Without waiting for a reply, Tony left Wellingham House and went home, hopeful that there was a message awaiting him from the runner. Unfortunately there was nothing. He hailed a cab and set off for Bow Street.
There was another runner at the desk, this one tall and cadaverous. He looked like he hadn’t had a meal in months.
“I’m Viscount Strangeways,” he said. “I have engaged Mr. Sandby to do some shadowing for me. Has he been in contact with the office? I have heard nothing from him.”
“Haven’t seen Sandby for days. I just finished some work, and today is my first day back,” the man said.
Tony pulled out his card and set it on the desk. “Please have him contact me immediately when you hear from him.”
Restless and unable to decide what to do, Tony went back home to luncheon.
* * *
In spite of the vastly unsettling state of his emotions, which had descended from unspeakable joy to mind-numbing dread, it was good to find his mother feeling more the thing. As they dined on a vegetable-and-chicken cassoulet, she remarked, “You look rather fraught, dear. Is it the news?”
Tony looked up quickly. How could she have heard anything? “What news is that?”
“Surely you read it in The Morning Post. It is the greatest scandal of the Season thus far. Miss Longhurst has cried off her engagement to the Earl of Sutton.”
His primary reaction to this news was annoyance.
So she really did it. What does she expect of me now?
This was certainly a complication he didn’t need at the moment. He needed to clear Virginia of Beau’s suspicions. It seemed that everything was hedging up his way—Sagethorn, Beau, even President Madison. And now he expected a call from an angered Lord Sutton.
“Dear?” his mother prompted.
“Just wait. I foresee that I shall be blamed for this by Sutton. He has already threatened to call me out for less.”
His mother lost her color. “We can’t have you fighting that blackguard. Take yourself off to White’s,” she pleaded. “He is not a member, is he?”
“No. He got blackballed, as a matter of fact. Some funny doings at Newmarket last year.”
“Then off you go. I shall inform the servants that you have been called away.”
“No. I’m no coward. The devil of it is—excuse me, Mother—I have other things on my plate just now and cannot deal with this drama.”
His mother’s brow showed even greater concern. “What is wrong, dear?”
The pressure inside him had built to such an extent that he knew he needed to tell someone. “Beau believes Miss Livingstone to be an American spy. His office was burgled of important papers last night.”
Lady Strangeways’s eyes grew round. “Oh, no! That cannot be!”
“I do not think so either. There is a villain in the piece, but I can’t get my hands on him just yet.”
Daniels, the butler, entered the dining room.
“My lord, I am so sorry to interrupt your luncheon, but a Miss Longhurst has called and wishes to speak with you urgently. I told her you are at luncheon, but she asked me to inform you nevertheless. She is in the red saloon.”
Cursing inwardly, he excused himself to his mother and went off to encounter his former love. How like her to insist that he be called away from luncheon!
She awaited him in the saloon, looking lovelier than ever in a pale-pink creation, her blonde hair half up and half down in ringlets that sat on her bare shoulder.
“Tony, dearest!” She ran to him and threw herself against his chest, encircling his neck with her arms. “I did it. I cried off my engagement.”
Supremely uncomfortable, he pulled her arms from around his neck and took a step back. “I am glad that you are not going to marry the man,” he said. “I have always held him in dislike.”
She smiled and gazed up into his eyes with barely controlled eagerness. “My parents are banishing me to the country. I would be so happy if you could call on me at Woolston Glen, Tony. I should so like to mend my bridges with you.”
Sighing, he sought for inner calm. He went to the mantel and stretched his arm across it, the other hand in his pocket. “I am terribly sorry, Pam, but my feelings for you are not what they once were. How could they be when you didn’t even have the good grace to inform me of your engagement to Sutton before I read it in the paper?”
“That wounded you terribly,” she said and bit her full lower lip. “I do not blame you one bit.”
He had ceased to care if she was even telling the truth. The scales had fallen from his eyes where Miss Pamela Longhurst was concerned.
“I am afraid it is too late for us,” he said. “I have moved forward with my life. My feelings have settled elsewhere.”
Her eyes hardened. “The ill-dressed colonial. How could you?”
“I am sorry, Pam, but I do not need to explain my feelings to you. I am sorry your parents have banished you, but I have no doubt that you will soon form another connection, if not this Season, then the next.”
“But I was everything to you! How could you change so completely in such a short period of time?”
His patience with her self-consequence hit its limit. “Others’ feelings mean nothing to you. Once I realized that, there was no going back. Now, if you would be good enough to leave me to my luncheon, I would appreciate it.”
Her eyes were so round and her face so red, he thought she was going to combust. “And I thought Sutton was a boor!” she exclaimed. Raising her chin, she glided out of the room.
Tony waited until he heard the front door shut and then went back to his mother. Luncheon had been cleared away, and his mother was taking some fruit.
“I suppose she expected you to take up where you left off?” she asked.
“Of course.” He paced the room, his boots loud on the floor. “Women like that should come with a warning label.”
