My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4) (10 page)

“You didn't!” Lady Wilmot looked horrified. “What if someone had seen you?”

Lady Elizabeth blushed. “I managed to avoid everyone. Don’t worry, Mother, I was careful.”

Josephine watched Elizabeth carefully. She was lying. Josephine was certain of it. Someone had seen her. But why lie about that one detail when she’d been willing to reveal she’d watched it?

She was getting better at spotting lies. She’d gained a great deal of experience this past year through observing an expert. Frederick was a challenge, but Lady Elizabeth was relatively easy to read.

Lady Wilmot shook her head and frowned in disapproval. “A young woman in your position has to be careful. After all, this is your second—”

“My second season. Or perhaps even my third, if you count the two weeks I was in London before I left to be with my aunt.”

“Don’t say such a thing. It’s your second.” Lady Wilmot glanced anxiously at Josephine, as though looking for her support.

“I agree with your mother. That first year didn’t count. Your time here was so brief. You’d barely arrived before you had to leave.”

Something across the room caught Lady Wilmot’s attention. She pursed her lips. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said.

“Of course.” Josephine watched her as she joined an older gentleman. Lord Cary, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“My mother is overly concerned about appearances,” Lady Elizabeth commented.

“I wonder if that’s a requirement for motherhood,” Josephine said. “Mine was the same way. Being a widow is quite liberating.” She blushed. “I’m afraid I sounded coldhearted. I didn’t mean it that way. Of course I wish Lord Harrington were still with us, but he isn’t. I’m done mourning and I’ve moved on with my life. Now I enjoy much more freedom than I did when I was having my season. I wouldn’t give it up for just anyone.”

Elizabeth glanced over at where Tristan was in conversation with young Mr. Easterly. “Lord Temple and Mr. Easterly have an extremely close friendship. Does that trouble you?”

Josephine glanced at her sharply. Surely someone as young as Lady Elizabeth couldn’t guess at the sort of relationship the two men shared. “Certainly not. Mr. Easterly is quite pleasant.”

Elizabeth focused on Josephine, appraising her. “Are you aware that Lord Temple has no interest in marrying or creating any heirs? He’s already designated his nephew as next in line for his title.”

Josephine couldn’t suppress her smile. Obviously Elizabeth was aware of Tristan’s lack of interest in women. “You’re much more well-informed than I would have guessed from someone with such an overprotective mother.”

Elizabeth smirked. “What do you think drove her to become so overprotective? I’ve always been extremely curious about the people I meet.” She glanced at Tristan again. “Are you using him to keep other men at bay?”

“It’s a mutually agreed upon arrangement.”

“And where does that leave Mr. Woolsy?”

Josephine pressed her lips together. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Or the better one might be, does Mr. Woolsy know where he wants to be?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

After his confrontation with Josephine and Lord Temple, Frederick realized he wasn’t behaving rationally. Not only had he dragged her away to a secluded room to seduce her, but he’d also given in to a fit of jealous rage and confronted Lord Temple in the hallway. Both those actions were completely out of character. He planned. He considered. He did not rush into any situation without first weighing his options and considering the consequences.

The thought of losing his composure at a social event was abhorrent, but he simply couldn’t trust himself. Not tonight. Not around Josephine. If he stayed, he might do something reckless again.

He decided to walk from Lord Aldridge’s home to the Ambridge Club. The brisk activity helped soothe his anger, and by the time he trotted up the building’s front steps and passed his coat and hat to one of the footmen, he’d regained his composure. All it had taken was banishing Josephine from his thoughts.

It was only half-past ten when he settled into one of a pair of leather chairs in a secluded corner of the club. The supple leather carried the faint scents of beeswax and almond oil.

On the far side of the room, an enormous glowing fireplace large enough for a man to stand in provided plenty of heat. Near it, Lord Larchmont held court, surrounded by his sycophants. He was a man who bore watching. He portrayed himself as a patriot, but Frederick knew him too well. If Lord Larchmont believed he wouldn’t be caught, he’d be more than willing to betray his country— for the right price. With that man, everything had a price. Even his own daughters. He’d actually married off his eldest to a violent man in exchange for political favors. Despicable.

Tonight, Frederick watched the group closely, but he detected nothing unusual taking place. That didn’t allay his suspicions. He observed, noting the shifting friendships and alliances among the man’s followers. Each person in Lord Larchmont’s circle had influence, which was why he’d chosen each one to add to his collection. Something of interest always took place when these men gathered together. All he had to do was watch.

Over the years, Frederick had learned the art of surveillance. It had become second nature to him. If something unusual occurred, no matter how small or subtle, he’d notice.

Perhaps his habit explained why he’d been achingly aware of Lord Temple’s attraction to Josephine. Every glance, every gesture, every word the man uttered had been chosen to impress her.

But Josephine only toyed with him. She pulled him in with a word or a glance, but kept him at a distance with a combination of stiffness and propriety. She’d likely driven the poor man mad.

She’d never played those games with Frederick. But then again, when it came to Josephine, he wondered if he might have a strange, unexpected blindness for her alone. She’d always seemed completely genuine. Perhaps that explained why he’d finally given in to temptation a week ago and shared those two blissful nights in her bed.

He’d loved her openness. Her honesty. Most people were filled with guile.

So why had she been filled with deceit tonight? Her every interaction with Lord Temple had been brimming with mixed signals and subterfuge. Had Frederick finally noticed it because he’d been an observer rather than a player in the scene? Had he fallen so deeply under her spell that he hadn’t noticed when she’d woven the same threads of trickery around him? He shook his head. That wasn’t possible. She might have been able to mislead him on one or two occasions, but he’d known her for over a year. He simply couldn’t believe she could deceive him for so long.

He couldn’t have misjudged her so thoroughly.

