Swept Away By a Kiss (33 page)

He nodded, his face grave. “You are entitled to know something.”

Valerie swallowed, holding her tongue.

“There is a man amongst the party here who illegally exports Africans to sell in the West Indies. My associates and I intend to halt his activities. To do this we need certain documents that will finally implicate him in this crime.”

Valerie’s heart raced. It all made sense now, the conversation between Flemming and Hannsley, the fencing bout. Hannsley and Steven were enemies, and Flemming was indeed double-dealing.

“Does this man know who you are? Your other identity?”

His gaze changed, studying her. “Possibly.”

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. “I see. And the Bible for which I was unwitting courier? What part does it play in your intrigues?”

“Hidden in its binding is a signed letter written by the master of the slaver’s flagship. In it he admits to his employer’s crimes.”

Valerie clamped down upon the quaver in her throat. “It seems extraordinary that you put this letter into my possession. Only last night you told me to stay clear of your business.”

“Raymer’s navigator brought the letter to me. It had to reach England even if I did not. I sent it with you for safekeeping.”

Hollow nausea stirred again in Valerie’s stomach. He’d known she would not discard the Bible. He depended upon her infatuation with the priest, her yearning for adventure, and her desperation to cling to both once she was again in England. Like a love-starved child, she had not disappointed him.

“You used me,” she said dully.

“I trusted you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me or not, it is the truth.”

Valerie fought back anger and tears. She couldn’t rant, but she could not cry either. Instead, she would think. Her heart was powerless against his pretty lies. Her mind must see her through, a mind that for years devised scheme after scheme to win the love of a man who died refusing it to her.

“Does this criminal have the documents with him here?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Yes. Jerry nearly lost his life yesterday bringing me that information. He was in this man’s employ until he decided it suited his conscience to work for us instead.”

“Why don’t you steal the documents?”

Steven’s expression grew guarded. “I will acquire them in due time.”

Valerie wanted to ask whether he planned to acquire them before or after another near-fatal battle with his enemy. She clamped her lips shut. She would not reveal that she knew Lord Hannsley was his target. It seemed he already suspected Mr. Flemming was betraying him.

But Valerie knew something too, exactly how to wrest the precious documents from the marquess in a way that Steven Ashford, for all his clever disguises, could never attempt. Heart beating rapidly with newfound purpose, she wanted to be away to set out on her mission. But pulled like a magnet, her whole body seemed to resist leaving him.

“Is Mr. Trap well? I sent a message to the vicarage, but I didn’t hear back. No doubt Mr. Oakley and Mrs. Hodge were busy enough today without penning assurances to me.”

“He is somewhat improved.” His eyes looked oddly bright and his voice sounded strange.

“What is it?” She peered at him. “You regret having told me about your business here, don’t you?”

“I make it a point to never regret anything.” His words shivered through her like a touch.

“Then what is amiss?” He could not possibly know what she planned.

“You care about how Jerry goes along now.”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

He did not respond immediately, and Valerie’s breath stilled as flame seemed to dance in his eyes.

“Valerie Monroe,” he finally said in a low voice, “you are a remarkable woman. Fearless yet genuine, and so very lovely.”

Valerie’s tongue failed. For a fortnight he had flirted with every lady at Castlemarch except her. Now, in the middle of a ballroom full of people, he slayed her with one simple, beautiful compliment.

“Lady Valerie,” a male voice said breathlessly behind her. “I offer my most profound apologies for my wretched delay in— Oh.” Her dance partner stopped short, a glass of champagne in each hand. “My lord.” He bowed stiffly to Steven.

The viscount bowed back. He lifted one corner of his delicious mouth, nodded, and walked away.

Chapter 30

R
esolve high, Valerie made excuses to her next partner and went straight to the Marquess of Hannsley. He stood in the flickering light of the Yule log’s blaze. Despite the warmth still coursing through her veins from Steven’s words, she moved toward the hearth, letting her shawl slip from her shoulders. More quickly than she imagined possible, Lord Hannsley came to her side.

“Dear Lady Valerie, are you chilled in this cavernous keep?”

Valerie clasped her hands behind her, giving the marquess an ample view of her gown’s revealing décolletage. She batted her lashes.

“The hall is rather frosty this evening, isn’t it, my lord? Gentlemen have the advantage of current fashion on such evenings, while ladies . . .” She raised a gloved hand and fluttered it provocatively over her bosom. “We are not as well protected.”

“A minor injustice, madam, when compared to the great delight such stunning fashions afford admirers.” His hooded eyes showed hesitant appetite, as though he was not certain of her intent.

Valerie brought the tip of her closed fan to her lips. “You are too kind, sir,” she said upon a sigh that pressed her breasts further against her bodice.

“Kindness has little to do with it, my dear.”

Valerie grinned, the cat at the cream pot.

“May I now claim that dance you promised me?” He extended his hand.

Valerie pushed out her lower lip. “I would be happy to dance, sir”—she pouted—“but my maid has vexed me horridly. I sent her to fetch my reticule ages ago, and she still has not appeared with it.” She sighed and pinned the marquess with a sweet smile. “Aren’t servants trying on one’s patience? Not to mention disloyal. Why, only today my maid told me she would leave at week’s end to serve in another household. What impertinence.” She set her fingertips upon her chest, breathing deeply in false indignation.

“Indeed, my lady,” the marquess replied, not bothering now to hide his interest in her swelling breasts. “When a man cannot trust those who serve him, he must take serious measures. In fact I have recently disciplined a servant who betrayed me.”

