Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (17 page)

Her mother-in-law was a slight woman, very pretty, and was aging well. Yet in her face there was a lingering sadness. Muted by the passage of time, but lingering. She’d never gotten over the loss of her son. She never would.

“Francesca,” Ana said, forcing herself to come forward with hand outstretched. “I’m sorry it’s been so many months since I last saw you.”

To her surprise, the other woman’s face lit up like a crystal chandelier, and she stepped toward Ana, drawing her into an embrace no less warm and welcoming than ever before.

“My darling, congratulations.”

Ana stood in shock. Congratulations? Had she heard Francesca correctly?

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she let her embrace tighten. “I should have written, but everything has happened so quickly and I—” She hesitated. She owed this woman the truth. Or at least as much of it as she could give. “I was afraid of how you would feel.”

Francesca drew back. She looked confused and concerned by that statement. “Afraid? Do you mean you
thought I would be angry that you have found love a second time?”

Ana flinched. That was the rumor she and Lucas had perpetrated. A great love formed in secret and then developed for society to see. But hearing those words out loud still surprised her. Shocked her. Stirred her in ways she stuffed back down deep into her soul. She did
not
love Lucas. Desire, yes. To her own detriment, overwhelming desire.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she whispered.

“Oh, Anastasia,” Francesca took her hand and led her to the settee. They sat together. “My sweet girl, I could not be angry with you. You loved my son. I know you did. And he loved you. That was cut short.” She hesitated and Ana saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes. “Far too short. But Gilbert never would have wished for you to mourn him for the rest of your life.”

“But I promised—” Ana began.

“You kept whatever promises were made.” Francesca shook her head. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve hesitated in the fear that you would betray Gilbert.”

Ana dipped her gaze away. She had been doing that. For years she had locked herself away, preserving her life in the exact way it had been when Gilbert died. Only Lucas had forced her out of that mold she created for herself. Only Lucas had awakened the person she forgot lived inside her, a person she had never let free before.

Francesca cupped her chin. “Darling, you are still so
young. Keep a piece of Gilbert in your heart, but you must love and live again. You mustn’t hold back in the fear of what he would think. He loved you. He would want your happiness. He would want you to have a happy home and make a family, not be his grieving widow forever.”

The words sunk in, pushing past the shroud of grief Ana had surrounded herself with since the day Gilbert died. Would he wish this for her? Feelings for a new man? A life with Lucas? Perhaps even children and a future?

Wouldn’t she have wanted that for him if the tables were turned?

“When is the marriage to take place?” Francesca asked.

Ana started. There was no avoiding this. “In a few days. We’re marrying by special license.”

Francesca looked at her in shock for a moment, but then the corners of her lips tilted into a knowing smile. “I know Lady Dannington in passing. You will be very happy in that family.” She got to her feet. “I only arrived in Town today and there is much for me to do. I wanted to see you, though.”

Ana clamored to her feet. “Will I…see you again?”

Francesca tilted her head. “Of course! You will always be my daughter in my heart. I hope to see you often, and meet this new husband of yours. Now, I must go. But I’ll speak to you after your wedding.”

Ana walked her to the front door, numbed by shock.
There, Francesca turned and embraced her again. This time it was tight, like she was saying good-bye to Gilbert one last time. And Ana realized that perhaps she was. The next time they saw each other, she would be another man’s wife.

“Be happy, Anastasia.” Francesca kissed her cheek and then she was gone.

Ana closed the door and turned to lean back against it. Her mind was spinning. She’d expected a lot of things from her meeting with Gilbert’s mother, but not this. Not this permission to live again. Not this
order
to love. Not this feeling that Gilbert himself had blessed her union and told her it was time to let go.

She covered her mouth. Let go. Was that truly possible? To give up the life she had forced upon herself for so many years and perhaps find a new one?

There was only one way to find out. And she needed Lucas’s help to do it. She could only hope he would assist her, and that she would find a way to reconcile the feelings of her past with her inevitable future.

L
ucas stepped on the overhanging branch of the large beech tree. He looked down. The trick of it was to get to the window ledge without slipping. The rosebushes that would break his fall did not look particularly pleasant. He could only imagine picking thorns out of his ass for a week.

Still the window was partly open, so he pushed off and leapt for the ledge. He landed perfectly, catching the edge of the window for balance before he swung it open and stepped inside.

Anastasia turned from the fire at his grand entrance. She looked less than impressed, though very beautiful. After enduring her in widow’s weeds for so long, he didn’t think he’d ever tire of seeing her in color.
Like tonight, in rich green that made her brown eyes dark and alluring.

