An Indecent Invitation: Spies and Lovers, Book 1

by Laura Trentham

  Gray turned to his side and propped himself up. Her attempt at maidenly modesty was endearing but about a half hour too late. If anything, the scant amount of sheet she’d managed to snag only emphasized her supple curves. “You’re magnificent.”

  He’d never seen a woman as lushly formed. Montbatton and all those other worthless swains could go to hell. She was his. He’d marked her in the most primal way possible. The primitive caveman that lurked inside every man wanted to rip open the window, beat his chest and announce his conquest to the world.

  Already his cock stirred. He wanted to take her again…and again. But she would be sore, and he could hardly subject her to everything he wanted in one night. Anyway, the sun would be up and the household stirring.

  “I’ll have to leave soon.”

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “I look forward to sharing your bed all night.”

  Confusion sparked over her face, yet she didn’t ask the expected questions. Not that he had a whit of experience deflowering well-born ladies, but surely she understood they would marry post-haste. Rafe would most likely insist on a special license—if Gray still lived to be a bridegroom after the confession. Dread marred the otherwise perfect interlude.

  With one last brush of his lips, he swung his legs off the bed and dressed. She covered her delicious body with her recovered night rail.

  She was completely occupied tying the delicate ribbon at her neck in a perfect bow, sitting with her legs tucked underneath her and her hair cascading over her shoulders. The intimate sweet picture she presented settled a warm knot in his chest somewhere around his heart.

  “What is Fieldstones? Is it gambling house or gentleman’s club?”

  At first, like a foreign language, her question didn’t register. When the jumbled syllables finally rearranged themselves in his ear, he answered with caution. “Not exactly.”

  At his reticence, she looked up, her gaze sharp. “Then, what exactly is it?”

  Lily was entirely too astute for his sanity. He wanted to lie to her, or at least offer a half-truth. But after what they’d shared together, the trust she’d placed in him, how could he? “It’s a house where fashionable London mingles with the demimonde. Certain desires can be satisfied there that might otherwise be deemed beyond the pale.”

  “Sounds interesting.” Something in her tone set him on edge.

  “It’s not. It’s very, very boring.” Now that was a lie. “It’s neither here nor there. I do appreciate you recovering the information. At this point, it will be up to me to find and question both men, if possible.”

  “Will it?” she whispered.

  “It will.” The sky had grown infinitesimally lighter. At least he didn’t have to contend with rain. A stout wind had chased the clouds away. He opened the sash and checked for witnesses before throwing a leg over.

  She scampered out of bed to grab his arm. “Do be careful.”

  “I’ll see you in a bit. I—” He laid a hard kiss on her lips, not even sure what he’d been planning on saying. Concentrating solely on his descent, he nonetheless felt her gaze following him to the alley stones and beyond.

  Chapter Twelve

  After a several hours of much needed sleep, Gray was back, staring at the black front door of the Drummond townhouse. Had it only been a few weeks since his first visit to see Lily? For eight years, she’d barely crossed his mind, and now she’d become integral to his future…to his happiness.

  With forethought, he’d dressed more formally than he normally would when calling on Rafe. He’d even tied on a cravat, although now he wondered if the length of cloth might be trying to strangle him. His stomach turned and his palms sweated.

  Bloody hell, could he be nervous? Sneaking into houses, extracting information from unwitting victims or being outnumbered during a battle generally incited a strange sort of excitement. Never nerves. He couldn’t afford nerves.

  This was definitely nerves. The mere foreignness convinced him.

  He rapped with the head of his cane. Higgins answered the door, and as if Gray hadn’t been a constant fixture the past many days, the butler intoned, “How may I help you, sir?”

  “Is Lord Drummond available?” Gray barely refrained from an eye roll.

  “I’ll see if his lordship is at home, sir.” Higgins’s soundless gait must be something they passed from one generation of butlers to the next. The man returned and gestured him to the study. “His lordship will receive you.”