Subtle movements made by two young men standing to the right of the enormous fireplace across the room caught his attention. Their demeanor changed as they became wary of being overheard and moved to one side. One of the young men passed a piece of paper to the other.

Frederick recognized the yellow slip as coming from one of the gambling houses. A gaming debt, so it would seem. Had it been paid off, or was one of the men selling a debt to the other?

Occasionally debts were sold at a discount. The seller would get ready cash, and the purchaser could choose either to attempt to recover the debt, or to use the marker to manipulate the debtor in other, more insidious ways.

Frederick made a mental note to investigate. The exchange might be innocent, but people could do foolish things when blackmailed, and with war in the Crimean Peninsula looming, Frederick wouldn’t take any chances. Especially since the one paying the debt was the son of the minister of war.

Lord Cary claimed the chair next to him. “I’ve been watching them for a few weeks. This isn’t the first time he’s bought those markers.”

Frederick smiled inwardly. Of course Lord Cary knew what was happening. It exemplified the new way he viewed the world after that debacle with the night guard— as though everyone in his purview was his responsibility. From his point of view as the spymaster, these two young men
were
his responsibility— especially the war minister’s son. “Would you like me to investigate further?”

“I already have. It isn’t anything to worry about. The young viscount is paying off his brother’s gambling debts. It’s a useless endeavor. The pup already found a new hellhole willing to accept his credit and last night he negated all his brother’s progress with one long, unlucky stint at roulette.” Lord Cary shook his head. “The boy needs discipline— he needs to be challenged. I told his father that a couple of years in the army would help straighten him out. The last thing that young pup needs is for his older brother to clean up his messes.”

Frederick nodded. “Do you plan to continue monitoring the situation?”

Lord Cary stilled for a moment. Another man might have found the ensuing pause negligible, but to Frederick, that brief silence was as obvious as a shout. He focused entirely upon his mentor. Lord Cary was about to say something of utmost importance.

“Since this situation is incidental to my main responsibilities, I’ll keep an eye on things. But as for the bulk of my responsibilities, I plan to pass them along to someone else. That’s why I wanted to talk with you tonight. I plan to step down as spymaster.”

Frederick stared at him in stunned silence. It took a moment for him to find his words. “Now?” He shook his head in confusion. “Given the situation with Russia, your role is vital. You can’t leave now. War is all but certain.”

“Which is exactly why this is the best time to make this decision. If we go to war, it would be irresponsible of me to leave. Even if we don’t, the Eastern Question will remain unresolved.”

Frederick’s stomach turned over. The church register he’d lost last night might be the key to averting that war. The Eastern Question was another matter entirely. At issue was the power vacuum created by the fall of the Ottoman Empire. What government would step forward in the eastern countries and provide the stability so sorely needed? England? Japan? France? Russia had decided to make its move. If they succeeded, how would that change the balance of power throughout the world?

“I can influence the choice of my successor. I prefer it to be you. Despite your youth, you’re perfectly suited for the role. Years ago, you surpassed me in evaluating threats and predicting outcomes. Your achievements are legendary”— he smiled shrewdly— “for those few who are privileged to know about them.” He watched Frederick. “There’s no one I’d prefer to take my place. Does the opportunity appeal to you?”

Heat rose in Frederick’s face. He’d never liked praise. It seemed fleeting and too often insincere. However, Lord Cary never flattered. A compliment from him was as rare as an honest man. He swallowed. “You’ve managed to astonish me.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile as he let out a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “Your praise is unfounded. My reaction to your news proves it. If I’m your foremost expert in predicting outcomes, why didn’t I foresee this?”

Lord Cary’s mouth turned up on one side, mirroring Frederick’s smile. “Because I happen to be very good at keeping secrets and concealing my plans.”

Something in the man’s voice made Frederick peer at Lord Cary more closely. What he saw made him realize he hadn’t truly examined the spymaster in months. Now he took note of the signs of stress he’d formerly dismissed. With dawning awareness, Frederick realized he’d become complacent where his mentor was concerned— or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the truth. The man had aged. The lines of fatigue creasing his face had deepened over the past few months.

He looked at Lord Cary with fresh eyes, registering what he should have seen all along. The signs of sadness and exhaustion he found shouldn’t come as such a shock to him. After all, Lord Cary’s wife had died three years ago. Frederick should have paid closer attention. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“It’s time. I can feel it.”

Frederick shook his head. “I dreamed of becoming spymaster someday, but I never imagined the opportunity would arise so soon.”

“Too soon?”

Frederick paused. A band of tension tightened around his chest. Did he want this? “You know I’d prefer that you stay.”

Lord Cary only stared at him. A certain resolute determination seemed to settle over his features as if they were carved in stone.

Frederick let out a sigh. “I can see you’ve made your decision.” The tension in his chest released, allowing him to breathe more deeply. Now that the idea was before him, he wanted it. Wanted it desperately. “If you’re determined to leave, I’d relish the opportunity to succeed you.”

Lord Cary gave that satisfied smile Frederick had often seen when one of his predictions came true. “I thought so.” Then he sobered. “But we seem to have a problem. Many of the men who will choose my successor won’t know of your long record of excellence. Your recent achievements will heavily influence their decision.”

Frederick thought back over the past few months, but nothing struck him as being an issue— except—

Lord Cary nodded. “You see the problem. It’s essential you recover that book. Let’s put our heads together and devise a plan.”

§

They talked well into the small hours of the morning as Frederick and Lord Cary devised alternatives for recovering the book. Given the unknown identity of the thief, none of their ideas were particularly solid or satisfying. They examined theories regarding her identity and then devised strategies for flushing her from wherever she might be hiding. Lord Cary agreed there was a good chance she was French, but it was only guesswork at this point.