“You’re late.”

He shut the window and latched it before he turned back to her, arms folded. “Good evening to you, too. Thank you, I managed to get inside just fine. No, I’m not injured in any way. Yes, I would love a drink if you have anything.”

Her lips pursed at his sarcastic tone, but she moved toward a table in her sitting room where a decanter of scotch was waiting. He doubted that was her drink of choice, which meant she had asked for it for his pleasure. As she handed him a tumbler and he took a sip, he smiled. Perfect.

It was a little suspicious.

“Well, my lady, you beckoned and I have come as you asked. Though I don’t know why you required me to risk my neck coming through your window.” He took another sip of his drink before he set it down and looked around. So this was Ana’s chamber. The sitting room they were in was pretty and feminine, understated in its elegance. And then he noticed the pile of scribbled notes. The empty beaker.

Some things were absolutely Ana. He couldn’t help but smile.

“The last thing I wish for is more gossip,” she said with a sigh. “But I needed to talk to you tonight, so I thought sneaking in was the lowest risk.”

He nodded, but he was paying more attention to the
way her lips moved than to her words. He hadn’t seen her since the night before when they’d been caught in such a delicate, delicious position.

They certainly hadn’t had much time to discuss these suddenly impending…and very
real
nuptials that were being planned. He sighed. Today he’d made arrangements for the special license. His mother was busily throwing together the rest.

Ana just stood staring at him. Was it possible for her to be
less
interested in their wedding? In a marriage to him at all?

The pain that accompanied her reaction was swift and powerful, jolting through his body like a knife stuck through his heart. With violence, he shoved that reaction away, buried it deep. It was the last thing he wanted.

“Why did you need to see me tonight?”

How he wished he could squelch that insistent part of him that wanted to stake a claim on Ana. Not on her body, but on that part of her heart and her soul that she was always withholding. The part that clung to her late husband like he was a lifeline on a sinking ship.

She’d rather love a dead man than give herself to him.

“The estate where my husband is buried is half a day’s journey from here,” she said, breaking their eye contact as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. “And I want very much to go there tomorrow. Would you take me?”

“You—You want
me
to take you there?” he repeated in shock. This was the last thing he had expected.

She nodded slowly.

“Why?”

Her gaze snagged his, and her hands clenched at her sides. “I—Do you want the honest answer?”

At the moment, he wasn’t sure, but he nodded. “Always.”

She swallowed hard. “Going there is difficult for me, and this time will be even more so. But when I’m with you I am”—a dark blush suddenly swept across her cheeks—“more brave. I would like your support, though I know it is a strange request.”

Lucas stared, unsure whether to be warmed by the fact that she wanted him by her side, or horrified that she was asking him to chaperone her trip back in time. But when she looked at him like that, so open and trusting, and told him that he made her brave…how could he refuse?

He managed to smile. “If that is what you want, I’ll take you there.”

Her face relaxed with relief, and she stepped toward him. Her fingers trembled as she reached out and briefly touched his hand. Her skin was so soft, so warm against his own. But the moment was all too brief. She almost immediately pulled away.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you want?”

He tilted his head to chase her gaze, looking for any
sign of her heart and mind. She looked at him for a long, silent moment. It seemed an eternity stretched out as she opened her mouth, readied herself to speak. He found himself leaning forward in anticipation and hope…hope for something, though he didn’t know what for certain.

But then she shook her head. “No. That’s all I needed.”

He pursed his lips. Of course. “Very well. I will come around to fetch you tomorrow morning just after dawn.”

He pushed the window behind him open again and stepped onto the ledge and the cool night air. He sighed as he looked at the tree and thought of the long voyage down to the bottom and a cold, empty bed at home. Casting a final glance over his shoulder, he looked at Ana. She was watching him as he went, the emotion in her eyes hooded and her face unreadable.

She was getting to be a better and better spy. He just wished she wouldn’t use those talents against him.

“Until tomorrow,” he murmured before he made his hop and began to pick his way down the tree.

Lucas slammed the door behind him and stalked toward his office without even bothering to greet the stunned servants who peered into the hallway at his entrance. He raked a hand through his hair and found a little twig tangled. With a growl, he tossed it aside and the reminder of how it had gotten there.

He strode to his office and slammed the door behind him. The bluster began to bleed out of him and he leaned his forehead against the door as his night with Ana sunk in.

“Lucas?”

