by Diana Quincy
She covered her face with her hands. How had she made such a terrible mistake? Her miscalculation had ruined everything. She ran it all back in her mind, and the pieces began to come together, taking the shape of an awful truth.
She dropped her hands from her face. No, she hadn’t made the mistake all on her own. She’d been deliberately misled.
—
“Elle, dance with me.” Tristan Fitzroy, Lord Darling offered his arm. “Before one of these other swells tries to steal you away again.”
Elle bristled at Tristan’s show of possessiveness. They’d grown up together, his estate bordered her father’s, and Tristan made no secret of his desire to make her his wife, but the only man she’d ever wanted was Will, if only she could find him.
She excused herself and threaded her way through the crowd in the ballroom, discreetly following Will’s father, the Earl of Huntington. There’d been no sign of Will since her birthday. No one seemed to know where he was, and her increasingly desperate letters to him these past several weeks had gone unanswered. Will’s continuing silence was most uncharacteristic. He must not have received them.
Her heart beat faster as she closed in on Huntington. She knew little about the earl but was inclined to seek information from the only person who could offer it.
She used a far door to leave the ballroom and hurried in Huntington’s direction, keen to make it appear that they’d encountered each other entirely by accident. She rounded a corner and relief wound through her when she saw the earl coming toward her. As he drew close, she dropped a curtsy.
“You’re Aldridge’s daughter, are you not?” he said by way of greeting.
“Indeed, my lord.” She smiled her most enchanting smile. She’d proven quite popular during her come-out season, and she desperately needed for Will’s father to be charmed by her.
“My son tells me you’ve been entertaining a surplus of offers.”
Will had spoken to his father about her? Hope stirred in her heart for the first time in weeks. “Mr. Naismith flatters me.”
He frowned. “Will? No, no.” He said it as though brushing away a bothersome insect. “I was referring to my son Giles, Viscount Torrington. He is my heir, as I am sure you must be aware.”
“Oh yes, of course.” She gulped a breath. “Is Mr. Naismith about? I haven’t seen him thus far this Season.”
“Will?” He frowned. “What business could a gel like you possibly have with him?”
She swallowed. “You understand that he is a particular friend of my brother, Cosmo.”
“Will is not about.” The words were dry, almost unfriendly. But then his tone brightened. “Torrington is present, though. He should take you for a turn before your crush of suitors claims all of your dances.”
The last thing she desired was to add Will’s brother to her growing coterie of admirers. There was only one man she wished to be admired by, if only she could manage to run him to ground. Employing a small lie to achieve that goal was necessary at the moment.
“I ask after Mr. Naismith because he left his spectacles at Langtry the last time he visited us there. I’ve sent letters telling him that I have them, but he has not responded. Perhaps,” she ventured, “he has not received them.”
The earl’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, and her cheeks heated under the inspection. “A young gentlewoman such as yourself has no business corresponding with the likes of Will Naismith. You understand”—he spoke the words carefully—“that he is not a gentleman.”
Her insides burned with indignation at the father’s denigration of his own son. As if she needed to be told Will had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. It was little wonder Will had chosen to spend summers and holidays with her family rather than his own. “Mr. Naismith is a friend to our family.”
“Why are you writing him letters?” The earl’s face darkened. “I hope that boy has not overstepped.”
She straightened her spine. “I can assure you Mr. Naismith is too fine a gentleman to do such a thing.” He hadn’t overstepped because she’d wanted everything he’d done to her. Even now, her body craved him as desperately as her heart.
“I can assure you that he has received all your letters,” the earl said. “I personally saw to it that his mail was forwarded to him.”
Forwarded? “Is he abroad, then?”
“Yes, if you are well acquainted with Will, then you well comprehend he is always off on one numismatic pursuit or another.”
He’d gone off in search of coins at a time like this? “Perhaps my letters have not reached him.”
“As I said, I can assure you they have. Will himself thanked me for forwarding them in a letter to me well over a fortnight ago.”
The earl’s words struck her like blows to the heart. Will had received her desperate pleas and had ignored them. Summoning her brightest smile, she made her excuses and fled Huntington as soon as she was able.
She found a quiet alcove and slid down onto a velvet slipper chair, fear and worry consuming her at the scandal and disgrace facing her. She couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing her father, and if she confided in her brother, Cosmo, he would surely run Will through with his saber.
Raw hurt twisted its dagger into her heart. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. If she let them fall, she feared they’d never stop.
She cradled her belly, already experiencing an overwhelming love for the child that grew there. She must do whatever she had to in order to assure her child’s proper place in the world. This child would not be born a bastard as its father had. She would see to it.
She could turn to Tristan, even though he was like a brother to her, and the thought of allowing him the liberties she’d enjoyed with Will made her stomach queasy.
“There you are, Lady Elinor.” The gently teasing voice of Rodolphe Laurent, the French vicomte who had emerged as one of her most ardent admirers, interrupted her thoughts. “Are you seeking refuge from all the adulation being showered upon you this evening?”
