Celeste Bradley - [The Liar's Club 01]

by The Pretender

  The tap on the door was a welcome relief from his boredom, and James gladly called out for the visitor to come in.

  Simon was the last person he’d expected to see.

  “You’re looking much improved, James.”

  “For a traitor, you mean.”

  With a raised brow, Simon reminded him that there had been every reason to suspect him.

  “Come now, Simon. You know me.”

  “I wanted to trust you, but I also wanted to find out how so many of our identities were uncovered.”

  The knife of guilt went deep, and James had to look away. “How many were lost?”

  “James, it’s not—”

  But it was. He’d been careless. He hadn’t bothered to hide his path, or to take alternate routes every evening to see his mistress. As if his lust had been a separate thing from his life as an operative.

  He’d been a fool. Too busy thinking about the woman he had just left to be aware of being followed. Too sotted with wine and erotic delights to fight them off when they’d attacked from the shadows. “How many?”

  “Five, if you count Ren Porter.”

  “Why wouldn’t you count him?”

  “Head injury. There’s no telling if he’ll ever open his eyes. And if he does, we don’t know if he’ll be himself, or just another brain-shot veteran.”

  “God. Poor Ren.”

  “We’ve never had all the men we’ve needed. We’ve certainly never had enough specialists. We’re now down to two pickpockets, one knife man, four scouts, three rooftop men, and one saboteur, without you.”

  “And I’m a bloody partridge in a pear tree, stuck under house arrest.”

  “The irony is that the club is bringing in more profit than ever. We could afford to support many more missions, had we only the men to cover them.”

  “That’s perfect. For once we’ve no need to beg funds from the War Office, and we cannot even use it.”

  “It’s all thanks to Jackham really. He simply can’t help making money, for himself and all of us.”

  Simon set one hip on the arm of the chair by the fire. “Quite different from when I first began. Did I ever tell you that the first few missions I ran for the Old Man fell under the classification of ‘Acquisitions’?”

  “No, what—you’re joking! You funded the club with housebreaking?”

  “Only from the most deserving, I assure you. We kept a file of the sinners and the charlatans, and we never completely cleaned anyone out. Not of anything they’d have been willing to report, at any rate.”

  James laughed, then he sobered once more. “You came to talk about Agatha, didn’t you?”

  “I came to talk about everything. I’ll need your full report, as much as you can remember of what you were asked under the opiates. As well as what you learned on your escape.”

  Simon stood and walked to stand before the fire. He gazed down at the carpet, his face turned so James could not see his expression.

  “And about Agatha,” prompted James.

  “Yes. About Agatha.” Simon’s voice was flat.

  “You’ve done a terrible thing to her, Simon.”

  Simon turned, his face dark with anger. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “We’ve never used the tactic of seduction before. You said that it was unreliable. That there were better ways, that the seducer often became the seduced.”

  “I still feel that way.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Simon gave a rueful bark of laughter. “You said it yourself. The seducer became seduced.”

  James couldn’t help his surprise. He’d never dreamed it would be this easy. “You admit it then? You’re attached to her?”

  “Madly.”

  “But that’s wonderful! She’s mad for you as well.”

  “James, she knows I cannot marry. She refused me before I ever asked.”

  James knew he would have to tread carefully here. “Simon, I’ve never been entirely convinced of your reasoning on this. A man needn’t walk away from a life of his own to still be loyal to his country.”

  “You may marry if you wish. All the Liars may. It is a decision that every man must make for himself. I made my decision years ago.”

  “But why?”

  “James, you are my friend. But even friends must toe a line. Don’t overstep.”

  James scowled. “Well, you bloody well overstepped with my sister! I know why you did what you did, but make no mistake, Simon. I am not happy about it.”

  “Yes, I did overstep. I thought she was a woman without boundaries, a woman that I could have without tying her to daily danger as my wife. Family ties are the ties that kill, at least in our profession.”

