The Mysterious Lord Millcroft

by Virginia Heath

  Gem was still sat comforting him. There was no judgement on her lovely face, only sympathy. Seb took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, needing the contact. ‘My brother was residing in London. He was—is—ten years older than me. I took myself there to inform him of the steward’s mistake, stupidly believing it was a mistake and my father would undoubtedly have issued proper instructions about my mother’s future care. Because it never occurred to me that I would not be granted an audience, I rode directly to Berkeley Square from Norfolk, presented myself at his front door and told the butler that his Grace’s brother was here to see him. I was sat waiting in his hallway when he came. Two footmen held me down and he beat me senseless, then threw me out on the street. I haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘What happened to you and your mother?’

  ‘My grandparents took us in. My mother had been estranged from them since before I was born because they disapproved of her choices. I’m not entirely certain she had bothered to tell them about me until we turned up at the farm, but they welcomed us and gave us a new home. One I loved, but my mother didn’t. She never stopped grieving for what happened. It was just shy of two years later that she caught a chill and lost the will to live.’ And he was still angry at that, too. That he had not been enough to make her want to stay. ‘So there you have it. In a nutshell. Beyond that door is a man I loathe above all others and I have no idea what to do about it.’

  ‘Oh, Seb.’ Her arm came around his shoulders and she pulled him close, resting her head on top of his. Inexplicably, her embrace lessened the pain. ‘What a conundrum. What do you want to do?’

  ‘Break his neck with my bare hands.’

  ‘Understandable. I sense there is a but.’

  ‘But I have an important job to do.’

  She inhaled, then exhaled slowly. ‘Then you have your answer. As it is highly unlikely from what you have said that he will recognise you, you must be Millcroft until it is safe to be Seb again. Then you can take what action you think fit and I will happily help you. In the meantime, for the mission you must pretend to be cordial and so must I.’

  ‘And if he does recognise me?’

  ‘Between us, we will think of something.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple.’

  She stood and shrugged, her smile banishing the last of the murderous thoughts for the time being. ‘We are spies, Seb. Nothing is ever simple.’

  * * *

  Clarissa paced the bedchamber floor impatiently, waiting for Seb to come, feeling very daring in the borrowed breeches, shirt and dark coat she had pilfered from a wardrobe. She had no clue as to whether he still intended to go out tonight, but if he was then she was going with him. The idea of Seb in danger without her eyes there, too, to keep him out of harm’s way would make sleep impossible, especially after the evening he had endured through no fault of his own. Seeing Seb distraught and briefly panicked had bothered her. It made her feel hugely protective of him. At some point, he had come to mean a great deal to her and she worried about him. Therefore, it stood to reason if she wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, she might as well assist him tonight and every night henceforth in all aspects of his mission—because together they were the perfect team.

  It was a decision she had made very early in the evening immediately after his confession because it was obvious he was vulnerable and needed looking after. By her. Clarissa had straightened Seb’s lapels, neatened his hair again because she couldn’t seem to stop touching him, then threaded her arm through his proprietorially. When they emerged back into the drawing room, it was Lord Millcroft and his adoring Incomparable that everyone saw.

  She stood by his side while he was introduced to Thetford and, while they both inwardly held their breath, they were soon relieved to see not one flicker of recognition in the older half-sibling’s eyes. Overall, it had been a brief exchange but the knowledge that Thetford was blessedly ignorant of her spy’s real identity seemed to alleviate some of Seb’s tension and allowed him to focus during the long dinner to such an extent that before the gentlemen left for their port and cigars, he managed to engage in some small talk with his nemesis.

  Clarissa, on the other hand, fretted the entire time he was gone, but she needn’t have worried. A surreptitious peek into the billiards room on her way to bed reassured her he was all Millcroft and she felt an inordinate sense of pride in him. There were not many men who could behave with such restraint and grace when under intense pressure. In the presence of two dukes, he stood tall and proud. Just the right amount of arrogance and confidence to convince anyone he was as good, if not better, than the rest of the men assembled. No wonder he excelled at what he did. But he still needed looking after. Especially tonight. Coming face to face with his past had rattled him and only she knew Seb was wearing a carefully constructed mask.

  The tap on the door made her breath hitch. ‘Who is it?’ Her maid would have a fit if she saw her dressed like this. Especially after Agnes had taken half an hour to bind her hair in the rags. Rags which now sat listlessly on her dressing table next to the Mrs Radcliffe novel she had been attempting to read for four months.

  ‘Me.’ The deep whisper made those goosebumps appear all over her skin again. The sight of him dressed head to foot in black gave those goosebumps goosebumps. The colour suited him, making him seem more dangerous and sinfully exciting than usual. He closed the door and gaped at her attire.

  ‘What are you wearing?’

  To lighten the suddenly tense mood, Clarissa did a little twirl. ‘My new spying clothes. Do you like them? I could hardly climb out of the window in layers of petticoats, now could I?’

