Hunter and Whit needed to know. Simon would warn them once he saw Lord Martin leave the house, but he wouldn’t be able to tell them about Miss Willory’s involvement. And if Hunter and Whit apprehended Lord Martin before he delivered the letter, there would be nothing tangible tying Miss Willory to the operation.
Tucking her note away, with a mental note to deliver it after Miss Willory had returned to her own room, Kate turned from the door and headed straight for a supply closet at the end of the hall. She reached for the handle, before deciding to knock softly, instead. She didn’t want to startle the boy hidden inside.
“Simon? It is Lady Kate. I’ve a message for Mr. Hunter.”
Hunter crept up the back stairs of Pallton House twenty feet behind Lord Martin. He kept to the shadows, and rolled his feet heel-to-toe as he walked, eliminating the sound of footfalls. But it wasn’t because of Lord Martin that he took such care. The man was clearly oblivious to being followed. It was because the hair on the back of his neck had stood up the moment they’d come into sight of the house. Someone else was watching. Hunter assumed that someone was Mr. Laury, but it didn’t pay to take chances.
Lord Martin, blissfully unaware of having at least two sets of eyes trained upon him, practically skipped down the hallway, happy with his success.
It had been the same the whole way back from the beach. Not once had Lord Martin looked behind him to see if he were being trailed. Hunter supposed the man’s behavior made sense, in a way, if he believed himself to be involved in nothing more nefarious than a bit of brandy smuggling. And if the man was a fool. Hunter figured the latter was obvious, and the former highly likely, given the detailed message Kate had sent with Simon.
Whit had appeared alternately baffled and irritated by Simon’s appearance on the beach, though whether his reaction had stemmed from the news itself, or the fact that the news came from Kate, Hunter hadn’t been able to determine. He’d been preoccupied for the next hour as he and Whit maneuvered their mounts back up the steep hillside, across the fields in the dark, and then found a spot from which they could watch for the smugglers without being detected. The last had required they take up a position some distance from the beach, but they had been close enough to see Lord Martin meet two other men from town with a horse-drawn cart. Then it had been only a matter of time before the boat arrived, the cargo was unloaded, and Lord Martin accepted the letter from the captain. Hunter had left Whit to follow the cart into town, while he’d followed Lord Martin back to the house.
He stepped into the shadows now as Lord Martin turned and knocked softly on Miss Willory’s door. Miss Willory appeared almost instantly. After a quick glance down both ends of the hall, she grabbed Lord Martin’s arm, pulled him inside, and promptly shut the door again.
Hunter moved toward his own room, but stopped when a door behind him opened softly. He spun around and reached for the pistol at his side.
Kate’s blonde head peaked out from the door. “Hunter. Is it done? Where’s Whit?”
“Kate.” He blew out a quick breath and put the pistol away. “Get back in your room.”
“I am in my room,” she whispered. “Is Whit—?”
“He’s well. I—” Bloody hell, there was no point in standing in the hallway. He gently urged Kate inside, and followed her, leaving the door cracked open an inch so he could keep watch. “How did you know I was here?”
She pulled her wrap tightly around her night rail. “I’ve been keeping watch. Out the window first. I saw Lord Martin. When I heard footsteps, I watched under the door. I recognized Lord Martin’s boots, then I thought I saw yours. Then I heard a door open and close down the hall. I assumed Lord Martin met with Miss Willory and—”
“Never mind.” He couldn’t help but smile at the picture of Kate down on all fours to peer under the door. “You delivered your note to Lord Martin, I presume?”
She nodded. “Miss Willory took to her own room shortly after I sent Simon to you. He reached you, then? You received the message?”
“The shipment arrived a half mile from Smuggler’s Beach, just as you said. Well done, Kate. Very well done.”
Even in the semidarkness of a single lit candle, and the very first light of dawn peeking through the window, he could make out the bloom of pleasure on her cheeks. “I merely overheard a conversation.”
“You gained sensitive information and passed it on in a safe and expedient matter. Sometimes, that is the whole of an agent’s mission.” He caught and held her gaze. “You’ve done well.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Everything went as expected at the beach, then?”
“As far as the smugglers are concerned, the run couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Whit’s following the goods into town.” He glanced into the hall. “He wasn’t happy about it.”
“He wanted to return to the house?”
“No, I don’t think so. He just appeared angry in a general sense, and that after he was done appearing genuinely shocked at finding the smugglers. He’s still behaving oddly.”
She took a step closer to him, visibly agitated. “Will he be all right, going into town alone? What if he’s discovered and captured? What if—”
“He won’t be. He’ll follow from a good distance. Even if the smugglers come to realize he’s there, which they won’t, he’ll be able to make an escape. Once…” He trailed off and held a hand up for silence as the door to Miss Willory’s room opened and Lord Martin stepped into the hall. They waited in silence until Lord Martin made the short journey to his own room and disappeared inside.
“Will you confront Miss Willory now?” Kate finally whispered when Lord Martin’s door closed with more force than Hunter considered advisable for a man attempting to be sneaky.
