The Fashionable Spy (12 page)

She paced about the room, frowning at the library steps, skirting the elegant little chair that sat against the wall not far from the secretary and convenient for one who wished to sit there—most likely checking the contents of it. Had she disturbed them? She believed she had replaced everything with her customary carefulness.

She had trained herself well in the past months. Never had anyone voiced the least suspicion of her investigations at the various homes where she had worked. Indeed, each lady commended Victoria for her neatness and the remarkable skill with which she recreated the husband’s likeness.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and within moments Sir Edward entered the room, gazing at her with a quizzical expression. “You have been idle, staring out at nothing better than my poor landscape?”

“For a city house, it is quite acceptable, and you know it.” She pasted what she hoped to be an amiable look on her face, then sighed faintly.

“Ah, my neglect has made you long to be elsewhere. I cannot blame you. Miss Dancy. How utterly rude of me to leave you to your own devices for so long. The matter was pressing or I would have had my man send the fellow on his way.’’ His mouth tilted up at one corner in a regretful smile.

Victoria wondered just what that “pressing” matter might have been. Sir Edward leaned on his cane a trifle, and she now wondered if it was a genuine injury or merely an affectation to gain him sympathy. Oh, how that foolish heart of hers wished to believe the man was innocent. Yet the evidence in the drawer of the secretary damned him beyond belief.

She scolded herself for the absurd softness in her silly heart. It must be those Minerva novels that she and her sisters liked to read. A tall dark man with a fascinating face usually turned out to be the hero in disguise. Sir Edward had evolved into the villain. She only wished she knew what his villainy might prove to be.

Would he plot against his country? He’d not served in the military. Although she had learned that he had been in Portugal. Not that she knew precisely when he’d been injured, so as to prevent his service, had he so wished.

“I had best return home now,” she said with a finality of tone that brooked no opposition.

Sir Edward, glancing about his library, could see nothing amiss. He would investigate more later. But he wondered at what made Miss Dancy look so down-pin. The notion that it had something to do with sculpturing the bust of him didn’t set particularly well in the least. What could he do to encourage the woman to think more highly of him?

He’d send flowers. Perhaps irises? Blue ones.

Chapter 7

“I declare, I have not the least notion as to who might have sent such a thing, but I can tell you that it frightened me excessively,” Victoria said in an unsteady little voice. She smoothed the soft chicken-skin gloves over her hands, staring out of the coach window while the young women jounced through the streets on their way to Lady Tichbourne’s. The image of the wilted, twisted iris in the pristine coffin-like white box had haunted her sleep. The dead flower had nestled in the folds of white tissue like a crumpled body reposing upon its final satin.

“I feel certain you concealed it admirably,” Julia replied. She reached out to pat her sister’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “What shall we do?” she added, infinitely practical, and assuming that the problem confronting one of them affected them all equally.

“What about the box?” Elizabeth inquired, ever one to get to the heart of a matter. “Any possibility of identifying the shop? Thus the sender?”

“No. It was merely a plain box, much like any other. And since there was no written message, there was no handwriting to study. I fear that is a futile quest.’’

“Who knows us well enough to suspect what Victoria does?” Julia demanded quietly. “Someone who would stoop to threats of this nature? And for what reason? Do you suppose it has somehow seeped out that Victoria has been working on ciphers, and on that particular paper?”

Elizabeth glanced about as though to detect the unseen presence of another. “Shh. We must be ever so careful.”

Victoria nodded her agreement, although thinking it unlikely that there would be anyone within hearing distance who would know incriminating information about the girls. One never took foolish chances. Even a footman was not to be trusted now.

She took a deep breath, then said, “I shall be glad when this is all over and past us. It may seem exciting to be dashing about the countryside hunting for traitors while executing their heads in wax or clay. But,” she concluded, “I think it will be wonderful to be able to relax. As it is, I search the area about me every step I take. Every word spoken must be chosen with care. It is an intolerable position to be in, to be sure.”

