The Houseparty (4 page)

"You haven't changed, dear Elizabeth," Lady Elfreda said with a malicious smile.
"How delightful that you could come to us for the weekend.
Things get so tiresome this time of year, waiting for the season to begin." Before Elizabeth could reply, she sailed onward, greeting Sumner with the smile she reserved for handsome young men who treated her with the proper deference. Sumner knew the proper amount of flattery and shy respect to a nicety.

"Hallo, Elizabeth." Brenna's cool Irish voice broke through Elizabeth's irritation. "It's nice to see you again."

No warmth from this quarter, either, thought Elizabeth dolefully, eyeing the dark-haired, green-eyed little beauty in front of her with a hopeful smile.
Brenna
O'Shea had never shown any interest in Elizabeth's overtures of friendship during the six months she'd been in residence at Winfields, and by now Elizabeth had given up on her. Those green eyes only warmed, inexplicably, when they rested on her brother's admirable form.

The small, stilted group was moving into one of the more formal drawing rooms that were scattered around Winfields like a rabbit's warren, and there was nothing
for Elizabeth to do but take up the rear, watching Brenna's slender little back with a twinge of jealousy. It must be nice to have a waist that was barely a man's hand span, she thought mournfully, fully aware that her own ripe curves constituted a more generous handful. Elizabeth sighed, seated herself as far from Lady Elfreda's disapproving attention but as near the tray of delicious cakes as possible, and accepted her fate.

Unfortunately, Adolphus had been watching both the cakes and Elizabeth closely. While his mother was distracted with serving the tea and evincing a proper interest in Sumner's charming anecdotes, the portly baron slipped to Elizabeth's side, a faint spattering of crumbs trailing across a baby-blue superfine jacket that had taken five ells to make up.

"What a treat to see you again, Cousin Elizabeth," he breathed. "And you're looking more stunning than ever. A fine, strapping figure of a girl," he said, licking his lips as if in anticipation of a tasty morsel.

Not this tasty morsel, thought Elizabeth firmly, giving him an
unencouraging
smile and edging as far away as the narrow chair would allow. "It's nice to see you again, Sir Adolphus," she replied
distantl
y.

"Heavens, how formal we're being! You must call me Dolph, Cousin. After all, we're related."

"You are too kind, to call a mere connection a relationship," she said vaguely. "Your mother is looking well. You must be very fond of her." She could think of no reason for him to be, but Adolphus nodded sagely.

"A wonderful woman, my mother," he said. "But tell me about yourself, young lady.
Any importunate young gentlemen hanging around, wishing to slip a ring on that pretty little hand?"

Elizabeth
shuddered inwardly at the coy tone of voice as she glanced down at her strong, capable hands that were itching to box
Adolphus's
ears. "I am devoted to my brothers, as you know, Cousin," she said demurely. "Miss O'Shea is looking lovelier than ever," she added somewhat desperately.

His bulbous blue eyes never left her. "She's well enough," he replied, dismissing
Brenna
with one wave of a pudgy hand. "She hasn't your fire, my girl. And what's the news from that scamp Jeremy? Can we hope to see him soon?"

"Oh, I do hope so." Elizabeth sighed. "But we've had no definite word. I suppose that's just as well. We'd know soon enough if anything was wrong."

"Of course you would," he said soothingly, reaching out and patting her knee. He allowed his hand to rest there, and Elizabeth quickly shifted position, giving him an ingenuous smile as he was forced to move back. "Tell me, does that brother of yours allow you any freedom?"

"None at all," she replied quickly. "Sumner's a very high stickler. When is your uncle due?"

A shadow crossed his ruddy face.
"Sometime this evening.
I trust your brother has warned you about Michael
Fraser?"

The name had a distant ring to it, but for the life of her Elizabeth couldn't remember the connection. "He may have done," she replied cautiously. "I'm afraid I don't remember. Who is Michael
Fraser?"

