To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) Page 6

  “Must be important.” Ross stretched upright and sheathed his dagger. “What I do not understand is why you deemed the dark of night, in the middle of the park, an appropriate venue for a discussion.”

  “Reality often does not oblige my preferences, and I have learned to live with the disappointment and inconvenience.” The nobleman folded his arms. “Shall we adjourn to my coach, where we can converse with free reign, as gentlemen, or is this your favorite forum?”

  “If must needs.” How many lectures could one man endure?

  “I will brook no refusal, Sir Ross.” Apparently, at least one more.

  “All right, I acquiesce, but under protest.” Tamping his frustration, he gathered his tools and dusted off his breeches. “I gather you wish to warn me away from Lady Elaine, again?”

  “Not exactly.” Together, they strode to the graceful black equipage emblazoned with the Raynesford coat of arms. A footman opened the door, and the marquess stepped aside. “After you.”

  “Fine.” After depositing his lantern on the floorboard, Ross settled into the squabs and pocketed his weapon.

  “Make the rotations until I say otherwise,” Lord Raynesford instructed the coachman.

  “Just how long will this take?” With a sigh of annoyance, Ross checked his watch. “It is getting late.”

  “And yet you will indulge me.” Raynesford positioned opposite Ross and frowned. “It is about my cousin.”

  “I could have wagered and won on that assumption.” Leashing his temper, Ross grasped the edge of the bench. “In fairness, she pursued me, but I made it clear that I do not welcome her attention.”

  “What?” The marquess came alert. “Define ‘pursued,’ and have care for Lady Elaine’s reputation.”

  “Well, in light of the Brethren women’s penchant for boldness in courtship, which I recall from the viscountess of Wainsbrough’s romancing of her viscount, I gather you can draw your own conclusion.” Ross scratched his chin. “What did Cara do to first gain your notice?”

  In the dim confinement of the coach, Raynesford paled. “Sir Ross, if I thought you claimed Lady Elaine’s bride prize, I would call you out, without hesitation.”

  “Bloody hell.” Ross choked on his words, as he realized he stumbled upon a family secret the aristocrat did not wish to share. “I would sooner cut off my right arm than defile Lady Elaine, and never did I intend to imply such.”

  “Believe me, if I suspected you breached her, I’d cut off something, but it would not be your arm.” Then his lordship tugged at his cravat. “And I would have your discretion, in regard to this conversation.”

  “Of course.” In that instant, Ross needed a drink—perhaps several. “But you need not worry about Lady Elaine, as I made it clear I have no interest in marriage and encouraged her to seek other prospects.”

  “When did this exchange take place? And I would have the truth, as I know too well the determination of a resolute female. Wait.” The noble rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me guess, she visited you in the guest room you occupied in my home, after Dr. Handley tended your wound.”

  “How did you know?” Ross would have given anything to maintain Elaine’s confidence.

  “My marchioness distracted me, and my cousin seized the advantage.” Raynesford shook his head. “Ever hunt a lady in your line of work? They are far craftier than any man of my acquaintance.”

  “I could not agree more.” At last, Ross fished the lead shot from his pocket and passed the ball to the marquess. As Lord Raynesford held the small munition into the light, Ross shifted his weight. “I dug that from the tree, which proves my assertion that Lady Elaine is in danger. Not for a minute do I believe the shooting was an accident.”

  And there it was, the tangible fear that the delicate woman Ross had forever admired was in trouble. The mere inclination was enough to incite uncontrollable rage, and Ross clenched his teeth. Not matter what it took; he would save her from Waddlington.

  “Sir Ross, may I pose a personal question?” Whatever Raynesford wanted to know, Ross had an inkling he would not like it.

  “Indeed, as I have nothing to hide.” Well, that was not exactly true, but Raynesford could not possibly know of Ross’s shame.

  “How long have you been in love with my cousin?” That was quite assuredly the last query Ross anticipated Raynesford to pose.

  “I am not in love with Lady Elaine.” And if Ross declared it enough, he just might believe it.

  “All right.” The noble snickered. “But tell me anyway.”

