by Aston, Alexa
“Very well,” she agreed, knowing it made sense.
He looked at her with what seemed regret. “I am sorry that your husband did not come home to you, Gemma. I realize how hard it was for you to agree to work with me, especially after what happened with The Don and me in Spain. Still, we need to establish trust between us and know we have one another’s backs.” He hesitated. “Can you do that, Gemma?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I agreed to Sir Paxton’s proposition because I want to do anything in my power to end this war and bring our soldiers home. No family should have to suffer the loss of their loved ones. As far as trusting you, I know that you are very good at what you do. Sir Paxton wouldn’t have you working for him if you weren’t. I will do my best to put aside my personal feelings toward you and move forward from this point on.”
“I won’t let you down, Gemma,” he said fiercely. “I promise that. I would give my life to see you safe.”
The intensity in his eye shook Gemma to her core.
“I believe you, Burke,” she said softly.
They gazed at each other a long moment and then she looked away. Withdrawing the list of suspicious persons from her reticule, she said, “You’ve been gone, as you pointed out. Let’s work through the list now. I’ll tell you anything I know about the people named on it. If you have anything to add, please let me know.”
Burke nodded.
They worked their way through the list, which was lengthy. It appalled her that so many people were possibly traitors to England. Then again, having suspicions versus proving guilt were two entirely different things. As Sir Paxton said, they would need irrefutable proof in order to bring down those disloyal to the crown. She hoped most of the people on this list would be cleared by their investigation.
They arrived almost an hour after they’d departed. The carriage slowed and then came to a halt. Burke opened the door and jumped to the ground. He reached up and took her by the waist, swinging her to the ground.
His touch unnerved her. She was aware of his closeness. How large his hands were as they encircled her waist. How masculine he was in every way.
Gemma pulled away the moment her feet touched the ground, causing him to release her. She looked around and saw the driver had come to the ground. She gripped the small case in her hands, which contained the pistols she was to use.
“No one’s here,” he said. “You’re to shoot over there. I have weapons for you to practice with, as well, Mr. Nicholson. I’ll bring them and your ammunition. Targets have been set up for you. You can decide if you wish Lady Covington to shoot longer distances or keep to shorter ones.”
Burke turned to her. “I don’t think an occasion will occur where you’d need to fire from a great distance. Training you to do so would be a waste of time. Any conflict you might experience would be with someone you’d be speaking to. We’ll concentrate on distances of no more than ten feet.”
Gemma nodded. “I’ll leave that to your judgment. You’re more knowledgeable in this area than I am.”
Their driver said, “I’ll be back in two hours. I have something that needs to be picked up.”
“What’s your name?” Burke asked as he climbed atop the carriage and took up the reins.
“You may call me Jones, sir.” With a snap of his wrists, the horses took off.
As he drove away, she said, “He’s also a spy.”
“Without question. I’m sure the house servants won’t be but it’s clever of Morris to provide a driver that has skills and training that might come in handy. Shall we?”
Burke spent the next half-hour showing her the different parts of a gun. How to load it. How to clean it after firing. He explained the process multiple times, from how to load it to how shots were to be lined up and what follow-through should occur, the repetition helping Gemma to learn what was expected.
“Let me get in a little target practice first. I’ll talk you through everything I’m doing and why.”
He did, with Gemma standing close by to see everything he did. He was off at first and walked her through how adjustments could be made for things such as wind.
“You won’t need to worry about that. You’ll only fire at close range and wind wouldn’t be a factor.”
“I notice you’re using your left hand. That’s unusual.”
“My right was my dominant hand. All of my fingers were broken, though.”
She flinched involuntarily, knowing it had something to do with his missing eye. And Rob’s death.
“I’ve taught myself to write with that hand again and also the left. I spent the last several months learning to shoot left-handed, though. I practice some with my right but I line up shots with my eye and the barrel. Having no right eye puts me at a distinct disadvantage. Teaching myself to use my left made more sense.”
“I would never have known that. You’ve truly mastered being an excellent shot with your left.”
“Thank you. Now, it’s time to get to your lessons.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to work with me.”
He went to the case and brought it back, along with ammunition for her pistols.
“Walk me through everything we’ve discussed so far,” he said.
Gemma did, proud that she remembered everything he’d shown her.
“It’s time to practice firing. You know how loud the sound is now from watching me.”
Once more, he talked about how to aim and the recoil. She told him she understood everything and took the gun he handed her, keeping it pointed to the ground as he’d instructed.
Before Gemma could raise it, Burke stepped behind her and placed his left hand on her waist. His right hand lifted her arm, keeping his against hers and under it for support.
“I want to help show you how to aim. I’m sorry for touching your waist but it helps me balance myself.”
“It’s fine,” she said faintly, not thinking it fine at all.
Her heart was pounding quickly and she was suddenly nervous. Her mouth grew dry.
