure.”

Both Caro and Georgie laughed. “I think I will make the better pirate,” Caro said, finally finding her tongue. “But you shall have to ask Mother for her opinion.”

“Why is that?” Winn said, his gaze meeting Elinor’s across the table. She gripped her hands in her lap to keep the flash of heat from rising. Oh, where was her immunity now? Was his look intentional? She had to remember it meant nothing. He didn’t want her. She wished she had this same effortless flare of attraction for Mr. Trollope.
He
obviously wanted her.

“B-because you never see our plays,” Caro said, glancing at her mother a little uncertainly.

Elinor stepped in, hating to see her daughter flounder, especially when Winn should know very well what she meant. “Caroline means to say, we know you are a busy man and undoubtedly have plans this evening.”

“No.” He bit into a potato.

“No?” Elinor said with a frown.

“I have no plans. I am entirely at your disposal this evening.”

“Really?” Georgie said, her face all but glowing. “You will watch the play?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. In fact, I am at your disposal tomorrow as well. I will be home
all
day
.”

He ate another potato, chewing it and watching her. Elinor stared at him. She had no recent memory of Winn ever having a free day to spend entirely with the three of them. He always had work or an appointment. Always. Why was he suddenly free? “You have no engagements?” she asked.

The girls’ heads swiveled back to assess their father. “Nothing pressing. So…” He leaned forward. “What shall we do? Perhaps a picnic in the park?”

Elinor’s heart jumped into her throat. Did he know? Was this some elaborate way of making her confess to meeting another man tomorrow?

No. It was impossible. There was no conceivable way he could know about Mr. Trollope or her plans for the morning. “The girls have their lessons in the morning,” she said before Georgie or Caro could accept Winn’s invitation. “You know how I value education.”

“Surely it couldn’t hurt to miss one day.”

The girls squealed, but Elinor raised a hand. “Yes, it could.” She had very rarely ever contradicted him in the past, and never in front of the girls or the servants. His brows rose. She did not care. “We have a routine in this house, and I find it best if that routine is followed. I know you have no idea what that routine might be, as you are never here, but perhaps if you were home more often, you might learn it.” Elinor clinked her fork on her plate for emphasis, realizing belatedly it might have been better to have had this discussion in private. The girls were shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

Well, too bad. She was done with pretending everything was wonderful between Winn and herself. She did not care if she angered him.

The girls were staring down at their food, but Winn seemed completely unaffected by her diatribe. “I shall take that under advisement. I leave the determination of the time of day up to you, my lady.”

“Thank you,” she said because it would have been bad manners not to, and she always liked to model good manners—especially for Caro. But she didn’t particularly relish the invitation. Winn was beginning to make her nervous, beginning to make her question, and she found she would rather return to the familiar. She’d been hurt too many times when she thought he had changed, when she thought he might fall in love with her.

She would not be hurt again.

After dinner they adjourned into the drawing room, where the girls disappeared behind a partition to don their costumes. Elinor sat in uncomfortable silence, while Winn looked completely at ease. She didn’t know why she should feel so discomfited in her own drawing room. After all, she was the one who occupied it daily. He was the visitor.

“The girls look well,” Winn said, glancing at her. “Healthy and happy.”

“They are cheered by the novelty of having a father for a night,” she said. Where had that come from? She had never been intentionally hurtful before. But perhaps she shouldn’t have worried. He seemed unaffected.

“I know. I need to spend more time with them.”

She gaped at him. He had never said such a thing before. “They are growing up so quickly,” he added. “And I was thinking perhaps it might be time we buy Georgiana a horse. She’s old enough to care for the animal.”

Elinor’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do that.”

He raised a brow. Did he know how handsome he was when he did that? She inhaled sharply and ignored the way her pulse raced. If he would just cease staring at her with those green eyes and leaning toward her with that muscled body, she could concentrate on being angry with him.

“I’m certain it will be easy enough to buy a good mare from Tattersall’s. I’ll go this week.”

