Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 04]

by Seducing the Spy

  “Everyone has regrets.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Wyndham, I didn’t ask if ‘everyone’ had regrets. I asked if you had regrets.”

  Lady Alicia fixed her gaze on his. He could not lie. “I do,” he said gruffly. Then he looked away to resist the probing in her eyes. “I simply do not feel the need to make others pay for my mistakes.”

  She didn’t let up. “But what if what might have been a simple mistake, one that has been made by others but that ended happily enough for them—what if that error was vastly magnified by the actions of others who acted with intentional evil?”

  She twisted her feet beneath her and raised herself onto her knees in her urgency. “What if those people not only lost nothing, but gained a great deal while you alone suffered?”

  “Vengeance is not—”

  “No!” She smacked the chair cushion with one hand. “No more homilies. What would you want, in that case? If you were, after years of being powerless, suddenly offered an ideal opportunity for lovely, public, perfect vengeance?” She gazed at him without relent. “Would you resist?”

  He could not tear his gaze from hers. What must she have suffered over the last five years? He could see the prim squalor of her home, imagine her life next to the filthy little pub. He’d seen the care she still lavished on her old nurse, though she doubtless would have survived better on her own. He could imagine the hopelessness of her future.

  For Lady Alicia Lawrence, there would never be a husband, children, or any sort of social stature. As notorious as she was, she would be scorned by the lowliest shop girl.

  She was watching him. “I used to love Christmas.” Her voice was flat. “There were cakes and pies, and my mother would do her best to fill the tree with small gifts she’d purchased with the pin money my father allowed her. My sisters and I would light the little candles on the branches on Christmas morning. The servants used to sing for us then, and right then, for a moment, we were as loving a family as you might ever see.”

  She tilted her head. “I don’t know if they still light the candles. I don’t know what Alberta and Antonia find on the tree. I’ll never taste our cook’s raisin pie again. When my sisters marry, I’ll not be invited. When my father passes on, I won’t be wanted at the funeral ceremony.” She struck the seat again, with both fists. “ They threw me away, Wyndham!One day I’m a cherished daughter, the next day I’m nothing but rubbish!”

  There were bright tears of fury and pain swimming in her emerald eyes, but she was too proud to let them fall as she glared at him. “What would you do, my lord? Would you let that lie? Would you turn the other cheek, or would you take up that perfect opportunity for vengeance?”

  He could not answer her . . . for he truthfully no longer knew the answer. He looked away, shutting himself off from the aching vividness of her pain.

  “Do not allow your . . . your purpose to interfere with my requirements, Lady Alicia,” he said without inflection. “Or our agreement will come to an end.”

  He turned away, ending the discussion. His thoughts swirled, his usual calm disturbed.

  He was not a family man. His mother was a shallow, flighty woman who had kept to her own glittering social life even during his childhood. His only other relation, his cousin Lady Jane Pennington, he’d never met until a few years past. He’d never known that sort of Christmas himself.

  Yet for one, endless, breathless moment, he’d longed for it with such a passion that he’d wanted to snatch up a sword upon those who’d stolen it from Lady Alicia.

  However, he was no knight intent upon saving maiden fair. He could not allow emotion to sway his strongly held beliefs. He would not aid Lady Alicia’s cause.

  But, he decided with abrupt inadmissible relief, neither would he stand in her way.

  He frowned and turned back to her. “I have no interest in furthering your sinister plans. You are going back into Society for one purpose and one purpose only—to find that man.”

  She nodded. “I know. That’s what so lovely about your plan. It fulfills my plan with no extra effort at all. My very presence at your side will be quite enough to engulf my late family in a storm of gossip and controversy. Their dearest wish is for me to disappear forever. I aim to make that impossible ever again.”

  Then her weariness seemed to overwhelm her once more. She stood shakily. “You might want to leave soon, if you’re squeamish.” Millie came to her side at once, a frail support herself.

  He stiffened. “I am not.”

  She shook her head. “If we are to be convincing, you do realize that you’ll have to unbend enough to act like an actual lover, do you not?”

