Seducing the Spy (19 page)

So instead of pelting his blasted face with woodsy detritus, she unclenched her hands slowly, brushed them together with studied care and stood.

"I've caused you to miss the morning activities Lord Cross had planned for the gentlemen," she said coolly. "How careless of me."

She walked past him, striding down the path, away from Sutherland and all the black doubts and blame it held. "Come along," she called over her shoulder. "I heard there will be shooting along the river. Gentlemen love shooting, do they not?"

Stanton followed her more slowly. Perhaps he ought not to have taunted her so about the past, but he'd hoped to break through to her some way, any way—

Any way that didn't involve breaking the habit he'd so severely bent last night. One more strain on his control and he didn't think it would hold—and once unleashed, he didn't know that it was possible to bind that other man ever again.

He wasn't sure it was possible even now.

Once back at the manor house, Alicia made the barest of courtesies to Wyndham for his escort home and escaped into the very place she'd fled earlier that morning—the ladies' parlor.

As she'd expected, the room was too warm and close with assorted perfumes that stifled the fresh air so recently in her lungs. Alicia engaged another woman in conversation, not caring if she was lady or mistress or serving help, so desperate was she to escape the circling thoughts brought on by her journey home.

"Oh, heavens! What are they doing here?"

Alicia turned at the shocked comment from the woman behind her. Entering the parlor were three ladies who should have been anywhere else but here.

"That's Lady Reardon!" Alicia's neighbor continued. "And Lady Greenleigh—so that must be Lady Dryden!"

Well, at least Lady Dryden was a bit scandalous, unlike the first two unimpeachable social goddesses. Lady Dryden had buried her first husband only weeks before her second marriage—although Alicia thought it was silly to blame her when her elderly Lord Barrowby had been bedridden for years. She must be quite eager to live her life once more.

Apparently, no one else made much of it, for there Lady Dryden stood in the company of two of the highest of the high.

And those two were looking directly at Alicia.

She took a breath, for this had always been a common occurrence. Red hair did make it rather hard to disappear in a crowd. They would soon recall her identity, and then they would look away, intently pretending they had never been the slightest bit interested in a nonpersonage such as she.

Except they were still staring at her. A tremor of alarm went through Alicia. The social opinion of ladies like these could make her purpose here much more difficult, not to mention painful. Would they take after Lady Davenport, who was even now arrowing across the room as if the three newcomers were her nearest and dearest friends? For all Alicia knew, they might be.

Although somehow they didn't look the type. Lady Reardon was a rounded brunette with a bold manner and bright blue eyes that glimmered with mischief. She appeared to be on the short side, but that might be simply in comparison to her companion, Lady Greenleigh, who towered over her two friends in voluptuous grandeur. Her hair was a dark blond that picked up the light from the windows in sleek shine. She surveyed the room with a half-smile already in place, as if she were sure to find something amusing.

Both ladies were lovely in their way, but the scandalous Lady Dryden was beautiful in every way. Alicia found herself dismayingly fascinated by the woman's perfection. Then she saw that a few strands of unruly blond curls had escaped Lady Dryden's severe hairstyle. Knowing that such a woman still had difficulty with her hair made her more human. Alicia found herself smiling at Lady Dryden in a friendly way.

Lady Dryden's gaze caught on hers and Alicia nearly took a step back from the sharp inquiry there. This was no vague and insipid beauty!

Lady Davenport descended upon the trio at last. Now Alicia wished she were close enough to hear the exchange of greetings, for she didn't think those three women were the sort to suffer fools lightly.

Yet even as they greeted Lady Davenport with no visible sign of enjoyment, their gazes still continued to flick back to Alicia. She had the uncanny impression that they were here to see
her
.

Which was ridiculous and more than a little alarming. She wasn't sure she wanted to come to such attention.

Then again, that was why she was here, wasn't it? To do battle with Society? Well, Society—true Society, not just these decadent hangers-on—had arrived on the field.

Right. Headfirst then. Alicia took a deep breath, pasted on an irreverent smile, and sailed closer to the door.

Lady Davenport shot her a look full of venom as she approached.

"Oh, yes. Here we have Lady Alicia herself." Lady Davenport sneered a barely legitimate smile at Alicia. "We were just speaking of you."

