Therefore, when the hostess demanded to know what had happened, he concocted a plausible tale.
“I came out for a bit of fresh air after supper. I find a walk to be particularly good for the digestion, you see, and you have such well-kept grounds that I couldn’t resist the desire to see them in moonlight.” Not that there was much of a moon to be seen; the clouds clotted the sky. “As I was strolling past, I noticed the fire and called out to see if anyone was inside. Lady Lucy cried out for help, so I broke down the door and whisked her out. Your servants must have noticed the fire at the same time I did, for they were upon us immediately. We were scarcely alone for thirty seconds,” he lied.
Lady Leighton glanced from Alex to Lucy, who—blast it, was she glaring at him! It seemed that she didn’t much care for being cast in the role of damsel in distress, even if it was the story that was most likely to be believed.
The hostess asked her, “Is this true?”
A dark expression on her face, Lucy opened her mouth. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat as he feared that she would contest his claim. If they argued about the tale, no one would believe a word to emerge from their mouths. He caught her gaze, begging her to see reason. She might not like the explanation he’d given, but as long as everyone else accepted it for truth, it didn’t matter.
“Indeed.” Lucy bit off the word.
The tension melted out of Alex’s shoulders. He slowly released the breath he’d been holding.
When Mrs. Vale elbowed her way to the front of the gathered crowd, who whispered his tale to one another, spreading it amongst themselves like wildfire, Alex stiffened once more. The older woman caught his gaze, her eyes like steel. When she turned her gaze to Lucy, he couldn’t help but release a breath of relief.
“How did you find yourself in that shed? You said you were going up to your room to find paper.”
Blast! Why couldn’t she have waited to interrogate her charge until they no longer had an audience?
Alex held himself rigid, praying that his expression was impervious as Mrs. Vale turned her cutting gaze on him. Surely, she didn’t believe that he had whisked Lucy away in order to romance her? He had more sense than that.
As much as he sometimes wished he didn’t.
Lucy’s eyebrows knit together as she glanced from him toward her chaperone. Lady Leighton looked at her expectantly. The guests awaited the answer with bated breath.
Say something. Anything.
“Well, you see, there was a cat.”
Perhaps anything but that. A cat?
As Lucy launched into her tale, Alex reminded himself that he wasn’t in the presence of a trained spy, who would know to make the lie short and simple. No, he had decided to keep company with a bloody storyteller. And a story, she certainly did weave.
It was a heart-wrenching tale involving a surly little black cat with a limp who apparently had a thieving bent, for when Lucy went to pet it, it stole her favorite pencil. And she was not content to let the little thief—no longer hurt, it seemed—keep her pencil. No, she had to follow the cat. The feline apparently led her on a merry chase through the gardens, where she neither noticed nor encountered Alex, before running into the shed.
“‘Aha,’” Lucy exclaimed, apparently adding dialogue into this tale, now. “‘I’ve got you!’ But when I entered the shed, I found it so dark and the cat’s fur so black that I couldn’t see him at all. There are a great many tools to find in that shed, and I soon found my way to a tinderbox and lantern. Once I lit it, it threw back the shadows, and I was able to find the cat, who still held onto my pencil, I’ll have you know. I tried to corner the scoundrel—”
She paused to shoot Alex a triumphant glance. How that helped her tale, he didn’t know. Apparently the thieving cat was an allegory for him, never mind that he’d never once tried to steal her pencil. Hopefully the others crowded around, listening to the tale with expressions of varying amusement, took it at face value.
Lucy continued, “He outsmarted me. I nearly had him, but he scurried out the door and it fell shut behind him. I don’t quite know how he managed to lock it—”
Oh, Lucy. Why did you feel the need to add that implausibility? Perhaps no one would have connected her fanciful tale with the fact that the shed door had been locked.
He interrupted. “Perhaps it wasn’t the cat who locked the door, but someone else?” He raised an eyebrow. “It seems much more likely that a servant happened upon the shed, noticed that the lock had been forgotten, and fastened it promptly.”
