Regency Spymasters 01 - Spy Fall (18 page)

“Not as of yet.”

“Good.” Cosmo submerged himself in the water to rinse the soap out of his hair. He relished the unearthly quiet, the lulling sense of peace, cocooned by the warm water, until he felt the pull on his lungs. He emerged, shaking rivulets from his hair. “I need to be here when they contact you again.”

Aldridge dragged a chair closer to the tub and sank into it. “Were you able to learn anything?”

Hot frustration welled in Cosmo’s chest. “The runner in London has come up empty. As has his associate in Paris.”

“So we have no choice.” Aldridge closed his eyes, his face ashen. “We wait until they come for the list.”

“I’m going to Paris myself.” Cosmo gritted his teeth. “We are not giving them that information.”

“Because Miss Lamarre’s name is on it? She’ll be safe as long as she remains in England, as will her brothers.”

“Because it would be wrong,” he ground out. “There are other names on that list. We won’t trade people’s lives for Ellie’s son. I cannot imagine how you countenance it.”

Aldridge sank back into his chair, weariness imprinted in the gaunt lines of his face. “I can countenance it,” he said in a tired voice, “because I am not well. And I must see Elinor’s son safe before I leave this world.”

Cosmo regarded his father with surprise. “You worry about your mortality? You’ll recover from that chest cold soon enough, particularly with the sea air.”

Aldridge’s grave eyes held Cosmo’s. “Perhaps.”

“The doctor says you are fine.” Cosmo’s insides chilled. “Is he lying?”

“No, Hodges has found nothing, but I feel the decline in my body. I must consider the possibility there is no curative.”

“It cannot be.” No longer able to feel the warmth of the bath water, Cosmo shivered.

“We cannot know what the future holds. That is why I am willing to be ruthless where my grandson is concerned.”

Cosmo swallowed against the painful constriction in his throat. The thought of losing his father so soon after Ellie was unimaginable, but Aldridge’s worries made sense—the unending coughs, the labored movement, the way his cheeks seemed to grow more hollow each day.

“If it is to be, it is not a tragedy. I have lived a good life and I will go peacefully to meet my maker. I rejoice at the thought of being with your mother and Elinor again. I have no regrets about the life I’ve lived.”

“But you will be remorseful if you trade the lives of innocents for Ellie’s son.” He shook his head. “I won’t allow it. I know you. You cannot die in peace if you do this.”

“What choice do we have?”

Cosmo’s set his jaw. “Leave it to me.”

Aldridge’s eyes closed briefly. He opened them, regarding Cosmo with an impenetrable look, tinged with what appeared to be a bit of pride. “So be it.” He pushed to his feet in a labored motion that made emotion prick Cosmo’s chest. “I had hoped to avoid burdening you with this.”

How like his father to take all hardship onto himself. “It is time, don’t you think, for me to take up the responsibilities to which I was born?”

Aldridge smiled. “Indeed.”

After his father had gone, Cosmo laid his head back against the tub. If only he could enlist Mari’s help. With her resources in France, she would have a better chance of finding the nurse. But, of course, he couldn’t confide in her. To do so would confirm Aldridge’s guilt. His course was clear. He needed to find Elinor’s son, if he still lived, and destroy the list before Mari found out about any of it.

“That tub is so large it is almost vulgar.”

The smoky French-accented words drifted from behind, wafting over him like a warm breeze after days of chilling rain. “I had it made to my requirements.”

“It’s amazing what money can buy.” She wandered into view, walking up beside the tub, wearing those breeches, which hugged her trim hips in a most provocative way.

“How did you get in here?” But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer.

“Apparently there are some secret panels you neglected to show me.” She took the chair recently vacated by his father. Settling back, she crossed her long legs, resting her hands on the armrests. “So I took it upon myself to discover them.”

He lifted a brow. “Make yourself at home.”

Her eyes were watchful. “How was your trip to London?”

Blast it all. How much had she overheard? “Very tiring.” He glanced at his body in the bath. “I trust you’ve noticed I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.”

She ran an impassive look over him, from his chest to his belly and then lower. And devil take it if his prick didn’t respond to the attention. Her mouth curved. “Apparently not excessively tired.”

Ignoring the burgeoning flesh between his legs, he rose to his feet, the tepid water making a rush of noise as he did so. “It’s a reflex,” he said gruffly, reaching for a cloth to dry himself. He scrubbed it over his arms and legs, making no effort to cover himself.

“
Mon Dieu
.” Her eyes sparkled. “That is quite a reflex.”

He stepped out of the bath, his wet feet making a damp impression on the frayed Aubusson carpet. “Suppose you just come right out and tell me what you want, Angel.”

Her pink tongue passed over her lower lip, moistening it, a reminder of how sublime it had been to have those lips on his flesh. He went hard as a buck getting his first glimpse of a plump pair of bare diddies. “Stop looking at me like that,” he said, irritated.

