Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (4 page)

Lady Carmichael clasped her hands. “Excellent! Oh, Tristan will be very pleased.”

“What will I be pleased about, Mother?”

Meredith stiffened. Her skills as a spy were obviously in need of tuning. Without her realizing it, Tristan had approached from behind and was standing directly at her elbow. She fought the urge to spin on him with a move of defense and instead subtly maneuvered to face him.

“My lord, you startled me,” she said with a breathy laugh…
too
breathy for her taste.

“Tristan, Lady Northam has agreed to join our
little party in Carmichael next week,” his mother said with a wide smile. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

For a brief moment Tristan’s reaction to his mother’s news was completely unguarded, and Meredith was able to interpret his every emotion. Surprise darkened his eyes, and an anxiety that knotted her stomach with suspicion.

But along with those expressions was something else. Deep within his eyes, in places so dark she almost turned away, she saw desire. Hot and burning out of control. Desire for her.

A desire her traitorous body answered in kind, despite how shocking that reaction was. And how shocking it was to realize Tristan felt that way toward her. She never guessed his attraction, even in the days when she searched endlessly for it. The years when he avoided her in such an obvious fashion had all but killed her hopes that he wanted or even liked her.

She drew a calming breath and forced the reaction away.

“My,” Tristan stammered as he turned his gaze on his mother. “That is quite…quite…”

“Unexpected, I know.” Meredith heard the tremor in her voice. “I hope you do not mind the intrusion, my lord.”

He hesitated long enough for her to know he
did
mind. But since he could not know of her status as a spy, she wasn’t sure why he would want to keep her at a distance. Especially when his attraction
for her was so clear, no matter how hard he seemed to be fighting the urge. But then, she had never understood his dismissal of her.

“Of course not, my lady,” he answered with a bow in her direction. “I look forward to your presence there. I hope you ladies will excuse me, I see someone motioning to me.”

Meredith nodded wordlessly as Lady Carmichael launched into a conversation about how enjoyable the country party would be with her in attendance. Though Meredith felt herself answering the other woman’s questions in every way proper, she hardly paid attention. All she could do was watch Tristan’s broad shoulders push their way through the crowd, and feel an excitement course low in her belly.

A thrill that had nothing to do with her case.

T
ristan’s face was going to freeze with this unnatural smile plastered to it and, as such, he would never be able to go out in public again. He pondered that idea for a moment and found it less unpleasant than he expected. If such a thing occurred, he would never again be forced to attend stuffy parties or suppers that were actually his mother’s veiled attempts at matchmaking him with some admiral’s daughter.

Of course, this country gathering wasn’t veiled at all. His mother had practically told him outright that a gaggle of potential brides would be paraded before him over the next two weeks, and
she did hope he would seriously consider pursuing one before the fortnight was over.

Little did she know just how impossible that request was to fulfill. If she did…He winced. How disappointed she would be in him if she knew the truth.

He nodded absently as yet another faceless, nameless, giggling debutante paused in his foyer to briefly curtsey while her boisterous mother cackled her hellos. He shuddered as they were escorted to their rooms.

He was actually in hell. Not that he didn’t deserve such punishment for a variety of sins.

“Tristan.”

He started at his mother’s sharp tone. Damn, he’d been caught wool-gathering again. “I apologize, Mother. Just, eh—”

“It’s your duty as host to greet your guests, my dear,” she said, her voice gentler than he expected after yet another slip in gentlemanly behavior. When he cast his glance in her direction, he saw a flash of worry in her eyes that she tried to cover. “You loathe this.”

He let his unnatural smile give way to something more real as he slipped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. God, she was so thin. It reminded him of how fragile his world was. As if he needed more reminders.

“I do not loathe it, Mother,” he lied. “I realize
it’s necessary. Our gathering here is tradition, and it is my duty to uphold that tradition.”

Her mouth tightened. “I do wish you took some pleasure in these events. I hate to feel I’m only appealing to your sense of duty rather than your sense of fun.”

Fun. How long had it been since he’d indulged in that? Actually, he knew exactly how long. One year, eight months, and thirteen days. Since he received word of his brother’s death. If he concentrated, he could determine the hours and minutes as well. He decided not to concentrate, for his chest was already tight with destructive emotion he had no time or spare energy for.

The false smile returned to his lips as he gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Mother, I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to have fun. You will hardly recognize me as I grin my way through supper, chuckle my way through croquet, and dance my way through every ball in the county.”

“That sounds rather…terrifying, actually.” His mother laughed.

He nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Why don’t you just promise me you’ll try not to frighten away any debutantes with your stern expressions and that you will make a special effort to spend time with Meredith Sinclair.”