  Gray lifted feet that felt heavier and clumsier than normal. Rafe sat behind his desk, making notations in a ledger with economical movements of his quill. Gray closed the study door and waited, rocking on his feet and smoothing his hair.

  Rafe glanced up and then set the quill down for a more thorough inspection. “What has you all dandied up? A cravat before luncheon?” His chuckle did nothing to settle Gray’s nerves.

  “Actually, I’m here on business. That is, there’s something of import I need to discuss with you.” Wincing, he ran a finger around the edge of the offending cravat and wandered to the nearest bookshelf. Not only was he too restless to sit, he wanted to keep the door close—in case a swift exit would be deemed necessary.

  Rafe leaned back in his chair and laced hands over his stomach. Amusement gleamed from his crinkled eyes. “I’m intrigued. What has you acting so shifty?”

  Gray cleared his throat. “I’m here to ask for Lily’s hand. To formally pay my addresses.” His voice echoed too loudly in his ears, and a long, heavy silence settled.

  Shock and confusion played over Rafe’s face and body. He sat forward and laid his hands flat on the desk as if seeking a stable force. “My sister? Lily?”

  “Do you have another?” Gray asked wryly.

  “I thought she annoyed you, drove you queer. You’ll have to excuse my confoundment. I’m somewhat at a loss.” Rafe stood and leaned onto his hands, his face to the desk. “You and Lily?”

  “She turned into an amazing woman. What can I say? I took notice.”

  “My best friend and my sister,” Rafe whispered seemingly to himself. “This is utterly—last night she was spitting like a cat at you.”

  Like attempting to cross an alligator-infested river on a handful of stones, Gray began a tricky traverse. “We made peace. I believe she’ll be amenable. The question is whether you’ll countenance it. She could certainly do better. An earl or perhaps even a duke. Someone with money and estates.”

  “A title doesn’t make a man better. You’re the best man I know, and I already consider you a brother.” Rafe paused and all equanimity vanished. “My question is when exactly did you make amends?”

  The next rock on the traverse was very slippery indeed. “Last night.”

  “Considering I saw you out myself and Lily’s still abed, tell me the path my thoughts are treading is misguided. Unless you’d like your nose broken yet again.” Although his voice was calm, Gray recognized the menacing undertones.

  Neither lying nor getting his face rearranged sounded particularly appealing. “I won’t lie to you. I’ll admit to compromising Lily. However, in my defense—”

  “Defense? What possible defense do you have for fucking my sister?” Rafe bellowed. He fisted a stack of papers, crumpling them beyond saving.

  “God’s blood, keep your voice down. I hardly consider it in that light.”

  “I’d say you hardly considered the consequences at all.” Like he was shot out of a cannon, Rafe threw the papers aside and leapt for Gray. His first blow glanced painfully off Gray’s ribs.

  Escape no longer an option, Gray fell into a defensive stance and blocked Rafe’s next jab with a forearm. Rafe tried to take a boot to his kneecap, but Gray hooked a foot around his ankle and tangled their legs.

  Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time. They’d rec
eived identical training, and although Gray was quicker, Rafe was bigger and stronger. Moreover, Gray didn’t want to go on the offensive and hurt his friend and potential brother-in-law.

  Rafe tossed him into a bank of shelves and books crashed over his head in a wave of thick spines. His offending cravat tightened further in Rafe’s fist. Gray took a gulp of air. Rafe swung him around and threw him to the floor. On top of him in an instant, he circled his huge hands around Gray’s neck.

  Gray worried he might actually kill him. Rafe squeezed, cutting his lungs off from much needed air.

  “I love her.” His hoarse, airless voice was barely audible. The hands loosened marginally.

  “You what?”

  With his last gust of air, Gray said, “I love her.”

  His head pounding, halfway strangled and flattened by fifteen stone of human flesh, relief flooded him nonetheless. He’d not been able to admit the truth to himself last night, much less her. Perhaps the deficiency of oxygen clarified the only detail of importance.