“Oh. Perhaps.” She waved her hand in dismissal as she turned back to her waiting audience. She seemed to thrive on the attention they were giving her.
If his freedom hadn’t been at stake, he would have found the scene amusing. Perhaps even heartwarming. Clearly, she was destined to be a storyteller. In fact, he was surprised that she didn’t already have her name on the cover of a book. As she recounted her tale, she delivered it with excitement, intrigue. She played on the audience’s rapt attention to build tension and relieve it later with an amusing antic from the cat. The concept was a bit beyond what someone might believe, but it had all the good makings of a fine story.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the midst of a novel, and her lie would never stand up to questioning. Could she even recount the details a second time? More likely, she’d add in more and more fanciful aspects to the tale and it would unravel with the least bit of prodding.
Lucy continued, “In any case, I found myself trapped, with no other recourse than to hope that some hero would happen upon me.” She batted her eyelashes at him with a smirk.
This was retaliation for making her the damsel in distress, wasn’t it? He tried to keep his expression neutral.
“I was so stricken at being unable to find my way out that in my distress, I knocked over the lantern and the shed caught fire! If not for my lord, I surely would have perished.”
She batted her eyelashes at him again like a lovesick milksop. He gritted his teeth.
Keep this up and you’ll find us married.
For a moment, all was silent as Lucy finished her tale. Then, in a dry voice, Mrs. Vale echoed, “Indeed. How fortunate we were that he found you in time.”
Alex highly doubted that a single member of the party believed such a far-fetched tale, not the least because of the chaperone’s incredulous tone, but no one contested it. Wickedness must run in the Vale blood because the young Miss Vale, who during the tale had meandered to find her way next to her mother, felt a need to comment.
“Did you reclaim your pencil in the end?”
“Oh, yes.” Grinning, Lucy opened her reticule and pulled it out for all to see. “The cat left it behind in the shed while he ran out.”
“How fortunate,” he said, fighting to keep the dry humor from his voice. “The world would be deprived if you were unable to commit your talent for recounting a tale to paper, Lady Lucy.”
“It is fortunate. And it all ended well, despite that terrifying bit in the middle.”
Yes, he suspected he would have nightmares about that as well. For a moment, his life had flashed in front of his eyes and he’d been reminded that he had nothing. On paper, he had a lot—multiple estates, more money than he could have gambled away even at the rate he was going, and a title that put him at just a touch less important than a duke. However, at the end of the day, his life was empty. The only purpose to his life was to catch Monsieur V.
And yet, for a brief moment, the thought that Lucy would die alongside him had agonized him more than the thought that he wouldn’t avenge his family.
She flashed him a pretty smile as she slipped his jacket from her shoulders. She held it out to him. “Thank you for your assistance this evening, my lord. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
As Lucy made her excuses and allowed her chaperone to herd her away to bed, and likely a scolding, Alex bit his tongue.
He doubted that Lucy would continue to thank him when she found herself shackled
to him for life. Once Mrs. Vale reported back to Morgan, Alex had no doubt that that was where their lives were headed.
Of all the excuses, why had she had to choose a bloody cat?
17
Alex didn’t need to approach Lucy in order for her to deduce that he wanted to work together to investigate the two French spies who had nearly killed them. The looks he gave her—in the parlor for the evening entertainment that Lady Leighton had insisted that everyone attend, even Lucy despite the trauma she’d weathered—spoke volumes. However, even if Lucy had trusted him enough to join forces and investigate the spies together, they had no opportunity. Lady Leighton, determined to avoid scandal during her house party, watched them like a hawk. Lucy didn’t even dare to stroll within arm’s reach of Alex for fear of the repercussions. Somehow, they’d avoided being forced to the altar, and she wanted to keep it that way.
The next day, the clergyman droned on about morality in Church, no doubt at Lady Leighton’s behest, and Lucy found herself pinned beneath the sharp stare of her chaperone, Mrs. Vale. She couldn’t sneeze without Mrs. Vale appearing at her side with a tissue. Lucy had no hope of sneaking off to investigate.