"My uncle's current adjutant.
He's from an old and proud Scottish family; younger son, I believe. A career man in the army and done well for himself and his country over the last years. Distinguished
himself
in the peninsular action and was considered quite promising in Vienna last year."

"Sounds estimable," Elizabeth said, stifling her yawn. "Just what a general's secretary should
be.
"

"Not at all.
Fraser
was destined for much more important things than fetching and carrying for someone like Uncle Maurice, who's on the very edge of retiring. I don't know the details of it, but something very unpleasant happened after Vienna." Adolphus leaned closer, his breath hot on Elizabeth's averted cheek. "Nothing anyone could prove, I gather, because he wasn't clapped in irons. But it was a near thing."

Elizabeth's curiosity was piqued. "What son of thing? Did he run off with his commander's wife, sell secrets to the French,
seduce
a duchess?" she questioned flippantly.

"I believe he was suspected of being a traitor," Adolphus whispered importantly. "But they couldn't prove a thing, so they had to settle for putting him in a post where he couldn't do any harm. Uncle Maurice hasn't many duties left to him in these last few months before he retires, and I doubt he'd have anything to do with military secrets of great importance. By the time he retires and
Fraser
gets reassigned, they should be able to get any proof they might need."

"Proof of what?" she inquired in a suitably hushed tone.

"I don't precisely know," Adolphus admitted fretfully, not liking to be in the dark any better than the inquisitive Elizabeth did. "Whether or not he's to be trusted, I suppose. More than one brave agent of our country has met his end by the traitor's hand. If there's any truth to the rumors surrounding
Fraser,
then he's a direct threat to people like your brother Jeremy. I would suggest you avoid him at all costs. There was no way I could keep him from coming, and of course it may all be a tempest in a teapot. He's a handsome enough devil," he added with a trace of envy in his voice. "You'd better keep an eye out for any blandishments, Cousin. Uncle Maurice should be able to keep things under control, and a friend of his from the Foreign Office is expected. We should be safe enough." He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, as if he expected the villainous
Fraser
to appear with knife in hand.

Elizabeth's interest was well and truly caught by this time. "But why would he change sides? After having served king and country so well and truly for so long?"

Adolphus shrugged his thick shoulders, sending his highly starched shirt points into his ears with a sharp jab that caused tears of pain to start in those pale blue eyes. "Who can say what dark forces drive such men to desperate measures?" he intoned. "We can only guess at the tragic circumstances that affected him so—"

A small spurt of laughter from Elizabeth's tightly compressed lips drew his ruminations to an abrupt halt, and the expression in her golden-brown eyes was merry. "I never knew you were such a romantic, Adolphus! Michael
Fraser
sounds positively Byronic. I am quite looking forward to meeting this desperate traitor, tormented as he is by unspeakable horrors. Particularly if he's as devilishly handsome as you say he is."

Adolphus drew himself up, affronted. "You may very well laugh, Elizabeth, but I advise you to be careful. One man is dead already, do not forget, and I gather from friends of mine that the situation could still be dangerous."

Elizabeth's levity vanished abruptly. "A man dead?" she echoed. "You don't mean that French sailor?"

"Certain people think he was more than a mere sailor intent on smuggling laces and brandy," Adolphus announced. "The more I think about it, the more I am afraid that I may have been a bit hasty in ruling it death by misadventure. But then, as justice of the peace I have a great deal on my mind and can't be expected to be overly suspicious.

As
Elizabeth dressed for dinner that evening, she couldn't
 
help but wonder why she was lavishing such special care on her toilette. She had been agreeably surprised by her choice of rooms this visit. Instead of the cramped little cubbyhole she'd endured on previous occasions, this time some kind hand (certainly not Lady Elfreda's or Brenna's) had given her a bright, airy room at the front of the house, complete with warm fire and a steaming hip bath awaiting her. On second thought, it might have been Lady Elfreda's poisonous touch. The room was as far away from
Adolphus's
master suite as could be managed, probably close to half a mile in this rambling place, Elizabeth thought gratefully. The baron's bulging blue eyes had a decidedly ravening look to them this time, a look Elizabeth couldn't fail to interpret; the farther away she was from his pudgy, grasping fingers, the better.