“Miss Livingstone is nothing like Pamela,” she said. “I think you must pay her a call and warn her about Beau’s suspicions.”
Emotions warred within him. What exactly had their kisses meant? She had said she couldn’t marry an Englishman, but though he had known her only a short while, he thought her feelings for him to be strong and genuine. She was obviously torn. As was he.
“What would you do, Mama, if you fell in love with an American while visiting America? What if it meant you must give up your country? Would your love of England win out?”
She finished paring a peach, her eyes thoughtful. “You are speaking of Miss Livingstone, of course.”
“She counts President Madison among her friends!”
“I see her difficulty. But you are my son, and your virtues are continually before me. Were I her, I should choose you. On the condition that visits to America could be made. After this wretched war, of course.”
His paces quickened. “This is such a tangle. What am I to do about Beau? I think he may have her arrested!”
“Go to her, Tony. Warn her.”
He socked his right hand into his left palm. “I shall. If a little man in a red waistcoat with a sleepy eye and an atrocious accent should call, bid him wait and send a message to me at Shipley House, if you please. He is on the tail of the man I think to be the real villain.”
Chapter Sixteen
Virginia stood dazed in the park as Lord Strangeways retreated from her, his kisses warm on her mouth. Still awed, she put her gloved fingers there.
“Oh, dear,” she said to the footman. “No one is ill, I hope?”
“I have no idea, miss. I think we should get you home before it rains again.”
She started walking toward Half Moon Street. What could Lord Wellingham have said in his note that would have caused Lord Strangeways to bolt away after kissing her with such fervor? How could his feelings have changed so fast?
Her thoughts occupied her the entire way back to Shipley House. “Thank you very much for your escort home,” she said to the footman.
“It was
a pleasure to be of service.” He tipped his hat and left her as her front door opened.
“There you are!” said her aunt, coming down the stairs. “Where have you been, Virginia?”
“For a walk in the park,” she answered.
“Commander Saunders called for you. And a most unappealing person named Sagethorn.”
Puzzled by the commander’s visit and annoyed by Sagethorn’s, she asked, “Did either of them leave a message?”
“No. They both intend to call again later.”
Taking off her bonnet and gloves, Virginia said, “I shall be upstairs in my sitting room. I intend to finish the book for the duchess’s literary luncheon tomorrow.”
“I suppose I shall have to read the thing,” her aunt said. “What is it called?”
“Pride and Prejudice. I will lend you my copy. I am almost finished.”
It was impossible for her to concentrate on the search for Lydia Bennett, however, when Virginia had spent the morning being thoroughly kissed by a man she could never marry. Her thoughts kept straying to the magical time under the oak tree, and she could not deny the warmth she felt in her bosom.
Five years until she could be on her way back to America! How was she to exist thus in the same country near to a man with whom she suspected she was falling in love? What were his true feelings for her? Did he think he could change her mind about returning to America? Or was he just indulging in a flirtation?
That must be it. How could anything ever come of this thing between them when they were from different worlds entirely? The warmth she was feeling gave way to an ache. Closing her eyes, she curled up on the daybed and proceeded to remember every word of their conversation and every sensation arising from being so thoroughly kissed.
* * *
During luncheon the Honorable George held forth on all the news from his village, which he had received by letter that morning.
“Letitia Campbell has apparently run off with Will Summersby. At least, that is the speculation. Neither of them are anywhere to be found.”
“Oh, poor Captain Campbell,” said her aunt in tones that belied her words. “He set such a store by his wife.”
“The scandal has the village by the ears, as you can imagine. Summersby was to offer for Miss Granger, you know.”
“I blame Letitia entirely,” said Aunt Lydia firmly. “She should never have entertained feelings for him. She is a married woman!”
Virginia objected, “Could this Mr. Summersby not be to blame? Perhaps he made up his mind to seduce the poor woman.”
“Men are what they are,” declared her aunt. “It is up to women to be on their guard. It would be a good thing for you to remember that, Virginia.”
Everything in her rebelled at a philosophy where women and not men were accountable for their moral actions, but she knew there was no arguing with her aunt.
* * *
Virginia was surprised and pleased at the news that Lord Strangeways was below. Glancing in the mirror, she frantically pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to add to their color.
The moment she entered the blue sitting room she could tell at once that something was amiss with her caller. His posture was stiff, and the light she was used to seeing in his amber eyes was absent.
“Lord Strangeways, what is wrong?” she asked, stopping just inside the doorway.
“I came to warn you,” he said, then looked away at the painting of one of her ancestors that graced the wall above the mantel.
Her brows lowered in bewilderment. “About what?”
“Papers were stolen last night from Beau’s library. He thinks you to be at fault.”
Panic seized her, and she blushed deeply. Her hands began to shake, and she could do nothing but stare at the viscount.
“Do you understand me?” he asked. “These were important papers. State documents.”
“But I didn’t steal anything,” she protested, heart racing. “Why would he think I did?”
“You must tell me, Virginia. Who could have done this?”