  “Lord Raynesford, I am incapable of experiencing such emotional attachments.” And Ross was in no mood to discuss such melodramatic topics. “As I cautioned Lady Elaine, mine is a damaged soul, and she could do far better for a husband. Indeed, I do not deserve her.”

  “I thought the same thing of myself, in regard to Cara, before my wife enacted a plan to show me otherwise.” The marquess eased into the cushions and smiled. “And I wasted precious years, carrying a burden that was not mine to own. For some reason I cannot explain, I think you are similarly encumbered.”

  “Be that as it may, and I am not necessarily in agreement with your suppositions, we both concur that I am not the one for Lady Elaine, and that is all that matters.” And that was why Ross did not want to engage in such talk, as he could make no sense of the irrational feelings that waged war within him whenever she was near. “So what are we going to do to keep her safe and alive?”

  “Thanks to my bride’s efforts, I enjoyed a few hours of clarity tonight, and I realized we have overlooked the obvious.” After again fiddling with his cravat, Raynesford finally untied the yard-length of linen and pulled it from his neck. “Why I felt the need the dress in gentleman’s attire for an informal meeting is beyond me. Now then, our current situation with Lady Elaine mirrors the Viscountess of Wainsbrough’s predicament, when a then-unknown assailant pursued her.”

  “Of course.” Ross snapped his fingers as an idea dawned in his mind. “We could enact another mock courtship. And just as we used Rebecca to lure Varringdale, we can—no.” He shook his head. “I will not dangle Lady Elaine as the proverbial carrot before the horse. Unlike Rebecca, your cousin is not a trained operative for the Corps.”

  “Yet all Rebecca’s training did not spare her from Varringdale’s brutality, because Dirk did not anticipate an assault on Lyvedon Hall. And I am not blaming my brother, but I believe he was out of his element, when dealing with an assassin and traitor as cunning and lethal as Varringdale.” Leaning forward, Raynesford propped his elbows on his knees and pinned Ross with an unrelenting gaze. “But what if we anchor a trained operative at her side, someone who would give his life to defend her? An agent unparalleled in advanced espionage tactics who would deploy any means necessary to save Lady Elaine?”

  “Me?” At that instant, Ross shuddered with terror. “You wish me to court Lady Elaine, as some lovesick fop?”

  “It is worse than that.” The marquess chuckled. “I wish you to court Lady Elaine, like some lovesick fop, in full view of society, as well as the unknown blackguard that would harm her.”

  “You must be joking.” Ross would rather stroll naked down Bond Street. “No one would believe the charade. And you, yourself, said I am unsuitable.”

  “Not unsuitable.” Raynesford wagged a finger. “I remarked on the dangers associated with your chosen occupation and the risks of Lady Elaine’s affiliation with you. As it stands, you are a decorated knight in His Majesty’s service, so I do not object to you, personally. Rather, I take exception to your line of work and the perils to which my cousin could be exposed, with you as her husband. However, given your unique relationship with her, can you name anyone more qualified to guard Lady Elaine?”

  Everything inside Ross rebelled in that moment, and it had nothing to do with preference. In truth, he feared his ability to resist Elaine. Of late, whenever they met, he found the beautiful ingénue an enticing temptation, and he doubted his ability to maintain th
e pretense of courtship. It was at that very second he admitted to himself that he wanted her. More than that, he needed her.

  Against his well-honed instincts, Ross nodded. “If we do this, I would have her know of our plan—”

  “No.” Raynesford gestured with a sharp flick of his wrist. “I have known Elaine since birth, and she will never cooperate, because dissemblance is not in her nature. If we are to succeed, she must remain oblivious to our plan.”

  “I would have you acknowledge my dissent, in the event Lady Elaine discovers our scheme, as she will never forgive me.” When Raynesford dipped his chin, Ross extended his hand, with the marquess shook. “Then I will do it.”

  to catch a fallen spy

  chapter five

  Mrs. Ross Logan. Sitting at her escritoire, Elaine studied the signature and opted for another variation, one a little less florid, of her future name. Then she scribbled a different version and set her pen on the blotter. Hugging herself, she giggled and glanced at the bouquet of roses that arrived that afternoon. The accompanying note, stark in its simplicity but overwhelming in its significance, brought her more joy than she ever could have imagined.