Surveying herself in the mirror, she could find no grievous fault, though perhaps she would have been wiser to have chosen something a bit less flattering. The high-
waisted
dress made the most of her elegant figure, and if it was a warm rose instead of her favorite green, well, she had enough sense to know that
Brenna
O'Shea had always chosen green for herself, and Elizabeth couldn't hope to outshine her diminutive beauty. At least the gown was silk, not the insipid muslins she'd been doomed to wear for the last five years, muslins that did absolutely nothing for her somewhat opulent beauty, she thought dismally. But at the age of twenty-three she had decided she was well and truly on the shelf enough to indulge in silk, and indulge she had. As a matter of fact, it was only the knowledge of four exceedingly elegant new dresses hanging in her closet that had persuaded her to acquiesce in this dismal weekend.

The sun-streaked chestnut hair was looped casually around her head, and the golden-brown eyes had a somewhat rueful expression. Given Lady Elfreda's overt enmity, Brenna's coolness, Sumner's self-absorption, and
Adolphus's
greedy paws, it was doubtless going to be a wretched time. The addition of the phenomenally stiff Sir Maurice and his villainous adjutant didn't sound much more promising. With a sigh and a longing thought toward dinner, she picked up her matching fan and moved with the air of a condemned prisoner to meet the rest of the
houseparty
.

So intent was she on her gloom and the distant scent of roast goose that she failed to notice that the previously deserted hall was no longer empty. Before she realized what she
wa
s
doing, she
collided
full force with a broad male chest.

"I beg your pardon," she said breathlessly as she felt her arms gripped by iron fingers. A moment later she found herself ruthlessly put aside. Her arms were released, and she looked up into the face of what could only be the traitorous Michael
Fraser.

Not quite Byronic, she thought absently, rubbing her bruised arms. He was taller than she; perhaps not quite as
tall as her brother, though his shoulders in the austere black evening jacket were a great deal broader. He had dark brown straight hair, dark blue eyes in a tanned, aloof face, high cheekbones, and a mouth that would have been alarmingly sensual had it not been for the grim line in which it was compressed. He stared down at Elizabeth for
all the
world as if she were an impertinent puppy.

"I'm sorry I ran into you," she said in her friendliest tones, smiling up at him. "I didn't expect anyone would be out here."

The smile that so often melted the hardest of hearts failed visibly to move this one, and he continued to stare down his well-shaped nose with cold hauteur. "My fault entirely," he said finally, completely without expression.

His voice was low-pitched and quite delightful, Elizabeth thought sadly. Spy or not, the man was a boor, just as she had suspected Sir Maurice's adjutant would be. Before she could make one last effort at civility, he moved away, disappearing into the room beside hers without a backward glance. The door shut firmly behind his tall, black figure, and Elizabeth uttered a short, sharp little word that would have horrified her proper brother.

"There you are, Elizabeth." Lady Elfreda greeted her in reproving tones when she finally reached the drawing room. "I had almost given you up. You never used to be so lamentably tardy. You remember my brother-in-law Maurice?"

There was nothing for the irritated Elizabeth to do but greet the aging soldier with a semblance of pleasure. Sir Maurice had never been a great favorite of hers. He was as short and stout as his sister-in-law was tall and thin, although they shared the same charm of manner and overwhelming family pride. He was also a desperate gamester and one of the hardest commanders the British Army had ever known. Adolphus was wont to boast of his uncle's excesses with a patronizing air, but the stories passed on to Elizabeth's unwilling ears from her brother Jeremy had given her a deep-seated horror of the man. As her eyes met his cruel little black ones, she could barely control a shudder of distaste.