  James was horrified. “Then she is already in danger because she is my sister.”

  “Of course. You must have known that all along, James. Else why did you never mention her, even to me? Why did you leave her isolated in the country, safe at Appleby?”

  It was true. James had not done it consciously, but he had most certainly kept his own counsel on the subject of Agatha.

  “Great lot of good that did me. If I’d told you, none of this would have happened.”

  “True. But as always, that could apply to a myriad of small actions. Had you never joined the Liars, had you never taken that last mission … One could go on for hours. What’s done is done, James.”

  “Yes. The question is, what do we do next?”

  “I’ve decided that Agatha needs protection. You’re in no condition yet, and I’ve already achieved an acceptable cover as Mortimer’s brother.”

  James grinned. “So I’ve heard, Ethelbert.”

  Simon grimaced. “She has a lawless streak, your sister.”

  “Oh, yes. A rather wide one.”

  “The fact is, James, I’m moving back here to Carriage Square. Indefinitely.”

  “In this house? What about Agatha’s reputation? Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage? Even a widow cannot reside with only her brother-in-law, not at her age.”

  “Until the day Agatha says ‘I will’ to another man, she is mine to protect. And I can’t very well protect her from halfway across the city, can I?” His tone was remote, as if it was simply business.

  James still had doubts. It was a risk. “Wouldn’t she be safer back in Appleby?”

  Standing with his hands braced on the mantel, Simon seemed to hesitate. “She doesn’t think so.” Simon turned back. “I’ll lie low. The outside world will never know I’m staying on, any more than they know that you are here. I’ll be in evidence when callers come, and I’ll leave very obviously every evening.”

  James narrowed his eyes. “You simply like climbing walls.”

  Simon smiled. “That I do. But with the two of us here, she’ll be as safe as anyone is in London. I can accompany her if she goes out, and when you are better, we can trade the night watch.”

  James folded his arms. “Oh, I’ll be watching you come nightfall, Simon. Never fear.”

  “I’ve no intention of carrying on with Agatha, James,” Simon said stiffly.

  “I’m sure. But I’ll keep my eyes open, just the same.”

  Let Simon spout that rot about “killing ties” after living with Agatha for a while. If he was not mistaken, his sister still wanted Simon, and what Agatha wanted, Agatha usually got. James eyed his friend, debating whether he should warn him.

  No. He wasn’t quite over his anger. Let the bounder suffer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, Agatha sat alone in the breakfast room and toyed with her eggs. Loss of appetite was not at all usual for her. Another reason to be angry with Simon. He’d put her off her feed completely, and while she had the finest cook in London, too.

  She forced herself to eat a bit, for she didn’t want to hurt Sarah’s feelings. But the last bite turned to sand in her mouth when Simon sauntered into the breakfast room, his hair still damp from his morning ablutions, his hands busily adjust
ing the sleeves of his coat.

  “Good morning, pigeon.”

  Her throat was too dry to swallow and the sand had turned to gravel in her mouth. Finally, she choked it down.

  “What—”

  “Eat up, pidge, your eggs are turning cold.”

  “Did you stay here last night?” She had meant to shout, but her voice scarcely managed a horrified whisper.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve quite moved back in. The rear bedchamber is a bit small, but I’ll share Button with James, so there’s no need to put my own valet up as well.”

  He filled his plate from the sideboard and took the chair opposite her. When he took his first bite of eggs and made that all too familiar sound deep in his throat, the pain broke Agatha’s paralysis.

  She shoved her chair violently away from the table, putting distance between them. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m guarding you.”

  “Me? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I’m safeguarding you, against whoever kidnapped James.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no connection between James Cunnington and Agatha Applequist.”

  “I made one. Others might as well.”

  There was no denying that. She tried another tack. “Well, I won’t have it. I’m perfectly safe in this house. And if I’m not, I’ll hire guards of my own.”