  My dear Lady Elaine,

  Please accept this humble offering, which pales in comparison with your beauty, from an unworthy admirer.

  Affectionately Yours,

  Sir Ross Logan

  Clutching the card to her bosom, she sighed, stood, and twirled in circles until she lost her balance and collapsed on the chaise, in a fit of laughter. “Oh, Ross. You are affectionately mine, now and forever.”

  For whatever reason, her man appeared to have come to his senses and, at last, accepted the inevitability of their intertwined fates, and not for a second would she question his new tune, when it so perfectly aligned with hers. Determined to throw caution to the wind, and declare for all to see that she belonged to Ross, she resolved to gift her beau three dances that night, at the Netherton Ball.

  “Elaine, am I interrupting something of importance?” Cara stood in the doorway of the sitting room. “Have you decided which dress to wear this evening, given we depart in an hour?”

  “I am still celebrating, but Mary did my hair in a new style.” With a squeal of delight, Elaine leaped at her closest confidante and then rotated for inspection. “How do I look? Is it not wonderful? Ross is mine. I keep pinching myself, just to ensure I am awake and not dreaming.”

  “The curls are charming, the news is thrilling, and I am so happy for you.” Cara clapped her hands. “Now let us garb you for the next engagement, as you want Ross to fall at your feet, and I know just what will suit our purpose.”

  “Indeed?” Elaine trailed Cara to the armoire. “I selected the peach, given the low-cut bodice.”

  “That is a wise tack, for a faltering swain, but the elegant blooms declare Ross anything but faltering. At first glance, I thought the blue a perfect choice, as it accents your eyes.” Yet Cara drew a cream, eau de Nil silk gown trimmed in old gold, from the collection. “But this is fit for a goddess, and the skirt will cling to your legs, in a dazzling display of your figure. If it does not render Sir Ross speechless, I shall eat my best bonnet.”

  The image of a tongue-tied Ross popped into Elaine’s mind, and again she yielded to mirth. “I would surrender my inheritance to see that.”

  “No need to go to such lengths, as all we require is the right attire.” Tapping her chin, Cara averted her stare. “And wear your gold necklace with the large pearl pendant, as it accentuates your décolletage.”

  “Cara, you are a genius.” With that, Elaine gave herself into her maid’s capable hands.

  After a round of intense prepping, a minor adjustment to her coiffure, whereupon Mary broke off a single rosebud and pinned it just above Elaine’s left ear, and a final check in the long mirror, she donned her jewelry and situated the heirloom as Cara advised. And then she exited her chambers, strolled down the hall, crossed the majestic gallery filled with paintings of her ancestors, and descended the grand staircase, where she discovered Lance and Cara lingering in the foyer.

  “Oh, Elaine, you look magnificent.” With a smile, Cara wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Your parents would be so proud.”

  “Thank you.” Despite Cara’s praise, Elaine needed Lance’s approval, and she glanced at her cousin. “Well, what do you think?”

  “You are beautiful, my dear.” Lance bent and kissed her forehead, but something in his countenance gave her pause.

  “Lance, is something wrong?” The only thing that could spoil the moment would be another argument with her cousin. Then a possible justification for his expression of sadness dawned on her. “You are not still worried about my affiliation with Sir Ross.”

  “No matter how old you get, I will always worry.” He favored her with a grin, as he chucked her chin. “It is just that I cannot believe how fast you have grown into a lovely young lady, and I am so proud of you.”

  “Stop.” Elaine sniffed. “Else you will make me cry.”

  “No dawdling, both of you.” Cara donned her cloak and snapped her fingers. “Sir Ross awaits our charge, so we must not be late.”

  And so Elaine departed Raynesford House in the family carriage for the short ride to the Netherton’s regal home. All but bouncing in the squabs, Elaine peered at Lance and slapped her thighs. “Daresay this is the most wonderful night of my life, and I am so grateful I can share it with you.”

  “As am I, dear cousin.” Lance stared out the window.

  “My love, are you unwell?” Furrowing her brow, Cara rested her palm in the crook of his elbow.