Elizabeth leaned over to peek around the corner at the footman so as to ascertain that he was beyond hearing. The folds of her cloak fell back to reveal her charming peach gown of Florence satin as she leaned farther out of the window to better see him.

“I doubt if he could make sense of this conversation were he to hear it. The rumble of the wheels on the cobblestones ought to cover any words we utter,” Victoria said when she figured out what her sister was doing.

Elizabeth nodded in understanding, then smiled. “You look so lovely, no one would suspect that you are a spy for the government. A
spy
in blue zephyr gingham, so sheer and silky as it swirls about a rather nice form? Never.’’

Julia chuckled. “Do not forget that clever little cap trimmed with blue feathers. I do believe you shall capture the evening, Vicky.” She uttered this compliment with the assurance of knowing she looked well enough in her gown of amaranthus gauze. The pinkish-purple shade became her remarkably well, and the style, although modest, was quite fashionable.

“Someone once told me that it is a wretched job to be a spy. I quite agree with her.” Victoria smiled her acceptance of their compliments, then shifted on the carriage seat as the vehicle drew to a halt before the imposing Tichbourne residence. Victoria resolved to put the iris from her mind and enjoy the evening.

A red carpet had been rolled out for the guests to tread when entering the house. Never would a lady have her slippers ruined while going into the Tichbournes’ for one of their glittering evening affairs.

Elizabeth studied their footman as he handed each lady from the carriage. Her sharp gaze seemed to detect nothing out of the ordinary.

Victoria bit back a smile. Really, it was not amusing in the least, but she wondered if there was another woman in London who checked her servants to see if a spy might be lurking among them.

Julia slipped comforting arms around both sisters for a moment as they walked up the few steps to the front door.

“I wonder who is to attend this conversazione?” Victoria said softly. She found the gatherings for conversation with intellectuals from the arts, sciences, and literature vastly enjoyable. “Lady Tichbourne usually has such fascinating people. I hope Mr. Turner is here. I recently saw one of his paintings that intrigued me immensely,” Victoria added in an aside as they walked through the wide doorway into the house. She nodded to the butler before continuing. “It depicted the Castle of Chillon in Switzerland, and ‘twas such a romantic view.’’ She sighed, then grinned. “I vow it would be an ideal spot for a honeymoon.’’

“Are you planning upon marriage. Miss Dancy? The gentlemen of the
ton
will be desolate.” The women whirled about, Victoria nearly bumping into Sir Edward as he joined them in the entry.

She wondered just how much he had heard, and how he might interpret it. “No, I fear not at this moment.” An imp possessed her to add, “However, I should adore visiting Switzerland in the event I do wed. I should like to see how true-to-life that landscape painting might be. I could sit on the banks of Lake Geneva and while away the hours doing absolutely nothing but admiring the scenery. ‘‘

Sir Edward looked down at her, then said, “I believe your husband would spend his hours admiring you, for you glow with radiant good health and beauty.’’

“Why, Sir Edward, what a gallant you are.” Victoria smiled demurely, tapped his arm lightly with her fan, while resolving to stay as far from him as she could this evening. He might be a fascinating man, but she sensed danger when near him. What sort of danger, she didn’t know. He knew things about her that he ought not know, of that she was almost positive. Whether the danger stemmed from this or the sensual attraction she felt for him was not clear to her. She took a step away, and was distinctly relieved when he made no effort to join her and her sisters.

Edward watched the three young women stroll across the room after they had greeted their hostess. Every male eye was fixed upon them. How vibrant they were, all of them, each in her own way. The lovely Julia radiated a serenity a man might long for, while the more dashing Elizabeth displayed the artless charm that he was coming to know was a part of her nature. However, it was Victoria Dancy who drew his gaze. It was more than the mystery of the blue-iris locket that intrigued him now, he admitted.

She possessed strength of character, but what else? Could she really be a spy? For whom? Countess Lieven he knew to be a spy for the Russians, and he had no doubt she knew all that went on in the Austrian court as well. Although in London but a brief time, she had managed to wiggle her restless self into the heart of the
ton.
Just as had Miss Dancy. In the course of his inquiries he had discovered that there were few doors closed to the Dancy women, for their brother was a baron, and apparently there was ample money. It mattered not that they were artistic, for they had no real need for the money they earned. Rather, this talent endeared them to their peers, and every man, certainly, fawned over them in a frightfully zealous manner.

