Grant cocked his head. “What would you have me tell her, Emily? Should I inform her that we are involved in a passionate affair? That every time I’m in a room with you I want to touch you? Taste you? Should I tell her that?”
Hand trembling as she removed it from her face to clench it in her lap, Emily swallowed hard. “Why tell her, since we both know nothing can come of it?”
He held her stare for a long, heavy moment before he nodded. “Yes. Nothing can come of it. That is what we promised, isn’t it?”
Turning her head, she looked out the window to the chilly London streets. Silence hung between them, made awkward by the fervor of his words.
Then he sighed. “I wanted to ask you something.”
After that heated statement, what could he want to ask? She found herself leaning forward on the carriage seat. “What is it?”
“After you fell, you called out for someone. Lady M.”
Emily started. Lady M, the secret spymaster of her organization. A woman she had never met, never seen. A woman whose identity no one but Charlie knew. She hadn’t ever spoken of her with anyone outside of Meredith and Ana.
If Grant noticed her surprise, he didn’t point it out when he continued speaking, “I wondered why you called for her, how you knew that was her nickname?”
Emily wrinkled her brow and ignored the shot of pain resulting from the action. “What do you mean? How did I know whose nickname?”
He cocked his head. “My Mother’s name is Margaret and while my father lived, he always called her Lady M.”
Chapter 17
Emily stared at the canopy above her bed, but she didn’t see it.
My Mother’s name is Margaret and while my father lived, he always called her Lady M.
Dear God. Grant’s words played over and over in her head, tormenting her. Taunting her. Could it be true? Could Lady Westfield be her Lady M?
She was beginning to believe it was possible when she considered all the evidence.
Last night, she’d thought she’d seen Charlie’s carriage leaving Lady Westfield’s home just as she and Grant arrived. Now she was even more certain that was true. Lady Westfield had answered her own back door, and her first words, before she cut them off, had been about forgetting something. Almost as if she thought a visitor was returning to the house after a recent departure.
And there was more. Emily had woken in the night to see Grant’s mother sitting by her bed, watching over her like a loved one would do. She’d felt a connection to the lady at breakfast. Something much deeper than a mere acquaintance like theirs would forge.
She sighed. All these years, she had believed Lady M to be a woman of Society. A woman Emily and her friends likely knew. How many times had she searched through ballrooms, considering the possibilities amongst the rich and powerful matrons?
Lady Westfield was the perfect candidate. Popular, intelligent, powerful. A woman who garnered respect, a woman with a long, distinguished bloodline.
The door to her chamber creaked open and Anastasia slipped inside, shaking Emily from her musings. Her friend’s dark eyes were wide with worry as she moved toward the bed hesitantly. It put Emily to mind of all the times Ana had come into this very room and found her in a similar position while she was recovering from her injuries after the attack.
Emily sat up and the pounding that accompanied the motion was less than it had been earlier in the day. “Ana, don’t look so frightened. I’m not wounded.”
Her friend looked less than convinced as she sank into a chair beside the bed and stared at her. “When Charlie said you were injured, I—I could only think of that night we nearly lost you.”
Emily reached out to take her friend’s hand in reassurance, but then what she’d said clicked into place in her mind. “Charlie told you I had been injured?”
Ana nodded as she swiped away tears. “Yes. I received his note just after you summoned me. You should have told me you’d been hurt. When he said there was some kind of unexplained accident that had to do with Grant Ashbury, I was terrified. Emily, won’t you please tell me what this secret investigation you two are involved in is all about?”
Emily stared at Ana and her heart throbbed all the faster. “How did Charlie know I had been injured? I haven’t reported any of my actions to him yet.”
Her friend cut off midsentence and looked at her with a wrinkled brow. “I have no idea, Em. You know how Charlie is. He seems to have an eye on everything we do. Perhaps Grant reported to his superiors or sent word to Charlie himself. Now, please, tell me what happened to you.”
Emily waved her off as she slung her feet off the bed and paced the room.
“I fell out a window,” she explained absently, but before Ana could press, she continued, “Grant wouldn’t report our actions to Charlie or to his own superiors yet. This case is still private, we haven’t decided to bring anyone else in on it. No. Charlie must have found out another way.”
She stopped. If Lady Westfield was indeed Lady M, of course she knew about Emily’s injuries. And Lady M could have easily informed Charlie about last night’s incident after Emily and Grant departed her home this morning.
It was the only explanation that made sense when put together with the other evidence. She spun on Ana.
“Do you…do you ever wonder about Lady M?”
Ana wrinkled her brow, confusion at the change of subject plain on her face. “I—I suppose. It’s hard not to wonder who is giving you assignments. Who this mysterious benefactress of our group is.”
Emily swallowed. “Who do you think she is?”
Her friend dipped her chin. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder if she exists at all. Perhaps she’s merely a figment of Charlie’s imagination, created to make us all more comfortable about being the Empire’s only group of female spies.”
Clenching a fist, Emily moved to the window and looked out through the icy glass. Snow swirled outside, blown by a bitter wind.
“I think she’s real,” she said on a harsh breath, as she thought of all the parties they’d attended at Lady Westfield’s estates over the years. “I believe she’s someone we all know. Someone we’ve met a dozen times or more.”