Fortunately, Alex appeared to be at the same disadvantage. Lady Leighton had tasked her husband with occupying the male guests, particularly the man who had managed to sneak off and find himself alone with one of the women invited last night. Upon eavesdropping on her way out of the church, Lucy caught snatches of conversation involving the prospect of a ride. She smirked. Now all she had to do in order to catch the spies’ trail before Alex was slip away from her chaperone.
She played meek during lunch, spending more time nibbling on her food than talking. Afterward, when the ladies retired to their rooms for a nap before afternoon tea, Lucy simmered with excitement. Now was her chance. She pretended to retire to her room as well, knowing that it would separate her from both the Vales. Although she suspected that Mrs. Vale would be keeping an ear out to hear if she stirred, Lucy bided her time. She sat at the vanity and pressed an ear to the wall, mulling over the changes she would make to her novel once she returned to London. The moment she heard a snore, she smiled. Charlie snored like thunder when she found herself in an unfamiliar bed. Mrs. Vale couldn’t hope to hear Lucy now.
Nevertheless, when Lucy snuck out of her room, she took the utmost care not to make a sound.
Even with the servants acting standoffish around her, it didn’t take much time or prodding for Lucy to discover that the two French spies had, in fact, fled. She flirted with a footman, this time successfully wheedling information from him. Armed with the location of the spies’ respective rooms, Lucy traipsed through the corridor toward the woman’s old lodgings. As she laid her hand on the latch, she heard movement within.
Her breath caught. Was it the spy, returned to retrieve something pivotal that she’d left in her quarters? Lucy slowly eased the door open by a crack, hoping to see inside.
A man stood with his back to her. Not the woman, but maybe her cohort or even Monsieur V. As the man turned away from the small writing desk to hold a blank sheet of paper up to the daylight streaming through the window, Lucy caught a glimpse of his profile.
Not a French spy—Alex.
Releasing her breath in a huff, she slipped into the room and shut the door. He jumped and turned the moment the latch jangled. As he spotted her, the tension melted out of his shoulders, though his mouth remained set in a thin, disapproving line.
“How did you get here before me?” she demanded. “I thought Lord Leighton called for a ride.”
Alex raised his eyebrow. He set down a sheaf of blank papers that he’d been thumbing through and turned toward her. “Lord Leighton is getting on in years. It didn’t take much convincing to coax him to lie down for a spell while the rest of us went on the ride.”
Except, apparently, Alex. Seeing as he was there, in the spy’s room, rifling through her belongings before Lucy had the chance. He might have taken anything and she’d never know it.
She crossed the small room to stand toe to toe with him so she could lower her voice. There hadn’t been any servants along the corridor when she’d arrived, but that didn’t mean that someone wouldn’t return to fetch something from their room. If they heard Lucy speak, they might come to investigate.
Like she would be doing now, if Alex hadn’t already claimed that honor.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
He smirked. “And you should?”
She scowled. “These are the women’s quarters. At least I don’t stick out here as much as you do.”
“I’m a renowned rake. I’m expected to be found in women’s quarters.”
She glared at him and crossed her arms. “Why don’t you search the footman’s room instead?”
“I already have. I found nothing there.”
Had he? Or did he just want her to think he found nothing so that she would give up the search? Lucy narrowed her eyes as she studied him.
“Nothing at all?”
“He left in a hurry, like she seems to have, and there were a few personal affects left behind, but nothing that would give a clue as to his or his employer’s whereabouts.”
Drat. Lucy nibbled on a thumbnail. “Very well. I suppose I have no choice but to take you at your word.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Of course you can take me at my word. I wouldn’t lie to you, certainly not about this. We’re on the same side, with the same goal, are we not?”
“Are we?” She tilted her chin a notch higher. “You’re the reason I haven’t been able to meet with Monsieur V in the first place!”
“That’s absurd!”