  Rafe peeled his hands from around Gray’s neck but still pressed him down by the collarbones. “Why in bloody hell didn’t you lead off with that information?”

  All Gray could do was grin like the village idiot.

  The study door thwacked open and framed Lily and Aunt Edie. Both looked astonished and worried. Taking in the entirety of the room, Lily jumped to the correct conclusion. “Why are you fighting?”

  “Goodness, how simply barbaric,” Aunt Edie said with a decidedly wicked intonation.

  Rafe scrambled up and Gray followed. He wiped blood off his lip with the end of his now untied cravat.

  “We need to talk, Lily Drummond,” Rafe said.

  She drew in a great gusty breath that puffed her chest up in slow-rising indignation and spun to Gray. “You told him? How could you? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “He guessed, but I thought you understood things would have to change.”

  The tears in her eyes confused him, but before he could offer reassurance, she took two stiff steps forward and let her hand fly. The slap resonated in the silence. His cheek stung and a cut on the inside of his lip seeped metallic-tasting blood.

  “You and I must have very different definitions of the word amenable, Gray,” Rafe said.

  Lily whirled to her brother, who took a step back, perhaps anticipating the same treatment. “You. Who are you to decide my fate? What’s your plan? To banish me to Wintermarsh or perhaps a nunnery in Northumberland now that I’m ruined?”

  Rafe held up hands to ward her off. “I hadn’t had time to consider a nunnery, but I doubt you’re fit material.”

  Sadness twined her anger. “You’re like Father then? You want me out of sight so I won’t cause trouble and embarrass you. You’d be willing to barter me off to the highest bidder.” She jabbed a finger back and forth at the two of them. “I’m a woman, not a sheep to be sold at market. I have a mind and desires and feelings, and I’m perfectly capable of steering my own future.”

  Almost out the door, she stopped with her hand on the doorjamb. “Both of you can go straight to hell.”

  In a flurry of rustling pink muslin, she was gone. Aunt Edie turned to Gray, apparently feeling the need to play at being a chaperone. “Mr. Masterson, sirrah. How dare you leave my little lamb in such a fix? What do you plan on doing?”

  He rubbed at his still stinging cheek. “I had planned on wedding her, but—” He threw his hands up.

  “Marriage. Well, now that does change things.” Aunt Edie relaxed. “I’m not sure she understood your intentions, Mr. Masterson.”

  “You don’t say,” he replied dryly.

  “Perhaps you should make things a mite clearer to her.”

  “Sound advice, Mrs. Winslow. I’ll be sure to take it.”

  “I’d best check on my charge.” Aunt Edie bobbed a curtsy and bustled off.

  Rafe poured them both a finger of brandy. Gray tossed it down and poured another, ignoring Rafe’s amused harrumph.

  “What the devil am I supposed to do now?” Gray tried to massage the rhythmic pounding at his temple away.

  “Did you tell her how you feel?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “I’m hardly an expert, but I believe women generally expect declarations of love and devotion when marriage is proposed.”

  Gray sprawled in a chair. “Christ, I never actually proposed either. I assumed—”

  “You assumed she would be amenable to whatever we decided for her? Do you understand her at all? I won’t force a marriage she’s against, Gray. Even to you.”

  “Even in a situation where she has been compromised?” Desperately, he added, “She could be with child.”

  A tick appeared in Rafe’s cheek. “Even so. Contrary to Lily’s opinion, I’m not our father. She’s perfectly capable of deciding her own future.”

  “What if I were to kidnap her and drag her to Scotland?”

  “You love her that much?” Rafe asked in a soft voice.

  “More than I thought possible. She’s as adventurous and smart as she is beautiful.” His voice roughened with an embarrassing amount of emotion.

  Rafe hummed. “I suppose she is at that. I’ve a feeling nothing as drastic as Gretna Green will be required. If you can convince French operatives to give up their secrets, you can convince Lily marriage is in her best interest. The two of you will make a fine match.”

  “My lack of fortune doesn’t bother you?”

