An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1

by Laura Trentham

  Lady Matthews fiddled with her rings. “Not since last spring.” Heaving a sigh, her shoulders slumped and age crept into her face. “Your father and I are…were friends. He’s never gone this long without contact. I am very happy with my life in London, you understand, but I miss him.”

  Lady Matthews wasn’t involved. Lily didn’t need physical proof. The truth was etched in the other woman’s anxiously sincere eyes.

  “As soon as I hear from him, I’ll send word or remind him to contact you. I promise.” Lily reached for the other woman’s hands before thinking better of it, pulling back after she was halfway over the void.

  “Your father is a complicated man, isn’t he? I never know when he plans to pop back into my sphere, but he’s always welcome. The man is impossible to control and understand. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always been so fascinated with him.”

  “He can certainly be impossible,” Lily murmured.

  Lady Matthews’s face smoothed back into her hostess mask. “I do hope you enjoy the evening, and please be sure to visit my gardens. They are nearly as lovely as you.” She inclined her head and moved on to the next group of partygoers.

  Returning to stand close to Aunt Edie, who laughed at some whispered on-dit from a fellow dowager, Lily surveyed the room. She struck Lady Matthews from the list of suspects. Lord Matthews, portly and bald, sat with a brandy glass and slapped his knee in merriment with a group of older gentlemen. He dabbed beads of sweat off his beet-red face with a snowy-white handkerchief. He didn’t strike her as the kidnapping type either.

  Several of the men who’d been diligently at her side at various balls milled about. Lord Penhaven, dressed with his usual aplomb, caught her wandering gaze, and they exchanged friendly smiles.

  Montbatton approached and stood uncomfortably close, filling her ear with the latest developments of his prize mare. She nodded and hummed at his pauses while her mind flew elsewhere, namely to wherever Gray hid.

  A few minutes before Ms. Mortimor was scheduled to take the dais, Lord Gilmore and three of his cronies swaggered their way into the room. Greetings went up all around.

  According to Rafe and Gray, Lord Gilmore enjoyed gambling, drinking and women—in any order or combination. Perhaps handsome at one time, years of hard living had left their mark. His face was puffy and ruddy, and his blond hair thinning. Stays slimmed his torso and made him look a bit like a sausage-stuffed casing, overflowing at either end.

  Good-natured, harmless innuendo had flavored his banter during dances. She had a difficult time believing he could look her in the eye if he’d done something nefarious to her father. Surely guilt would lurk behind his charming smile.

  Lords Bradford and Hampton seemed to hang onto the tails of Gilmore’s expensive frockcoat. Young, impressionable and not yet gone to seed, the two young lords were Gilmore’s bootlickers. A third man, darkly handsome, didn’t seem quite as enamored, strolling in behind the group with an air of ennui.

  Gilmore’s soirée was in a few days, but questioning him here might prove easier since he wouldn’t be playing host. Had Gray seen him enter? Before she could make a move, Lady Matthews clapped her hands as a signal for everyone to take a seat.

  Their entertainment, Ms. Mortimor, was a large woman in possession of an enormous white bosom that quivered violently when she hit the high notes. Interspersed among her operatic pieces were bawdy tunes common at county fairs. Lily’s toes tapped even as she assessed the crowd.

  Most of the gentlemen seemed fixated on Ms. Mortimor’s low-cut décolletage set off by a white beaded gown. Not Gilmore’s unknown friend, however. He stared at Lily, a wicked, knowing smile curling his lips. Catching her looking over her shoulder at him, he winked.

  She whipped around and snapped her fan open, cooling hot cheeks. A few minutes passed, and she was unable to resist another glance. He looked as if he were removing her clothing one piece at a time, leaving her feeling as naked and vulnerable as a newborn babe. She crossed and re-crossed her ankles, and her restless consternation gained her a worried look from Aunt Edie.

  “What’s wrong, dearie?”

  “I’m feeling a bit overheated,” she whispered. It certainly wasn’t a lie. She skimmed out of the room and jostled a harried maid balancing a tray of champagne-filled glasses. Droplets splashed onto Lily’s skirt.