“Line up your shot with your eye using the barrel. I know it’s small, unlike a rifle’s barrel, but try.”
Gemma did and understood what he meant.
“I want you to try several shots with only your right hand. If your hand and wrist prove too weak, we’ll switch to having you hold the pistol with both hands.”
“Which is best?” she asked, wanting to learn the right way.
“Either. It depends upon what kind of marksman—markswoman—you are.”
He chuckled and she felt the warmth of his breath graze her ear. He stood close behind her and his body radiated heat. Gemma wanted nothing more than to sink into him. She fought the urge, though, and forced herself to concentrate on the target he’d named.
“Fire when you’re ready,” he said softly.
She took her time and then pulled the trigger. The recoil was much stronger than she’d anticipated and she grunted.
“It surprises you, doesn’t it?” he asked, another chuckle coming from him.
His hand remained on her waist, the fingers like small brands marking her skin.
“It did,” she admitted. “Even though I knew it was coming, it seemed unexpected.”
Burke had her reload and fire numerous times, his arm supporting hers, then he allowed her to shoot without him behind her. She proved accurate and he let her try two hands.
“I like it either way,” Gemma told him when he asked her preference.
“It’s good you’re comfortable both ways. We’ll practice each so that it doesn’t matter and shooting becomes merely second nature to you. I suggest we come out here once a week and allow you to practice. It’s close enough to the city to allow for that and we can always talk over business on our way here and back.”
“You think I need that much practice? I thought I was doing rather well.”
He smiled, a beautiful smile that warmed her like a soft, summer breeze. Gemma didn’t recall him ever smili
ng before. If she had, she would have most likely turned down Sir Paxton’s offer.
For working with the man who had such a genuine smile might do her in.
“You are, Gemma. I’ve rarely seen anyone take to firing a pistol as quickly as you have. I think the next time we come out, I should teach you to use a rifle. I’d offer one of my guns but I’m afraid the weight would be too much.”
He took a step toward her and her pulse raced. “Practice is very important,” he said softly. “You must use your new skills continually or you will quickly lose them. I want it to become so much a part of you that if the time ever comes when you must fire, you won’t second-guess yourself.”
“Do you think that time will come?” she asked, every breath filled with the scent of him.
He touched his fingers to her chin. “It could. I want you prepared in case it ever does.”
Gemma’s skin tingled. Not just where his fingers lay but all over. Her pulse pounded violently and her breathing felt shallow. She suddenly yearned for something. Something she’d never had before.
A kiss.
No. Not just a kiss.
Burke’s kiss . . .
His fingers fell away and she longed to call him back to her as he turned away and busied himself preparing the last of the targets for her to aim at.
The sudden physical longing she had for this man might prove far more dangerous than any French spy ever would.
Chapter Nine
Burke allowed his new valet to dress him for tonight’s ball. It seemed odd, this return to society. The new residence and beautifully tailored clothes. The extraordinary team of horses and carriage. The club membership at White’s. All the trappings to make him appear eligible to the ladies of the ton and appeal to gentlemen. He needed to win confidences and lure indiscreet conversation.
All in the name of the crown.
From lingering at White’s, he’d renewed several friendships from Eton and university. He’d been invited to Gentleman Jim’s and to Tattersall’s, where he’d boxed and viewed horseflesh. It had led to several more invitations to upcoming ton events, which he’d made sure Gemma was attending.
Gemma . . .
Burke knew he was playing with fire when it came to the beautiful, intelligent widow. He’d never been drawn to the flame of a woman as he had with Gemma Covington. In the past, he’d been attracted to scores of attractive women. He’d always withheld himself, though, from them. Never formed any type of attachment. Never committed any emotions to them. Never imagined wanting to give his heart to one.
With Gemma, that had all changed.
If he didn’t know better, Burke would think that he’d found his own Miss Nott. He thought about Gemma every waking hour of the day. He dreamed of her. Frequently. And erotically. He only wondered if his imagination did her justice.
They’d spent quite a bit of time together, going over the list Smith provided. Gemma, too, had begun renewing past acquaintances and friendships, and had gathered information about the men on the list and a few of the women. She learned which men had mistresses and who those women were. She was the one who created separate pages on each man, where everything they knew about him was listed. His family and residences. His particular tastes. The politics he publicly favored. What clubs he belonged to. Gemma was relentless in gathering information and Burke knew starting tonight, all of what they’d learned would come into play. It would give them a leg up on who these men were as they went on the hunt to bring down the ring of traitors.
Through it all, he’d come to admire her intelligence and dedication to the project. He’d even asked her to share the ciphers she was working on. They proved so complicated, he had trouble following her logic. It let him understand just how clever she truly was.
And it made him want her even more.