His stomach twisted at the mention of her name. He cleared his throat as he tried to keep
strong emotions at bay and out of his mother’s line of sight. If her ladyship found out how much he longed to make more than a special effort with Meredith, there would be no end to it.

“Any particular reason why I am to reserve my special efforts for Lady Northam?” he asked with nonchalant boredom. “That isn’t very fair to the others you’ve invited. Judging from the sparkling looks in their eyes when they met me, the ladies all have hopes—no doubt fostered by you—that they will leave here as the future Lady Carmichael. I would hate to hear gossip that my mother is misrepresenting herself, not to mention me. Really, I am only trying to protect our good family name.”

His mother swatted his arm playfully. “I do not recall raising you to be such an unapologetic cad. If there is another lady who attracts your attention, then by all means reserve your special efforts for her. I certainly do not wish to control your heart. I only hope you’ll make some effort to listen to it. You’ve been alone for far too long.”

Before he could speak, yet another carriage pulled to a stop at the circular drive in front of the main entryway. The footman clamored down and opened the door for its inhabitant. A gloved hand emerged, followed by a flash of trim, feminine ankle.

And then the world stopped. Froze on its very axis as Meredith Sinclair stepped from her carriage. Despite himself, Tristan caught his breath.

She seemed to grow lovelier each time he saw her. Today her rich, dark hair had been bound up for travel and tucked beneath a robin’s egg blue bonnet, but a few wild strands had broken loose to tangle around her flushed cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with life and vitality as they darted swiftly around the yard and the house, as if she were memorizing each detail. Finally, her gaze settled through the open door and on him. If he thought his heart rate quickened by her arrival, it was nothing compared to the leap he experienced when she smiled gently and moved forward with the grace of a soaring dove.

“Reserve a little time for Lady Northam because you light up whenever you see her,” his mother murmured close to his ear. “And I want to see that expression on your face as often as possible. It has been too long since your happiness has been a priority.”

Tristan shook away his reaction and managed to close his suddenly gaping mouth. “You are letting some silly romantic notions in those books you read make you forget yourself, Mother,” he muttered as he watched Meredith approach the open foyer door. “My expression does not change for Lady Northam and my happiness is of no consequence.”

Before his mother could voice the protest he saw trembling on her lips, Meredith saved him.
With a wide smile, she came into the foyer and bobbed out a curtsey.

“Good afternoon, my lord, my lady,” she said.

His mother focused her attention away from him, though her forced smile let him know she was not finished with this topic. As she greeted Meredith, he took the opportunity to again examine this last guest.

Now that Meredith stood mere feet away, he caught the faint whiff of her perfume. An intoxicating mixture of lilac and exotic spice. Sensual and forbidden, just like she was.

Damn, but she was an unwanted distraction. Well, not unwanted. She was very wanted. And that was why he wished she wasn’t here! He was so close to his goal, so close to ending the pursuits that had plagued him for nearly two years. And he already knew just what her presence could do to him. All his calculated moves and sacrifices would be for nothing if he lost control now.

His mother’s voice pierced the fog of his improper thoughts. “Lady Northam, I’m so pleased you’ve arrived. Was your journey from London bearable?”

Meredith nodded. “I was lucky enough to find dry, good roads the entire way. Though I did encounter a few rough moments when one of my horses threw a shoe. Still, it was fixed quickly enough and without any trouble. It is the cause
for my delay, though. I hope I haven’t held up your party.”

Tristan’s mother shook her head. “No, my dear. You are the last to arrive, but only on the very heels of the others. You didn’t cause us any trouble at all, did she, Tristan?”

Tristan shook his head. He’d been so focused on watching Meredith’s lush mouth form words that he hadn’t been fully aware of himself. Now he was being included in a conversation he had barely attended to. What had they been saying? Oh yes, Meredith’s late arrival.

“No, Mother. No trouble.” He glanced at Meredith, to find her staring back at him. For a moment he thought he saw strong emotions buried in the dark blue of her eyes. Emotions that had no place in such a casual acquaintance or conversation. Anger, fear…desire. Deep and dangerous desire that called forth an answering response in his blood.

He looked away. His mother lamented the fact, but this was exactly why he had been alone for so long. These needs, these wants, they were a distraction he could ill afford.

Meredith cocked her head. “Is everything well, my lord? You are very pale.”

His mother’s gaze snapped to his face at that remark and the lines around her mouth deepened with concern. A blast of guilt rushed through his blood as he straightened up.

“I believe you are mistaken, Lady Northam,” he
forced out through clenched teeth. “I am in perfect health.”

“Hmm.”

She looked less than convinced. By the way her eyes slipped up and down his form, he had the unpleasant sensation that he was being interrogated. Of course that was ridiculous. She was merely making an observation.