  “So sorry, my lady.” The maid’s eyes widened and fear sped her words. “I was preparing for the break. I’ll come back with a wet cloth for your pretty dress.”

  “Please, don’t bother. I’m the one who barreled into you, after all. I needed a bit of air.”

  “If you’re sure.” The maid backed away. “The ladies’ retiring room is down the hall, across from the study.”

  The study. Indecision stilled her feet for only a second. How could she resist? She tentatively pushed open the heavy dark-paneled door and sniffed. The room was dark and smelled mysteriously masculine. She sniffed again. It also smelled of a snuffed candle.

  A hand covered her mouth and a vise circled her torso, trapping one arm. She twisted and bucked against her captor, her gaze on the still cracked door. Surely a maid or footman was close. The man’s binding arm loosened enough for her to turn and score a glancing jab toward his groin with a knee.

  The man grunted. “Be still, you little hellion.”

  “Gray.” Even as relief flooded her, the ebbing threat left her shaky.

  “I’m not sure why I’m even surprised to see you. Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the music and attending to your own mission?”

  Now, instead of trying to cripple and run from her would-be assailant, she leaned into his body, craving the safety she found there. “Lady Matthews and I chatted. I don’t believe she’s involved. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s desperately in love with Father.”

  “Based on the diary I found in her boudoir, I deduced the same. Lord Matthews?”

  “He’s surrounded by a group of his political cronies. I doubt I’ll have the chance to approach him. He doesn’t seem the jealous type though. What did you find?”

  “Just entered when you interrupted.”

  Gray stepped to the desk and left her disconcertingly bereft without his body warming her. After pulling the draperies open so a shaft of moonlight illuminated the room, Gray got to work.

  She wasn’t going to let him have all the fun. She’d slipped her picks into her reticule before leaving the townhouse. While Gray worked on the far column of drawers, she squatted and fit the picks into the top drawer of the near column. His eyes were veiled, but a dimple creased his cheek.

  The race commenced. She closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the mechanism inside the lock. It was simple, and she tugged the drawer open a split second after Gray opened his.

  “I won. Excellent effort though.” Smugness puffed his voice.

  She ignored him to rifle the contents. Dry contracts and newspaper clippings detailing parliament votes heaped on top of each other. Nothing pertained to her father. They each moved to the next two drawers and found nothing of significance.

  On his knees, Gray cast a hand under the desk. A smile accompanied a muffled click. “Hidden compartment,” he whispered.

  He pulled out a simple drawstring velvet pouch. She laced her hands at her waist, her heartbeat ticking up. He emptied the contents into his hand. Gemstones. The facets twinkled.

  “What is their significance?” she asked.

  He held one up for closer inspection. “Several are paste. Lord Matthews probably keeps them for conge.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “A parting gift for whomever is…entertaining him at the moment.”

  Her mouth formed a circle but nothing emerged.

  “You need to get back.” He stuffed the stones back in the pouch and knelt down to tuck it away.

  “Gilmore’s here. Should I approac
h him?”

  “Too crowded. The only place for privacy would be the gardens, and Lady Matthews’s garden is renowned for illicit activity.” Still on his knees, he tilted his face up, a shaft of moonlight illuminating him.

  Lily bit her lip and cut her gaze to the window and the garden beyond.

  “Don’t even think about it, Lily Drummond.” His voice full of warning, he hopped to his feet to loom over her. “Promise me.”

  “But we might not get such an opportunity again.”

  “No.” The word was like the final hammer to a nail.

  “Fine. I promise not to accompany Gilmore to the gardens.”

  Muffled clapping startled them both. “Quick, get to the receiving room.” He nudged her toward the door.

  She stopped with her hand on the handle, turned her head, her mouth parted to ask a question, but he was gone. Stirred night air wafted over her as if his presence had been a dream.

