Gentlemen Prefer Nerds (23 page)

Why was he still standing there? The cordon had been pulled back. His plane was starting to board. Why wasn’t he going? Any second she would burst into tears.

He kissed her then, dipping his head without warning for a glancing brush of the lips. She barely had time to feel his mouth on hers before he was pulling back. Turning away. Walking swiftly toward the waiting airplane.

“Goodbye,” she whispered even though she knew he wasn’t listening.

Sunk in a black mood, Fabian restlessly paced the library at the family estate southeast of London while his parents argued over what was to be done about Roland. James had taken the position of authority behind an imposing oak desk. Isabella, dark-haired and petite, curled up on the leather sofa. Teeny and Tiny were flopped at her feet on the Persian carpet.

Swirling his glass of port, Fabian sipped the vintage drop with none of his usual pleasure in his father’s well-stocked cellar. He wished he was anywhere but this gloomy room with its dark wood and musty books, where as a boy he’d received many a lecture on the importance of honor and family tradition.

His thoughts kept flipping back to Maddie, stoking his anger over her betrayal. She’d given him tacit agreement from the start that she would honor his demand not to go to the police. Granted, she hadn’t revealed his brother’s true identity, but sooner or later the paper trail from the registration and purchase of the
Beau Sancy
would lead them to Roland.

“I should disown the lad before he brings disgrace upon the entire family.” At sixty-six, Lord Montgomery had graying blond hair and the erect posture of a retired Major General in the Royal Hussars. Mother had said he’d been ill. His father’s spare frame bore signs of fatigue and a new gauntness. Surely the lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened.

“That would make things worse,” Fabian said although part of him agreed with his father. He’d asked one thing of Maddie—one thing—and she’d refused. He’d thought they were working together. Partners. He’d been a fool to let emotion cloud his judgment.

“It is harsh,” Isabella murmured, stroking Tiny’s head. She looked tired, too, her normally lustrous dark hair, dull. This dreadful business with Roland had taken its toll on all of them.

“It’s time Roland faced the consequences of his actions,” James declared. “If we contact Interpol tonight, the police will be waiting when he reaches Tierra del Fuego. He can bloody well rot in jail.”

“Darling, please,” Isabella protested. “Fabian, why don’t you go to South America? Talk to Rolly. Make him see reason.”

“He’s not operating on reason, Mother. He’s turned rogue.”

Okay, perhaps Maddie did have a right to be angry with him for concealing Roland’s identity from her; he conceded that point. But secretiveness was in his nature and in his training. It hadn’t been essential for her to know. Being in the dark hadn’t stopped them from getting the Rose back. That was all she should be concerned about.

“He cannot be allowed to go on thieving.” James rapped his knuckles on his desk for emphasis. “He must be stopped, once and for all.”

“I agree that what he did was very wrong,” Isabella said. “But he didn’t get away with the theft. And he lost his synthetic diamond in the bargain. That will be a lesson to him.”

“You’re too soft on him,” James said. “Always have been. If you’d listened to me—”

“I did! And he ended up far away in Africa, brainwashed by my sister. Perhaps if we addressed the cause of Rolly’s discontent instead of the symptoms—”

“He must be punished!”

“Yes, but by us, who care about him.”

“It’s too late for understanding and love to make Roland see the error of his ways,” Fabian intervened before the discussion deteriorated into an old and familiar battle. “My own brother shot at me. He left me to drown. He shot at a woman. He’s crossed a line. I can’t forgive him.”

“Quite right.” Two spots of color remained high in James’s cheeks. “Unforgivable.”

Isabella was silenced, her face pale against the oxblood leather couch. She stroked Tiny’s shaggy neck.

“We’re not the only ones who’ve suffered,” Fabian added. “Maddie, the gemologist I told you about, went to heroic lengths to retrieve the stolen diamond.”

“Heroic? It’s all her fault, if you ask me,” Isabella said. “If she hadn’t turned Rolly in, he wouldn’t be in this mess. Why did you take her into your confidence? How could you even imagine she would lie for you? Unless…are you in love with her? Is that why you were counting on her?”

“No. Definitely not.” He’d lusted after her but that was all. She’d betrayed him utterly, merely using him to get the Rose back.

