by The Charmer
She caught her breath to ask his meaning but stopped. He raised a brow at her small noise of confusion. “Is a servant not required to anticipate others in order to survive? In your case, I mean that literally. Living in constant danger is wonderful training for the espionage trade.”
Could that be? All those years, living in shadow and careful silence? “You believe I gained from that, my lord?”
“Why not? It is the hard knocks of the hammer that shape the iron, after all. The question everyone must ask themselves is, How am I going to use what life has given me? You’d make a handy thief. Or a wildly efficient housekeeper.” He did smile slightly then. “And, as tempting as it is to hire you to run Etheridge for me, I think I’ll pass.”
He was jesting with her, of course. Especially the comment about becoming a thief. Did he think her untrustworthy?
“It truly was a mistake, my lord, at first,” she hurried to reassure him. “I thought I brought out the Wentworth dossier.”
“I wonder. Simon believes in hunches, as he calls them. Intuition, I suppose he means, although he claims that the mind is always processing information, even when we are not aware of it. He would probably conclude that a part of you did know that you had the wrong file.”
Intuition. It sounded like huggery-muggery to her. “I don’t know about that, my lord.”
He didn’t smile, although the corners of his eyes did crinkle a bit. “Neither do I. I prefer to deal in facts. Something I would recommend you keep in mind, now that you are no longer one of Simon’s students.”
Oh, no. She was being sacked. “My lord?”
“Welcome to the Liar’s Club, Miss Lacey.”
She couldn’t speak. Finally, she inhaled at last. “Thank you, my lord,” she said faintly. Then she thought of something else. Collis…but what of Collis, now? If what she had surmised was true, then someone must know. Someone like Lord Etheridge.
“And Collis, my lord?” She watched him closely. “Will he be admitted to the Liars as well?”
“That remains to be seen.” Lord Etheridge tented his fingers, tapping the tips to his chin. “Rose,” he said finally, “one of the things that makes a good operative is the ability to know when to use information…and when not.” He tilted his head. “I’d like to tell you a story.”
She blinked at his casual tone but nodded obediently. “As you wish, sir.”
“There was once a man who had a sister. She was a good deal older than him, so he did not know her well, although by all accounts she was a fine woman.” He contemplated the carpet for a moment. “This sister married a good man, entirely her choice, but she wed quite young. Her husband was a military man and often gone from home for great lengths of time. Lord Liverpool took pity on her loneliness and brought her to Court. She was witty and very attractive, and soon made some…influential friends.”
Collis’s mother had been stunningly beautiful, from her portrait hanging in this house. Rose could see where his lordship was heading. George, with his eye for beauty, had been the influential friend. Pretty Mrs. Tremayne was young and flattered, Mr. Tremayne was older and patient…
It was well known that Prinny was fond of married women and, despite his regard for his “dear Fitzherbert,” he had always been a dallying sort.
Dalton cleared his throat. “It was a brief period at Court and much regretted by this sister. She confessed all to her husband even before she knew she was with child. His patience and compassion finally won her love forever, I believe.”
Rose noticed that his lordship had very carefully mentioned no names.
“Of course, she never told her brother of this. He learned it when he gained possession of their letters after they died. She loved her husband and son with all her heart. They were as happy as I’ve ever seen a family be.”
“I’m sure they were, sir.”
He still wasn’t looking at her. How difficult it must be for such a private man to open locked doors of the past. His jaw worked. “Do you believe there is any point in Collis knowing of this?”
Rose studied his profile silhouetted against the flames. So like Collis, and yet so very different. He was nowhere near as cool as he seemed. His hand resting on the arm of the chair was posed casually, yet the tension in his fingers dented the taut fabric. His gaze was fixed nowhere in particular, yet his entire being seemed aimed at her as if she held his treasure in her careless hands.
“What of truth, then?” she asked quietly. “Is it not Collis’s right to know who his father is?”
“Collis’s father was Wallace Tremayne, in Collis’s truth. But you could change that. Would you take his father from him, staining every memory he has with this other truth?”
