Intrigue

by Jaimey Grant

  The study was typically masculine. Sturdy furniture, dark colors, shelves of books, stacks of documents and no hint of femininity anywhere to be found.

  Malvina groaned. The large desk was positively covered in papers. It would take her several hours to sift through them.

  She strode forward, clenching her fists in an abstracted manner. Who would have thought Gideon would be so very untidy? Although, reflecting on what she knew of the man, Malvina realized that was exactly in keeping with his lazy personality.

  She picked up the first stack. A quick look-through revealed it to be nothing more than shopkeeper bills. Placing them back where she found them, she retrieved another stack...

  An hour later, she’d gone over every pile on the desk and found exactly nothing matching the description given to her by That Man...that is, Lord Delwyn.

  Her gaze swept the room. More documents were stuffed haphazardly onto shelves. With a sinking feeling, she looked down. Opening the first drawer in the desk, she found even more. Indeed, Gideon needed a keeper.

  Selecting a stack of papers at random, she continued her search. She had just replaced a stack on the bookshelf when the door opened. Her heart thundering, Malvina turned.

  Lady Samantha. She inwardly cursed. The mother in her cringed at the thought of Lady Samantha having any inkling of the situation.

  “Lady Malvina?”

  Forcing a smile to her stiff lips, Malvina said, “Lady Samantha. Were you looking for me?”

  “Indeed not. Mother asked me to fetch something for her, an account book.” She paused, studying the shelf behind Malvina. Eyes flipping to the woman instead, Samantha asked, “What are you doing in here?”

  “Looking for a book,” Malvina promptly lied.

  “In the study? You’d do better to look in the library. There is nothing in here except boring books on farming methods and such.”

  “Of course. How silly of me.” Moving to leave, she paused next to the girl. “Please do not tell your brother. Such an embarrassment.”

  After hesitating a mere moment, the young lady agreed. She fetched the account book her mother had sent her for and followed Malvina out.

  “Why did Lady Holt not send a servant for the book?” Malvina asked curiously, while wondering why Gideon’s mother was interested in the accounts at all. She did not seem like the type of mistress to worry overmuch about it, not while there were new and more interesting illnesses to...contract.

  “She did. Charles returned to say that there was someone in the study and he did not want to disturb the occupant.”

  Casting a sharp glance the girl’s way, Malvina was surprised to note the very blandness of her expression. “Your mother allowed this? Is it not odd for a servant to return empty-handed? Do the servants behave so when your brother is in residence?”

  Samantha shrugged. “Mother is not so tolerant but it is the way Giddy is. He is forever allowing things to happen that he probably should not.”

  There was a tone in the younger woman’s voice that Malvina could only describe as bitterness. When Lady Samantha absently touched her scarred face, things became somewhat clearer to Malvina.

  Placing a gentle hand on her companion’s arm, she asked, “What happened to you?”

  Samantha stopped, her once pretty features smoothing as much as possible. “A mishap. Nothing more.”

  “How does it concern Gideon?”

  “He was there.”

  Her response was eloquently unresponsive. “Why do you speak of your brother with such bitterness when it is obvious to the veriest lackwit how much you adore him?”

  “Lady Malvina, I do not want to seem rude, but how is that any concern of yours?”

  “Your brother is my concern, Lady Samantha. Your bitterness hurts him and his pain is very much my concern.”

  Samantha’s brows rose in surprise. Malvina wondered if she herself was wearing a similar expression. She’d only spoken the truth. It was interesting that she had not known it was the truth until she’d said it aloud.

  “If you were so concerned for my brother, you would not have been prying through his things.”

  Samantha continued her trek, leaving Malvina to stare blindly after her. The watery film over her eyes would not allow her to see clearly.

  Gideon returned two days later.

  Malvina sat restlessly through dinner. She picked at her food, drank too much wine, and muttered monosyllables to anyone who addressed her directly.

  “Is anything distressing you?”

  She jumped at Gideon’s question, guilt turning her face pink. Forcing a smile to lips that wanted to tremble, she said, “No, indeed. I am merely tired.”

  He raised disbelieving brows at her excuse but allowed it to stand uncontested.

  “Perhaps, then, you would not mind answering my question.”

  “What question, my lord?”

  “How did you find the folly? Was it as romantic as ladies seem to believe such things are?”

  Startled by the subject of his inquiry, it was a moment before she answered. “I have never thought there was anything remotely romantic about dangerous ruins. Even man-made ruins.”

  “Perhaps if a lady were there to meet a gentleman friend. Would that lend a modicum of romance to the setting?”

  She couldn’t help it. She searched his face, looking for any indication that he knew of her meeting with Lord Delwyn Deverell. His expression was the same lazy, nonthreatening look he’d worn almost every moment since she’d met him. His eyelids drooped over his eyes, concealing his thoughts from her.

  He idly swirled the red wine in his glass, watching her rather than the liquid. She saw his fingers spasm on the stem. It was this last that convinced her that he knew.

  She sighed.

  Gideon glanced at the others present, noticing they were silently eating, trying not to listen. Except Wolf, who craned his neck in an effort to hear every word.