He stiffened at the sound of Henry’s voice from behind him. Until recently, his friend had been a source of relief to him. With Henry, he could talk openly. His best friend knew he was a spy, knew his assignments, so he could share things with him he couldn’t share with anyone else.

But now, thanks to Ana’s accusations, having Henry in the house caused more anxiety than comfort. He found himself checking his every word, watching Henry’s reaction as he searched for the truth.

Slowly, he straightened and turned to look at his friend. There was real concern in Henry’s eyes. Genuine friendship. Yet Lucas still wondered about him.

“Good evening,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Have you been here long?”

Henry shrugged as he set the book in his lap aside. “For about an hour. I came straight away after I heard something very troubling.”

Lucas cocked his head. “About the investigation?”

“No.” Henry’s eyes narrowed. “About you. And that woman.”

With a sigh, Lucas sat down at his desk. “That woman. You mean Anastasia?”

“Of course I mean Anastasia.” Henry rolled his
chair forward. “Please, please tell me that the rumors I heard this evening were not true. Please tell me that you aren’t actually
marrying
her!”

Lucas shut his eyes. His mind was spinning out of control. Was Henry angry because Ana had accused people inside the War Department of being responsible for the attacks on the spies? Was he worried about Lucas’s well being, not wanting him to be forced into a marriage Henry knew he didn’t desire?

Or was there something more? Was Henry frustrated and trying to hide the truth about his own dealings, as Ana kept saying?

Lucas wanted to throw something, break something, anything to make all the theories stop swirling around in his mind. Anything to stop the tormenting images of Ana leaning up to accept his kiss. Ana letting the strap of her chemise droop over her shoulder.

Ana telling him she wanted to go see Gilbert’s grave.

He slammed a palm down on the desk top. “What would you have me do? I am a gentleman, am I not?”

Henry seemed surprised by the harsh, loud tone of his voice. “Of course you are, but—”

“But nothing! She is a lady. Conducting a private affair with a widow is one thing, but it’s quite another to be caught in a garden with half her clothing undone.”

And it was a beautiful thing, as well, though he shoved that thought aside.

Henry’s eyes widened. “Is that what happened?”

Lucas rubbed his temples. “Yes, unfortunately.
Caught by my mother and Lady Westfield, last night at the General’s soirée.”

“In the garden?” Henry repeated slowly.

“Yes.” He looked up. His friend was pale, but then his expression changed.

“I appreciate your trying to do the right thing, but this is a mistake. You don’t want to marry this woman. The engagement was for the sole purpose of the investigation. If you do this, you’ll have to live with that mistake for the rest of your life.” Henry held up his hands, silently pleading.

“It’s not a mistake.” The anger Lucas had felt all night was beginning to grow, stoked by Henry’s harsh words. It was like he had to…to defend Ana somehow. “This is just the way it has to be.”

“But you’ll be shackled to a woman who is so unlike yourself. She isn’t bold; she’s hardly interesting. And she wants to turn you against your friends.”

Lucas’s nostrils flared and hot blood rushed to his face. He found himself analyzing each and every word Henry was saying. And he hated himself for it.

“Actually, I find her very interesting,” he growled. “And bold in unexpected ways. As for turning me against my friends, that is unfair. Ana is trying to expose the truth, just as I am. She’s simply more willing to consider the full range of possibilities. I may not always like what she says, but I cannot help but take it seriously.”

Henry had been sitting forward, pulled away from
the seat cushion of his chair, but at that comment, he flopped back in surprise. “No. I cannot believe you feel that. She’s a siren, that’s what she is. She’s dragging you into dangerous waters, Lucas. And if that bi—”

Lucas was on his feet before Henry could finish. He took a step toward his friend before he even realized he’d done it. Any other man he already would have had against the wall by the scruff of his neck.

Lucas clenched his fists behind his back as he tried to find some level of calm. “I will marry Anastasia in three days, Henry. She will be a part of my life, my family’s life. So there is no point to continuing this conversation. It does neither of us any good to argue over what is destined to be.”

Henry’s lips thinned. “Perhaps you’re right. There is no point in talking about this anymore.” He wheeled to the door, but hesitated. “I would hate to see you come to harm or pain because you aligned yourself with this woman, Lucas. You know I would never want to see you hurt.”

Then he was gone. Lucas sat down at his desk again and stared at the mound of paperwork before him with unseeing eyes.

What was Henry referring to? Was he saying marrying Ana could hurt him personally? That pursuing her theories could put his position in the War Department in jeopardy?

Or was it a threat?