One hand resting lightly on his cane, he leaned against a pillar while he observed those around him. His knee bothered him more than usual this evening. If he could rest a bit, his discomfort might ease up, yet he wished to study the men clustered around the Dancys. Could a clue to the mystery surrounding the Dancys be provided by the men in attendance?

“Watching the Three Graces, eh?” Mr. Padbury said in an amiable way from close to Edward’s side.

“Is that what they are called?” Edward concealed a start at the unexpected appearance of the little man. He found the genial gentleman a trifle irritating, and could not like him even if he did pay court to Mrs. Winton and not the glorious Victoria.

“Naturally. Could there be a better title for them? Just look at how gracefully they move about, the elegance of their gestures, the refinement of their dress. No one else can touch them as individuals; as a trio, they are far beyond equal.”

Mr. Padbury turned his head so as to study Edward, who found it disconcerting to have that direct gaze trained upon him.

“Indeed,” was Edward’s only reply before he moved away from the pillar, leaning upon his cane to remind Mr. Padbury that it was tedious to stand for long.

Once rid of the genial gentleman, as he thought of Padbury, Edward circulated about the room until he at last found himself on the edge of the group that surrounded the three Dancy women. He watched Victoria, dressed in a simple yet devastatingly ravishing gown of a blue that captured the color of her eyes. The creation dipped low over her bosom, yet not low enough to expose the iris locket he knew to be lurking just below the cut of the bodice. Tiny sleeves puffed out above her graceful, slender arms. The skirt clung to her slim form, hinting at the luscious curves he knew existed.

“Have you heard from Geoffrey lately,” one buck inquired of Elizabeth.

Edward concentrated on her answer, as he thought it singular her brother should leave his sisters unprotected while he dashed about Portugal doing heaven-knew-what.

“No, Lord Leighton, I have not,” was her chilly reply.

Edward wondered why the lovely Miss Elizabeth edged away from Leighton, treating the man with a cool disdain. It was uncommon for any woman to shun a peer with pots of money and who was a handsome devil to boot. Edward resolved to get to know the younger man better. At present they were but casual friends at best. He walked to Leighton’s side.

“Pleasant evening,” Edward commented, his gaze fixed on Victoria while she chatted with the artist. Turner. Evidently she was to have her desire, and he suddenly hoped she would not be disappointed in her quest.

“Some might think so.”

“I saw you chatting with Miss Elizabeth.”

“Dashed if I can imagine what ails the girl,” Leighton confided in an explosion of exasperation. He seemed to sense a kindred spirit in Sir Edward. “I only intend an innocent flirtation; she gives me a freezing look and the coldest of shoulders. Blast it, makes a fellow feel a trifle reckless, but I reckon that would not do with the ever-so-proper Dancy women.”

“Proper, are they?” Edward said. His mind flashed back to the windmill and the image of the beautiful Victoria Dancy as she sprawled, unconscious, on the cot, all but naked. The vivid blue lapis iris had peeped from beneath her shift, exposed along with a vast amount of creamy skin. He had remained the gentleman, but it had not been easy. Yet he knew the peril of an illness, the danger possible from a seemingly slight chill. His care had been necessary.

He shifted weight from his bad leg, leaning more heavily upon his cane for support. That memory of her in the flickering firelight, with that enticing, alluring, and incredibly provoking body, caused him internal discomfort.

“Exceedingly,” replied the younger Lord Leighton with feeling. “Although, do you know that I suspect Miss Elizabeth is up to something? I found her coming out of the war office last week. Dashed odd place for a female to be. Seems to me her brother ought to be home looking after his sisters instead of off serving in Portugal or wherever he is now.’’

“Perhaps that is precisely why he is over there; he does not relish riding herd on three headstrong young women,” Edward replied in an undertone, although he quite agreed with Leighton on the matter.