The Heiress and the Spy (The Friendship Series Book 2) Page 8

  “We anticipated some unpleasantness, your lordship. A rowdy mob was at the end of the square most of the afternoon, shouting vulgar slogans. This morning, Mrs. Shelton warned all of us to stay off the streets and that you might be delayed this evening.”

  Elizabeth anticipated the riots. How did she know? Peregrine reminded himself to keep his smile fixed and his attitude lighthearted. “Mrs. Shelton told you to expect trouble?”

  After a moment, Crimm said, “She appears to have a knack for predicting a great many things, your lordship.”

  “You’ve not heard much from the rioters?”

  “Before we arrived in town, a brick had been shied through one of the first floor windows. There was a bit of refuse dumped at the servants’ entrance, but nothing more. Our neighbors haven’t been as fortunate.”

  “Crimm, I’m concerned that it’s safe here.”

  “My lord, I’m certain Mrs. Shelton wouldn’t allow us to stay if she thought otherwise. If you would step this way, please? Dinner will not be served in the hall with only the two of you.”

  There was no mistaking the underlying admonition. Crimm didn’t like that Mrs. Shelton was dining alone with him. Never mind the three footmen and servants traipsing in and out. Peregrine ignored the remark. He didn’t mind overlooking impertinence for Elizabeth’s sake, especially from someone who cared about her well-being.

  Crimm continued, “Table has been set in the rose saloon. Mrs. Shelton is waiting for you in here.”

  A footman swept open the door on Peregrine’s right, and Crimm made the announcement. Elizabeth came away from the window. Blue taffeta swished as she approached.

  She gripped his outstretched hands. “ Asterly, I do wish you’d taken a carriage. The streets are so unsafe.”

  After rising up from bowing over her hands, he said, “A conveyance of any sort couldn’t have gotten through. In any event, I think every hackney in London has gone into hiding. It’s safer to walk. I skirted around all the trouble.”

  “Very well, sir, but I refuse to accept your decline of the use of my town coach this evening.” She looked over his shoulder. “Crimm, please tell Jem and Timothy they’ll be needed later on and to go bearing arms. There are some staves in an empty stall in the mews, which will prove helpful to push off any miscreants. Is dinner ready?”

  “Awaiting you and his lordship.”

  “Thank you, Crimm.” She placed her hand on Peregrine’s arm and they followed the butler out into the hallway, where she asked, “Why do you wear that peculiar smile, Asterly?”

  “I’m beginning to think you’d be happy as a lark in spring if you were somehow unexpectedly thrown into a state of siege. Are you always this cool and competent in a crisis?”

  She chuckled, a delicious sound—part purr, part laugh. “Let us pray we’re never in a position where you should learn the extent of my abilities, sir.”

  Liking that answer, he patted her hand on his arm, then allowed his palm to stay there. It was an auspicious start that continued throughout an intimate meal beside the hearth. The crackling fruitwood fire smothered the chaotic noise beyond sturdy, granite walls.

  After declining her offer for brandy and a smoke, he said, “Brummell advised me to ask you for a tour.”

  “He undoubtedly wanted you to see the Stubbs he’s been trying to wheedle from me. He won’t succeed. I have plans for that painting.”

  “He said you’re thinking of making a museum out of this place,” he commented as they exited the salon. “I take it you have an extensive collection.”

  “Yes. You didn’t get to view the gallery?”

  “I only got as far as the music room and was glad you succumbed when everyone insisted that you play the fourth for the Mozart in C minor. One of my favorites. Forgive me for saying, but had you not been an heiress, you could’ve made a name and fortune for yourself on the Continent.”

  “Perhaps. I always feel as if my audience takes me too seriously. It tempts one to lighten the mood with a bawdy tavern song. That would never do in the stuffy courts of Vienna.”

  He gave her a smile full of meaning, anticipating her blush, as he said, “Probably not, but the Parisians would adore you for it. So would I.”