“Why?”

Because he couldn’t think with her this close to him, not now, when their status as adversaries had never been so clear. He needed to get rid of her and to keep her far away from him. “Must I state the obvious?” He forced the words out, through the regret coiling hard in his chest. “Our liaison was pleasant, but I am not the sort of man to stay with any one wench for long.”

“
Je comprends
.” Her dark little brows drew together. “It is natural that you should become bored with me.”

He almost snorted in response
.
If only that were the case. “It’s why I went to London,” he lied, “to indulge myself a bit.”

“Enjoyed a woman or two, did you?” The words were matter-of-fact, almost amused, as if his actions were of little consequence to her.

“I’m relieved you understand.” In truth, it rankled him that she should care so little. Dropping the drying cloth, he placed his hands on his hips and stood in front of her, deliberately too close, his arousal jutting out in front of him. “Clearly, I’m still a bit tense. Why don’t you use that hot little mouth of yours to give me some relief?” Her quick, sharp intake of breath told him he’d hit his mark. “Come then, get on with it,” he said in a silky voice, ignoring an inward wince. “The whores in Town were amusing, but their talents pale next to yours in this particular area.”

That last part might have been a bit much, given the flinty something that flashed in her eyes. When she scooted her bottom to the edge of the chair, as though she intended to do what he asked, concern shot through him. He clearly hadn’t thought this through. An angry Mari Lamarre this close to his vulnerable flesh suddenly seemed like a very bad idea.

He forced himself not to flinch when she reached and ran a light finger over the tip of his prick.

“You are so anxious,” she murmured in French.

Damn right he was anxious
.
He loved the lyrical way the smooth words rolled off her tongue when she spoke her native language. French had to be the most sensual language in the world. She gazed up at him, those plump, pink lips so close to his aching flesh. “Perhaps I will.”

What? Her other hand smoothed down her pale, long neck and he recalled the sensation of being deep down in her throat. “And if I do—”

Lust whipped through him and his groin swelled to the point of pain. He suppressed the impulse to wrap his hand around her head to draw her lips closer to his eager prick. “Yes?” he ground out, urging her to finish her sentence.

“If I do,” her gaze skated from his rigid flesh up to his face, “will you give me the list?”

“Bloody hell!” Cosmo jerked back as though he’d been struck. His quickly withering arousal reminded Mari of a deflating hot air balloon. “How much do you know?”

Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she sank back in the chair, mostly to put space between her and all of that glorious male virility. “Enough to know you have what I want.”
In more ways than one.

“How could you know that?”

His mountainous frame paced away from her, offering a delicious view of his backside. Despite their moments of intimacy, she’d never seen him fully unclothed. It was a view well worth enjoying; wide shoulders gave way to a contoured, square-shaped back, which narrowed slightly at the hips where a gentle fuzz of dark hair dusted the small of his back. His muscled arse looked nothing like the flat, barely-there posteriors common to so many men. It was finely shaped, no doubt honed by horseback riding and—she frowned at the thought—possibly other forms of exercise.

“How?” he said again, turning to face her.

She dragged her eyes upward, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring at his buttocks. “Let us say I have made excellent use of the secret chambers.” She held his gaze. “Not only here, but also in the study.”

He dragged in a breath. “If you know where the document is, why haven’t you taken it?” At her silence, his eyes lit up. “Ah, you know I have it, but you’ve no idea where it’s hidden.”

“I should like you to give it to me.”

He clenched his teeth. “Why would I do that?”

She considered standing up. It was far too distracting to remain seated while he stood naked a few paces from her. “We are on the same side.”

“No, we are not. You’ve done nothing but lie to me since your arrival at Langtry. You said Marcel and Maxim weren’t part of this, yet their names are on that list.”

“I could not compromise them.”

“How does that work? Is Marcel in charge?”

She suppressed a twinge of annoyance. “You assume this because he is a male.”

“As an older brother, I would have difficulty taking orders from my little sister.”

“I am in charge of this operation.”
Was he ever going to put some clothes on?
“I report only to Will.”

He sat on the side of the tub, facing her, completely unconcerned with his nudity. “What is Marcel’s role?”

“I sometimes suspect Marcel began working for Will solely for the purpose of looking after me.” She licked her lower lip, trying not to stare at the semi-aroused man parts dangling between his brawny thighs. “But my brother is excellent at ferreting out information.”

“And Maxim?”

“Max is foremost an aeronaut and a scientist. He assists us primarily with planning and strategy.”

“What is your specialty?”

“My mind has a way of taking different pieces of information and putting them together in a way that makes sense.”

“And,
voilà,
the mission is solved
.
”

“Something like that.”