Laurent would never be Will, but she did enjoy his quick wit and wicked jokes. As she looked up into his smiling dark eyes, a palatable solution to her dilemma presented itself. Tapping down the pain in her heart, she batted her eyelashes.
“I may have many admirers, but there is only one who I truly favor. Won’t you join me?”
—
The carriage hit a rough spot. Elle swore softly to herself. She didn’t understand what had motivated the earl to lie to her, but she should have instinctively known Will would never desert her. She’d not only lost faith in him, she’d abandoned both Will and their daughter. How he would hate her once he learned the truth.
And she would tell him. She had no choice in the matter. Will had an undeniable right to know he’d fathered a daughter.
But how would she tell him? And when?
—
Two days after their meeting at the restaurant, Will stood in the afternoon shadows of the building next to Gerard Duret’s residence, with his arms crossed over his chest, lightly tapping his right foot. Elle had entered the domicile about an hour ago, according to the man Will had assigned to follow her. Once he’d received word of her whereabouts, he had promptly arrived on the scene and sent his man home.
His curiosity—both professional and personal—was piqued. What the devil was she up to? An amorous afternoon tryst or was the meeting professional in nature? Maybe she was reporting her findings about him to Duret.
He’d given her a little to work with, just enough to see how she’d react. Telling her he’d gone to the country when he knew Lucian had mentioned he was in Jersey. He’d seen it when she’d caught the lie, because Elle wore her thoughts on her face. Her mouth had twitched and her eyes had widened slightly. She never could hide her true feelings.
He shifted his weight. His position at the side of the dwelling afforded him a view of both the front and back of the home. Duret’s manservant had exited about twenty
minutes ago, and some sort of delivery had been made shortly after his departure. Elle had been inside with Duret for more than an hour.
A movement in a window well above street level drew his attention. Someone threw the casements open, and a petite young woman dressed in a simple navy dress climbed over and fell to the ground before he had a chance to react. The girl sprang to her feet, brushing off her skirts. The wench seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place her.
She looked up at the open window she’d just jumped from. “Are you coming or are you going to have a cup of tea first?” she called up in a harsh whisper.
A woman’s voice hissed back through the window. “Perhaps I should be writing your dismissal letter, you impudent girl.” Elle. A subtly rounded arse wrapped in peach silk filled the open space at the window. One stocking-clad leg fell over the edge, followed by another, causing her dress to ride up, revealing a pair of shapely calves and the backs of smooth pale thighs he’d recognize anywhere.
The girl, who he realized was Elle’s lady’s maid, snorted. “I’ll definitely be looking for a new situation if you stay up there all afternoon and Monsieur Général gets a hold of you.”
“Stop making a scene, Sophie,” Elle called down in low, aggravated tones. “Go and wait for me by the mews. I’m coming.”
Will straightened. What the deuce was Elle up to? She had a tenuous grip on the casement and was about get herself seriously injured.
He darted from his observation spot and vaulted over the waist-level stone wall separating the two properties. Angling through the bushes, he bolted over to where Sophie stood looking up at her mistress hanging perilously from the window. The servant girl turned her head and her eyes widened. “Do as your mistress says,” he spoke quickly and quietly. “I’ll see she gets down safely.”
The girl looked as if she were about to protest but then, after throwing another dubious look at her mistress’s dangling form, shrugged her shoulders and said, “I suppose you getting your hands on her is better than Duret.”
“Thank you.”
“But not by much,” she said as she moved toward the mews.
Will looked up at Elle. “What the devil are you doing?” he called up to her in a low undertone. “Are you trying to break your neck?”
“Will?” Her head jerked out of the window to peer down at him, surprise evident in her widened eyes. “What are you doing down there?”
“At the moment, I’m looking up your skirts,” he said impatiently. “What are you doing?”
“Are you spying on me?”
“I’m looking out for you. Why are you dangling out of Duret’s window? You could break a leg if you fall.”
“I suspect that will be far more tolerable than what that frog would like to do to me. Especially after today.”
Had she crossed Duret? “Why, what happened?”
She twisted her neck around to assess her distance from the ground. “Oh, it is quite a bit farther down than I thought.”
He shifted so that he stood directly beneath her. “Go ahead and drop,” he whispered, the words sharp and urgent. If Duret was after her, he had to get her away immediately. “I’ll catch you.”
She bit her plump lower lip. “I am not at all good with heights.”
“There is a proper way to fall in order to minimize the risk of injury.” He tried to keep from staring up at her lithe, stocking-clad limbs. “Bend your legs once you let go,” he advised. “Try to land on your toes and whatever you do, don’t lock your knees.”
She shot him a suspicious look. “Why does it sound like you’ve fallen from great heights before?”
“Because I have,” he said, recalling the time in Germany when he’d raced across rooftops to avoid capture, finally leaping from one structure into a moving cart padded with hay bound for market. He peered up at Elle. She wasn’t nearly as far up as he’d been that day. Gesturing with his hand, he beckoned her to jump. “Come on, then, we haven’t got all day.”
She shot him a questioning look from over her shoulder. “How in Hades do you expect to catch me?”
“I’m going to help break your fall.”