  ‘You are not going out of the window.’ He dropped the heavy rope on the floor and began to secure it to some furniture as if his word was law.

  ‘Yes, I am. You need me.’

  ‘I need you in here, not out there where it is dangerous.’ His ferocious scowl could have curdled milk.

  ‘In case it has escaped your notice, it is probably just as dangerous in here as it is out there. What happens if they become suspicious or wonder why you are missing? They will come and find me.’

  ‘Take off those ridiculous clothes and go to bed.’

  ‘If you think I am going to spend the night worrying about you while meekly waiting here after tonight’s revelations, then you can think again. Need I remind you that I have saved your mission at least twice that I know of and without me you would still be floundering in a ballroom in Mayfair rather than here in Penhurst’s house. You said I am resourceful and have excellent instincts, two things that would come in useful if the unthinkable happens. You have had a trying day. Trying days play on the mind and make us miss things. Extra eyes will ensure that doesn’t happen. Besides, if you refuse to take me with you, we both know I shall only climb down once you have gone. And then I will be all alone. Wandering the Downs in the dark. Looking for you. Wouldn’t you feel better knowing I was with you in the first place?’

  She watched his eyes narrow while he thought of a response and decided to deny him the chance. Decisively, Clarissa marched to the window and began to lower the rope outside. His big palms came down and imprisoned her hands. ‘I’d feel better knowing that you were safe and sound in here.’

  ‘And what about how I feel? Or does that not matter?’

  His mouth opened and she silenced him with her hand. ‘I am supremely tired of trying to do what other people want. I’m tired of all the effort it takes to be an Incomparable. I’m tired of feigning politeness to the limpet Olivia or Penhurst and his cronies. I’m tired of all of Westbridge’s dithering, I’m tired of competing for his affections or being treated like an ornament and I am fed up with taking orders from you.’

  He seemed offended to be included in that list. ‘I don’t give you orders.’

  ‘Yes, you do. In the last few days alone you’ve ordered me to remain silent, keep secr
ets and you’ve threatened to put a guard on me if I disobey. Just then you ordered me to go to bed. Well, understand this—I’m not going to nor am I going to spend more fruitless hours worrying about you in here when I know I can be an asset to you outside.’ She snatched her hands from under his and sat on the window sill, feeling righteously indignant. ‘You either take me with you or I will follow later.’

  ‘I bet you’ve never even climbed a rope.’

  She was winning if that was the best argument he could think of. ‘I haven’t, but you have. If push comes to shove, then I’m sure you can throw me over those impressive shoulders.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  The need to be with her overruled everything his head and his training told him. Seb used many excuses to justify it—another pair of eyes, she was resourceful, they were only going to be observing—but he knew without a doubt the only reason he had allowed her to come was because he was emotionally unsettled and for some reason Gem’s presence made him feel better. Right now he wanted to feel better, not seething or lost in the past.

  She had managed to lower herself from the window without needing his help and, after camouflaging the bottom of the rope as best they could in the bushes below, they silently skirted the garden, keeping to the shadows until they were well clear of the house. It was a good mile from Penhurst Hall to the sea across the Downs and one they did uttering few words. Seb was understandably preoccupied, yet she seemed much the same. Maybe it was nerves or fear of what they were doing, but he couldn’t shake the thought that there was something else going on in that clever head of hers.

  Gem jumped out of her skin when one of his Invisibles stepped out of his hiding place, but to her credit barely a squeak came out of her mouth. ‘Good evening, sir. All is quiet now, but there was a flash just up there on the cliff about an hour ago. Nothing since.’

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘There are men posted every half a mile from Birling Gap to Cuckmere Haven. Gray has arrived in Portsmouth and is with the Excise Men ready to board the vessel once she has offloaded.’ Assuming that the Espérance de Dieu was a smuggling ship, then they needed it to remain one for as long as feasibly possible—albeit with a slightly different crew—to allow the King’s Elite to infiltrate the organisation on the Continent before word got out of Penhurst’s capture. The ship could lead them to the rotten core of the Boss’s organisation.

  ‘You expect them tonight?’ Gem’s eyes were wide. ‘It looks like rain.’ An understatement. Such an angry sky suggested a storm.

  ‘We have to expect them every night, but tonight it’s cloudy and as there is little moonlight it makes conditions perfect. As long as the weather holds off for a few hours.’ He watched her eyes automatically turn towards the ocean and study the black horizon and quite admired the fact she didn’t simply take his word for it. Seb double-and triple-checked intelligence, too. Lives depended on accuracy.

  Seb listened intently as his man brought him up to speed on everything that had been seen or learned in the days he had been incarcerated with Viscount Penhurst and then relieved him of his post to rest. Taking it in turns to snatch a few hours here and there was how they survived a mission. It was exhausting work and being exposed to the elements for long hours of surveillance wasn’t fun. Necessary, but mind numbing.