They’d gone shooting again yesterday. She hadn’t needed his guidance but he’d insisted on helping her at the beginning of their session, just so he could be near her. Touch her. Smell her. It made him long to hold her in his arms and dance with her. Dancing had always been something in which he’d excelled. He only hoped having one eye didn’t affect his balance as he danced. It had taken him months to adjust to feeing lopsided all of the time. It was incredibly difficult not to be able to see something coming from his right. Even crossing the street could become a major ordeal as he had to swivel his entire body in that direction, back and forth, before he could take a step forward.
“That’s good,” he told his valet and thanked him.
He passed the large bed and couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Gemma in it. Naked. Writhing beneath him. Calling his name.
Burke shook his head hard and headed down the stairs and outside to where Jones waited with the carriage. He had to push aside these incredibly strong feelings for The Don’s widow. He couldn’t let his infatuation with her cloud his head—or judgment. More than anything, he owed it to her to keep her safe during their scouting expeditions into the private lives of select ton members. Burke had gotten Gemma’s husband killed. He couldn’t let the same happen to her. He would concentrate on all the other pretty things he was supposed to flirt with. That would hold his attention.
But it didn’t make him want her any less.
The carriage stopped two blocks from his destination. He’d told Jones if the traffic became too heavy to let him out. Glancing out the window, he saw things were at a standstill. It didn’t surprise him. The first ball—and first event of the Season—was always heavily attended.
Burke exited the vehicle and told Jones where to pick him up afterward and then walked the remainder of the way. He joined the receiving line and was greeted by his hosts, Lord and Lady Hampton. The couple’s daughter, standing next to her mother, signaled her interest in him. Since her father was a name on their list, Burke would definitely follow up. He started by asking the daughter to dance.
“Oh, Mr. Nicholson, you may have the first dance of the evening. We can open the ball with Mama and Papa.”
Though he despised attention such as this, it would suit his purposes and put him front and center of everyone in attendance. Those who knew him would want to renew their acquaintance with him. Those who didn’t would be curious as to who he was and why he was chosen to be at the forefront tonight.
“I’d be delighted to, my lady.”
She smiled. “Then I will see you soon, Mr. Nicholson.”
He kissed her hand and then wandered off, getting the lay of the land. Noting where the buffet would be served. Where the card room and retiring rooms were located. He saw no one guarded the stairs, as happened at some events. It was too early to sneak up them and explore now but when the ball was in full swing, he would do so.
As he moved about, he spied Gemma on the other side of the room and stopped.
She was breathtaking.
Her gown was a rich, deep blue, which would set off her incredible eyes. The contrast of the gown with her auburn hair was striking. Her alabaster skin seemed to glow from across the ballroom. She was standing with two other women and two gentlemen.
Burke’s feet took him in her direction.
Gemma saw him coming and she smiled.
They hadn’t been introduced in society and would need that to occur now. Fortunately, he knew both men in the circle of her conversation. He greeted them and one asked if he knew the ladies present.
“No, I haven’t had that pleasure.”
Proper introductions were made and as he took Gemma’s hand and kissed her gloved fingers, he experienced the jolt that seemed to occur every time they connected.
“I believe I know your name from my late husband’s letters,” she said. “Did you serve with Robert Smythe by any chance?”
“Why, yes. He was a fellow officer. Came from Wellesley’s staff, I believe. He was only with me in Spain for a short while. I’m sorry to hear of his passing. The war, I assume?”
“Yes. But it is good to have you back in England, Mr. Nic
holson.”
“It feels good to be back. I’m ready to leave military life behind and enjoy life once more.”
This was his cover. That he was slightly bitter at having lost his eye and had sold his commission, not wanting anything more to do with the war. He’d already put that story out to several people at White’s, to better help the idea along that he had returned to civilian life—and was ready to enjoy it to the fullest.
Gemma knew this part of the story but Paxton and Burke had discussed going a step further. Burke was to put out to a select few they suspected of treason just how unhappy he’d been in the military and England’s role in the war. He would be a sympathizer who might prove susceptible to recruitment. Burke had told Paxton he didn’t want Lady Covington to know this part of the mission. If he were approached by the very men they sought, he would carry out this portion alone.
“I would appreciate if you would dance with me, Lady Covington. It’s my first ball since I sold out. I must warn you that I may be a little rusty on the dance floor.”
“I’d be happy to dance with you, sir.”
“A waltz,” he prompted. “I would very much like to dance the waltz with you.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Of course.”
They arranged which dance they would partner with together, which happened to be the supper dance. It would work perfectly to dance, eat, and then disappear while others were focused more on food and flirting.
Burke made sure to circulate after that, conversing with several people. Then he heard the musicians began tuning their instruments and went in search of his first partner. He claimed her and they moved to the center of the room, along with her parents. He heard the whispers and knew some came from those who gossiped about his missing eye and the elegant black eyepatch he wore.