  The earl sent a meaningful glance to his mother. The lady rose—forcing the gentlemen to rise as well—and indicated that she was ready to retire to her chamber, as she was feeling quite ill of a sudden. It was broadly hinted that the other ladies retire as well.

  Malvina rose to her feet, feeling relieved to escape. She bit back another sigh when Gideon took her hand, tugging her back down into her seat. He released her almost immediately.

  “Perhaps it is well for you to retire as well, Sir Beowulf,” Gideon added.

  To his credit, the young man hesitated. Lady Samantha urged him to obey, whispering something that subtly eased his tension. Everyone filed out, wishing goodnight to the earl and his betrothed.

  The earl lowered himself back down to his chair and gestured to the butler. Snapping a smart bow, the butler herded his minions from the room.

  A full minute of silence passed before the earl broke it with a question. “What is going on?”

  “Going on?”

  “You are in the habit of clandestine rendezvous with men you’ve only just met?”

  “Of course not!” she denied hotly. “Are you in the habit of spying on your betrothed’s activities?”

  “I am in the habit of spying, madam,” was his succinct reply. He refilled his wine glass and held the bottle out to his companion. She considered declining the offer but held out her glass instead. “As for spying on my betrothed, you are the first I’ve ever had and no, it is not what I would typically do. However, under the circumstances...”

  “Under the circumstances?” she asked dangerously, her own feelings of guilt rendering a sharpness to her tone that she actually had not intended.

  Gideon gave her a disbelieving, slightly contemptuous look. “Please do not play the innocent, Lady Malvina. You are well aware of the reasons I do not trust you. Is it any wonder I am upset to find you have been meeting a gentleman without my knowledge, on my own estate?”

  As she opened her mouth to reply, she realized something. There was a certain timbre in his voice that was something she’d nev
er heard before.

  At least, not from Gideon.

  Her husband had often had just that almost petulant tone in his voice, bordering on anger. It was a familiar sound and, somehow, helped her regain her footing.

  “It is not what you suspect, Gideon,” she said softly. She reached out to take his hand. He hesitated a moment before clasping hers in turn. “I happened upon Lord Delwyn quite by chance. I was out walking and he was near the folly. I assumed, since you and he are old friends, that he was allowed to wander the grounds. We discussed the weather, nothing more.”

  His expression hardened for just a moment before smoothing back out. Malvina’s breath caught. Did he suspect his friend and That Man were one and the same? She couldn’t let him know.

  Visibly relaxing, Lord Holt smiled. “It is late, my dear. Perhaps you should retire. I shall see you in the morning.”

  Inwardly miserable at her lies, Malvina wanted to say something, wanted nothing more than to tell him what truly happened. Not able to find the words, she rose.

  “Goodnight, Gideon.” When he didn’t move to follow her out, she turned back. “Do you not retire, as well?”

  He tossed back the remainder of his wine. “No, indeed. I believe I shall go out.” He grinned at her. “I am not yet tired.”

  It was the answer to a prayer.

  After her run-in with Lady Samantha, that young lady had been far too watchful of Malvina’s activities. Erring on the side of caution, Malvina had postponed her search for the document, hoping for another chance soon. Having exhausted the possibility of the paper residing in the study, Malvina decided to put Gideon’s absence to good use. She would search his chamber.

  She allowed Maddy to help her into her nightclothes and brush out her long, dark red hair, the soothing strokes having no effect on the nervous energy coursing her veins. She settled in her bed, pretending to read as the maid finished her evening duties.

  “You may have the rest of the evening, Maddy,” she told her. “It is not too late. I’m sure you can find some enjoyable way to occupy yourself.”

  Bobbing a curtsy, the maid murmured her thanks. Malvina watched her leave with bated breath. The maid had let slip that Lord Holt’s valet had also been given the evening to himself and would be in the butler’s sitting room, gambling for farthings.

  Allowing several tense minutes to pass, she finally left her chamber and made her way to her betrothed’s apartment. Entering, she wandered around, trying to deduce the best place to hide something of critical importance. Perhaps close at hand?

  She moved to the nightstand. It was quick work to determine the stand contained nothing more than an old, worn Bible.

  A Bible?

  Nonplussed at such an odd discovery—she hadn’t thought of the earl as a very religious individual—Malvina moved on.

  The small writing desk also yielded nothing. She slowly spun, searching with her eyes for anything else that could hide what she sought. Unfortunately, a document could be hidden almost anywhere.

  With a long-suffering sigh, she entered his dressing room. The places to look seemed endless. There were three armoires and a dressing table. Drawers and cupboards abounded. How many clothes did a gentleman need?

  Squaring her shoulders, she waded in, determined to have this nightmare over.

  It was while she was sifting through some papers she found stuffed in a jewel case—the man had more jewels than she’d ever seen in her life!—that she stopped breathing. Pushing her encroaching hair away from her face, she studied the document she held.

  It was exactly as he had described it. Names, amounts of money, dates. What she found strange was the fact that the dates coincided with the Peninsular Campaign that ended with the defeat of Napoleon nearly five years ago.

  More astonishing still was the name of Lord Delwyn Deverell near the middle of the list.