He shook his head. “No. She’ll be followed when she leaves. Miss Willory is likely no more than a courier. We want the individual she’s to meet.”
“A courier,” Kate repeated. “However did she become involved in such a scheme?”
“She was approached for the mission, no doubt. Her family’s financial straits; her reputation for being a woman of considerable ambition; her connections to a gullible peer with the means to finance a smuggling run.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, where the hair was once more standing on end. The residual effects of having been watched by both Miss Willory and Kate, he told himself. “She would’ve been an irresistible target.”
Kate shifted in an effort to see around him. “What do you suppose the letter contains?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
He motioned for Kate to back away from the door as the feeling of being watched grew. He drew out his pistol a moment before a soft male voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Actually, I believe that leg of the mission to be my responsibility.”
In a heartbeat, Hunter had the door opened just wide enough to train his weapon on the man stepping from the shadows.
Kate’s voice came out with a slight crack. “Mr. Laury?”
Mr. Laury tilted his head to look around Hunter’s form. “Are you going to invite me in, Lady Kate? Or shall I wait in the hall until we are all discovered?”
Hunter lowered his weapon and stepped back to let the man inside.
Mr. Laury tossed him a questioning look before taking up the position at the door. “If I’d known you meant to bring Lady Kate into the investigation,” he whispered. “I’d not have asked you to keep my involvement to yourself.”
Hunter shrugged. “Had I been certain you’d keep Kate’s involvement to yourself, I might have brought you in.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Laury replied agreeably. “My only orders were to trail the paperwork, at any rate.”
“You’ve some talent for trailing,” Hunter admitted.
Mr. Laury’s lips curved up. “I doubt I’d have made it around the door before you noticed.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
Kate took a step toward them. “I do wish someo
ne would afford me the courtesy of an explanation.”
“Mr. Laury was attempting to avoid you,” Hunter informed her, stowing away his pistol once more.
“He’s been successful,” Kate replied.
“I’d no other choice.” Mr. Laury looked away from the door to give Kate a brief smile. “My knowledge of all things musical is limited. You’d have discovered that if we spent any amount of time together.”
“But…you…I’ve heard you sing.”
“I can carry a tune, and play a piece or two on the pianoforte, nothing more. I wouldn’t begin to know how to compose an original piece.”
Kate shook her head. “Why on earth would you pretend such a thing?”
“Because musical aptitude was a requirement for an invitation to Baroness Cederström’s salon. And an invitation to the salon was a requirement for spying on a possible traitor…”
Mr. Laury trailed off, glanced out the crack in the door and held up a hand for quiet. The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Mr. Laury turned to them once more and grinned. “She’s off, which means I am as well. Lady Kate, Mr. Hunter, it’s been a pleasure.”
As quickly and quietly as Mr. Laury had appeared, he was gone.
Kate blinked at the empty doorway. “I…Good heavens. Mr. Laury, an agent. I can scarce believe…” Her eyes moved to him. “You knew.”
“I did.” Hunter shut the door softly. “I didn’t want you to seek him out. You weren’t to be involved, remember?”
Kate frowned at him. “You could have simply ordered me not to speak with him.”
“Awareness can be communicated with more than words. Mr. Laury would have known.”
Kate pressed her lips together for a moment in obvious annoyance. “There is no way for me to counter that without positing the argument that I am a skilled actress.”
Hunter swallowed down a chuckle and stepped forward to bend his head and catch her eye. “I didn’t want to risk anyone learning of your involvement. I didn’t want to risk you being sent back to Haldon. I wanted you here, with me. Would you like me to apologize for being selfish?”
She ran her tongue across her teeth. “Are you attempting to charm yourself out of trouble?”
“Possibly.” He gave her a hopeful smile. “Is it working?”
“Possibly,” she conceded with a twitch of her lips. “I’ll have to think on the matter.” She gestured at the closed door. “What happens, now, to the letter, and Miss Willory?”
“Mr. Laury will trail Miss Willory. The letter will be confiscated, its intended recipient apprehended. Miss Willory will likely be exiled.”
“And her family?”
“They may join her, if they like.”
Kate was quiet a moment before speaking. “She did this to save them.”
“You feel badly for her?”
She looked down and fiddled with the tie of her wrap. “You told me there are some things people will do anything to keep. Miss Willory wants to keep her family solvent. It may not be a noble cause, but she’s never known another life. I imagine she feels she had no other choice.”
“She did.” There were times a person found himself completely out of choices, he knew. But this was not one of those times. “She had other options. More than most.”
“Yes, I know.” She blew out a short breath. “The smuggling…that is why she did those things. Broke the piano bench, encouraged Mr. Potsbottom, and sabotaged my tack. She was afraid Lord Martin would tell me of the smuggling.”
Hunter ground his teeth. “I find my limited sympathy has flagged.”
She smiled a little at that. “What of Lord Martin?”
“I suspect his punishment will be minor, given that he appears to be innocent of treason in his intentions. But it’s up to William.”
