My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4) (9 page)

Frederick dragged his fingers through his hair. “That was our first assumption when his men tried to kidnap Robert off the street last night.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “Did they harm him?”

Frederick shook his head. “We thought it best to confront Ambassador Revnik immediately so we could address his suspicions, but it turned out he didn’t believe we’d stolen it.” He gave her a faint smile. “He was after the real thief. A woman in a silver gown. He knew exactly who she was and hoped we could provide information about her.”

Josephine rubbed at her forehead. “Does that mean she’s a spy?”

Frederick swung his head from side to side. “I don’t think so. The ambassador said something strange. Apparently the woman is ‘too important’ for him to question directly. He preferred trying to kidnap an earl. Can you make any sense of that? Because I can’t.”

“More important than an earl? That’s interesting. Who is she?”

“I still don’t know. Based on Robert’s description, she’s British, cultured, and is skilled at deception. I originally assumed she must be a spy, but now I’m beginning to reconsider. She isn’t one of ours, and she clearly doesn’t work for the Russians. Perhaps she’s working for the French.” He closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration. “If only I could locate her. It’s frustrating she was able to disappear like mist.”

He let out a sigh as he stepped back from her. “We should rejoin the other guests before your absence is noted.”

She reached up and smoothed his hair in place. “That’s better. You were looking a bit tousled.”

“I trust you won’t reveal any of this.”

She scowled at him. “Of course not. Honestly, Frederick. Do you think I’m featherbrained?”

“It’s not— of course—”

She said nothing, but swept past him and yanked open the door. He hurried to catch up. At the door leading back to the gathering, he offered her his arm.

She stared at it for a moment, and he could sense her indecision. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to reenter the salon alone, or with him.

“It will look less suspicious if nothing seems amiss between us.”

She frowned as she grudgingly placed her hand on his arm. “I’m not a ninny,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She ignored him.

As they reentered the room, Frederick glanced around, but no one seemed to take note of their entrance. Not even Lord Temple, who was speaking with another gentleman, Mr. Easterly. As Frederick watched, Lord Temple gave Mr. Easterly a polite nod and turned toward the refreshment table.

Josephine watched him for a moment as well, and then offered Frederick a tight smile. She cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice took on a formal quality, as though she assumed people were eavesdropping. “I hadn’t expected you to be here tonight. Is your hand improved?”

“The poultice helped,” he replied in a similar formal tone, “but I’m nearly out of the supplies.”

“Mrs. Drummer will prepare more for you tomorrow. I’d be happy to bring them to you.”

Frederick tensed.

Josephine narrowed her eyes the tiniest bit. “Unless you don’t want them.”

“Of course I want them.” He glanced pointedly at Lord Temple across the room. The man picked up two glasses of punch from the refreshment table. “But perhaps you shouldn’t bring them yourself. Lord Temple might not approve.”

She narrowed her eyes as she lifted her chin. He could see the tug of irritation and disapproval at the corner of her mouth. “You
are
jealous, aren’t you? And this is your way of trying to discern my feelings for him. Don’t bother. It’s none of your concern. I don’t report to you,
Mr. Woolsy.
”

A hot flash of something seared through him. Jealousy? Of course not. It was irritation, plain and simple. Irritation with Josephine for turning what should have been a pleasant evening into something else. Something much more complicated.

Josephine glanced at Lord Temple as he approached them and then flicked her gaze over Frederick. “Is it possible you’ve come to realize you care for me after all? It’s either that, or you merely wish to control me. I can’t quite decide which it is.” She gazed into his eyes, as if trying to read the answer in them. After a moment, she gave up, shaking her head. “It appears you aren’t certain of the answer to that question either.”

Something intense and visceral tightened in his chest. He wanted to snap back a reply. He wanted to pull her into his arms again, just as he’d done a few moments ago. He wanted to banish that half-smile from her mouth by scorching it away with his lips and leaving her flushed and in no doubt that she wanted him and only him.

But what he wanted rarely matched what he actually did.

So he smiled benignly, leashing the jealousy— yes, jealousy— that smoldered in his chest.

“Your refreshment, Lady Harrington.” Lord Temple passed her a glass filled with a frothy pink liquid.

Frederick nodded to them both. “Please pass along my thanks to Mrs. Drummer, and let her know I’m looking forward to her delivery tomorrow.”

And he turned away.

CHAPTER SIX

Lord Temple glanced across the room. “He’s still watching you.”

Josephine gave him a brittle smile. “I told you, Tristan. He’s jealous of you.” She sipped from her punch glass.

Tristan leaned over and murmured into her ear, “If only he knew.”

She batted her eyes. “That you have no interest in pursuing me?”

Tristan shrugged, his muscles rolling beneath his evening coat so that it tightened across his shoulders. “That I feel as though I’m using you.”

“We’re using each other, so it negates the effect. Thank you for agreeing to be my escort so often.”

She glanced at Frederick, and he immediately looked away. He appeared quite irritated with her. Good. He deserved it after treating her so shabbily. One corner of her mouth drew up in an unladylike smirk before she smoothed it away. She finished off her punch and set the empty glass on a passing footman’s tray.

A devilish gleam lit Tristan’s eye. “You certainly put poor Frederick in a bother,” he commented. “Would you like to let him cool off for a while, or would you prefer to raise him to a simmer?”

She smiled and lifted one eyebrow. “Simmering sounds intriguing. What did you have in mind?”

“This.” He stared directly at Frederick and scowled darkly. He grabbed Josephine by the elbow and hurried her from the room.

Josephine nearly stumbled in her haste to keep up with him, but his firm grip kept her upright. She glanced around, but fortunately, the other guests didn’t appear to take note of their dash for the door. Instead, they were turning to focus on their host.