  “Will you be sure they’re not working for the opposition? Your servants are loyal, but new staff in the house won’t necessarily be.”

  Agatha cast about for any possible argument. “You’ll ruin my reputation!”

  “As if you gave a fig about that.”

  Blast. He knew her too well.

  “And I’ve covered that contingency,” he said. “I’ll play the attentive brother-in-law by day, then make the appearance of leaving for the night. Then I’ll return covertly, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Jamie won’t allow it!”

  “Sorry, pidge, he’s already seen the logic of it.”

  “Why are you calling me that?”

  “Pigeon? Well, you said I should come up with my own pet name for you. Don’t you like pigeon?”

  “No, I most certainly don’t.” She struggled to keep her voice cold. He would not charm her.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Pity. I thought it suited you quite well.”

  “Not a bit of it. Pigeons are common and rather nasty.”

  “I find them endearing, and very pretty in their own way.”

  He would not melt her anger; she would not allow it. It was the only thing holding her spine erect.

  “A pet name is out of the question. You have no place giving me one.”

  He stretched lazily, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll just keep at it then. I’m sure to find the right one eventually. Perhaps ‘pumpkin.’”

  It was no use. “Simon, if you must stay here, would you—”

  “What?”

  “Would you please try very hard not to…”

  “Not to?”

  She looked away, defeated. “Not to make it hurt so much,” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond. She made herself look back at him.

  All the teasing was gone. His eyes reflected the torture that she herself was feeling. “I apologize, Agatha. I thought I was.”

  She fought the pain, and the tears that threatened, but was about to lose the battle when James came into the room.

  “Ah, Simon, I’d hoped to beat you to table this morning to explain.”

  Gratefully, Agatha tore her gaze from Simon’s. “Jamie, what are you doing out of bed?”

  “Saving my brain from curdling with boredom. I can rest just as easily downstairs as upstairs.”

  “And it’s easier to cadge sweets from Sarah Cook,” contributed Simon.

  James grimaced. “I see I’m found out already.” He turned to Agatha. “Are you all right about this, Aggie?”

  “I don’t know that I am,” she said quietly, “but I don’t see that I have much choice in the matter.”

  “I imagine that you’d prefer that I stay far away from you,” Simon said, “but that simply cannot be. I’ll receive your callers with you, and I’ll escort you when you leave the house.”

  “Oh, lovely. Good lord, Simon, why don’t you simply pull out my hair strand by strand? Why should torture be so subtle?”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, Agatha. I must protect you. Please understand.” His tone was soft, but implacable as well.

  The blasted thing of it was, she did understand. Just as he’d put his mark on her, she’d put her own on him. He might not love her, but he felt responsible for her.

  Well, strike “honorable” off the list of things she’d been wrong about. He was undeniably honorable, putting her as high among his priorities as was possible in this situation.

  Of course, should some national emergency occur, she was sure he’d be gone in a flash. She had learned long ago that when a man had a grand purpose in life, emotional ties faded to insignificance.

  She’d merely have to bear it until something came up that was more important to him than she was. In her experience, such things never took long.

  Pearson appeared in the doorway.

  “Madam, two gentlemen are here to call on you. Shall I tell them to come back at a more appropriate hour?”

  Agatha gladly seized on the chance to leave the table. “No, Pearson. Now is fine. Who is it?”

  “A Master Collis Tremayne and his uncle, Lord Etheridge.”

  “Collis?”

  She left with a smile lighting her face, startling Simon. How long had it been that he had seen Agatha smile? Not since that night—

  Who the hell was Collis Tremayne to make her smile? A young man, she’d told him. One of her patients. And what the bloody hell was Etheridge doing here?

  Throwing down his napkin as if he were issuing a challenge, Simon rose to follow Agatha from the breakfast room.

  As he strode purposefully toward the hall he heard James laughing behind him.