  He gazed at her expressionlessly. “I shall escort you to and from every event. I shall stand at your side. I shall dance with you. I shall treat you precisely as I would a lover.”

  She squinted at him, tilting her head. “Which illuminates your solitary state as no other explanation could.”

  She wobbled from the room on her companion’s arm, her ill-fitting dress sagging on her weary form.

  “I shall see you in a week’s time,” Stanton repeated. “Do contact me if there are problems with the arrangements.”

  She waved back at him weakly without turning around and disappeared. Stanton found himself alone in the tattered parlor, abandoned to make his own way from the house.

  Rude, contrary, and vile—his new mistress was going to make quite the splash on Society.

  Stanton only hoped he, and the Royal Four, would survive the experience.

  When Stanton stepped into the Chamber of the Four, he let the mantle of Lord Wyndham slide from his shoulders and moved easily into the familiar, comfortable role of the Falcon. More and more it seemed his true life began and ended with this room and the other Three present within it.

  The room itself was nothing special, for it was a small, non-descript chamber paneled on all four sides with insipid mural work and contained only an elderly table and four rather unusual chairs.

  He let one hand slide casually over the carving on the back of his chair, taking comfort in the subtle depiction of a falcon’s acute gaze represented there. The Falcon had saved him, given him reason to see each day through, until it became his true life—Lord Wyndham falling aside as necessary with greater ease every year.

  He glanced about to see if the other three had noticed his uncharacteristic gesture. The Lion, a great blond giant, had already taken his seat and had leaned his wide shoulders back into his own carved alias while he perused the latest reports from the Liar’s Club on the search for the Chimera.

  The Cobra, dark and allegedly very handsome, must have read them previously, for he sat with arms folded and a half-smile upon his face as he gazed into space. Then again, the Cobra was recently wed.

  So was the Fox, but there was no dulling of her sharp gaze as she raised a perfectly arched brow at Stanton. Damn, she’d seen the gesture after all.

  “Wyndham, your chair will not be growing softer, if that’s what you’re waiting for,” she said crisply. Her protégé and husband, Marcus, took his own chair to one side of hers.

  The Cobra blinked and fixed his gaze curiously on Stanton. The Lion glanced up from his reading to grin at him. The Fox—that is, Lady Dryden—was the only one yet comfortable with their new policy of dispensing with the ancient code names. “If anyone is close enough to hear our plans, they’re going to be able to identify us anyway,” she had argued. “Enough of this boys’ club nonsense.”

  So it was Lord Greenleigh, Lord Reardon, Lord Wyndham and Lady Dryden who sat about the table, or, when things became more heated, as they sometimes did, it was “Dane,” “Nathaniel,” “Stanton,” and “Julia.”

  All of whom now watched him expectantly.

  Stanton cleared his throat. “I have called you all together to inform you of a new development. Someone is trying to round up support for an attempt against the Prince Regent.”

  Dane narrowed his eyes. “Then we contain him until the dan
ger has passed.”

  “That will be difficult,” Nathaniel said. “George has been planning to attend for months. He has even ordered a fireworks display arranged by our own resident genius, Mr. Forsythe.”

  “Forsythe?” Stanton lifted a brow. The elderly inventor rarely left his messy laboratory in the White Tower, where he worked on various fascinating—if hazardous—projects for the Crown. “At an orgy? He must be close to eighty years of age. He’ll kill himself.”

  Dane snorted. “No danger of that. If there were gunpowder and fuses about, I doubt Forsythe would notice Aphrodite herself.”

  Julia tapped a finger to her lips. “Would repression not only push George to step farther out of bounds?”

  Stanton nodded ruefully. “I believe it is possible. He is still furious at our meddling with his . . . er, mistress selection.”

  Dane raised a hand and nodded. “I take responsibility for that one. It seemed like a good plan at the time.”

  Julia slid him a sideways look. “Perhaps if you had had a woman’s opinion on the matter, you might have thought twice.”

  Dane grinned at her companionably. “Hindsight is perfect, Lady Julia, but it’s never much help at the time.”