She glanced into the window. “Maybe I should climb back in and take my chances with Duret.”
“Oh, for devil’s sake.” He had no way of knowing where Duret was at the moment or what had occurred that resulted in her current predicament, but it wouldn’t be long before someone spotted Elle’s bum hanging out of the man’s window. “Come down now before you get us both killed.”
“Oh dear.” She exhaled loudly through her nostrils as if trying to draw in some courage. “Heights really do give me quite a fright.”
“Perhaps you should have considered that before you climbed halfway out the window.”
“Castigating me isn’t going to make me less fearful of jumping,” she whispered back furiously.
He should leave her to her fate. She was, in all likelihood, a traitor. But no matter what she might have done, this was still Elle, and he could no more abandon her than he could saw off his right arm.
It was time to take matters into his own hands, before they were discovered. He looked up, eyeing her trim ankles and long dangling legs. The peach cotton half boots on her feet wouldn’t do much to break her fall, but it couldn’t be helped. He bent his knees and leapt upward, grabbing her ankles to bring her down. She squeaked and lost her grip on the window, falling and landing on his chest with a hard thud, knocking the air from his lungs.
“What did you do that for?” she asked angrily, swatting at his chest before getting gingerly to her feet. “You could have killed me!”
His lungs heaved while waiting to refill. He gasped once and then again before the air found its way back into his chest. Exhaling with relief, he sprang to his feet in a quick, stealthy movement and crouched down, running his hands under her skirts and over her legs and ankles to check for injury. “Are you unharmed?”
She stepped back, slapping his hands away. “First, you almost get me killed and now you run your hands under my skirt?”
He stood. “I’m checking for injuries. Fortunately, you do not appear to have suffered any adverse effects from the fall.”
“That’s no thanks to you,” she snapped, shaking out the skirts of her silk morning dress. The modest gown was a departure from the fashionably sheer Directoire styles she’d favored of late.
Motioning for her to remain quiet, he took her hand in his firm grip and made for the back of the house. “We have to get away from here.”
His surveillance of the property earlier revealed a back gate that led to the mews and he saw it as their best chance to escape undetected. As they approached, Sophie stepped out of the shadows and quietly followed them. The three of them walked quickly through the narrow alley.
“Where are we going?” Elle asked, adjusting her straw bonnet.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
He had to know what they were dealing with. “What happened in there?”
“I took something of Duret’s and he is going to be furious.”
“The man is dangerous.” He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. “Why would you provoke him?”
“He has something of mine.” She halted, a triumphant smile arcing across her face. “And now I’ve got something of his tied under my skirts.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this some sort of lover’s quarrel?” Perhaps Duret hadn’t proven attentive enough in bed.
“Do not insult me.” Her eyes sparked. “Although you seem to derive a great deal of pleasure in slighting me.”
“I insult you?” He inhaled an incredulous breath. “You are the one who takes every opportunity to remind me of my transgressions against you.” He shook his head to clear his mind. “Never mind about that. What have you done that’s made Duret so angry?”
“I took a packet he was supposed to deliver to the French ambassador in London.”
&
nbsp; He came to an abrupt halt. “You think to cross a man like Duret?” Disbelief at her recklessness crowded out any cogent thought. “Are you mad?”
“I have his dispatches. If he wants them back, he’ll have to return what’s mine.”
“Dispatches?” His gaze dropped to her skirts, where the package was hidden. “The packet contains dispatches? What kind of dispatches?”
“I’ve no idea.” Her eyes glimmered. “But they must be important because Duret caused an awful uproar once he discovered them missing.”
“How did you come to be in possession of them?”
“They practically fell into my lap.” She grinned. “How was I to resist?”
He kept his expression blank. “That’s quite convenient.” And extraordinarily unlikely.
“I went to visit with my solicitor this morning and I left with a stack of materials—papers and files he wanted me to look over. When I arrived at Duret’s, I placed my burden on the table where the staff usually leaves the post.”
“I fail to see what any of that has to do with this packet you speak of.”
“I’m getting to that. Stop being so impatient.”
“I’m not being impatient; I’m trying to keep us alive and out of Duret’s clutches.”
“I can only surmise the packet was delivered when I was speaking with Duret in his study. It was delivered by a clerk from the police ministry, only he is new and didn’t know all documents from the ministry must be handed directly to Duret or his man, Jean Paul. Fortunately for me, Jean Paul had already left the house to go pick up something for Duret. So the clerk left it with the housemaid, who placed the packet with the other mail, which I mistakenly picked up with my own papers when I made ready to leave.”
“Perhaps he left it with the housemaid because it is not of grave importance.”
Sophie, who stood a few feet behind her mistress, made a disparaging sound.
Elle ignored her. “That’s what I suspected, but I stopped to visit the retiring chamber before I departed, and that’s when I overheard Duret causing a great uproar about the missing package, calling the clerk who left it an ignorant oaf and swearing to have the man’s head. There was an awful commotion with that odious frog bellowing and the housemaid sobbing. I realized I must have stumbled across something quite relevant. Otherwise, why would he make a fuss?”
