Celeste Bradley - [The Liar's Club 03]

by The Charmer

  Rose couldn’t help rolling her eyes at such silliness.

  Collis looked at her oddly. “What’s wrong, Briar Rose? Envious that they know how to have fun?”

  “Not at all,” she snapped. “I pity them.”

  He blinked at that. “Pity them? Whyever for?”

  “Because they likely think you truly give a damn about them now.”

  “You’re being absurd,” Collis protested. “I only passed a moment with them. We talked of the weather, for pity’s sake!”

  She folded her arms and glared at him. “It isn’t what you say. It’s how you say it!”

  He matched her annoyed pose. “That is a ridiculous notion. What could it matter how I said it? I spoke to them the way I speak to all women.”

  She raised a brow. “Precisely.” She dropped her arms to her sides and looked down for a moment. Collis watched her, bemused, until she raised her gaze to his. Collis found himself riveted. Her eyes had become deep seawater pools and her lids hung heavy, as if she was just rousing from her bed. “Why, Mr. Tremayne,” she said throatily. “Tell me, do you think it might rain today?”

  Collis forced himself to swallow. Her lips—had they always been that full and red?—had uttered the casual sentence slowly and fully, as if she were kissing each word. Her voice, suddenly low and dark, threatened to reach directly down his spine and into his trousers to create an embarrassing display. She took a tiny step closer to him. He very nearly backed away in dismay. “What are you doing?”

  She halted and took a breath—and brisk Rose was back.

  “Simply proving a point,” she said. “It does matter how you say something, even something as benign as ‘Nice weather today’.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t talk like that! That—that likely isn’t even legal!”

  “That is precisely how you speak to women, as if you’ve been waiting all day simply to stare into their eyes and find out their secret opinions on precipitation!”

  He glared at her, flustered and confused. He didn’t do that—did he?

  Looking Collis directly in his stormy-day eyes, Rose continued. “Why do you get their hopes up that way? You aren’t interested in them any more than you are in me. Why do you put on such a show? Don’t you believe anyone will like the man beneath?”

  Collis blinked as her accusation hit home. The man beneath? How could he believe that when even he didn’t know who that man was? That man died on a battlefield, flattened by cannon fire.

  So he grinned widely around the pain. “Rose, how forward of you!” He leaned close and dropped his lids slightly, imitating her imitating him. “However, if you’re determined to see the man beneath….” She blushed outright and Collis laughed aloud. “You left yourself open for that one, Briar Rose!”

  Rose’s mind wasn’t anywhere near the topic, for she’d had a sudden heated memory wash over her. Dark room, breathless heart-pounding silence, and Collis’s half-naked body covering hers.

  That had been the moment when she’d actually considered having him, right there, in the smoky dark cellar arena…

  But he’d only been teasing again. She’d been breathless. He’d only been audacious. Rose bore briskly toward the door.

  She almost hoped he’d continue to impede her. A glance down the way confirmed that the two ladies lingered nearby. Wouldn’t it be lovely to drop him on his brazen arse in sight of his fawning admirers?

  He obviously realized that she had no intention of stopping, for he stepped neatly to one side and bowed her through. The gallant action gave her the appearance of being rude, of course. She half-turned to him. “I pity the waste,” she said with low intensity. Then she continued on to the door.

  Fortunately, the Sergeant had been ready for her and had the door open before she could even lift her hand to the knocker. Lord Etheridge’s majordomo was a small, spare man whose livery had been cut in a military fashion in keeping with his past services in battle. All in all, he cut a neat, impressive figure at the door.

  He was a nice man as well. When Rose stepped over the threshold, he made sure to bow deeply and respectfully. “Her ladyship is waiting most eagerly for your visit, miss,” he intoned just a bit too loudly.

  However, it was just loudly enough for the ladies now eagerly returning down the walk to hear clearly. Gratitude made Rose’s eyes burn when Collis’s taunting had not. Thank you, she mouthed at the Sergeant, and strode inside with her head high.

  Collis watched her go, aggravation twining with regret in his gut. He was well aware that his actions were beneath him. But damn it all, she was simply so easy to get a rise out of!