Valerie’s stomach twisted at the note of fresh anger in his voice. But his words and tone confirmed her conviction. He had attacked Jeremiah Trap in the woods to silence him.

She took another deep breath, her skin prickling as he gazed down at her with undisguised desire. It was an uncannily familiar look. She had seen it on Bebain’s face, the look of a man whose anger fueled his lust.

“I have a splendid idea, my lady,” the marquess purred. “We will outwit your worthless maid and fetch your reticule ourselves. Perhaps we will catch her frittering her time away instead of serving her mistress.” He extended his arm.

Valerie took it, sticky heat crawling beneath her skin. She let him lead her toward the door to the great hall, casting a look back. No sign of Steven. A silent sigh of relief escaped her lips.

Lord Hannsley spoke little as they climbed the stairs to the castle’s east wing. The corridor leading to Valerie’s chamber was deep in shadow, lit by only a single lamp. The marquess grasped her arm and pulled her around to face him.

“Which door leads to your chamber, my dear? Show me and we will hasten to chastise your insubordinate servant.” His voice was throaty, revealing his eagerness. Valerie felt sick with triumph.

She sighed. “Oh, my lord, I cannot allow you to enter my bedchamber.” She matched his tone as expertly as any Drury Lane actress. “My maid would talk, and I do not want any unpleasantness with my brother. I am sure you understand.”

Displeasure narrowed Hannsley’s heavy eyes. His hand tightened upon her arm and he took her chin between his fingers, stroking her jaw with large, smooth fingers.

“What would you like me do, my lady? I am yours to command,” he said silkily. His thumb stroked her lower lip, and a spiral of treacly sensation coursed through Valerie. She shivered. His eyes steamed.

“My brother and sister-in-law will miss me if I leave the ball early. But your valet would not reveal me to the other servants if I were to . . .” She looked up in pretty confusion.

“After the ball I will dismiss him,” he supplied. “Once you have found your way to my chambers we will enjoy all the privacy we wish.” He moved his face close. Valerie steeled herself, hiding her distaste behind a mask of muted fervor.

“Until then I wait impatiently, my beauty.” He pressed his mouth against hers, his hand sliding from her arm to her shoulder and then down to her bodice. His lips slavered, his palm covering her breast. He groaned in frustration as she pulled away as though reluctantly.

She shivered again, and tugged her shawl around her shoulders, repressing the urge to wipe her lips.

“I will see you after all are abed, then,” she whispered. She lowered her lashes and turned, making her way quickly down the stairs and to the great hall.

To her next quarry.

“Place a scant teaspoonful of the syrup in a glass of warm milk just before you lie down to sleep—”

“At least ten minutes before you lie down—”

“No, no, dear girl. My sister is incorrect. Forgive me, Agnes, dear, but you have got it all backward. Lady Valerie, you must drink the milk after you are abed, I assure you.”

Valerie gazed earnestly at the Dowager Baroness Dorsey. With mirth bubbling up in her, it was hard to keep pretending she had a terrible megrim. But the conversation of the septuagenarian sisters only partially caused her giddiness. The rest was sheer nervousness.

Thank the Lord, at least Steven was not in the hall any longer. Valerie was vastly relieved. Subterfuge was difficult enough without his perceptive gaze upon her.

“Lady Dorsey,” she asked, glancing at the vial of sleeping draught in the dowager’s outstretched palm, “won’t the cordial take effect unless I lay supine?” Her nerves jittered. If she must, she would go all the way to the bed with Lord Hannsley to ensure he passed out, no matter how much she dreaded it.

“Heavens, no, dear girl!” Lady Agnes exclaimed. “Its effect is quite sudden, in fact. My sister never drinks it until she is already abed for fear of falling short of her mattress before she dozes off.” Lady Agnes slapped her hands upon her taffeta-clad knees and chortled. Her sister cast her a wrinkled glare.

“I see.” Valerie nodded. “Ladies, I am so grateful for your help. I daresay I will sleep well after sipping this.” She curled her fingers around the glass container and tucked it into her reticule.

“Very good, child. So glad we could be of help.” The dowager patted her hand. “Now, remember, that vial contains enough for at least a sennight. I shouldn’t have given it to you at all, but you are such a lovely girl. I do not want you to lose your looks over a frightful megrim.”

No, Valerie thought grimly, she did not want to lose her looks either. Especially since she was counting upon them, as well as her wits, to ransack a nobleman’s bedchamber momentarily. She left the sisters and went across the hall to Anna.

“There you are, darling.” Anna took her arm. “The locals have all departed and the orchestra is packing up. Valentine has gone to play billiards with a few other gentlemen.” She lifted her brows in question.

Valerie ignored the suggestion. If Steven was off playing billiards, all the better. Seeing him now would tax her too greatly, and she needed to focus. “Let’s retire.” They started across the emptying hall to the foyer and the stairs Valerie had climbed a mere hour earlier beside the Marquess of Hannsley.

Anna halted. “Oh, no. I have left my reticule in the drawing room.”

“I will come.”

“No, no.” Anna waved her ahead. “You go on to bed. I will see you in the morning.” She bussed Valerie’s cheek and turned back to the hall.

Valerie’s heart tightened. She so much wanted to share the truth with her closest friend. She still didn’t know why she hadn’t told Anna about Etienne. Steven. The man she had fallen in love with at sea.