  The guests were waiting in the front parlor. Simon managed to catch up to Agatha before she so much as touched the knob, so they both heard the voices arguing within.

  Agatha paused, as if unsure of whether or not to interrupt. Simon held up a hand, signaling to wait. She drew back her hand immediately, and Simon was reminded of what a superior partner she had made.

  If only she weren’t who she was.…

  “Collis, aside from the fact that you’ve nothing to offer her but your prospects of an inheritance from me, you are too young for her.”

  “Codswallop. I daresay she’s not a moment past twenty.”

  Agatha leaned close to whisper in Simon’s ear, “I think I’m fonder of him than ever, for I’m every day of twenty-five.”

  That she was fond of the pup was the last thing that Simon wanted to hear. With the possible exception of the next thing he heard.

  “If anyone is to marry her, I shall. I’m of a maturity to be a good husband, and I’ve considerably more to offer.”

  “Oh my,” Agatha whispered gleefully. “I told you beaux would flock to my door.”

  Simon lifted his lip in a quiet snarl at her satisfied tone.

  Collis raised his voice in protest. “But you spent the entire morning trying to dissuade me from marrying her!”

  “Because it is extremely improper to speak to her about such a thing when Mr. Applequist is scarcely cold in his grave.”

  “I know that. But she is widowed, with no family that I know of. Who knows what condition her finances are in? I only want her to know that she has options. Women are fond of options, I’ve found.”

  “In all your vast experience, Collis? Well, now she’ll have yet another option. Me.”

  “But why? You’ve only met her the once.”

  “She’s quite suitable. I don’t want a fluttering debutante, but an adult. And I like her. She’s uncommonly sensible. I’d think you’d be pushing her on me, Collis. After all, i
f I marry and have an heir of my own, then you’ll be free to pursue your music.”

  “And I’ll feel proper sorry for the poor little sod if you do. Bloody tyrant.”

  Once again, Simon’s lip threatened to curl. “Listen to them in there, arguing over who will rescue the damsel-in-distress.”

  Agatha sighed dramatically. “I’m a damsel. How thrilling. I’ve always wanted to be a damsel.”

  “Fine,” Simon said, his voice a hiss. “You’re a damsel. It’s easier to remember than ‘pumpkin,’ anyway.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

  “No what, damsel?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “To think I ever tried to manipulate you. What a fool I am.”

  Simon turned to her. “You are not—”

  His swift denial was cut off when the door before them was pulled open. Dalton Montmorency stood eyeing them both with one brow raised.

  “Mrs. A!”

  Collis rushed forward to take Agatha’s hand. Simon tensed when he thought the lad might embrace her, but Collis only led her to sit on her own sofa. Simon rolled his eyes. As if she didn’t know perfectly well where it was.

  Unfortunately, Agatha seemed charmed by Collis’s attentions. “Collis, you came to see me after all. How are you feeling?”

  “Never better, Mrs. A, don’t worry about me. I’m more concerned about you. When I read of Mr. A’s accident, I wanted to come straightaway.”

  Etheridge gave a nod of apology. “It was I who kept him at home, Mrs. Applequist. His doctor said a few days more bed rest. I felt it was important enough to abide by.”

  “As well you should, my lord. Collis, you are a terrible patient.” She smiled fondly at the boy, and Simon almost growled.

  “I know.” The lad’s smile was unrepentant, and Simon had to admit that he was a likable sort. He’d treat Agatha well, but he was too easily ordered about. She’d charge right over him.

  Lord Etheridge bowed over her hand. “My condolences, dear lady.” He straightened and shot a measuring glance at Simon. “And are you a member of the bereaved family as well, sir?”

  “I beg your pardon. Lord Etheridge, Collis, may I present my late husband’s brother … Ethelbert Applequist.” Agatha winced a bit as she said the name she had given him.

  Simon despised the name, but his loathing for it gained new depths when a flash of amusement gleamed in Etheridge’s damnable eyes.