“If you will please take your seats, Miss Bonneville will begin her performance shortly,” Lord Aldridge said.

“What are you doing?” Josephine asked Tristan through tight lips.

“Adding a bit of heat. Frederick is watching us, isn’t he?”

She glanced back and caught Frederick’s scowl. “He looks angry.”

“That means my plan is working,” He rushed her back into the corridor she’d just been in with Frederick. “Your Lothario should be along momentarily.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Play along,” he said softly. He flashed her a dashing smile, but an instant later he scowled. “You can’t send me off for a refreshment and then disappear with another man.”

She stared at him blankly. “What on earth...?”

He frowned at her. “I said, play along,” he whispered.

Comprehension washed over her. She squared her shoulders, scowled at him, and yanked her elbow from his grasp. “Need I remind you, you are not my husband, Lord Temple. Only my father and my husband ever had the right to tell me what I can and cannot do, and they’re both gone now. It is not your place to assume that role.”

Frederick stepped through the doorway, his jaw tight.

Tristan scowled at him as he took a step closer to Josephine, edging between her and Frederick. “Am I supposed to ignore the fact you left in his carriage at the Koliada Ball?”

She blushed at that. “He was injured.”

“Yet he’s here tonight. Apparently your ministrations wrought a miraculous recovery.”

She felt her blush deepening. She didn’t like this pretense. It felt wrong. Manipulative.

“Stop talking about me as though I’m not here.” Frederick said. “And stop trying to intimidate Lady Harrington. You’re lucky you haven’t drawn a crowd.” He glanced over his shoulder, but from what Josephine could see through the doorway, all the other guests were focused on Lord Aldridge at the other end of the room.

“
Now
you’re concerned about drawing unwanted notice?” The corner of Tristan’s eye twitched convincingly. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you drove away from the ball with her in your carriage, or before you trotted her out the door a few minutes ago.” Tristan looked furious. If she hadn’t been in on the ruse, she would have been utterly fooled.

Josephine shot a scorching glare that took in the pair of them. “I’ve had enough of this ridiculous scene.” She sidestepped Tristan and began moving toward the door. “I came here tonight to listen to Miss Bonneville perform, not hear the pair of you yowl at each other like angry tomcats.”

“I only wanted to protect you,” Frederick said as he reached out to take her by the arm.

She easily evaded his grasp. “I can protect myself. Please leave me alone. Both of you.”

She swept through the doorway and back into the now quiet room. She’d ended that scene none too soon. One moment longer and they would have become tonight’s entertainment and upstaged Miss Bonneville.

In the row of chairs lined up for the performance, she spotted a solitary vacant seat in the front row and claimed it. Neither man would be able to follow her here.

Nearly an hour later, Josephine applauded vigorously following Miss Bonneville’s last encore. The soprano’s voice was extraordinary, and her vocal range was astonishing.

Josephine was thankful she’d had the time to regain her composure. She never should have agreed to Tristan’s ruse. It had been foolish and childish, and it had been her own fault. After all, Tristan had asked if she wanted to make Frederick simmer.

She’d certainly achieved that particular goal.

As people rose to their feet, she glanced around the room, but she couldn’t find Frederick. Had he left?

She quickly spotted Tristan. When she caught his eye, he slipped through the crowd toward her.

“Did he leave?” she asked.

“I think so, but I’m not certain.”

They both scanned the room, but Frederick was nowhere to be found.

Tristan stiffened, and then his countenance became carefully composed. “Would you like some punch?” His eyes remained locked on something as he spoke. “You must be parched.”

Josephine followed his gaze, noting the elegantly clad man standing alone near the punch bowl. Not something. Some
one
. Mr. Easterly, to be specific. “As a matter of fact, I would,” she said, not really expecting the glass of punch to ever materialize. She was certain Tristan would become much too distracted. He’d helped her with Frederick. Now it was her turn to help him with his relationship with Mr. Easterly.

He smiled, his gaze intent on the other man as he headed toward him. Mr. Easterly noticed his approach and something brightened in his gaze. She doubted she’d be drinking punch within the next thirty minutes.

She spotted Lady Wilmot across the room and moved to join her.

“Good evening, Lady Harrington,” the older woman said. “Didn’t you simply adore the performance? Miss Bonneville is truly gifted.”

“Indeed,” Josephine replied. “I heard her last month at the Palmertons’ soiree. I understand she’ll have the title role in
Lucia di Lammermoor
next month.”

“Oh, my. Yes. I’m so looking forward to it. My late husband used to dearly love Lucia’s mad scene.”

“Such a tragic story of treachery and ill-fated love,” Josephine commented. “Poor Lucia, to be lied to and manipulated by the people she trusted.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on her. She pressed her lips in a thin line.

“The opera stands as a lesson for humanity for those willing to learn,” Lady Wilmot said, nodding sagely. “No good can come from trying to manipulate someone for selfish reasons.” Then a brilliant smile blazed across the older woman’s face. “But still, that mad scene is something to behold.”

Josephine chuckled at Lady Wilmot’s enthusiasm. “That it is.”

Lady Wilmot caught her daughter’s eye and beckoned her over. “I was just telling Lady Harrington about
Lucia di Lammermoor
. I’m trying to recall if you ever attended a performance of it.”

Lady Elizabeth shook her head. “No. I was too young when you and Father went, but I heard him speak of it so often, I feel as though I attended it too. I’ll never forget the night you invited the soprano to perform it for your musical soiree. I fully intended to remain hidden in the balcony and listen, but once I heard her voice, I couldn’t resist slipping downstairs and watching through the doorway.”