  “Should it? You’re in line for Hawkins’s job, which will offer security and probably a knighthood. I’d be happy to bequeath you land close to Wintermarsh to build on. Lily would like that, I think. As would I,” he finished softly.

  “Thank you. For everything.” Gray pushed himself up like an old man, feeling the effects of his near strangling, Lily’s slap and the uncertainty of his future with the woman he loved.

  “Consider it partial repayment for my life. What are you going to do?”

  “Prepare for Fieldstones. Give Lily a chance to calm down. Hope she doesn’t despise me.”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Lily tries to attend.”

  Gray grunted noncommittally, but as he let himself out, he murmured to himself, “I’m counting on it.”

  Lily spent the afternoon in her room, alternating between tears and anger and embarrassment. As soon as she stepped foot outside her haven, Rafe would pounce and expect an apology she wasn’t willing to give. Just like their father.

  Only hours ago, she and Gray had made love on the same bed she now lay across in despair. How could he betray her? The entire household probably knew what had occurred. She covered her face with a pillow and ignored the scratching on the door.

  Aunt Edie let herself inside, waving an envelope. “An invitation arrived for you by special courier.”

  The gold-leaf script and ornate wax seal were intriguing. She cracked it open, slid out the heavy parchment and leapt to her knees. It was an invitation to attend Fieldstones Tuesday evening complete with a password—Adonis. She doubled checked but found no signature. Who sent it? Gray? Surely not. Montbatton? Perhaps. Gilmore? Probably.

  She tapped the paper against her lips and contemplated the possibilities. There was no question she would attend. But she would need help, and it wouldn’t come from Gray or Rafe. Only one other person of her acquaintance had the means and ingenuity to help.

  The energy that came with purpose drove her off the bed to her wardrobe. “Did Rafe see the invitation arrive, Aunt Edie?”

  “No, I took it from Higgins and brought it straight up.”

  “Mercy for that,” Lily muttered.

  Aunt Edie played her lady’s maid, helping her out of the simple pink sprigged muslin gown and into a more formal blue silk for the evening call she planned to make.

  Her a
unt buttoned the back of the frock and rested her hands on Lily’s shoulders, forcing her still. “Darling, I realize I’m rather late to the party, but if you have any questions about relations between a man and woman, I’d be happy to share my wisdom.”

  In the looking glass, Lily followed the pink wave creeping from her bosom to her cheeks. “I’m aware of the basics now, I believe.”

  “Did he bring you pleasure?”

  Could she possibly get any pinker? She could. “Yes.”

  “Excellent. Most men don’t bother, the selfish blighters. Will you accept his proposal?”

  Her heart stuttered. “His…his proposal? He hasn’t made one.”

  Aunt Edie smiled over her shoulder. Their reflected eyes met. “He will.”

  Would he? Out of obligation? Lily pressed at the tight knot in her chest. Why did marriage to Gray have to sound so appealing? Luckily, there was no time to dwell on possibilities. “We have a call to make. Can you accompany me?”

  “I assume it has something to do with that.” Aunt Edie pointed at the note. “How intriguing.”

  “What happened last night? You disappear for a good half-hour, dance twice and then claim a completely nonexistent headache. You’re unfashionably hardy,” Minerva scolded.

  They sat across from each other in the drawing room of the Duke of Bellingham’s townhouse taking a late tea. Minerva had welcomed her enthusiastically. Lily wondered if Minerva got lonely in the cavernous townhouse.

  Intimidating, smart and supremely capable in matters of business, Minerva would have made an exceptional duke if only women could accede. In fact, Minerva’s younger brother, who was a complete wastrel in Lily’s opinion, preferred to have Minerva run the estates and handle the business affairs. That provided him more time to drink, gamble and chase loose women.

  Minerva walked a tightrope with Simon. He couldn’t be allowed to gamble away the estate, yet he did carry the title and required more money each quarter to cover his expenses and debts. Minerva had acted more than a sister to Simon. She worried over him like a mother hen.

  “You’re too perceptive for your own good, Minerva.”