  Heart plummeting, her voice whispered across the empty room. “He knew. All along, he knew.”

  “Not exactly.”

  She spun, the incriminating document clutched to her chest. “Gideon!”

  His slow smile was unexpected. “As I was saying, I didn’t exactly know. I but suspected. I have possessed that document for a short time, you see. I’d not had time to more than glance at it.”

  He moved into the room and gestured to the chair by the dressing table. When she didn’t move, he offered, “We can adjourn to the bedroom, but I am not sure how much talking will get done.”

  She sat.

  Grimly amused at her ready capitulation in the face of implied seduction, Gideon moved forward and reached out to take the document from her. She resisted with such a look of panic that he withdrew, curious.

  “What threat did he use, Malvina?”

  She firmly clamped her lips shut. Amusement at her stubbornness threatened to tip his lips but the gravity of her situation prevented it.

  “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap. She refused to be drawn.

  Releasing a sigh, he crouched at her feet. She clutched the paper tighter, creasing it, wadding it into a ball.

  “If my superiors discover you know anything about this, you will disappear, Malvina. It will be quite the mystery. One that will never be solved because they do not wish it to be. I do not want to see that happen.” With a finger beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I do not want that to happen.”

  Her gaze was haunted. He hated what she had been through; he hated that he would inevitably put her through yet more. But those men had to be captured. They had led many men to their deaths, needlessly. If one unfortunate widow was caught in the crossfire, it would be overlooked, hushed up.

  The idea pained Gideon in a way he did not want to examine. All along, he had told her he would indeed marry her. All along, he had come to terms with the possibility. If it came to that, he would have made a life with her, unable to condone the death of a woman in the name of war.

  It had not been in his plans to fall in love with her.

  He didn’t trust her. She kept dangerous secrets. Her secrets had led to an innocent death, as well. The Home Office might actually view her demise as justice for her wrongs.

  Gideon had yet to determine how much she knew of her late husband’s activities. He had no doubt Deverell had some incriminating document, much like the one Malvina clutched in one small fist. If she thought Deverell would trade, she was in for a rude shock.

  He placed one hand over her fist. The other she had clutched in her nightdress. Barely squeezing, he felt the delicate bones of her fingers grinding together.

  She continued to stare at him, tears forming in her eyes even as she bit her lower lip. He could see her determination not to cry and her realization of the futility of resisting his greater strength.

  He studied her lips, overcome with a sudden longing to kiss her. He resisted the urge, believing, quite truthfully, that he would lose in the end.

  Malvina whimpered. He was hurting her and it was hurting him. Throwing caution to the winds, he released her hand and leaned forward, closing the distance between their mouths.

  At first contact, she jumped. Then she sighed and leaned in, forgetting everything but the wonderful touch of his lips. Her fingers loosened and she barely noticed the document slipping from her fingers to fall, unheeded, to the floor.

  Reaching up, she touched him, fleetingly, a bare stroking of his cheek. He rose, cradling her in his arms. He never broke the contact of their lips.

  It was several moments before he became aware that his face was wet with her tears. He released her mouth, realizing the document had dropped from her fingers. He kicked it under the chair and sat down on it, settling her comfortably on his lap.

  He brushed the tears away with his thumbs and saw the way her throat worked, as if she tried to speak but was prevented by strong emotion. “You can tell me. I want to protect you but you have to trust me.”

  “It was y-you,” she
managed to stutter. Taking a deep breath, she successfully forced the sobs back. “He said he would kill you.”

  Shock rendered him silent. His face went blank, his eyes full of all sorts of thoughts. She read surprise, awe, and utter amazement. And somewhere in the back, buried beneath the other emotions, she ascertained horror.

  She felt bereft when his lids drooped, hiding himself from her. It was the thing she hated about him, the lazy, care-for-nothing expression that closed off the rest of the world.

  She pushed herself away. In revealing how upset she was at the threat to his life, she had also revealed how attached she had become. And Gideon, dratted man that he was, just sat there, silent.

  Standing on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her, Malvina told him, “I will leave you now, my lord. You have successfully gotten what you wanted from me. I applaud you.”

  He stood, catching her hand as she swung away. “I did not get everything I wanted.”

  She pulled free. “I am in no mood for your games, Lord Holt. You have achieved what you wanted with your callousness. The document is yours. I will take my chances with your...friend.”

  “He is no friend of mine and I need you to give him that document. He expects that I do not know enough of your activities with him to take him in. I need him to continue to believe that.”

  Malvina stared at the document Gideon tossed at her feet. Her gaze slid up to meet his. “You want me to give this to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Is this not what you have been looking for? The way to prove Deverell is a traitor?”

  “To be honest, the one we want includes your husband’s name.”

  Her mouth dropped. She was frozen for three full seconds. Then, she moved so quickly, he didn’t see her coming.

  She slapped him with the full force of her body behind the blow. His head snapped back, a ringing starting almost immediately in his ears.

  “Deceiver,” she snarled. “Liar. Scoundrel!”

  If she hadn’t been so righteously—and rightly—angry, Gideon would have smiled. Or kissed her. Perhaps both. She was passionately beautiful, all flaming hair, heaving bosom, and flushed skin.