“Then she’s in love with you,” Isabella said. “I can’t think of any other reason she would flout the law in such a serious case.”

She might simply because she was the daughter of a thief and used to breaking the law. But she wasn’t a thief. He’d known that from the beginning.

Fabian scrubbed a hand through his hair. Damn and bloody hell. His emotions were still affecting his ability to reason. Which made no sense because he wasn’t in love with her. “We knew each other less than a week. I’ll never see her again.” He rose, set his port glass on the side table. From experience he knew that discussions about his wayward brother could go on for hours. And now that talk had veered to Maddie, he’d had quite enough.

“I’ll contact the police,” he told his father. “Would you like time to make arrangements to keep it out of the news media? I know how you feel about family scandal undermining what you do in the House of Lords.”

Lord James and Lady Isabella exchanged a glance. Fabian caught the anxious look, the way his mother bit her bottom lip and his father gripped a glass paperweight as if it were a life buoy. “What is it?”

“I’m going to step down,” James said slowly. “You will need to prepare yourself to stand for the seat when the by-election comes up.” His steely gaze fixed on Fabian as if defying him to disagree.

What was this?
Fabian stiffened. He’d always known he was expected to follow his father into the House of Lords. But in due time. Not now, not when he was in the prime of his active years. The job he performed at MI6 was a perfect fit with his talents and inclinations. Taking a seat in the House would spell the end of his present way of life.

Luckily for him, he wasn’t eligible to run for office. He was surprised James had even suggested it. It showed how distracted he was over Roland.

“With respect, sir, you know that’s not possible. As long as you live, you bear the title of Earl of Lansdowne. I can’t stand for the seat until you pass away, which I trust will be many years yet.”

Heavy silence fell over the darkening room. James and Isabella exchanged another glance. Impatient, Fabian glanced from one parent to the other—

Oh, no. God, no. Suddenly his father’s frailty made a horrible sense. Fabian tried to still the panic beating in his chest. The old man was invincible. As a small boy Fabian had looked up to a father who possessed formidable physical strength and mental toughness. The years had taken their toll. The truth was evident in the way James hunched over his desk like a creaky old man.

“Tell me!” Fabian demanded, his voice harsh in the gloom. “Why don’t you say something? What is wrong?”

Isabella stroked Teeny, her down-turned mouth tightly stretched as she struggled not to cry. “Pancreatic cancer. The doctor says he has six months to a year. I’m so sorry, darling. You’ll be the head of the family soon.”

* * *

The Aston Martin’s headlights illuminated the tarmac on the narrow secondary road leading to London. Fabian had gone to visit his parents intending to stay three days. Instead he’d spent three weeks, helping his father put his affairs in order and emotionally propping up his mother. None of it felt real, nor did it seem possible, even now, that his father might die. Would die. Grief over the loss, and rage at the monstrous unfairness of it all, choked him.

He loosened his collar while with the other hand he gripped the wheel and accelerated out of the curve in the road, his foot pressed to the floor as if he could outrace destiny.

No more adventures, no more excitement and danger, no more not knowing what was coming around the next bend, surviving on his wits and strength, by the skin of his teeth. Next thing, he’d be expected to settle down, marry, produce an heir—

His mind shied away from that. There was no one suitable whom he wanted to marry. And for now, duty still beckoned. C had understood when she’d learned why he’d missed his last assignment but now something truly serious was afoot and she’d called him in. His mother had been openly dismayed and clung to him in parting. Even his father, uncharacteristically demonstrative, had clasped him in a prolonged embrace. It had been all Fabian could do not to break down and cling to him like a child.

Truth be told, though, he’d been glad to get away. He’d done all he could for now. There was nothing to be gained by beating his chest and railing against fate.

The Foreign Office was quiet. The staff had gone home hours ago. C’s office door was ajar. A wave of nostalgia hit him unexpectedly. When they’d first been together, they would meet like this, after hours. He would enter and she would look up. For a moment the world would stop spinning. Then she’d rise to her feet, lithe and sensual as a cat and meet him in a passionate embrace. All without a word spoken.