  And never boring. Ever.

  The Sergeant left Rose in the entrance hall for a moment while he went to announce her. She waited patiently, comfortable enough in the lovely surroundings from her many previous visits. Lord Etheridge was still a remote and authoritative figure to her, but Lady Clara was the nearest thing Rose had to a sister.

  A taut sniff sounded behind her. Oh, bother. Denny.

  Rose turned with a fixed expression of politeness on her face. Denny was Collis’s valet, although Collis used him little, leaving Denny far too much time to work himself into fits of imagined dramatics. Denny had been general houseman for Sir Simon once, then valet for James Cunnington, before being passed on to Collis.

  Apparently James’s new wife, Phillipa, had too much sense to tolerate Denny’s presumptions. Collis found Denny’s displays amusing. Rose merely found him wearisome.

  Denny was a smallish man, and although he claimed to be quite young, his reddish hair did not quite cover his shining pate. He was no taller than Rose, although he tried to look down his nose at her. She hoped this gave him a crick in his neck.

  Denny was a right pest. His drawers were still drooping about her recruitment when he’d never been asked. She, a mere ignorant housemaid, had been chosen to train with the Liars, while he, trusted confidant of the former spymaster himself, was now nothing more than a bored valet.

  She’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t so bloomin’ obnoxious about it.

  “Good afternoon, Denny.”

  A petulant expression crossed his face. “Oh, hello, Miss Lacey.” His upper lip curled. “I heard you caused quite a mess for my young master to clean up.”

  Collis, cleaning? The image boggled the mind. She opened her mouth to correct Denny, then stopped. There was no reasoning with those who wouldn’t reason. Denny was simply Denny. She nodded instead. “There is indeed a mess.”

  Satisfaction shimmered in his flat blue gaze. He slid his gaze toward the parlor, where the Sergeant had yet to emerge. “They’ve been talking you round and round for hours.”

  Oh, how you want me to ask, don’t you, Denny? Rose tilted her head. “How tolerant of them to allow you time off to listen.”

  Denny blinked, then backpedaled. “Well, of course I haven’t actually heard anything.”

  “Indeed. Of course.” The parlor doors opened and the Sergeant beckoned her in. She sent a sweetly innocent smile toward Denny. “Do remember to hang my shawl properly, will you, Denny? It landed on the floor last time I visited.” She had the small pleasure of seeing the Sergeant, who took the quality of service very seriously, send an affronted glare Denny’s way before she entered the gates of purgatory. Denny, irritating as he was, was the least of her worries.

  In the parlor, Rose found Sir Simon, Lord Etheridge, and his wife, Clara, who sent Rose an encouraging smile. Rose had expected to see Lady Agatha as well. Then again, Lady Raines didn’t get about much now, since riding in the carriage made her ill.

  “I pop like a bottle of bad wine after half a block,” she’d told Rose regretfully. Rose wrinkled her nose at the thought. Yes, that whole childbearing lot could wait. It was too bad, for Lady Agatha might have weighed in on Rose’s side. As it was, there was no denying the disapproving tension in the room. Rose sat when invited to but refused tea. Her stomach was right tight enough, thank you.

  “Where is Coll
is?”

  Rose folded her hands to hide their shaking. “He is outside, on the walk.”

  “Doing what, pray tell?”

  “Flirting.” Rose was surprised by the snap in her own tone. She amended her comment. “Talking.”

  “Hmm. Knowing our Collis, I suspect flirting is the better description.” Lady Etheridge stood to pull the bell rope for the Sergeant. “Sergeant, would you kindly drag Collis away from the ladies? We’re ready for him now.”

  “Might I pull him by the ear?” The Sergeant was crisply eager.

  Clara considered his request for a moment. “No. I fear he’s too old for that.”

  “Pity,” the Sergeant said without rancor. “Likely I couldn’t reach it anyway.”

  Rose watched this interplay with interest. Clara rose from the arm of her husband’s chair and patted Rose’s arm on her way out of the parlor.

