The Rejected Suitor (6 page)

"From
the look of you, I believe that you have someone in mind for me to marry?"
he said with a scowl. "Well, forget it."

Devil
take it. He had no wish to discuss his past or the bonds of matrimony. He had
his own plans for a future wife in a marriage of convenience, and he was quite
determined that Agatha would not be involved.

"Ha!
So you read minds now, do you?"

Understanding
finally dawned on Jared. "By Jove, you cannot be thinking of marrying me
to Lady Emily?"

Agatha
gave him another withering stare. "I can assure you that Lady Emily is not
looking to marry your money or your agreeable personality, my dear boy."

Jared
lifted a sarcastic brow. "Agreeable now, am I?"

Agatha
inclined her head over the teapot and lowered her voice. "I assure you,
this is not about Lady Emily. I had no reason to speak to you of this before,
but . . ."

She
stopped talking to swallow a bite of buttered bread, then to Jared's surprise
she stood, shooing the servants away with that cursed parasol. The door
inevitably snapped closed, and Jared groaned.

His
eating instantly halted as soon as the ugly parasol winged his way. Nigel, the
fiend, had hightailed it to the opposite side of the room. "Man's best
friend," Jared muttered to his dog. "Whoever coined that phrase certainly
had no aunts with black parasols."

"I
heard that!"

Jared's lips
thinned as Agatha plopped her parasol beside the table and sank back into her
chair. "Another one of these private talks, Aunt Agatha." He raised
his cup of tea to his lips. "Have you forgotten I am a man now and not a
little boy who has raided Cook's cupboard?"

She shot
him a cool glare. "I will say nothing of that beefsteak that disappeared
days ago." Nigel barked. "But upon my word, you are an insolent pup.
It would behoove you to take care of your ward. Since her parents died, Jane
has been alone, save for you and me."

An
embarrassing heat crawled up Jared's neck. He admitted he had left Agatha with
much of the responsibility for Jane. But he never doubted his ward would not be
safe. Agatha was like a lioness with her cub when it came to the girl's
welfare.

Agatha
regarded him with a keen eye and continued, "So good to know you at least
have a conscience, my boy. I daresay, I forgave you for the past two years when
you hopped from England to France and back again in those war games with
Whitehall, but our dear, sweet Jane is—"

Jared
shot from his seat, his chair crashing to the floor. "War games!" How
this sweet elderly lady had possibly uncovered information about his covert
actions during the war was beyond his comprehension.

He
glared at her, but to his amazement, she continued her speech as if she had
just recited something to him as simple as the alphabet.

"As
I was saying, Jared, Jane is without—"

Flabbergasted,
Jared interrupted. "Pray, what war games are you speaking of?" His
voice took on a chilling calm as he waited for her answer. Nigel yelped, hiding
his nose beneath his paws.

Agatha
dropped her gaze, pushing her buttered bun about with her fork. "I have
ways, my boy." She took a small bite, tipping her round face his way.
"Now, as to Jane, she does open her mouth a bit too often in front of the
gentlemen, and of course, I realize that you are not aware of her capabilities
as a hostess. The Season she was out did have its shortcomings, the weather and
all, you know. However, nevermind that. London can be so dreary sometimes.
'Course, Emily had been with us for a few years off and on. Still, I believe
the best thing—"

She
clamped her mouth shut as Jared's purposeful strides ate up the rug between
them. "Confound it! Have you been snooping about my quarters?"

The
older lady put a hand to her chest as if in pain. "Moi? How could you
conceive of such a thing? And do I detect a bit of censure in your tone, young
man?"

Jared
grimaced. If his aunt knew about his work with Whitehall, it was possible
others knew about him as well, including a certain Monsieur Devereaux. A cold
knot formed in the pit of his belly as he thought about his daughter's safety.
At least Agatha hadn't mentioned Gabrielle . . . yet.

"How
did you know about my work?" he asked, his mind reeling.

Agatha
stiffened as Jared found himself attacked by two huge gray eyes, accusing him
of an insensitivity he was well known for. "You are Jane's guardian, Lord
Stonebridge, and you left her for three long years. You were not in India the
last two, one could only assume that the Black Wolf—"

Jared
drew in a sharp breath and felt as if someone stuck him with a bayonet.
"The Black Wolf?" His voice held a hardness that he was certain even
Agatha had never heard before.

He had
kept his cover a secret from the deadliest of men, and now this lady, whom he
loved like a mother, seemed to have uncovered his secret as if it were mere
child's play.

"Pray,
dear aunt, I can only hope that you have not spoken of this to anyone,
including Jane. I have noticed that her mouth opens at the strangest of times."

Agatha
blinked in surprise. "Gracious, what do you take me for, a gabster? I
traveled down to Whitehall to inquire about well... things." She shrugged
and popped another piece of bread into her mouth. "One thing led to
another, and I began to deduce your role as . . ." she lowered her voice,
"you know, a secret agent over the last few years."

Jared's
anger turned into a white-hot fury. "You went to Headquarters?"

Agatha
reached across the table, buttered another raspberry bun, and looked up.
"I assure you, Jared, no one was the wiser. I am quite good friends with
the Secretary. And do quit looking at me as if you were going to throw me into
some witch's brew."

Jared's
gaze sizzled with reproach. Agatha's explanation still did not tell him how she
knew who or what he was. It was all he could do to hold in his anger at the
danger his aunt had put herself in, and his daughter, and him, and Jane . . .
and now Emily. Come to think of it, it was simply amazing this paragon of
information who sat before him had no notion of his relationship with the
duke's daughter ... or had she?

"It
would be best if you keep these small facts to yourself, Aunt, and never, never
bring them into conversation again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Her gray
eyes lit up like a lantern in a storm. "Perfectly."