“I am glad to be wrong, my lord,” she said with a shrug. “For I’ve heard this party promises to be quite the event.”

He nodded wordlessly. God, yes, the annual soiree was nothing but spectacular. Only this year there was a deeper purpose to it. He glanced at his mother, who was beaming back and forth at the two of them. It was so hard to see her so hopeful for something he couldn’t deliver, no matter how much it called to him with a siren’s undeniable song.

With a short bow, he interrupted the remainder of Meredith’s comments. “I’m sorry, my lady, but as you say, this party is quite the event, and there are many details to be attended to. Now that you’ve arrived, I am sure my mother will ensure you’re settled comfortably. I shall see you tonight at supper.”

His mother’s mouth dropped open at his flagrant disregard for manners. Meredith’s eyebrows shot up and she stared at him as he backed away with only a final nod.

As he hurried down the hallway, he shook his head. It was difficult to be in polite company when he had such an ugly secret festering inside him. To pretend to be a gentleman was growing more tiresome by the day. He could only hope to end the charade quickly. It was the only way he could reclaim the life he once knew. The life taken at the same moment as his brother’s final breath.

Meredith stared at the place where Tristan stood not a moment before. Her heart pounded. His eyes had such a wild desperation to them. The same flit of guilt and struggle she had seen at the party in London a few days before. It was evident he was battling inner demons, but was it the terrible betrayal she had been sent to prove that caused his eyes to be so empty? Or something else?

She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything except that she longed to chase after his retreating form and beg him to take her into his confidence. She wanted to comfort him. Help him.

The last thing she wanted to do was destroy him. Even though that was the inevitable if the accusations against him were proven true.

“I am sorry.”

She started when Lady Carmichael laid a gentle hand on her forearm. “I beg your pardon?”

Lady Carmichael smiled sadly. “My son’s behavior was impolite. I’m sorry he could not stay
with us until you were ready to retire to your rooms.”

Meredith shook her head, and her kindness was not contrived as she placed her own hand over Lady Carmichael’s trembling one. No matter what, this woman had no idea of the potential heartache Meredith was there to uncover. Lady Carmichael only wanted her son to be happy, like any good mother would. Meredith was stung as she examined the other woman’s face and thought of her own mother, long dead and unable to protect and console her. She hadn’t experienced much maternal love since then. Even now she hardly saw her aunt and uncle, and was rarely included in their family gathering, despite having lived with them for nearly ten years.

“You needn’t worry yourself, my lady,” Meredith reassured her gently. “I’m sure Lord Carmichael has much on his mind with the country party and…and other things. Certainly I don’t require his presence if he isn’t able to share it.”

Lady Carmichael’s face relaxed as she gave Meredith’s arm a squeeze. “Thank you. The other guests are in their rooms, but perhaps you’d like a moment to stretch your legs after the long journey. Would you take a turn with me around the garden?”

Meredith drew back. Her ladyship was making a special effort to befriend her, with no agenda
except perhaps her blatantly obvious matchmaking attempts. To take the offer would give her the chance to probe deeper into Tristan’s activities, as well as garner information about the estate and any other guests who could play into her inquiry.

Under normal circumstances, she would have jumped at the opportunity this gave her. But looking into Lady Carmichael’s gentle green eyes, the same ones her son had inherited, a pang of guilty conscience made her hesitate.

“Unless, of course, you’re too tired,” Lady Carmichael said with a slight step away.

Meredith drew up straighter. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t here to make lifelong friends or explore hidden desires. She was here to solve a case. She had to control these ridiculous emotions. She couldn’t let anything interfere with her objectives.

“I would love a stroll with you, my lady. I have long heard stories about the exquisite gardens here.”

With a smile, Lady Carmichael took her arm and led her through the house and out the garden doors. They made their way down a charming path, lined with well-trimmed shrubberies, until they reached a magnificent garden. Meredith momentarily forgot her plans as she gazed over the tended rows of greenery and bright, welcoming flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” she said on a sigh as she covered her heart with her hands.

Lady Carmichael beamed with pride. “Our family has always taken pride in the garden,” she admitted. “It was first tamed into the general shape you see by Tristan’s great-great-grandfather, and his sons and grandsons all took a hand in its development over the years.”

Meredith paused in surprise. “Even Lord Carmichael, himself?”

Lady Carmichael nodded immediately. “Oh yes. Tristan ordered the planting of those lilacs that line the north wall there over a year ago.” Her smile faded a little. “In memory of his brother, Edmund.”

Meredith looked at the flowering bushes thoughtfully. Somehow she had never taken Tristan to be a lover of flowers. Everything she knew personally and everything in the files she’d read about him made him out to be a distant man. Certainly someone who loved his garden didn’t fit that profile.