  “Not to worry, dear,” Clara whispered. “But…be polite. And don’t fidget.” Clara’s gaze flickered back toward her husband and Sir Simon. “Good luck…anyway.” She walked from the room, leaving Rose more disconcerted than before.

  Oh, fry it. If Clara was worried, then there was indeed something to worry about. She’d tried to be a good student and she’d mostly succeeded, if one didn’t count firearms. Her sex, now—this could cause issue.

  Although Lady Raines and Lady Etheridge were part of the Liar’s Club, they were not quite considered to be actual Liars themselves. She would be the first, and she knew that the verdict was not yet in on her induction.

  They did need her. She felt it deeply. They needed her, and even more girls in training, for there was an entire side of life that the male Liars were excluded from. Rose knew that a wife, a sister, a daughter, could be every bit as involved in traitorous activities as a man, yet who would see those activities but another woman? Especially an invisible woman like a housemaid.

  So much depended upon her success within the club. Her deeds would decide a great deal for the women behind her, and she felt the weight of that keenly. It wasn’t fair, nor even especially sound, but it was true all the same.

  So it was with knee-knocking dread that she waited for Collis to join them.

  Chapter Five

  Collis tossed his coat and hat to Denny, then turned to face the parlor doors. The Sergeant stood at hand to open them for him, as if he were a stranger in his own house.

  When he entered to see Rose’s pale face among the others, he wished he’d come in with her. Her usual saucy bravado seemed quite snuffed out. He ought not to have made her face the lion’s den alone.

  He felt a vibration against his hip and looked down to see his dead hand trembling slightly at his side. Perhaps he was a tad nervous as well. Smoothly he clasped his hands behind his back, although he usually tried to avoid the strange sensation of feeling only half his own handclasp. He smiled winningly at all concerned. Full gallop forward, even over a cliff.

  “I do hope I didn’t keep you all waiting?” He went on without waiting for a response. “Good. Now, what may I do for you all this afternoon?”

  Simon, at least, wasn’t impressed. “You may sit. And if you are capable, you may listen.”

  Collis debated answering that one back, but the glint in Simon’s blue eyes decided him against it. Though Simon was a bastard born, a child of the streets even beneath the level of Rose herself, he wasn’t impressed by the Prince Regent, much less Collis Tremayne, former soldier and future—

  Future what? Ah, that was what was being decided today, wasn’t it?

  Collis bowed briefly and seated himself near Rose. She continued to regard him gravely, only turning her attention away when Simon began to speak again.

  “I could waste our time with a recitation of the offenses the two of you have committed on the school, but I think we’ve all heard enough about that. What I am concerned with is what you two intend to do about it?”

  Collis didn’t answer, but he saw Rose glance his way before she ventured to reply. “Clean,” she said slowly. “And sew a new mat…but I have no idea how to replace the chandelier.”

  Simon’s lips quirked, and Collis saw his expression ease as he looked at Rose. At least it didn’t look as though she was in as much trouble as he was. Collis was grateful for that. He turned back to Simon. “Why don’t you tell us what we are to do, sir?” He threw one arm back over his chair and crossed his ankles. “I’m sure you’ve thought of something suitably nasty.”

  Collis felt the growl coming from his uncle more than heard it. Conduct unbecoming an Etheridge. The familiar words thrummed inside his mind. He’d certainly heard them enough in the years since his parents had died and left him to the care of his mighty lordship.

  Simon only smiled. “Dismount that high horse, Collis. You’ll like this, I promise.”

  Dalton spoke at last. “Actually, I’m quite sure he’ll hate it. Not that I mind, of course.” He left his stance at the mantel. Collis felt as if he were looking in a mirror of himself in ten years, if he were still whole and if he were decidedly more grand.

  Many would only see the cool and distant outer demeanor, but Collis knew well this uncle who might as well be a brother. They shared more than the Etheridge darkness and the Etheridge eyes—they also shared that inborn sense of distance from others, one even deeper than the reserve of the average Brit.

  Dalton had overcome it after he’d found Clara—or at least after he’d lost her and found her again.