Now her smooth ash-blond head was bent over the contents of a file, her brow creased in concentration. Her gray silk blouse was fastened between her breasts with a cameo, and carved ivory studded her earlobes. She was beautiful, formidable and still sexy—

“I know you’re there.” She wrote rapidly without looking up. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Just girding my loins,” he said lightly. He entered and closed the door.

C leaned back in her chair and put down her pen. “I was sorry to hear about your father. How is your mother holding up? She’s the one I’m worried about.”

Years ago, one night after making love, C had told him that every time he went on assignment into dangerous territory, she worried until he came home safely. It was an astounding admission considering she was responsible for an untold number of officers and agents. She probably still worried about him.

“Mother allowed herself to lean on me while I was there, but she’ll rally.” Fabian sank into a chair. “She’s the strongest woman I know.” He smiled. “Bar one.”

Or maybe two, he thought unexpectedly as Maddie flashed into his mind.

C smiled fleetingly, acknowledging the compliment. She stacked all the papers together and placed them in a file folder. “Here’s the dossier on your new assignment. You fly to Kabul in forty-eight hours.”

Fabian opened the file and leafed through the various papers—names of contacts, maps, intelligence reports.

“I hear your brother is in trouble again,” C said.

Fabian closed the file. “He’s always in trouble.”

“Has Interpol picked him up?”

“No. He should have made landfall by now. But there are literally thousands of tiny uncharted islands in the southern ocean. He could hole up for years if he wanted to.”

“What else is wrong?” C asked softly. “I can tell you’re troubled.” Her smoky-blue eyes were warm with a tenderness he hadn’t seen in years.

Fabian tapped the envelope against his knee. He was troubled over Maddie. Three weeks had taken the edge off his certainty about her blameworthiness. Was he angry with her, or himself? He shouldn’t have left her the way he had, he knew that much. She hadn’t deserved his silence and coldness. It was the way his father treated his family when displeased. As a boy and a teenager, even as a young man, he’d hated knowing he was the object of his father’s fury and wished James would simply yell at him and get it over with. You could fight someone who got angry, or stand up for yourself. But when a person simply didn’t react you were helpless to change the situation.

“It’s nothing. I’ll deal with it.”

“There was a time when you could tell me anything.”

Those days were truly gone. The sense of shock went right to the heart of who he was. “I don’t understand it myself.”

C rose and came around her desk to crouch beside his chair. She stroked her hand through his hair. “Stay with me for the weekend.”

He stilled, hardly able to believe he was hearing correctly. “What are you saying?”

She colored but her gaze was steady. “I’ve missed you. Nothing’s changed as far as a future goes, but there’s no harm in the occasional weekend, is there?”

How long had he waited for her to say those words? Yes, he’d wanted more, but he would have taken whatever she offered. But now…he was no longer that man, the man who waited.

“I thought since you hadn’t found someone, we might as well…” C trailed off.

But he had found someone.

He brushed her hair back behind her ear and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I’m sorry.”

She blinked, taking in his reply. Understanding, anguish and a dash of pique raced across her lovely features, then disappeared almost before the emotions registered. “Is the girl who’s confusing you the one on the phone, the gemologist?”

He thrust both hands through his hair, winnowing it into tufts. “She’s infuriating. Impossible. Completely unsuitable in every way.” He surged to his feet. “I have to go to her.”

“Right now?”

“This instant.”

“You’re in love with her.” C’s words were laced with pain.

He did love Maddie. It was clear to him now. “As I said, the situation is impossible.”

Somehow he would make it work.

“Your assignment—”

“You said it could wait forty-eight hours.”

C was tight-lipped, struggling for self-control and with her need to control him.

“Emma.” Quietly, he spoke her real name. “Let me go.” It was a plea, a demand, an assertion. No matter what she said, he would go.

Tears filled her eyes but they didn’t fall. Her lips twisted in a grim smile as she took him into her arms. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” His voice was muffled against her hair. “I’ll always love you.”

“I know,” she said on a sigh.

He put her away from him and then said as gently as he could, “It would be best if we didn’t refer to our affair again after this.”

“Consider it forgotten.” She spoke lightly, the moisture blinked from her eyes.

At the door he paused to look back. She’d already returned to her desk and was turning a page on another report. Fabian closed the door behind him.