Alicia smiled widely. "I'll wager you were." She turned to Lady Dryden. "Hello."

By not waiting to be introduced, Alicia had crossed that shady boundary of her social limbo. She was as highborn as any of these ladies—or nearly so—and as such would normally have been their equal.

Or they could legitimately cut her, for she was in her way worse than the lowest street whore, who could be but pitied for her predicament.

The tall Lady Greenleigh bent to whisper in the smaller Lady Reardon's ear. "She's quite pretty."

Lady Reardon sedately stepped upon her friend's foot. "She can hear you," she said, her voice normal.

Lady Greenleigh sighed and straightened. "I never could whisper properly."

Lady Dryden, who was obviously in charge, sent a repressive glare over her shoulder at her friends. "You'll have to excuse them, Lady Alicia," she said coolly. Ignoring Lady Davenport's indignant sniff—which immediately endeared the beauty further to Alicia—she held out her hand. "I am Julia."

The other two ladies surged forward. They flanked the exquisite Lady Dryden like a pair of Valkyrie guards.

Alicia eyed the diminutive Lady Reardon. Perhaps a Valkyrie and a half.

"I am Willa," the curvaceous brunette declared.

"Call me Olivia," the taller woman offered.

Lady Davenport, apparently offended that she had not received a similar welcome, drew herself up. "I fear I'm needed elsewhere." With a sharp, angry dip of a curtsy, she flounced off.

"Oh, God, I thought she'd never leave," Olivia said, inviting Alicia to join her in a smile.

Alicia was not entirely gullible. She folded her arms and gazed at them warily. "That's very nice, I'm sure, but why do I have the distinct feeling that you came in here looking for me?"

Lady Dryden sighed. "You two are about as subtle as Huns," she said to her companions.

"Subtlety is a blooming waste of time sometimes, Julia, and you know it." Lady Willa smiled at Alicia with satisfaction. "Something I think Lady Alicia understands very well."

"She's really very pretty," Olivia insisted. "Do you think Wyndham notices?"

"Wyndham isn't blind," Alicia said wryly. "Whether or not he wishes to do more than look is still in doubt."

Olivia's eyes lighted. "Oh, good. Tell us
everything
."

"Yes," Julia said, although her tone implied she wanted more than good gossip. "Come to my room in ten minutes. Left at the top of the stairs, seventh door on the right. Do try not to make a fanfare, if you please." She turned to the other two. "Let us make our escape before Davenport comes back. That woman gives me hives." She cast a look back at Alicia. "Do not keep us waiting, Lady Alicia."

The three beauties strode from the room, taking with them the greater portion of class and elegance present. Alicia was torn between running after them and fleeing them for her life. Willa and Olivia seemed kind, even friendly, but Julia—

Alicia shivered. Lady Dryden reminded her of someone. She couldn't think who, but it was someone else with that sharp watchfulness and that assessing gaze that made one constantly wonder if there was a crumb on one's chin.

Someone like…

Wyndham.

She blinked. Well, now. That was an arresting thought. Now what could Lady Dryden and Lord Wyndham have in common?

She glanced at the standing clock in the corner of the parlor. She still had eight minutes.

Wyndham wasn't in their bedchamber, although Herbert was present, tending to his lordship's wardrobe.

"Lord Wyndham is playing billiards, I believe, my lady," he told her when asked.

The door opened and Garret strolled in with yesterday's gown over his arm. "Oh, hullo, love!" he caroled to Alicia.

Herbert went into paroxysms—which for Herbert meant quivering and twitching his sideburns—at Garrett's impertinence. Garrett grinned at Alicia.

"Sorry, milady, but I cannot help myself. He's such a monstrous stick about everything. Do you know he waits until the minute hand is precisely on the hour before he'll pick up his breakfast fork?"

Herbert twitched with more ferocity. Alicia gazed at him worriedly. "Garrett, I think he might be having an attack of some kind."

Garrett threw a pillow at Herbert. "You there! Calm down. You're alarming her ladyship."

Herbert stiffened, his wild gaze traveling between Garrett and Alicia at great speed. "If—if you'll excuse me, my lady—" He left the room in strangled haste, leaving Wyndham's shirt on the bed.