Her thoughts raced. “I . . . I don’t know. That is, I’m not perfectly certain. I would hate to accuse anyone.”
“I don’t think you understand your position. You may be arrested at any moment.”
Suddenly she became angry. “And you? What do you think? Is this why you went tearing out of the park this morning?”
He did not answer. Instead he asked, “What about this Sagethorn? Could he be the villain?”
The difference in his temperament between now and this morning galled her. “Because I happen to be an American and Mr. Sagethorn is an American, you think it must be one of us?”
He walked to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked down into her face. “Come now, Virginia. Don’t be difficult. I would have put money on your not being involved in this, but now I am not so sure.”
She wrenched her shoulders free. “How could you kiss me as you did this morning and now entertain the idea that I am guilty of espionage? Furthermore, I did not give you leave to use my given name!”
Spinning on her heel, she left the room, grateful that he could not see the tears starting in her eyes. Hateful man! Hateful country!
Was Wellingham really to the point of arresting her? Virginia could not let that happen. But where could she go?
She would think of something. When she got to her room, she pulled down the valise that had accompanied her on the ship. Into it she put the few gowns that she had brought with her from America.
Her uncle! She would go to her uncle in Dorset. That kind man would protect her from these crazed accusations.
How could she travel there?
An idea jumped into her head as she finished packing her gowns. Perhaps the Honorable George could be useful for once. But they had to hurry.
She found her aunt’s nephew writing letters in her uncle’s library.
“Mr. Tisdale, I find I have an urgent need to go to my uncle at his estate in Dorset. Could we go in your curricle? Could you take me there?”
The man looked up from his letter. “The devil! Uh, excuse my language. What has happened?”
“Can you just trust me that I know my business? I must leave here and go to my uncle. I will pay you handsomely to take me.”
A gleam she did not altogether like showed in his eyes. “I should be honored,” he said. “Allow me to pack my valise.”
“Please hurry!” she begged. “I shall be awaiting you in the mews.”
Virginia walked through the baize door into the pantry, where Stevens stood polishing silver. Nodding to him, she stepped down into the scullery and then out the door to the back alley, where stood the Shipley House mews. There, she ordered the groom to hitch up Mr. Tisdale’s curricle and then waited, tapping her foot.
George was so fastidious! How long would he be?
Her anger at the viscount grew to fury. How could he think such a thing of her? When was she supposed to have taken the papers? She had been in full view of the other guests all evening!
Of course it had been Sagethorn who had done it. She could have at least hinted at that, but Lord Strangeways’s suspicions had so infuriated her that she would not think of accusing her fellow countryman.
Her uncle would know what to do. He would not allow her to be arrested.
At length, the Honorable George appeared. Without speaking she handed him her valise. He loaded his and hers into the curricle, helped her to board, and then climbed in next to her. Soon they were away.
* * *
It wasn’t until they had left London behind that Virginia thought to ask, “How long is it to Dorset?”
“It will take several days. It is a very long way,” said her aunt’s nephew.
“Did you tell Aunt where we were going?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, she knows,” he said.
There was something in his tone she did not like. Studying his profile, she realized he was looking quite smug. But then such an expression was not un
usual for the Honorable George.
Virginia settled in for a long journey, watching as they passed through forests and small quaint towns. The land appeared ancient, conveying the fact that it had been lived on and cultivated for hundreds of years. Compared to this country, America seemed raw and new. Her grandfather had cleared and broken the land for their plantation only thirty years ago. If it had ever been settled previously, it would only have been by indigenous tribes of Indians who lived by hunting rather than cultivating the land.
It did not take long for thoughts that would not be repressed to surface.
Lord Strangeways. How could I have been so wrong about him?
Chapter Seventeen
As Tony covered the distance between Shipley House and his home, he chastised himself.
Why was I so angry with her? Why did I treat her as though she were guilty? I insulted her gravely.
He thought of their moving kiss in the park. His attraction toward her had been far and above anything he had felt before. And Virginia had responded so sweetly. He could still feel her lips on his, the rain falling like a veil about them.
Have I fallen for a spy? Is that why I am so angry? Have I been deceived by a woman again?
Again he thought of everything he knew of the woman, starting with the first time he had seen her at the ball. She had danced like a feather, demonstrating youth and an exuberance she hadn’t been afraid to show.
Then there was her spirited defense of the dog, Mr. Hale. And following that, her brave attempt at ballooning, her injury and recovery at Southbrooke.
The only thing he could think of that was the slightest bit questionable about her character was whatever link she possessed with Sagethorn. Was it possible that the man had tried to recruit her but that she had not consented? On the other hand, he knew her feelings for her country to be strong. It was, after all, her home. Why should she feel any attachment to England?
Spying was such an underhanded activity. Could she really have decided to do it, moved by wide-eyed idealism?
Could she have kissed him as she had at the park that morning if she was working against him? If she was using him to gain access to his friends and, through them, the government?
His Mysterious Lady, A Regency Romance (Three Gentlemen of London Book 2) Page 16