  But there was no brilliant and spirited society lady waiting in the future for Collis. None that he’d care to expose his weakness to, at any rate. Half a man made half a husband, if his mathematics were correct.

  Simon cocked a brow. “Your assignment is to make your way into a house of my choosing in any way you can, and to obtain evidence that would prove them to be traitors to the Crown. All previously arranged, of course.”

  “I was in the wrong, there’s no doubt about that,” Collis protested. “However, I don’t see the point in making me—us—prove ourselves through some arranged test. Give us a real mission if you want to see what we can do.”

  Simon crossed his arms. “I have seen what you two can do—in the cellar of the school. One ruined mat and ten rotted dummies later, I was not impressed. It was not a worthy effort.”

  “So we’re off on a scavenger hunt for Papa?” Collis matched Simon’s expression, right down to the narrowed eyes. “Will there be milk and biscuits after?”

  A small choking sound came from the general direction of Rose. She either was appalled or was trying very hard not to laugh. Wouldn’t it be intriguing if it was the latter?

  Obviously exasperated, Simon threw up his hands in an I give up gesture and gave an assenting wave toward the spymaster before he turned away. Dalton nodded, then bent to murmur something to Rose, who turned to bustle down the hall and into Dalton’s study. Simon followed her to the door to shut it on Denny, who was lingering in the hall.

  Collis watched this with unease. If he was not mistaken, they were ridding the room of witnesses. “This looks ominous. Are you bringing out the big guns?”

  Simon came back to take a turn holding up the mantel, giving Dalton the floor. Dalton folded his arms. “Why yes, as a matter of fact we are. You’re a special case, Collis. As the heir to a major seat in the House of Lords, you stand to someday hold some power in the government. There has been some…discussion as to whether or not you are an appropriate candidate for the Liars. That perhaps we should not be endangering a man we could better use elsewhere.”

  “God forbid. Bloody boring, the House.” Collis tried for an easy grin. “At any rate, I may be your heir, Dalton, but you have Clara now. The way you two carry on, chances are I won’t be heir for long.”

  Simon snorted at this. Dalton tightened his jaw and shot his quasi-partner a glare. “You should talk,” he muttered to Simon. Then he turned back to Collis. “I am not the one you have to convince, Collis. Nor is Simon,” he added when Collis turned to protest t
o the head of the Liar Academy.

  Collis blew out a breath. “Then who? Liverpool?” The Prime Minister would be a tough nut to crack, but perhaps he could have his good friend Prince George work on old Liverpool a bit—

  But Dalton was shaking his head. Oh, hell. That could only mean one thing. Collis swallowed. “Not the Royal Four?” he asked, appalled. At Dalton’s all-too-serious nod, Collis felt his mouth go dry.

  The Royal Four was a secret cadre of the four most influential men in the land, traditionally selected for their intelligence, their ethics, and their unwavering loyalty to England, beyond even loyalty to any one ruler. The Cobra, the Fox, the Lion, and the Falcon. Each was carefully groomed and selected by his predecessor, as Dalton had been by Lord Liverpool.

  Until he’d begun training with the Liars, Collis had not even known his uncle had belonged to that intimidating crew and that he had stepped down to take over the Liar’s Club upon the retirement of Simon Raines. Collis still didn’t know who the new Cobra was, nor who the other three were.

  The idea that those mysterious watchdogs of the kingdom might have their eyes on him made him uneasy. After all, even the monarch was not able to ignore the power of the Four. Look at what had happened to King George! Certifiably mad, locked away for the rest of his natural life while his son ruled the land as Regent.

  Collis let out a gust of air. “I see. Well, it appears I will take that mission after all.”

  Dalton’s lips twitched, but Collis didn’t think humor had anything to do with it. “I apologize for putting you in this position, Collis. To be truthful, it never occurred to me that you would find training objectionable, or that you would not do well.”

  Collis flinched at that, although he fancied he hid it well. He was getting bloody good at hiding.

  Dalton went on. “That said, I will add one thing. I am disappointed in you. You have so much potential, yet you persist in wasting your energies—”