"Very
good, then. We will speak of this later." He headed toward the door,
looked back at his aunt, and shook his head, afraid to let another word pass
his lips before he did permanent harm to their relationship. He must get word
to Headquarters.

"Oh,
and, Jared dear."

He threw
an icy glare over his shoulder. "What, pray tell, could you have to say
now?"

"You
are not truly out at heels, are you? I do have some money from my mother's side
that is quite a good sum. You may use that if you have need."

Out at
heels indeed! "No. I am not broke! I lost badly at White's one night, and
the incident has grown into an annoying rumor that I am in debt. A joke gone
astray. That ... is all."

"I
see."

He
reached for the door, whistling for Nigel to join him. In seconds, the dog was
by his side.

"And,
Jared dear?"

He
leaned his head against the door and swiveled. Life in a French prison was
easier than this! "Yes?"

He
clenched his teeth as he watched Agatha leisurely drop three lumps of sugar
into her teacup as if she were on a holiday in Bath. "I daresay," she
said, not looking at him, "Miss Susan Wimble is not for the likes of you.
You can do better than her if you would only cool that fiery temper of
yours."

The lady
then added a dollop of cream, completely oblivious to the madness engulfing
him. "Do hope you are not set on the engagement."

Jared
closed his eyes and counted to ten. He had no wish to say that he would rather
choose his spouse now than be forced into marriage as he had been earlier. A
compromising position, as with his late wife Felicia, he would not be found in
again. Though he had become fond of his wife, their union had been singed from
the beginning, and neither could ever forget the wrongs done to either of them.

"I
asked you if you are set on the engagement," Agatha demanded.

"We
are somewhat engaged, and that, dear aunt, is to be kept a secret until the end
of the Season."

"A
secret?" Agatha set down her cup. "And pray, is that your only
one?"

The
devil! What else did she know?

Jared
took a deep, calming breath before he spoke. "I am obliged to ask you to
keep my marriage plans a secret. The settlement between the families has not
been signed, and we have yet to publicly announce the engagement because Miss
Wimble has been attending to a sick cousin in the country. When we meet again
in London, all things will progress in due course."

With an
irritated snort, Agatha returned to her tea. "I see. A cousin now, is it?
Believe I smell a rat, and I daresay, I do know how you loathe those little
beasts, Jared. Ever since you were a child and caught in Mr. McHugh's barn, you
know."

Determined
to leave at all possible speed, Jared reached for the doorknob. He had his
reasons to marry. He needed an heir. His brother and father were dead, and Miss
Susan Wimble was more than decent to the eye. She would do, and besides,
Gabrielle had arrived only a few weeks ago and was residing at a cottage in the
country. His daughter needed him to set aside his problems as quickly as
possible, but his problems seemed to be growing by the second. The matter of information
leaking from Whitehall would be on his to-do list as well, along with his
duties to Lady Emily.

"I
was so hoping you would marry again." Agatha's voice drifted to his ears
like artillery fire. "Felicia may be dead, Jared, but you are still alive
and well. Do not live on your mistakes."

"Mistakes?"
Jared all but shouted the word. He had grown close to Felicia, in a protective
sort of way, and he felt he failed her. Failed Lady Emily and even his
daughter, whom he had not seen in ages.

"Yes,
mistakes." The lady gave him her sternest look. "I believe it would
be quite the thing if you wed a pretty piece such as the Silver Fox."

The name
slammed into Jared's brain like an anvil dropping from the ceiling. "Blast
it to hell! This is an insane conversation, madam."

"Why
is that?" Agatha asked calmly, peering over the rim of her teacup.
"And please refrain from cursing, Jared. I am a delicate woman."

"Pray,
forgive me for my language," he said hotly, "but for one thing, the
Silver Fox is not a woman. And another, you should not even be mentioning the
man's name. Confound it, are you going to tell me who leaked this information
to you?"

Agatha
lifted a cool brow. "And have them hanged for treason?"

"Th-this
is maddening," Jared sputtered and began to pace about the room, locking
his hands behind his back. He stopped and turned to face her. "I must
insist that you curtail your visits to Whitehall at once."

"At
once? By George or what are you going to do?"

He
rubbed a hand across his face. "I have no idea." Though his superiors
had kept Black Wolf and Silver Fox apart for reasons of safety, the danger had
greatly diminished now that Napoleon had been banished. Yet, he was led to
believe the existence of Silver Fox had never been disclosed to the public.

"I
can see you are not going to disclose your contact," he said to his aunt
as he tried desperately to curb his rage, "but I demand to know what you
know about Silver Fox."

Agatha
pounded her parasol against the floor. "I refuse to speak. I have
obviously said too much already. Moreover, everyone in England has heard of
Black Wolf, and a handful of people have heard about Silver Fox as well. So
there."

A
handful of people? Was she mad? "Come now, Agatha. Tell me of your
information. I promise you, it will go no further than this table."

"Goodness,"
she laughed. "You do not truly believe that I would divulge any top-secret
information, do you?"

What in
the name of the king had she been doing the last few minutes? "Not
divulging, Agatha, just simply passing information on to a colleague."

"A
colleague now, am I?" The older lady threw down her napkin and wobbled to
a standing position. "Only a minute ago you were about to send me to the
gallows."

"I
was not!"

"You
were," she said, shuffling her small, round body toward the door.
"And another thing, you will take Jane and Lady Emily to the balls this
Season, or else."

He
raised a dark brow in challenge at the lady's uncompromising look.
"Blackmail does not become you, Agatha."

"Well,
it does now."

As the
door slammed behind her, Jared collapsed into her chair and scowled. How the
devil had the conversation shifted from secret agents to the London Season?
Women! All he needed now was for that Fennington fellow Roderick had warned him
about to come sniffing around Hemmingly. A harsh laugh suddenly escaped him.