  The cacophony of sound drew closer. She darted inside the ladies’ retiring room and arranged herself on a chaise, fanning herself as a wall of boisterous ladies poured inside. Her heated cheeks and quickened breathing blended with all the other excited women. A few minutes of idle gossip followed before she managed to excuse herself.

  Harried servants assembled an elaborate buffet and poured glass after glass of champagne. Smaller conversational groups broke out and good-natured laughter rang out from all corners. Three sets of doors were thrown open to the gardens. Ladies and gentlemen wandered in and out without the judgmental eyes present at the stuffy, rule-ridden balls she typically attended.

  She stood in front of the bank of open doors and pictured Gray out in the gardens. Or had he taken his leave now his work was completed? A welcome breeze caressed her neck and lifted tendrils of hair as if it were his hand.

  “This is quite the loveliest sight I’ve seen in an age.” A charming voice interrupted her solitude.

  A glance over her shoulder revealed the bold, audacious stranger who had set her blushing during the singing. Lily glanced around the room. Aunt Edie had disappeared from her settee.

  ”Have we been introduced?” Lily asked.

  “I believe not. My name is Miles Landsdowne, the Marquess of Sutton.”

  Apparently, normal rules of introduction did not apply. “I am Lady Lily Drummond.” She offered her hand, and clicking his heels, he smartly bowed and brushed a kiss on the back.

  Lord Sutton was a very handsome man with coal-black hair and eyes and chiseled features, but anyone closely linked with Lord Gilmore must be suspect. What might he know of Gilmore’s activities? Or even her father’s?

  “Would you care to discover the delights of Lady Matthews’s garden?” he asked with hooded eyes and a naughty, charming smirk, the innuendo clear.

  She had promised Gray not to accompany Lord Gilmore, but with the Matthews eliminated, Gilmore was their last lead. What consequences might befall her father if she let this opportunity pass? Right and wrong warred, but she stepped over the blurred line. “I would love a tour of the gardens, my lord.”

  Lord Sutton led her through flower-filled hedges to a secluded courtyard, sending her smoldering, dress-stripping looks the entire way. Too confidently, the man stood at the bottom step of a gazebo overrun with flowering vines. No doubt, if she entered through the darkened maw, she would be spit out utterly ruined.

  A small fountain with a leaping fairy in the middle looked a safer bet altogether. She ignored his beckoning hand. “What a merry little fountain. The night air feels so lovely and refreshing, does it not, my lord?”

  “I suppose.” Disappointment colored his words, and he looked to the exit of their courtyard.

  She bit the inside of her lip and riffled her mind for suitable options. Obviously, she couldn’t go along with his seduction, but she needed him to stay and answer her questions. Sitting on a stone bench, she arranged her skirts and then leaned back on her hands. His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, she could tell they were stuck on her thrusting bosom. Were men really so easy to manipulate?

  “Why don’t you join me on the bench?”

  In two strides, he was seated, his thigh pressed into hers, so close his patchouli soap and the tang of cheroots on his breath surrounded her. The soft velvet of his jacket brushed her arm above her glove. She scooted away, but he swallowed every inch until she practically hung off the end with nowhere else to retreat.

  Her tongue tangled. Off balance, off balance, off balance. For too many heartbeats, panic blanked her mind. What would throw a dissolute rake bent on debauching an innocent off balance? Her lips twitched.

  “Do you know my brother, Lord Sutton? Lord Rafe Drummond?”

  “I’m not sure I’ve had the pleasure.” He ran a bare fingertip from her shoulder to the top of her glove. Goose bumps broke out.

  “You should know he’s a very large man.”

  All five of his fingers stroked her shoulder, weaving around and under the strap of her dress. “Is he?” The man’s voice was raspy, his attention wandering with his fingers.

  “Quite. He would dwarf you as a matter of fact.”

  “He’s not in attendance tonight, is he?” Sutton asked with practiced insouciance.

  “No, but he’s adamant I make a match this Season. Doesn’t want to foot the bill for another. Tell me, Lord Sutton, do you have many estates? Do you make a decent income?”

  His head, which had been leaning in to kiss her shoulder, popped up. “Do I what?”