Rose lifted her chin at the tone in his voice. “You wish me to believe that no political advantage holds your hand?”
That brought a wry sound from his throat. “Trust me, Miss Lacey. There is no political advantage to Collis in knowing the truth. It would change everything, and nothing. George would still make no claim, Princess Charlotte would still take the throne, and all you will have done is bring Collis to the attention of anyone with a vendetta against the Crown.”
Rose could see it clearly. The plotting that would ensue, the dark influences who would only too gladly try to use Collis as a sort of figurehead to take over the government.
His lordship was watching her now. “Rather makes Liverpool seem the lesser evil now, doesn’t it?”
Convinced, Rose nodded soberly. “But the concerns of the Crown will not convince me.”
He raised a brow at her and waited.
“I mean no disrespect, my lord, but I cannot agree to keep your secret. I must make my own decision on the question.”
A corner of his mouth quirked. “Well said, and so I must allow it is so. You have come far, Miss Lacey.” He smiled in earnest. “Indeed, if you managed to turn Ethan Damont into a useful example of humanity. What did you do to him, anyway?”
Remembering her behavior, Rose nearly laughed. “I made him get up from his drinking binge and help me get into the factory.”
His lordship’s eyes widened. “You made him?”
Rose nodded. “I fear so, my lord. I was most forceful about it.”
A brief chuckle rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, but he almost covered it with a cough. “I, ah, see. Well, I’m sure you did no lasting harm to Mr. Damont’s reputation as a libertine.”
“No, sir, I’m sure you’re right. Still, he was very drunk. It required a certain amount of icy water.”
Chuckling out loud, Lord Etheridge only shook his head at her. “You have no idea how intimidating you can be, do you?”
Intimidating? “Me, sir?” Rose could only blink at him. “But I’m just a—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t say that you are only a maid, Miss Lacey. You are not a housemaid any longer. You are a trained and accomplished Liar and don’t you ever forget it.”
She took a deep breath, for the air had somehow grown sweeter. “I am a Liar,” she said softly to herself. Then she pinned him with a sharp look. “When will you induct Collis? He deserves it every bit as much as I.”
Lord Etheridge inhaled. “Miss Lacey, that is complicated.”
A voice came from behind her. “That is none of your business, girl.”
Rose turned to find Lord Liverpool and Clara standing in the doorway. The Prime Minister indicated Rose with a disparaging flick of his stick. “Not this one?”
Rose saw Clara stiffen. “You asked for Miss Rose Lacey, my lord. This is she.”
Lord Liverpool’s eyes turned to slits. If Rose had been standing in the arena, she would be bracing herself for attack. Then again, bracing herself seemed like a very good idea.
The Prime Minister walked toward her silently. He wasn’t a big man, not much taller than her and spare of flesh, but he was a man of enormous presence. Rose felt that presence—that disapproving presence—like a force pushing her backward.
Pus
hing her down.
She stood as tall as she could manage for the shaking in her knees. He stopped no more than a foot away from her and tilted his head, considering her. “You’re a plain, pale thing. I don’t understand the attraction.” He turned toward Dalton. “How do you propose to separate Tremayne from this opportunistic creature?”
“They were merely partners in the test mission, my lord,” the spymaster said. “They are comrades. No more.” He smiled slightly at Rose. “Miss Lacey is all business, my lord.”
Ah. Rose thought that might be a very good moment to gaze elsewhere. There was a lovely vase on a pedestal table. Very fine, all cool blue and white—
“Miss Lacey?” Lord Etheridge’s voice was impossible to ignore.
Rose swallowed. How much should she reveal? It all seemed so pointless now. If Collis had been out of her reach as the future Lord Etheridge, then he was very nearly invisible to her now. She met Lord Etheridge’s silver gaze. “Yes, my lord?”
“Lord Liverpool is curious about the state of your relationship with Collis.” He cast the Prime Minister an acid glance. “It is of course none of his bloody business, but be a good girl and reassure him.”
The breath left her lungs. Oh, bugger.