“You’re the brains. Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Weariness deepened the fine lines around his eyes. “You know about this business of Elinor’s boy.”

“Yes.” She leaned forward and put a hand on his bare knee; his skin was warm under her touch, his scent clean from his bath. “I am sorry. I cannot imagine.”

He traced her fingers with his own. “The worst part is not knowing.” Pain shone in his eyes. “What if the child is out there? What if he’s been unloved and neglected all of these years?”

“Let us help you.” She spoke with urgency. “We will tell Will. He has resources.”

He stood abruptly, causing her hand to drop off his lap. “No. I mean it, Mari. No one else must learn of Aldridge’s involvement. I won’t have his legacy tainted.”

“He thinks his illness is more serious than the doctor says.”

“You heard that, did you?” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know what to think. He seems unwell, yet the doctor says it will pass.”

She came to a decision. “Very well. As you like. We will work together, just you and I, to find your sister’s child, if he still lives.”

He gave her a regretful look. “No, Mari, in this we are adversaries.”

“You cannot do it without me. I already have information you need.”

“What is it?”

“Pertaining to your sister’s maid.”

He straightened, his gaze alert. “What of her?”

Triumph shot through her. She had him now. “I know where she is.”

Astonishment slackened his features. “Don’t tell me you’ve already spoken with her.”

“No, I thought we could do it together.”

Sitting back down on the tub’s edge, he leaned forward with interest, his elbows on his thighs.
Still wearing not a stitch of clothing
. “Where is she?”

She leaned toward him, trying to ignore the broad swath of golden skin. “Partners?”

“Yes.” The words were emphatic. Impatient. “Now tell me. Where?”

“Oxford.”

“Oxford?” he repeated, puzzled. “What’s a French lady’s maid doing in Oxford?”

“She is not French. Your sister’s attendant was—is—English.”

He pushed to his feet, restless again. “It is no wonder we couldn’t locate her. I’ve been looking in the wrong place.”

“Did Darling ever actually say she was French?”

He frowned in concentration. “I suppose not, but I should have thought he’d mention she was English at some point.”

“Perhaps he assumed you knew.”

He rubbed his hands together, bringing them—prayer-like—to his nose. “It is of no matter. If we ride out in the morning, we can be in Oxford in under two days.”

“We’ll have to take the carriage since I cannot ride astride. Thanks to you, I might add.”

He gave a stubborn shake of his head. “A carriage is not as fast.”

“It can be if the roads are good, which they appear to be at the moment,” she said, equally adamant. “And we have an agreement. We do this together.”

He held up his palms in surrender. “Very well.”

She stood. “Good night, then.”

“You’re leaving?”

“We have a long journey on the morrow and you have just returned from London. You will be no good to anyone if you are fatigued in the extreme.”

He appeared uncertain for a moment. “You could stay. Just to sleep. I could use the company. I don’t care to be alone this evening.”

Her chest contracted. He wanted her company, and not for bed sport. “Yes, I will stay.” When his smile widened, she held up her finger. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

She ran a look over his broad chest to the contoured planes of his belly, along the trail of fine hair, which led to his masculine parts. “You put some clothes on.”

“Perhaps it is for the best. If you keep looking at me like that, certain things on my person might become alert.” His lips curved up. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

A trill of arousal lanced through her, but she needed him well rested and focused for the trip. She forced out the firm words. “No, we would not.”

Shrugging, he disappeared into his dressing room, only to reappear a minute later wearing his smallclothes. She suppressed a groan. It was possible he looked even more appealing. Although baggy in the crotch, the smallclothes gloved his strong thighs in a loving caress which highlighted their musculature. “That is what you consider dressed?”

“In the summer I usually sleep as God made me. It is warm and if I leave the window ajar, I can sometimes feel a bit of breeze from the water.”

The image of Cosmo sleeping, unclothed and uncovered, with a warm breeze floating over all of that bare skin settled in her mind. She pushed it away.

He watched her intently. “I don’t suppose you are wearing men’s smalls under there?”

She was. “Why do you ask?”

“I recall you promised to wear nothing but smalls for me one day.”

“That would hardly be conducive to our getting a good night’s rest.”

He held up one hand, palm facing her. “I give you my word as a gentleman that we will just sleep.” He gestured toward her shirt and breeches. “You won’t be at ease wearing your clothes.”

She wouldn’t be comfortable out of them either. “I think it is not a good idea.”

“I see.” He gave a knowing nod. “You’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me.”

“I?” She knew what he was doing, but accepted the challenge anyway. “Very well.” Kicking off her ankle boots, she undid the placket of her breeches and pushed them down over her hips. Balancing on one leg at a time, she pulled them off. “Abstaining will not be a problem for me.”

His dark eyes glowed with appreciation. “Good girl.” He moved toward her, but she stopped him with a censorious look. “I’m just going to help you unbind those glorious breasts of yours.”