  Nathaniel leaned forward. “The cause is moot. George is thoroughly infuriated with us four and not likely to listen to any advice we offer.”

  Dane cut in. “What of Liverpool? Do you think he could influence George?”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Liverpool is even farther in the hole than we are. George is extremely unhappy at the moment. His outrageous behavior is becoming less and less predictable. He is drinking more and gaining weight. His new mistress reports that he is indulging in progressively more debauched behavior.”

  Stanton nodded. “Hence the attendance at Cross’s orgy.” He stood, feeling absurdly discomfited by what he was about to report. “That is why I have decided to attend Lord Cross’s house party. My informant will pass as my mistress, giving her the opportunity to identify the voice she overheard.”

  Dane blinked. “You’re attending an orgy? You?”

  Stanton clasped his hands behind his back. “I believe I have all the required equipment for the mission. What’s more, my informant will only be posing as my paramour.”

  Nathaniel blinked. “Well, I suppose bringing a mistress will appear less odd than showing up by yourself.”

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “How can you be sure you can trust this woman? Who is she?”

  “It is not a matter of trust, Lady Dryden. She is there only to point out the alleged conspirator. I will do the subsequent investigating. She doesn’t know anything but that I am a concerned and loyal Englishman who wishes to avert a disaster.”

  Julia crossed her arms and regarded him with raised brows. Nathaniel and Dane exchanged glances.

  Stanton waited. Eventually, Nathaniel leaned forward with his fingers clasped beneath his chin. “Wyndham, you still haven’t told us her name.”

  Damn. This was going to be more difficult than he’d realized. “My informant is Lady Alicia Lawrence.”

  The uproar was immediate.

  “Lady All-three-cia? You cannot be serious!” Dane’s bellow threatened to shake the spiders from their webs in the rafters.

  Nathaniel was suspiciously silent. Of course, he would not be one to hold someone’s reputation against them, his own only recently having been restored to him.

  On the other hand, Julia was icily appalled. “You are making such a break in your cover on the word of the most notorious liar in Society?”

  Behind her, Marcus was hiding a smile behind his hand. “Don’t believe everything you hear, my dearest lady.”

  Julia shot a glance behind her. “Shut up, darling.” She turned back to Stanton, her horror somewhat abated. “Forgive me, Wyndham. I should have realized that you would know whether or not she was telling the truth.”

  Nathaniel was watching this exchange quietly. Now he sat back, his head tilted curiously. “I’ve been hearing about this skill of yours, Wyndham. Can you truly be sure she’s not a liar?”

  Julia turned to Nathaniel. “I trust Wyndham’s instincts. You should too.”

  Stanton could not let it lie. “There seems to be a problem there,” he murmured.

  Nathaniel went on. “I’m not sure I believe in such a thing.”

  Julia wasn’t backing down. “Well, it was instrumental in the determination that you had no real part in the conspiracy of the Knights of Fleur.”

  Nathaniel scowled. “I was operating covertly. For the Four, I might add.”

  Dane raised his hand again. “We all know that, Nate. But I have to say, Wyndham’s skill is pretty impressive. I’ve never seen it fail.”

  Stanton rubbed his head. “Until now,” he said reluctantly. “I cannot read her.”

  Dane leaned back. “Well, hell.”

  Julia frowned. “You cannot read this woman? Why not? Is it because you are attracted to her?”

  Stanton let out a protesting noise. “Absolutely not. Really, truly, most emphatically not.”

  Julia looked unsure. “As I recall, she is fairly young and was well brought up before her fall. Surely she isn’t that bad. Otherwise you could not plausibly pass her off as your mistress.”

  Stanton felt his shoulders ache with the strain of further stiffening. “I am hoping Society will buy that I am partial to stout, pudding-faced women with beautiful eyes.”

  Marcus quirked his lips again. “Beautiful eyes, eh?”

  Stanton nodded shortly. “They’re green and . . . well, at any rate, with some help and expensive gowns, I’m hoping she’ll pass.”