Chapter Twenty-five
Rose swallowed, stalling while her frantic mind flittered from lie to truth like a captured bird. The state of her relationship? As of now? “Collis is a much respected colleague to me, my lord.” A scrap of truth won out. “And a very good friend.”
“There, my lord, you see?” The spymaster waved a hand. “Nothing to worry about.”
Liverpool was inspecting Rose as if she were an unwelcome insect. She clasped her hands behind her back—mainly to keep from shaking—and watched him warily.
“I’ll bloody well worry if I like,” the Prime Minister retorted. “Tremayne has enormous expectations. He could be very useful someday.”
Useful. A handy item to keep around. Or throw away. Rose couldn’t bear it. Collis was so much more than a tool for political manipulation.
Expectations, my arse.
Lord Liverpool’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“Oh, bugger.” Rose bit her lips shut.
The Prime Minister didn’t take his predatory gaze from her. “Etheridge, is this how you teach your gang of ruffians to respect authority?”
Dalton folded his arms. “Miss Lacey, is there something you wish to say? You may speak freely.”
There was a great deal she would like to say to Lord Liverpool, master manipulator that he was. Yet she held silent. Until she saw that flash of triumph in the man’s colorless eyes.
Oh, now that is simply that. Collis was being held in reserve by this political shark, hanging lost and without his well-earned status as a Liar, because of this man’s desire for power. Protective fury came upon her like a tide.
“You, with your plans within plots within schemes!” Rose burst out. “Did you think of this before or after Collis was born, Lord Liverpool? You always think so far ahead, don’t you? Did you throw Collis’s mother in the way of the Prince on purpose?”
Dalton jerked at that. Rose saw it from the corner of her vision but did not halt. “Is it not a sweet contingency plan? A half-prince, a spare—unsuspecting his power, yet close at hand in case George’s future bride did not breed well. Or was it in case His Highness continued in his wild ways?”
Liverpool gazed coolly back at her. “I’m sure I have no idea what you are speaking of. You’ve concocted an interesting fantasy, but it has nothing to do with me, girl.”
Clara lifted her chin. “Miss Lacey, my lord.”
Liverpool’s eyes slid to Clara. “She is a servant, a housemaid.”
Clara stood firm. “She is a woman who has proven her loyalty to England and His Highness again and again. She deserves to be addressed accordingly.”
Rose shook her head. “I thank you, my lady, but I do not care for his good opinion any more than he cares for mine.” She threw up her hands. “Collis is a man, blast you! Not simply a contingency plan!” She held Dalton in her gaze for a moment. “Not even for you.”
“Rose!” Dalton barked. “You endanger your place.”
“No, she is quite correct.” Clara moved to stand with Rose. “Dalton, make your own heir or let Etheridge go.” She turned to Liverpool. “My lord, you have a perfectly good princess at hand. Charlotte is everything George is not. She’ll make a marvelous queen someday, if you don’t stamp every independent thought from her head.”
“I have ever said so,” replied the Prime Minister smoothly. “I cannot think where you lot have come across this fantastic idea.”
Rose took a breath. “So you’ll free Collis?”
“I’ve no need to free him. Collis knows his duty and his place.”
Rose sighed and rubbed her forehead with one hand. “I’m sure he does. Every suffocating ounce of it.”
Liverpool tapped his chin with one finger. “And what of you, Miss Lacey? Are you willing to free Mr. Tremayne?”
Rose eyed him warily. He hadn’t believed her. Had the Prince revealed them? “I have no grip on Collis,” she said truthfully. “The…partnership is dissolved with the end of the test.”
“Hmm.” Liverpool’s expression of sour disbelief did not alter.
Clara interceded delicately. “If you have finished with Miss Lacy, my lord, she needs to get some rest.”
“Oh, no, milady!” Rose protested. “There’s no time to waste. We must stop the shipment!”
Dalton nodded. “And we will. I have already sent Feebles to the docks to track down the vessel used, and we’re trying to bring in as many Liars as we can. Unfortunately, they scattered at dawn to continue the search for His Highness. When we have what we need, we’ll move immediately.” He gave her a short nod. “You’ve done well. Go and rest now.”