She shrugged her shoulders and pulled her shirt over her head. “As you like.” Clad only in the white linen smallclothes and the binding around her breasts, she gave him her back. His warm fingers skated over her sensitive skin while he worked on the tight knot.

Feeling it loosen, she moved away, but he held on, tugging gently so that she twirled, as though this were some dance, which in a way it was, she supposed.

“It’s like unwrapping the most divine present,” he murmured. On a final turn, he pulled the binding away, and she stood bare before him, wearing only the smallclothes. His unabashed gaze ran over her. “You look even more heavenly than I imagined, Angel.”

Arousal burned low and deep in her belly. The cool air tickled across her naked skin, prompting gooseflesh to erupt along on her flesh. The tips of her breasts stretched to life.

The telltale bulge in his smallclothes caused her breathing to accelerate. “You said we would sleep.”

He sighed his resignation. “And we will.” He adjusted his masculine equipment. “I am still a man, after all, and the sight of you in those clothes with those luscious breasts—” He stopped abruptly, the tendons in his throat sliding up and down. He turned to the bed and drew back the counterpane. “Come along. You are cold.”

She walked to the opposite side of the bed and climbed in, enjoying the cool slide of the bedclothes against her bare skin. He got in on his side, the mattress giving way as his large body came down on it. He pulled the cover over them both. She lay stiff and straight, as close to her edge of the bed as possible, trying not to touch him.

He laughed softly and drew her to him. When she stiffened, he said, “If you are going to be all the way over there, you might as well have gone back to your chamber.”

She relented, allowing him to pull her against his chest, her back to his front as they lay on their sides. “There,” he said, “that’s better.”

It was. Much. With his skin against her back, his large arms holding her, virile warmth blanketed her. She felt cherished and protected. It would be easy to become accustomed to sleeping with Cosmo Dunsmore. The proximity to him, the bare slide of skin on skin did feel languidly sensual, but it was also incredibly relaxing to be cocooned in all of that male strength. For the first time, she began to believe they would really just sleep.

Tranquility settled into her limbs. Feeling his chest moving at her back with each breath, she savored the sense of being in rhythm with him. This, she thought vaguely, was something she would be deprived of by never marrying. After a few minutes of this quiet harmony, she felt rather than heard the vibration of his quiet laughter.

“What is it?” she asked.

His warm breath tickled her ear. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Slept with a woman in a bed.” At her quiet snort, he continued. “No, what I mean is actually
sleep
. Usually, if I am in bed with a woman, we are not sleeping.”

“Why does this not surprise me?” she murmured drowsily, too tired to be jealous.

Pulling her closer, he tucked her against him and brushed a kiss along her earlobe. “To my surprise, it is rather gratifying.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed in response. Her mind drifting, she floated off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

“There it is,” Mari said as the coach pulled to a stop up the street from the small row of cottages.

The spires of the university had first alerted him that their destination neared. They’d rolled past limestone hills and fertile farms with grazing animals before finally reaching the small cottage where Elinor’s maid resided. Mari tapped on the roof, alerting the coachman to halt the carriage.

Cosmo peered out the window. “Why are we stopping so far from the cottage?”

“It is better if we approach on foot. This coach might frighten or intimidate her.”

Impatient, Cosmo threw open the door and jumped down, taking in the row of modest honey-colored stone cottages with thatched roofs. Some had green vines crawling over their façades. Nervous anticipation twisted in his stomach. They were about to meet the woman who had attended Ellie in her final hours, who likely knew whether Ellie’s son had survived his birth. Eudora Rumbold was the only link they had to the boy.

Mari alighted, smoothing away the wrinkles of her traveling clothes in an absented-minded fashion.

“What else do you know about her?” Cosmo asked, not taking his eyes off the dwelling.

“She never married. No children. She’s lived here since shortly after your sister’s death.”

“So she likely lives alone.” Perhaps that explained why the place seemed strangely quiet. “Nothing further?”

“We have not been able to establish her source of income, but Marcel is working on it.”

He strode toward the cottage. Falling into step beside him, Mari said, “Have a care. You must not seem overanxious.”

“I won’t forget.” He struggled to contain his nerves. “I do know what is at stake here.”

They stopped in front of door and Cosmo tapped on it, careful to keep his knocking polite.

No answer. He exchanged a look with Mari, who remained expressionless, thoroughly professional. His second knock was a bit more insistent. Silence.

“Perhaps she is out,” Mari said.

Unease slithered through his gut. “Perhaps.”

“You there, can I help you?”

They turned toward the sound of the woman’s voice. She was of middle age, with gray streaks in her brown hair, which was gathered in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She marched toward them, straight-spined, carrying a basket laden with fruits and vegetables, her sharp, dark eyes regarding them with suspicion.