She nodded and went back to thoughtfully toying with her wrap. It was a long and flowing concoction of ivory, covering her from neck to toe. He wanted to reach out to pull the tie loose and slide the material from her shoulders. Then he wanted to loosen the thick braid of pale hair that fell down her back and use handfuls of it to pull her in for a kiss. But more than that, he wanted to have the conversation he’d asked her for in the parlor.
The idea of it brought on a sudden and unexpected case of nerves. Excitement, he corrected, he was excited. It was anticipation that had him stalling. He was within moments of seeing his plan come to fruition. He was within minutes of acquiring the hand of Lady Kate Cole.
Only she’d ceased, at some point, to be just another, or even the ultimate, acquisition for him. He couldn’t put his finger on when it had happened, or how it had happened. He only knew that it had. There was no denying the terror he’d felt when he’d seen her horse charge toward the bluffs, nor the staggering relief that had washed over him when he’d pulled her safely into his arms.
He was attached to Kate, there could be no mistake. Which was not to be confused with in love with her. She was important to him, and it followed that her well-being was of concern to him, but he was not in love. He would never be in love.
But perhaps it was best he felt more for her than he allowed himself to feel for others. She was to be his wife, after all. A man ought to feel a little bit…well, more for his wife. He intended to feel more for any children they might have. Not too much—children had the unfortunate characteristic of being small and fragile—but certainly more than he did, say, his cook. That was only natural.
Moreover, Kate was of a romantic bent. She’d want something other than mild interest from her spouse. She’d be unhappy without it. She was too sensible and too much a member of the ton to refuse an offer of marriage now that he’d taken her innocence, but she’d not be happy in their union without some level of affection. And it had been his plan from the very start to make her happy. What good was acquiring a rare jewel and then showcasing to the world that one wasn’t capable of properly caring for it?
Only he wasn’t acquiring her, he reminded himself, because she wasn’t an acquisition.
He resisted the urge to drag a hand through his hair. The whole business of trying to figure through what Kate was, and was not, to him made him uncomfortable. Which is why he shoved it aside.
He liked her very much. They would marry. He would make her happy. That was quite enough figuring through.
He cleared his throat. “I’d like the private audience I requested from you last night, Kate.”
Kate looked up, her blue eyes rounding. “What? Now?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“Because,” she replied, as if the answer were patently obvious. “I’m in my night rail.”
He gestured at her. “You’ve been in your night rail for the past half hour or more.”
“And you’ve had a private audience, mostly. That’s not the point.” She shook her head. “I’ll meet you in the sitting room in half an hour.”
“But—”
“It’s nearly time for Lizzy to rise. If she comes in while you’re here and I’m not properly clothed, it will be a disaster.”
“Why don’t you simply lock—?”
“The sitting room in half an hour.” She moved past him to open the door. After glancing down both ends of the hall, she reached to snag his arm and propel him across the threshold. Before he could utter another word of protest, the door was shut with a soft click.
Kate dressed in ten minutes, cajoled her hair into something approaching respectable in under five, and, in an attempt to retain a bit of pride, decided to stall the remaining fifteen minutes. She brushed at the white muslin of her skirts, straightened a small stack of music on her nightstand, and occupied her mind by wondering if her suspicions were correct and Hunter was about to offer marriage. Quickly deciding that was most certainly the case, she turned her imagination toward what sort of proposal she might receive.
Something traditional, she mused. He had made a point of formally asking for a private audience. Even if he’d then suggested she hold that audience in her night
rail, it still indicated some desire for a conventional proposal. Likely he would give a small speech as well. It wouldn’t be overly flowery—the man wasn’t given to theatrics—but she imagined the charmer in him would see to it that it was eloquent. There was a distinct possibility there would be a hint of practicality to it as well. He was a businessman, after all. Nothing wrong with being practical about the matter, she told herself. Nothing at all. But it was matters of the heart that had her pacing the floor, twisting her fingers in the skirts she’d just smoothed, and grinning like a lunatic.
She’d found her prince. They had fallen in love. He was going to propose. It was a dream come true.
Pulling the watch he’d given her from her pocket, she noted that she had managed to stall for all of four minutes. That was really the most that should be expected of a woman in her position.
Kate walked through the house at a respectable pace, conscious of the muted sound of footsteps and sleepy voices coming from the servants’ quarters. The staff would think it odd to find a guest about so early, but they would think it stranger yet to find that guest dashing through the halls. She reached the sitting room without meeting a soul, and after one last brush of her skirts, let herself in quietly. Hunter was standing in front of the windows, his back to the door. He turned when she entered, and to her great delight, crossed the room to take her mouth in a long, warm kiss.
It was, she decided, a perfectly lovely way to begin a proposal.
He released her mouth and taking her hand, led her to a settee by the window. “Will you sit?”
She bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Was the man nervous? He had to be, to suddenly become so formal. And she must be as well, she realized as she took her seat. She’d not uttered a syllable since she’d entered the room, and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one to utter now.
She waited while Hunter sat next to her, brushed his hands down his thighs, cleared his throat, twice, took one of her hands in his, and then finally got around to the business of speaking. “Lady Kate Cole, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
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