“No! I mean, you cannot simply step back into our lives and buy the children gifts and think that will make up for all the time spent away. You cannot buy their love.”

He nodded. “You are right.”

To her shock and surprise, he leaned over and took her hand. His was large and warm, covering hers completely. “I fully intend to earn it back.” He pulled her arm gently until her face was close to his. His breath tickled her ear, and she shivered. “Using any and all means necessary.”

***

At precisely one minute before ten, Winn stood on the doorstep of the Smythes’ elegant town house on Charles Street and knocked. A stone-faced butler opened the door. “Good evening, Lord Keating,” he intoned.

Winn frowned. How did the butler know his name?

“I am sorry to say, Lord Smythe is indisposed. You will have to call again at another time.”

“I don’t think so,” Winn said, pushing his way in. He had made the effort to meet with this Smythe, and he wasn’t going home now. Melbourne might use the cancelled meeting as an excuse to assign him to the dungeon.

The butler did not sputter or protest as Winn had expected. Instead, he snapped his fingers, and several rather large footmen appeared behind him. Winn had intended to have a quick look about for Smythe, but at the sight of the men, he paused. He was a large man and good at hand-to-hand combat, but he was not certain he was
that
good.

And why didn’t he have burly footmen and a butler who knew how to summon them with a snap of his fingers? Not that he had ever needed either, but that wasn’t the point.

“I trust you will return later. I will give Lord Smythe your card.” The butler held out a small silver tray, his white-gloved hand steady. Winn reached in his pocket, hoping he had thought to bring a card with him, when a man started down the stairs. Winn recognized him immediately. He didn’t know the man, but he knew the look and the sober dress.

A doctor.

Perhaps the butler wasn’t simply trying to put him off. Perhaps Smythe really was indisposed.

“She’s resting now,” the doctor said, glancing curiously at the footmen crowding the vestibule. “I shall return in the morning to check on Lady Smythe. Lord Smythe has orders to send for me if there is any change.”

“Very good, sir.” The butler opened the door for the doctor, then held it for Winn. Winn hesitated. He should go, but he would only have to come back again at what might be a more inopportune moment. If Smythe would just give him Wolf’s contact information, he would not have to trouble the man again.

The butler cleared his throat. “My lord?”

“It’s quite all right, Wallace,” a voice said from the top of the stairs.

Winn looked up and saw a man he assumed was Lord Smythe coming down the stairs. He was of medium height with light brown hair and light-colored eyes. He looked tired and disheveled without a coat, and a cravat dangling down his white linen shirt. He’d obviously run his hand through his hair numerous times, because it was in mad disarray. “Join me in the library, Lord Keating. I apologize for making you wait.”

“If this is an inconvenient time…” Winn hedged.

“Lady Smythe is asleep—or giving a very convincing impression of a sleeping person. This is as good a time as any.”

“Very well.” Winn followed Smythe into his library, and the butler brought two snifters and a decanter of brandy to the desk, poured both men a measure, and stepped back.

“Anything else, my lord?”

“You hungry, Keating?”

Winn paused to consider. He had not eaten much at dinner. He’d been too focused on Elinor, too busy trying to detect any sign of guilt from her. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.”

Smythe waved his hand as though a meal might magically appear if he but snapped his fingers. “Food, Wallace.”

“Any particular variety, my lord?”

“Yes, the copious variety.”

“Yes, my lord. You are ever the connoisseur.”

The butler closed the library door, and Smythe gave a weary smile. “He has too much gall, but he knows my secrets, so I don’t dare put him out.”

“If you ever do, I’ll hire him in a moment.”

“Would you?” And just like that Lord Smythe… changed. His eyes became hard and piercing as he sat back in his chair and sipped his brandy. The weariness seemed to fall off him, making him look fresh and formidable. “Tell me something, Baron,” he said quietly. “Do you have a family?”

Winn frowned. Had he addressed him by title, or did Smythe know his code name? He should have asked Melbourne for more details as to what Smythe knew. “Pardon?”