Rose felt the urgent momentum leave her at his words. There was nothing more for her to do at the moment. Weariness stole up her limbs to weaken her spine and fog her mind. “Yes, my lord.” Rest. Oh, yes.
But first, Collis. She simply needed to see that he was well tended to. And perhaps to wish a silent God-speed to what would never be. She curtseyed to all and let Clara direct her out.
Back in the study, Dalton was trying to interpret the expression on Clara’s face when she returned. She ought to have supported him just now. She of all people knew why he could not afford to release Collis from the burden of Etheridge. Now she was regarding him with what seemed to be repressed humor—or was it joy?
She met his eyes, then glanced downward. He followed her gaze to her midriff, where she casually clasped her hands just below her waist. As he watched, she spread both hands flat upon her belly in a gentle gesture. When she raised her gaze to his again, there was mischief and, yes, definitely joy. Dalton took a very deep breath. At last. He suddenly felt as if he could conquer worlds. He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms, to—
An irritated throat clearing reminded Dalton that his honored guest was still in the room. Liverpool regarded him sourly. “I know you encourage independence, Etheridge, but I do think you might have tried a bit harder to control that upstart housemaid. Tremayne is of no use if he’s saddled with such an embarrassing attachment. What were you thinking, sending someone so valuable on a test mission? I told you from the beginning, this business of Liar training is nonsense. He can never be permitted to go into such danger.”
Dalton couldn’t stop looking at his beautiful Clara. “It kept him from eating his pistol,” he said absently.
“Well, I hope you intend to divide him from these ruffian companions soon. Housemaids, bah! The next thing you know, he’ll be wanting to marry that creature!”
Would the man never leave? Dalton folded his arms and regarded his leader and mentor with a supremely unconcerned gaze. “I’m sure I have no idea what you are speaking of. What a fantastic idea.”
Rose found Collis in his quarters. He opened the door dabbi
ng at his lip with a handkerchief, having just had Denny tend his cuts and bruises and dress him in a shirt and breeches covered by a dark blue dressing gown that turned his eyes the color of slate. His hair clung damply to the periphery of his face and his bruises were much less frightening now that he was clean.
He smiled happily at her, then flinched when he pulled at his split lip. “Rose! Come in!” He stepped back to let her in. “You haven’t had a moment to change, I see. Did Dalton make you go over every bloody thing three times?”
She had to step past him as she entered the outer sitting room of his chambers. The pull to put his arms around her was powerful.
“Hello.” She looked confused and a bit wary. Collis gently pushed the door closed. She didn’t object, but neither did she relax. She merely stood by the door as if she couldn’t wait to leave.
“Rose, what is bothering you?” She seemed to pull even farther away, although he was not touching her. “If you don’t want to tell me, simply say so. I won’t pry.”
She nodded shortly. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?” He sighed and offered her a smile. “Breaking my word already, aren’t I?”
She didn’t smile back. He felt as though the last week had never happened. As if he had never seen her smiling, never felt her warm skin on his, never been kissed in entirely surprising places by that solemn mouth. “Where have you gone, Briar Rose?” he asked her softly.
She actually flinched at the name. Collis began to be very worried indeed. He dropped his casual pose to go to her where she stood so stiffly by the door as if she feared for her ability to retreat. She looked away as he approached, but he saw her raise one hand to her throat. Her fingers were trembling.
“Rose?”
“Yes?”
“What has changed?” He reached to stroke a finger down her cheek. Her eyelids dropped to cover her gaze, but he thought she leaned into the caress ever so slightly. He cupped her face in his hand—no, two hands for Rose, always—in his two hands, carefully. He tipped her face up to kiss her lips. For a long moment she did not respond, her lips cool and quiet beneath his. Where was his fiery warrior? He deepened the kiss. Desperation began to rise in him. He’d been so sure of his reception—what had changed? What had he done to turn her away?
