TheCharmer (31 page)

"Miss Lacey?" Lord Etheridge's voice was impossible to ignore.

Rose swallowed. How much should she reveal? It all seemed so pointless now. If Collis had been out of her reach as the future Lord Etheridge, then he was very nearly invisible to her now. She met Lord Etheridge's silver gaze. "Yes, my lord?"

"Lord Liverpool is curious about the state of your relationship with Collis." He cast the Prime Minister an acid glance. "It is of course none of his bloody business, but be a good girl and reassure him."

The breath left her lungs. Oh,
bugger
.

«
^
»

Rose swallowed, stalling while her frantic mind flittered from lie to truth like a captured bird. The state of her relationship? As of now? "Collis is a much respected colleague to me, my lord." A scrap of truth won out. "And a very good friend."

"There, my lord, you see?" The spymaster waved a hand. "Nothing to worry about."

Liverpool was inspecting Rose as if she were an unwelcome insect. She clasped her hands behind her back—mainly to keep from shaking—and watched him warily.

"I'll bloody well worry if I like," the Prime Minister retorted. "Tremayne has enormous expectations. He could be very useful someday."

Useful. A
handy item to keep around. Or throw away. Rose couldn't bear it. Collis was so much more than a tool for political manipulation.

Expectations, my arse.

Lord Liverpool's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"Oh,
bugger
." Rose bit her lips shut.

The Prime Minister didn't take his predatory gaze from her. "Etheridge, is this how you teach your gang of ruffians to respect authority?"

Dalton folded his arms. "Miss Lacey, is there something you wish to say? You may speak freely."

There was a great deal she would like to say to Lord Liverpool, master manipulator that he was. Yet she held silent. Until she saw that flash of triumph in the man's colorless eyes.

Oh, now that is simply that
. Collis was being held in reserve by this political shark, hanging lost and without his well-earned status as a Liar, because of this man's desire for power. Protective fury came upon her like a tide.

"You, with your plans within plots within schemes!" Rose burst out. "Did you think of this before or after Collis was born, Lord Liverpool? You always think so far ahead, don't you? Did you throw Collis's mother in the way of the Prince on purpose?"

Dalton jerked at that. Rose saw it from the corner of her vision but did not halt. "Is it not a sweet contingency plan? A half-prince, a spare—unsuspecting his power, yet close at hand in case George's future bride did not breed well. Or was it in case His Highness continued in his wild ways?"

Liverpool gazed coolly back at her. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are speaking of. You've concocted an interesting fantasy, but it has nothing to do with me, girl."

Clara lifted her chin. "Miss Lacey, my lord."

Liverpool's eyes slid to Clara. "She is a servant, a housemaid."

Clara stood firm. "She is a woman who has proven her loyalty to England and His Highness again and again. She deserves to be addressed accordingly."

Rose shook her head. "I thank you, my lady, but I do not care for his good opinion any more than he cares for mine." She threw up her hands. "Collis is a man, blast you! Not simply a contingency plan!" She held Dalton in her gaze for a moment. "Not even for you."

"Rose!" Dalton barked. "You endanger your place."

"No, she is quite correct." Clara moved to stand with Rose. "Dalton, make your own heir or let Etheridge go." She turned to Liverpool. "My lord, you have a perfectly good princess at hand. Charlotte is everything George is not. She'll make a marvelous queen someday, if you don't stamp every independent thought from her head."

"I have ever said so," replied the Prime Minister smoothly. "I cannot think where you lot have come across this fantastic idea."

Rose took a breath. "So you'll free Collis?"

"I've no need to free him. Collis knows his duty and his place."

Rose sighed and rubbed her forehead with one hand. "I'm sure he does. Every suffocating ounce of it."

Liverpool tapped his chin with one finger. "And what of you, Miss Lacey? Are you willing to free Mr. Tremayne?"

Rose eyed him warily. He hadn't believed her. Had the Prince revealed them? "I have no grip on Collis," she said truthfully. "The… partnership is dissolved with the end of the test."

"Hmm." Liverpool's expression of sour disbelief did not alter.

Clara interceded delicately. "If you have finished with Miss Lacy, my lord, she needs to get some rest."

"Oh, no, milady!" Rose protested. "There's no time to waste. We must stop the shipment!"

Dalton nodded. "And we will. I have already sent Feebles to the docks to track down the vessel used, and we're trying to bring in as many Liars as we can. Unfortunately, they scattered at dawn to continue the search for His Highness. When we have what we need, we'll move immediately." He gave her a short nod. "You've done well. Go and rest now."

Rose felt the urgent momentum leave her at his words. There was nothing more for her to do at the moment. Weariness stole up her limbs to weaken her spine and fog her mind. "Yes, my lord."
Rest. Oh, yes
.

But first, Collis. She simply needed to see that he was well tended to. And perhaps to wish a silent Godspeed to what would never be. She curtseyed to all and let Clara direct her out.

Back in the study, Dalton was trying to interpret the expression on Clara's face when she returned. She ought to have supported him just now. She of all people knew why he could not afford to release Collis from the burden of Etheridge. Now she was regarding him with what seemed to be repressed humor—or was it joy?

She met his eyes, then glanced downward. He followed her gaze to her midriff, where she casually clasped her hands just below her waist. As he watched, she spread both hands flat upon her belly in a gentle gesture. When she raised her gaze to his again, there was mischief and, yes, definitely joy. Dalton took a very deep breath.
At last
. He suddenly felt as if he could conquer worlds. He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms, to—

An irritated throat clearing reminded Dalton that his honored guest was still in the room. Liverpool regarded him sourly. "I know you encourage independence, Etheridge, but I do think you might have tried a bit harder to control that upstart housemaid. Tremayne is of no use if he's saddled with such an embarrassing attachment. What were you thinking, sending someone so valuable on a test mission? I told you from the beginning, this business of Liar training is nonsense. He can never be permitted to go into such danger."