  “How old are you? Are you looking to marry? I want at least a dozen children. What is your opinion on the matter?”

  He scrambled away as if she’d revealed an incredibly large, overly hairy mole. “Children? I-I can’t say that I’ve contemplated the issue.” He eyed the exit and continued in a panicked, too-fast cadence, “I’m sure your chaperone is missing you by now. Perhaps, I should escort—”

  “Yes, she might even discover us out here,” she dropped her voice an insinuating octave, “all alone.” Now, she was the one in pursuit, scooting down the bench. In retreat, he nearly lost his balance at the end and grabbed at her arm but then released her just as quickly.

  “Tell me, Lord Sutton, how long have you and Lord Gilmore been friends?”

  Like a drowning man, he seized onto the new topic like a piece of flotsam. “Several years, now. He and my elder brother were close.”

  “I suppose you share business ventures and such?”

  “Not really. Gilmore is good for a laugh and a party. That’s where my association with him begins and ends.”

  Trying a different tact, she leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “He does enjoy a good card game, does he not? I’d heard he was getting into dun territory last summer. Seems to have turned it around though.”

  “Yes, he came into an unexpected windfall. Acted rather mysterious about the whole affair, actually. Said he felt sorry for the poor sots who volunteered instead of getting paid to do their duty.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” He stood and looked around as if she might spring the parson’s mousetrap at any moment. He backed away, but she tracked him to the exit. Suppressed merriment brought tears to her eyes.

  He held up his hands to fend her off. “My lady, please don’t cry. I would be a terrible match for you. I’m a rake of the first order. I drink too much, gamble too deeply and would be unfaithful. The road I travel will lead to debtor’s prison, no doubt. You can’t be interested in tying yourself to me.”

  “That does sound dire, indeed. Perhaps you’re correct. As a final act of kindness, would you escort me back inside?”

  A relieved, guileless smile crested his handsome face, making him appear younger and almost honorable. “I would be delighted.”

  She laid a hand on his offered forearm and cut him a sidelong glance. “Y
our current path sounds rather bleak, Lord Sutton. Why don’t you choose a different fork?”

  His mouth opened, but before he could say a word, both of them startled when Lord Penhaven materialized out of the shrubbery.

  “Lady Lily, what would Mrs. Winslow say if she knew you were out here with young Sutton?” Lord Penhaven wore a smile, but his tone was disapproving.

  “Something shocking, I’m sure,” she replied with raised brows and a small smile.

  “Sutton, Lady Lily and I are old friends. I would like a private word with her. If you don’t mind?” Penhaven shooed the other man away like a schoolboy.

  “My lady?” Sutton’s black eyes were uncertain.

  “I’ll be perfectly safe with Lord Penhaven. I appreciate the tour of the gardens and hope you find that different path soon.”

  Bowing, Lord Sutton withdrew with a fleeting, puzzled look over his shoulder. Penhaven led them back to the courtyard, and she retook her seat on the bench. At least she didn’t have to worry about Penhaven luring her into the gazebo.

  He joined her a satisfactory distance away. A navy jacket thankfully dampened the dazzling effect of his robin’s-egg-blue satin breeches and red velvet waistcoat. Rings containing various semi-precious stones twinkled on his fingers, and an elaborate emerald pin stood in the middle his stiff cravat.

  “Lady Lily, I’ve been working up the courage to talk to you frankly all Season.” He grasped one of her hands.

  “Pray tell, what about?” Her breaths grew shallow. Surely Gray hadn’t been correct. The man was nearly as old as her father.

  “I spoke to your father many months ago concerning your future. Did he mention our discussion?”

  Her father had offered her to Penhaven? “N-no, I’m afraid he didn’t.”

  “With your father occupied and your brother practically a recluse, I feel it’s not only my duty, but also my honor to offer you marriage.” He smiled, but his eyes hadn’t softened with love or passion. In fact, they’d narrowed as if preparing for an argument.

  Her mouth opened and closed while she processed the offer. “I’m not sure I can express the magnitude of my…surprise.”