  Gem watched him unravel the large rectangle of oilskin which he had brought and fold it in half before laying it on the ground. ‘There you go. Our palatial home for the night.’ He lifted one corner to allow her to sandwich herself between the layers. At that moment it dawned on him that he should have brought two. Climbing in beside her would remind him of being in bed. Cosy. Warm. Intimate. He dropped the sheet and sat on the damp ground next to it, rummaging in his bag for his small field telescope to cover the sudden physical discomfort his errant thoughts were creating.

  ‘What happens now?’

  ‘The really exciting part. We get to stare at the sea for two hours.’

  ‘And there I was thinking the life of a spy was glamorous.’ Gem adjusted her position, rolling on her front and propping herself up on her elbows, tossing the ridiculously thick, golden plait of hair to one side. ‘Pass me that telescope, then.’

  He did and smiled as she taught herself how to focus it, scrunching up one eye and unconsciously poking out the tip of her tongue. It was the least Incomparable expression he had seen her pull and he found it enchanting. Not as enchanting as the erotic sight of her in the tight breeches which had tormented him as she undulated down the rope above him. Even with the layer of oilskin, that image was seared into his mind for ever. ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘Big moving shadows or the occasional and brief flash of light. They are too experienced to use lanterns, but smuggling vessels communicate with those waiting onshore by using gunpowder. A little burns very brightly for a few scant seconds. If we are lucky, we will see flashes both at sea and somewhere along these cliffs or the beaches below.’

  ‘Like a conversation.’

  She caught on quickly, as usual, and that made him smile. ‘Exactly. No replying light means something is amiss so the boat will not sail any closer.’

  ‘How did things go with your brother?’ The abrupt change of subject didn’t surprise him. The spectre of his past had been hovering all evening.

  ‘We were cordial. He’s still an arse.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he was involved with Penhurst’s treachery and then you would have the pleasure of arresting him.’ She shot him a cheeky grin, then went back to her telescope.

  ‘Alas, like your pompous arse, Thetford is merely window dressing. Little trophies of Penhurst’s social standing now that he is rich once again.’

  Seb was expecting her to correct him and defend her Duke, and when she didn’t he couldn’t resist another dig. ‘Talking of the windbag, he was glaring at me all night. Did the pair of you have words?’

  ‘Why don’t you like Westbridge? Specifically, I mean.’

  Where to start? The blue blood. The undeserved privilege. The way dukes sneered down their nose at humble bastards. ‘You deserve better than him.’ Which didn’t really answer her question—but as she had asked she deserved his honest appraisal, even though he knew she wouldn’t like it. ‘The fellow only ever talks about himself. He’s detached and self-absorbed. I haven’t seen any evidence of either a sense of humour or any compassion. The man is a bore. A fickle, pompous, arrogant fool.’

  ‘You really don’t like him, do you?’

  ‘Ultimately, my opinion is of no consequence. It’s yours that counts. What do you think of him?’ Seb shouldn’t have asked that because he didn’t want to hear her waxing lyrical about the fool’s appeal—although for some reason tonight he kept pushing her to.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  He hadn’t expected that answer, nor the expression of confusion on her lovely face. Could it be she was having doubts? Doubts which made his silly heart soar. ‘Should you be planning to spend eternity with a man you aren’t sure about?’

  ‘I don’t think Westbridge will make a bad husband—not like Penhurst.’

  ‘Hardly a glowing endorsement.’

  ‘I know.’ She dropped the telescope and stared at him. ‘I have been trying to make a list of pros and cons in my head. He is a duke. He is rich and he is well respected within society.’

  The title. As if that somehow made better men. ‘And the cons?’ Please God let there be significantly more.

  ‘I’m still working on those.’ She didn’t want to share them and Seb saw that as a very good sign indeed. So he pushed some more.

  ‘Tell me—does he know anything about the real you? The woman whose hair is naturally straight, who has a sweet tooth and a thirst for adventure?’ The one whose kisses sent Seb mad with desire. ‘I doubt he shuts up long enough to hear a word you say.’

  Her silence was d
eafening.

  ‘Do you love him?’

  More silence broken by the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. A well-timed omen of doom if ever there was one, although whether that doom was aimed at the windbag or Seb he couldn’t say. ‘Not yet.’ A fat drop of rain splattered on the oilskin, closely followed by another. ‘Perhaps I will. In time.’ When the next droplet hit her face she pulled the oilskin up to cover her head.

  ‘And if you don’t?’

  She didn’t answer, but the sky did. The thunder was closer this time and cued the heavens to open, decisively killing their enlightening conversation stone dead. After one determined raindrop caught him on the back of the head and trickled coldly down his spine, Seb pulled the collar of his coat up and did his best to burrow within it.

  ‘You should get in before you get soaked.’ Gem shuffled over, innocently unaware the prospect made him instantly hard.

  ‘I’ll get one of my men to escort you back. There’s no point in both of us suffering.’

  ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone and neither of us will get soaked under here, will we?’ She patted the space next to her, looking decidedly pleased with herself, clearly intent on torturing him for the duration. ‘Isn’t the whole point of oilskin that it is waterproof?’