Dalton couldn't stop looking at his beautiful Clara. "It kept him from eating his pistol," he said absently.

"Well, I hope you intend to divide him from these ruffian companions soon. Housemaids, bah! The next thing you know, he'll be wanting to marry that creature!"

Would the man never leave? Dalton folded his arms and regarded his leader and mentor with a supremely unconcerned gaze. "I'm sure I have no idea what you are speaking of. What a fantastic idea."

Rose found Collis in his quarters. He opened the door dabbing at his lip with a handkerchief, having just had Denny tend his cuts and bruises and dress him in a shirt and breeches covered by a dark blue dressing gown that turned his eyes the color of slate. His hair clung damply to the periphery of his face and his bruises were much less frightening now that he was clean.

He smiled happily at her, then flinched when he pulled at his split lip. "Rose! Come in!" He stepped back to let her in. "You haven't had a moment to change, I see. Did Dalton make you go over every bloody thing three times?"

She had to step past him as she entered the outer sitting room of his chambers. The pull to put his arms around her was powerful.

"Hello." She looked confused and a bit wary. Collis gently pushed the door closed. She didn't object, but neither did she relax. She merely stood by the door as if she couldn't wait to leave.

"Rose, what is bothering you?" She seemed to pull even farther away, although he was not touching her. "If you don't want to tell me, simply say so. I won't pry."

She nodded shortly. "I don't want to tell you."

"Why not?" He sighed and offered her a smile. "Breaking my word already, aren't I?"

She didn't smile back. He felt as though the last week had never happened. As if he had never seen her smiling, never felt her warm skin on his, never been kissed in entirely surprising places by that solemn mouth. "Where have you gone, Briar Rose?" he asked her softly.

She actually flinched at the name. Collis began to be very worried indeed. He dropped his casual pose to go to her where she stood so stiffly by the door as if she feared for her ability to retreat. She looked away as he approached, but he saw her raise one hand to her throat. Her fingers were trembling.

"Rose?"

"Yes?"

"What has changed?" He reached to stroke a finger down her cheek. Her eyelids dropped to cover her gaze, but he thought she leaned into the caress ever so slightly. He cupped her face in his hand—no, two hands for Rose, always—in his two hands, carefully. He tipped her face up to kiss her lips. For a long moment she did not respond, her lips cool and quiet beneath his. Where was his fiery warrior? He deepened the kiss. Desperation began to rise in him. He'd been so sure of his reception—what had changed? What had he done to turn her away?

"Why have you left me, Rose?" he growled into her lips. "What have I done?"

She pulled away in a desperate spasm. "Nothing! You've done nothing." She turned from him to tug at the door latch. "I should go."

Her back was as stiff as armor, her movements jerky and panicked. Something was wrong. He moved behind her to gently place his hands over her shoulders. She reacted as if his touch was icy cold, twitching as he held her. Determined to break through her inexplicable resistance, he lowered his mouth to that sensitive place behind her ear. "Stay," he whispered into those soft wisps of hair. "Talk to me."

She spun from him in a fierce motion, turning to face him at last. Her gaze was dark and unreadable, but he was glad to see that her color was high and bright once more. Her frozen pallor had been much too disturbing. Rose in a passion was someone he could reach.

He laughed, trying to keep his voice light. "You were ever hard to keep a hold on."

"Collis, I don't—I can't—" She shook her head fiercely, as if shedding water.

He rubbed his head. "I don't know what I've done, but I'm sorry. Please, don't punish me further without at least telling me how I've turned you away."

"I'm not punishing you, Collis."

"Well, it bloody well feels like it from my end!" He controlled his unease with an effort. "Rose, would you just sit down for a moment and talk to me? Just talk, I promise."

She sat, perching on the edge of the sofa cushion like a tightened spring, ready to unwind in a bound. He settled next to her, afraid to sit too close, afraid to sit too far away. "Will you answer one question?"

She didn't look at him, but she nodded.

"What of the night we spent together?"

She took a deep breath. "That was… very nice."

"Nice?" Unbearable. "You're lying."

"What if I am?"

"Well, I won't lie. That night was… it was my salvation, do you understand? I felt as though I was a man again, instead of a thing of wood and straw. You made me feel alive for the first time since…"

She shifted her gaze toward him at last. "Since?"

"Since I last touched the keys of my piano."

A tiny tilt occurred at the corner of her mouth, not quite a smile, but reward enough for the confession. "I'm glad," she said softly.

He touched that mouth with one finger, drawing it over the softness of her bottom lip. "Did that night change nothing for you?"

She took a deep breath, then turned and face him fully at last. "Collis, do you want to make love to me again?"

"Absolutely," he responded promptly. "But perhaps not just now. First I'd like to hear your answer."

She stood. "And I think I'd like to feel you inside me." She began to unbutton the front of her trousers in swift, efficient motions.

Collis blinked. "Rose—wait—"

The waistcoat dropped to the floor. She was wearing only a shirt beneath it. He could see the soft plumpness of her tidy breasts pressing against the worn linen. He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Rose, now wait just a moment—"

Finally clad in nothing but the shirt, she smiled at last, a wide, reckless grin. Approaching him with a slow, languid stride, she put both hands on his shoulders and one bare silken knee astride him and pressed him back on the sofa. He resisted, despite the erection tenting his dressing gown. "Rose, this is not what I want—"