  She not only blushed, her eyes widened. Perhaps that was a bit too predatory. His suspicion was confirmed when she whirled and headed down the hallway.

  Over her shoulder, she said, “We shall go through the gallery first. The candles are not put out until I retire. I often like to visit the paintings after dinner. Some are so restful.”

  “Just the gallery for this evening. I’ll see the rest of the floor some other time. It’s getting late and I don’t like the idea of wasting all those candles just for me.”

  She started to disagree and saw something in his gaze that made her acquiesce with a nod. A stroll while discussing art would dispel her nervousness. Her perceptiveness sensed what he’d left unsaid and realized he was trying to put her at ease.

  A footman opened the gallery door and two others went ahead of them to light more candles and lamps with reflectors. They moved slowly down the long room. He stopped her in front of an enormous portrait.

  Sparkling colors leapt from the canvas—vivid red, stark white, glossy gold and black. A dark-haired lady with luminously pale skin gazed back at them, the sort who would scorn his thin whistle of appreciation.

  “Demmed fine portrait of you, Elizabeth. Is this one of Jacques Louis’s efforts?”

  “You are correct in as much as the artist, but that’s not me. David painted this of my mother when she was known as the Bavarian Rose. It’s how she looked when Father bought up her family’s debts just to inveigle recognition.”

  “Since you’re standing here as legal progeny, your maternal grandfather from Bavaria eventually agreed to the match.”

  She smiled that sly grin that never failed to fascinate and send tendrils of heat throughout his vitals.

  “Mein Grosspapa proffered an extravagant style of living well beyond his means. Mother inherited his ways and turned a blind eye to my father’s humble origins. Papa was much older and enjoyed indulging her. I remember Mama with a very cheerful disposition, surrounded by a vast wardrobe. She needed two maids and a dresser to maintain her clothes and never traveled without at least two extra carriages for her attire.”

  Peregrine had seen this sort of excess but could never comprehend it. He’d lived too long on too little. “How fortunate that your father could keep her as she liked.”

  Elizabeth moved on to the painting beside her mother’s portrait, one of Vermeer’s peaceful and rare domestic scenes. “It was why she agreed to marry Papa.”

  Peregrine paused to study the regal, sumptuously gowned and supremely satisfied Mrs. Bradley. “You really do look like her, you know.”

  “I think not. There is still talk in Manchester of her beauty. I’m merely passable.”

  “You do yourself a disservice, m’dear.”

  Visibly uncomfortable under his assessing regard, she stoutly replied, “Not at all. I know I possess a very nice smile but am otherwise nondescript.”

  “I think not,” he murmured with a glance over her excellent figure. When she colored up again, he hoped to ease her discomfort with a tease. He put on his haughty mask and raised his brother’s quizzing glass. “Shame on you, ma’am, fishin’ about in such an odious way for compliments.”

  His rendition of chilling Corinthian disdain made her laugh, as he knew it would. “That’s better. Ma’am, is there someplace where we might talk privately?”

  She tilted her head. “Private? There’s no one here.”

  Although the footmen pretended to be statues, he could feel their thoughts. He walked her back toward the door. “Your Crimm is a terribly efficient fellow. Can’t seem to get him off my scent. Always lurking about. Quite protective of you, I know. Now that I’m a permanent fixture at the Foreign Office, do you think I should hire him from under your nose? A good butler always adds to one’s
consequence.”

  She went through the open door into the hallway. “Pester me all you like, you can’t have him.” She turned to the object of their discussion. “Crimm, another one begs to hire you. What shall I tell him?”

  Crimm replied, “If you please, Mrs. Shelton, suggest that I have relatives at Carlton House who would be open to a less demanding position.”

  “Ouch,” Peregrine murmured. To Elizabeth, he said sotto voce, “You have ears everywhere, don’t you?”

  She didn’t answer that and said to Crimm, “You and the others are excused for this evening.”

  The butler’s expression soured. He hesitated for a meaning-filled moment before directing the footmen into the gallery to douse the lights.