“Is it? Twice now, he’s set a meeting with me. Twice now, I haven’t so much as seen his shadow because you’ve interrupted that meeting!”
Alex’s gaze turned stony. “Perhaps it was fortuitous that I pulled you away from your meeting that first time. You have no proof to suggest that Monsieur V had been there at all! It was just as likely that you would have ended up in that shed, alone, without anyone to help break the door because he sent his two spies to deal with you instead.”
Dropping her arms, she balled her fists at her sides. “Don’t let your imagination carry you away. From the very start, Monsieur V has been interested in speaking with me and me alone. Every time you shadow me, you frighten him away.”
“Yes, I’m certain I do,” he said, his voice dry. “Those two spies he set on us seemed very frightened, indeed.”
“Perhaps if I’d been alone, he wouldn’t have sent them!”
Alex crossed his arms. His muscular forearms bulged beneath his sleeves. “Perhaps if you’d been alone, they might have killed you.”
“They did a very poor job of it when they found us both.” Lucy shook her head. “Monsieur V wants me alive. He wants to speak to me for some reason. That is precisely why you need to mind your own business and stop interfering.”
His expression darkened. “Monsieur V is my business. In fact, he’s more my business than yours. You aren’t a part of the British spy network. Does your brother even know you’ve gotten yourself into such dangerous affairs?”
Lucy bristled. “It’s none of your business what my brother knows.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“And how do you know I’m not a Crown spy?”
A muscle twitched in the corner of his jaw. “Because I am. I know the protocol. If you were assigned to pursue Monsieur V at all, you would be here with a partner.”
“Then what’s your excuse?”
Alex said nothing. A curtain descended across his gaze, veiling his emotions behind. She might as well have been arguing with a statue.
She tapped her foot. “Were you able to find anything useful here?” If not, she might as well give the room a cursory search herself. Then she could be rid of his company again.
Ignoring her question, he said, “I knowingly put my life on the line. Do you? This isn’t a stroll in Hyde Par
k. There is real danger here, as I would have thought you’d discovered last night.”
Lucy gritted her teeth. She wasn’t some weak-willed watering pot. She was cleverer than he gave her credit for. “I know how dangerous it is to meet with a traitor. I’m not daft. That’s why I’m taking precautions. But meet with him, I will, so you’d best stay away next time.”
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows. “No?”
“You heard me.” His expression looked as hard as granite. “I won’t leave you alone with an enemy spymaster.”
“He wants to meet with me—”
“Yes.” Alex bit off the word as he dropped his arms from the hostile stance. “I can’t fathom why you and no one else, but he must have a reason. You can’t meet with him alone.”
“I can and I will.” If she had to slip Alex’s watchful eye along with Lady Leighton’s and Mrs. Vale’s, she would do it. She relished the challenge. No one told her what she could or couldn’t do. Especially someone not related to her. He sounded like her brothers.
“He’s a master manipulator. He’s always one step ahead. You can’t fathom what he has planned.”
She bit the inside of her cheek hard to curb some of her anger. “Maybe you can’t. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I am more intelligent?”
Alex’s gaze was intense as he held eye contact. She couldn’t look away.
“He’s outwitted our best spies. He’s outwitted your brother, for Heaven’s sake! This man has practice on manipulating people into doing what he wants. No matter on what side their allegiances lie, no matter how intelligent they are. He’s smarter.”
Lucy’s fingernails dug crescents into her palms. She still couldn’t look away. “You’re wrong. I can do this. I know I can.” She had to. After all, she was the only person who could. She took that responsibility seriously.
“This is more dangerous than you seem to think—”
“Don’t try to dictate my life. You aren’t one of my brothers. You have no right!”
Simmering with anger, she turned away, intending to leave him to whatever fruitless search he cared to make. Before she took a step, he caught her by the arm and turned her back. When she stumbled into his frame, he pulled her flush against him and kissed her senseless.
Pursuing The Traitor (Scandals and Spies Book 5) Page 13