  Julia folded her arms again. “I don’t know whether to worry about you or about her. Is she aware that your intentions are completely businesslike? She could easily get the wrong idea.”

  Julia was protective of her gender. While his reputation did him no harm with the Three, she obviously did not discount it completely. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with her brains,” Stanton said. “Although her manners could use a bit of work.”

  Marcus laughed out loud at that. “Says the rudest man I’ve ever met!”

  Stanton stiffened. “I am not rude. I am . . . terse.”

  Even Dane was laughing. “She was rude to the Dark Marquis? I think I’d like to meet this Lady All-three-cia.”

  Stanton shot him a look. “I think we ought to refer to her as Lady Alicia, at least for the duration. Besides, there is no point in your meeting her. I will accompany her to Cross’s fleshpot and she will point out the alleged conspirator. At that point I will ship her back to her hovel, well paid for her assistance.”

  “An expensive venture, when you’re not sure of her veracity.”

  “It cannot be helped. If any of you have a better plan, I’m ready to hear it.”

  Julia looked as though she truly wished she did, but even she had to shake her head. “You must pursue this to its conclusion. I assume that if she is lying, she will learn a valuable lesson in consequences?”

  Stanton gazed back evenly. “Indeed. An example will be made.”

  “Are you sure you don’t wish for backup on this one?” Marcus grinned. “I’ve always been curious about Cross’s house parties.”

  Dane laughed. “I have to admit, my curiosity is itching as well.”

  Stanton gazed at them all in alarm. “I am perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”

  Julia was the only one not smiling. She was bloody frightening sometimes. “If you are sure you can handle both the Prince Regent and Lady Alicia, then of course you should go alone,” she said. “If you are sure.”

  “As far as I know, I’m the only one George is still speaking to,” Nathaniel added. “And that’s only because I’m married to his ward. Perhaps Willa and I should drop in on the week’s events. She’s very good with George.”

  Dane looked disgruntled. “Olivia is very good with George as well . . . perhaps a bit too good.”

  Stanton gazed at t
hem all warily. “Don’t. Come. To. Sussex.”

  Julia tilted her head and beamed him a stunning smile. Though she was most assuredly taken, and not Stanton’s type in any respect, her beauty was such that no man could think straight when she focused her considerable charms upon him.

  “Now why would we do that?” she purred.

  Stanton blinked. The room was becoming warm and it had been a very, very long time since a woman had looked at him at all. The back of his neck began to dampen—

  He shot a dark glare Julia’s way. “Stop that.”

  Marcus was a puddle in his chair. “Witness to my daily battle,” he gasped between chuckles.

  Julia bowed her head briefly. “I defer to the master. You are made of stern stuff, Wyndham. I don’t think Lady Alicia has a chance in hell of dividing your attention.”

  It had been a test. Wyndham would have been angry if he hadn’t seen the sense of it. If a renowned beauty like Julia couldn’t sway him, what chance had poor, disadvantaged Lady Alicia?

  6

  Later that evening, however, as Stanton undressed for bed, he began to have his doubts.

  For the first time in his memory, he was no more astute than the average human, at least where Lady Alicia Lawrence was concerned. For the first time, he had a taste of the awful confusion and morass of doubt that every person about him suffered through on a daily basis, forced to trust blindly or even to mistake real truth for lies, driven to it by their own suspicions.

  When he’d been no more than seven, he had watched his father casually accept a ledger from his housekeeper’s hand and he had known the nonchalance was a lie. He had continued to watch as his mother greeted his father after arriving home from a shopping trip to London and he had seen that her bright smile and offhand affection for her husband was a lie.

  The housekeeper, a statuesque woman named Ilsa, stood between his parents like a fortress wall, her hold on Lord Wyndham complete. It was obvious to Stanton, even at such a young age, yet no one spoke of it. His mother, whether helpless or simply unwilling to combat the woman, spent more and more time away “shopping,” although the rumors of her true activities spread to the estate of Wyndham and beyond, while his father fell more and more under Ilsa’s spell.