  As he followed Elizabeth into another wing, he muttered, “That went over well.”

  She chortled and spoke over her shoulder, “I sometimes like to shove a spoke in his wheels. If he gets too irritated with me, I don’t want you trying to entice him away with offers of adventure and travel.”

  He followed her down a hallway where there were no footmen, where she opened the door herself before he could. He stopped beyond the threshold.

  “Good heavens, ma’am! I asked to be private, not to ruin your reputation with the use of your private apartments.”

  “Stop being silly, and how did you know this is my sitting room?”

  “Is it not?” He used the quizzing glass to peer around the cozy room. “It’s rather smallish. Not so grand as one would expect.”

  She sat on a divan by the fireplace. “I tire of large rooms and have no reputation of any kind to ruin. In any event, Merrick, my dresser, is only a few doors away, close enough to hear my screams.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it will come to that.”

  “I thought not,” she murmured with a teasing grin. “My lord, please remember that I don’t exist to the members of your circles, ergo, no interest in me nor reason for gossip. You requested privacy. At this time of evening, no one will come up here unless I call. My servants would plead my innocence all the way to the gallows to keep the exorbitant wages I pay them.”

  He strolled closer. “If nothing else, I should be shaking in my boots at the thought of crossing the estimable Mr. Crimm.” He sat on the divan beside her. “I say, Elizabeth, are you truly as rich as everyone thinks?”

  She responded with a prim, disapproving set to her mouth. The twinkle in her eyes spoiled her silent criticism. “It is a measure of our friendship that I’ll not signify that sort of impertinence with a reply.”

  “Oh, dear…your fortune is that preposterous?”

  She choked on a laugh. “My monetary expectations are too vulgar to declare. Now, sir, we are completely private. What is it you wished to say?”

  “First, I’m glad you consider me a friend but that may suffer a strain with what I’m about to present to you.”

  When he stopped fiddling with the quizzing glass and dropped it—and his playful façade—she asked, “What is wrong? How may I be of service to you, my friend?”

  He took her hand. “Elizabeth, I trust you completely, which is why I’m going to impose on our friendship and ask for help.”

  “Forgive me, are you in need of funds?”

  He blinked, surprised. “Well, I am, in fact, but would never ask a lady for money. No, it’s something far more important and serious. Still, I hesitate to ask.”

  She turned her hand over under his, pressed her palm against his, and squeezed. “Go on.”

  “You know my former involvement with in the military was…uhm, shall we say…irregular?”

  “You were a spy,” she clarified, practical and calm, and waited for him to continue.

  He nodded and inhaled a fortifying breath. He really didn’t want to involve her in this. Some orders were meant to be circumvented, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from following through with the plans of others, who might not have Elizabeth’s well being foremost in their thoughts. Therefore, he devised a way to keep her safe, a simple solution that would make her unassailable, keep her watched over and protected, if she would agree.

  “You know that I returned from Vienna with orders from Castlereagh.” When she nodded again, he continued, “but that position was denied me due to recent events. Before coming here tonight, I was told that Bonaparte has left Elba.”

  She withdrew her hand from his and looked into the fireplace. Shadows from the flames wavered over her solemn expression. She looked back into his eyes. “I see. They want you to spy again.”

  “Yes, but the problem is that…after so many years of doing so…I’m well-known to our enemies. All over the Continent, in fact.”

  “Then, doesn’t it make more sense to use someone not as well-known?”

  “That’s what we wish them to think.” He waited for her to absorb the idea. “Now you understand. I shall only pretend to be here. When I leave, there must be a plausible reason for my not appearing in public and yet allow for the certainty I’m still here. In England.”

  “But I don’t see how I may be of assistance to you and your cause.”

  “I’ll address that in a moment. First, we also need a different pathway for getting information to the right persons. A method that will not give rise to suspicion. That’s where you become an integral part of our plan.”