  “Everything is fine, sweetheart.” But his answering smile did little to inspire confidence, and Elaine fretted for him.

  Of course, any semblance of trouble escaped Elaine, when they arrived at their destination. Riding a wave of euphoria, she doffed her outerwear, rushed through the receiving line, and swept into the ballroom, in search for her not-so-hesitant suitor.

  Across a crowded hall, she spied her secret agent, resplendent in his black formal garb. When their gazes met, he favored her with the most affecting smile, and her knees buckled. Focusing her energies, she put one foot in front of the other, and he did the same, until they met in the middle, and Elaine feared her heart might burst with unrivaled elation.

  For a few minutes, Ross simply scrutinized her, and he blushed, which won her then and there. Silent, he offered his escort, which she accepted without prompt. Then he cleared his throat. “Good evening, Lady Elaine. May I compliment you on your sense of fashion, as you are a vision?”

  “Thank you, Sir Ross.” A murmur coursed the throng, as society noted the new pairing, and she squeezed his arm. “And I do so treasure the flowers. You were thoughtful to send the roses.”

  “I am glad you are pleased.” His was not the warm reception she anticipated.

  “To express my gratitude, I saved the opening dance, the first waltz, and the allemande for you.” Despite his reticence, which she attributed to a wicked case of nerves, given her mutual anxiety, she persevered. “And if you wish to partner me at dinner, I should be indebted to you.”

  “A gracious invitation I would never decline.” Something in his demeanor struck her as odd, given he neglected to look at her, as they navigated the sea of revelers.

  Beneath the unfamiliar and much disdained spotlight, she forced an appearance of serenity, but inside she grew agitated. It was a terrifying prospect, to enter the center stage for the amusement of the ton. While she dreaded the game, such vulgar spectacles manifested the associative price she had to pay as a member of so-called polite society.

  A string quartet occupied a landing of the cavernous chamber, and they struck the first notes of Boccherini’s Minuet. The elegant dance in triple meter, comprised of a series of pas menus, gave her a chance to gauge Ross’s mood. To Elaine’s chagrin, her partner seemed interested in everyone but her.

  “How did you know roses are my favorite?” she inquired.

>   “Hmm—what?” He came alert. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Who told you of my partiality for roses?” In light of his magnanimous gesture, she vowed not to lose her temper, but his behavior confused her. Whatever she expected, his indifference conflicted with her suppositions, and she did not appreciate it.

  “My dear Lady Elaine, I did what any self-respecting, highly trained agent of the Corps would do.” In that moment, he grinned, and she forgot what troubled her. “I asked your cousin.”

  “And Lance encouraged you in your pursuit?” In a furtive move, she pinched herself again, just to ensure she was awake and fully compos mentis.

  “Indeed.” Ross nodded, and her heart sang with unabashed joy. “In fact, it was his idea to welcome me into your family.”

  “Really?” A wave of emotion blanketed Elaine, as fate granted her most coveted wish. Just then, the music stopped, and she clutched Ross’s hand. “Can we take a walk in the garden, as I desperately want to be alone with you?”

  “No.” To her frustration, he situated her at his side and led her to the back wall, where the Brethren gathered. “You should join the ladies, and talk about whatever you talk about.”

  “Why not?” A quick scan of the vicinity yielded a few prospective meeting spots perfect for a hasty tryst. “Please, I want to celebrate our new arrangement with a kiss.”

  “That is out of the question, because everyone watches us.” The refusal struck her as odd, given he never objected in the past, when they were not courting. “Go, and I shall collect you once the dinner bell rings.”

  Rebuffed, she entered the circle of her most trusted allies and bumped Rebecca. “I am confused, sister.”

  “In light of recent revelations, I am shocked by your confusion.” The former spy arched a brow. “So how goes it with Sir Ross?”

  “Oh, do tell, Elaine.” Sabrina clucked her tongue. “Is it everything you envisioned, or does the secret agent surpass the realm of fantasy?”

  “Well, I am not sure.” In silence, she mulled his rejection, which still stung. “Does romance addle a man’s brain? Does it make him behave in ways that confound and defy explanation?”