Garrett took it and held it up to himself. "Would you look at these shoulders, lover? I'm telling you, your man is a god among men!"

"He isn't," Alicia denied with a sigh.

Garrett slid her a knowing look. "Isn't a god or isn't your man?"

Alicia shook her head. "Not now, darling. I need your help. I need to know everything you can find out about Lady Dryden, Lady Reardon, and Lady Greenleigh. They just cornered me downstairs and they are far too interested for my comfort."

Garret blinked and dropped the shirt on the bed. "The Sirens? What are they doing here?"

Remembering the cool glint in Lady Dryden's gaze, Alicia shook her head at the nickname. "More the Fates than the Sirens, I'd think. Julia's on the scary side, to be truthful."

Garrett narrowed his eyes. "The Sirens cornered you, eh?"

Alicia pressed fingers to her aching temples. She had already had a rather trying day, and now had only four minutes left. "I've been summoned to Dryden's room. Quickly, tell me anything you know."

Garrett folded his arms, thinking. "Lady Reardon married Reardon while he was still in disgrace. They called her his 'broomstick' bride, for he compromised her while passing through the village where she lived. I heard she stood up for him when everyone told her wedding him was a mistake. Then of course, the whole truth came out about his scandal and he was a hero and she was his heroine."

"That's a nice tale."

Garrett was merely warming up. "Lady Greenleigh got her man by falling into the Thames and letting him rescue her. There was a spot of trouble after the wedding, something about the Prince Regent taking her as his mistress and Greenleigh kidnapping her back, right out from under his highness's nose. I heard there was a duel or some such, and she was accidentally shot."

"Goodness. Another epic story."

Garrett grinned. "These are only the high moments, you understand. Then
there's Lady Dryden. She was Lord Barrowby's widow for less than a month before she wed Dryden. First, I heard she disappeared for a bit, was kidnapped or fled or some such, and nearly died before she was found. Some say she killed a man."

Alicia shivered. "Now that I can quite believe." Two minutes left. "Thank you, Garrett. Continue to look into their stories, if you please." She took a breath. "Now, I must go face the lionesses."

«
^
»

Once in Lady Dryden's room, seated in a circle about the warming fire, with a tray of tea and cakes at the ready, Alicia found it wasn't as bad as she had dreaded.

It was much, much worse.

"So Lady Alicia," Julia began without preamble. "You're ruined, I hear. Are the stories true?"

Alicia put her teacup down carefully. "Oh, there is no mistake, my lady. My own parents discovered me in bed with the stable boy. At a house party, of course, so it was all very public, very… irrefutable."

Julia's beautiful eyes narrowed. "And yet you tried very hard to refute it, didn't you?"

Alicia narrowed her own eyes right back. "Well, one must always try, mustn't one?"

Lady Greenleigh leaned forward, breaking into the staring contest. "How did you and Wyndham meet?"

Alicia blinked, hesitating. "We—there's little to tell. Our meeting wasn't terribly romantic, I'm afraid. It was… highly irregular and I'm sure not something you wish to hear about."

Olivia laughed. "I doubt it was more irregular than the ways we met our husbands."

"No, really…"

Lady Reardon dimpled. "More irregular than shooting his horse out from beneath him with a slingshot and then spending the night beside his unconscious body?"

Alicia's eyes widened. "Er—"

Lady Greenleigh laughed aloud. "More irregular than being thrown off a bridge and having him leap in after me, only to require me to rescue him?"

Alicia considered that. "I suppose that's rather romantic."

Olivia made a face. "It was the Thames."

"Oh right." Alicia shuddered. "Ew. Perhaps not, then."

Lady Julia was watching her. "More irregular than having him read my diary and use all my secret fancies to seduce me?"

Alicia's jaw dropped.
And all I did was overhear a plot against the Crown and then become his mistress to help find the traitor
.

She became aware that the other three ladies were staring at her with eyebrows raised and teacups poised in mid-sip.

She swallowed. "Ah… did I just say that out loud?"

Julia put her cup and saucer down quickly. "Yes, and you must be very careful not to do that again."

The other two were nodding sagely. Alicia looked from one to the next. She saw concern and interest, but that was all.