  She lowered her brows in a frown and leaned back, a withdrawal that appeared unconscious. “Me?”

  The slight retreat made him more cautious in his approach. He fiddled with his signet ring. If she accepted this first part, he could explain the rest.

  “Elizabeth, you once confided in me that you often wished to have something of importance to do with your life. What I’m about to suggest might place you in harm’s way. To help me, and your country, to be of service in this way, could put you in danger, but having listened to everything you’ve confided, I’ve formed a curious notion that you might welcome an opportunity. Am I in error? Please forgive me if I am.”

  She hesitated, then answered, “If you’re also wondering whether or not I’m insulted, I am not. Go on with your proposal.”

  Apt word, he thought. “You should know that measures will be taken to assure your safety. Even so, if you’re willing to help, there’ll always be an element of risk, but not the same that I live with every day. I’m still not sure I wish to expose you to that.”

  “May I ask you quite frankly if this was your original intent when you came to visit me last fall?”

  He swallowed the insult without comment. In a way, he deserved it. Should he tell her all? Prevaricate? Staying as closely as possible to the truth was always the safest course.

  “Your name and banks have always been of interest, but no, Elizabeth. I came because Devon asked me to visit. Beyond that, I wasn’t asked to resume my commission until this afternoon. At that time, your name was reintroduced.”

  She returned her gaze to the settling flames. He got up and stirred the logs, waiting for her reply, knowing that she would tell him in her outspoken and honest way when she was ready.

  Chapter 11

  Elizabeth struggled to cover the hurt of learning that his primary interest in her had to do with his work. She had no doubts that his interest in her money came secondary to his interest in her as a woman. He joked about it too easily and was too open about his destitution.

  Involvement in an endeavor of national importance would certainly keep the boredom at bay with the distraction of having something new and interesting to do. If she agreed to help him, she would at least maintain contact with him. He wouldn’t slip out of her life and back into the impenetrable world of intrigue.

  If something did happen to him, and she were a part of this endeavor, she would have the right to make inquiries. But did she want to go through with the not knowing and the constant worry as she had with Devon?

  Another aspect to consider—she might be able to keep him safe. She wasn’t without her own means.

  She looked into his blue-g
reen gaze, so level and unwavering. He was a good liar, something else she’d have to come to terms with and yet somehow learn to trust him, not let herself get carried away with romantic ideas.

  “Very well, Peregrine. I will help.”

  “No questions about what you’ll be doing?”

  “Not especially. It would be an honor and a privilege to help you and my country. What must I do?”

  He visibly relaxed. “I must first ask you to clarify a few matters, personal ones, if I may.”

  “I have nothing to hide from you.”

  “It’s my understanding you still have banking connections in Manchester and on the Continent.”

  “I recently sold the Manchester concerns to Messrs. Rothschild.”

  “Are you on friendly terms with the family?”

  She folded her hands on her lap. “My father was.”

  “But you’re not known to socialize with them?”

  “I’ve never met them. All banking transactions are carried out through my steward, Swifton, and signed by my trustee.”

  “Excellent. We’re mainly interested in the European banks and can’t risk a connection to the Rothschilds. Does your steward correspond regularly with the Continent?”

  “At least once a week. Quite often, more than that. ”

  A cold, sure smile altered his features into a hardness she’d never seen before. He shifted his attention to stare thoughtfully at the wall and murmured to himself, “How absolutely perfect.”

  He abruptly left the fireplace and sat beside her. His nearness set off a quivering awareness. She focused on masking the internal mayhem his presence always created and felt grateful that she didn’t flinch when he took her hand.

  “Please Elizabeth, look at me. That’s much better. Don’t be alarmed, but I must humbly beg you to marry me.”

  Chapter 12

  After an awkward, extended silence, Asterly wryly said, “My dear, you’re drained of all color. I’m clumsy, but I hope, not insulting.”

  Elizabeth managed to ask around her pounding heart, “Was that a serious question?”

  “Absolutely.”