Ana stepped toward her and took her arm. “Emily, what is this all about? Are you trying to distract me with talk of Lady M? It won’t work. Tell me what’s going on.”
Emily stared at her best friend and longed to tell her everything. To explain her suspicions about Grant’s mother. But she hesitated. Until she was certain, she couldn’t tell her friends. If there was any possibility she was wrong, she couldn’t call Lady Westfield into question. And she had to put her energies into the case she and Grant were pursuing before she solved the biggest mystery of them all. The mystery of Lady M.
She smiled weakly. “It’s only this case with Grant. We found something last night and I hoped you could help me decipher it.”
Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the letter they’d taken from Cullen Leary’s room and handed it over. Ana pulled spectacles from her pocket and perched them on her nose as she read over the words. Emily couldn’t help but smile. For a moment she was taken back in time to when Ana shared this house with her, before her friend fell in love with Lucas Tyler and came into herself so fully.
She pushed the memory away and added, “I couldn’t make sense of it at the time.”
Ana nodded. “I’m not surprised. It’s a complex code. But if I take this with me, I could have your answer by tonight, I’m certain.”
Emily nodded. “If you could, that would be very helpful.”
Ana removed the spectacles and carefully put them in her pelisse pocket, along with the note. She tilted her head and stared at Emily. “I thought you weren’t going to ask for my help anymore.”
Emily looked away. Yes, she had said that, hadn’t she?
“I understand your reluctance.”
“I wish I understood yours.” Ana sighed. “Would you tell me anything else?”
“Not
yet.” Emily grasped her hands. “Please trust me a little longer.”
Ana pulled her hands away and moved to the fireplace. She turned back and there was a determination on her gentle face that rarely made itself known.
“Tell me, Emily, how much does your attitude and secrecy have to do with this mysterious case …and how much has to do with Westfield himself?”
Emily took a step back. If she had been preoccupied before, her mind focused entirely on Ana now. “What do you mean?”
Ana’s eyebrow arched. “Grant Ashbury. You have been spending a good deal of time with him.”
“Only because of your ruse and then our investigation!” Emily ignored the fact that their relationship had gone so much deeper than a convenient partnership.
Ana shook her head. “No, it may have begun that way, but it’s more than that now. I saw how you looked at each other that day in your parlor. The way he protected you, even against us. Not to mention that when you say his name, your eyes light up. I recognize that light, Emily.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned away, but found her hands were shaking.
“It’s the same light that comes into my eyes when I talk about Lucas,” Ana insisted. “I see it in Meredith’s eyes when she sees Tristan across a room.”
Emily attempted a laugh, but it was weak. “Are you trying to imply that I have a relationship anything like yours?”
Ana arched a brow. “Not yet, perhaps. But I wonder if you’re beginning to fall in love with Lord Westfield.”
Emily stared at Ana, her heard suddenly pounding. Hearing those words out loud did something to her. Made her question herself.
“I—I didn’t…that is, I’m not…”
Ana shook her head with an incredulous sigh as she made her way toward the bedroom door. “I won’t push you to explore something you aren’t ready to face. I may not be as accomplished a spy as you are, my dear, but I do have one piece of advice for you. The sooner you stop fighting whatever feelings you do have for the man, the better off you’ll be. At least if you’re honest with yourself, you will be more able to make decisions about what to do next.”
Grant paced across Lucas and Anastasia Tyler’s parlor, glancing at the door from time to time. He wasn’t exactly certain why he had been called to the Tyler home this evening. He could guess it had to do with the letter he and Emily found in Cullen Leary’s room the night before.
Judging from the wording of the summons he had received from Mrs. Tyler, it also had a great deal to do with Emily. Her shrewd friend was beginning to suspect something about their relationship.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about Emily since he left her that morning. She’d been distracted, distant when he escorted her to her foyer. He wanted to chalk it up to her injury, but there was something more. Something troubling her.
He found himself wanting to ease those troubles. Protect her, and not just from physical harm. Since her injury, he’d thought of little else. Seeing her hurt had opened his eyes to a truth that was hard to accept.
Despite their promises not to involve emotion, Emily Redgrave had begun to work her way under his skin. Could he so easily release her when the mystery of the secret Prince and Cullen Leary’s involvement was solved?
Being with Emily, knowing she danced along the edge of danger, would be torment for him each and every day. He knew himself too well to believe he could easily forget that she had already nearly died twice in the field.
He was going to have to determine what to do and quickly.
The door opened and Emily entered, followed by Anastasia and Lucas Tyler. Grant’s eyes widened in surprise. Tyler was a spy he respected, but having the other man involved would almost guarantee Grant’s superiors found out about his secret case. Perhaps that was inevitable now.
He stepped forward. “Good evening, Tyler.”
The man took his extended hand. “Lord Westfield.”
Grant acknowledged Ana and got an appraising nod in return and then he allowed his gaze to fall on Emily. Her blond hair was bound loosely, drawing attention to those startling blue eyes that could take him away with just a look. The gown she wore matched those eyes perfectly. He wanted to just sit and stare at her for a while.
And then he saw the shadow of a bruise against her temple. All his fears and worries and reasons to keep her at arm’s length came rushing back.
“How are you?” he asked, moving toward her because he couldn’t keep himself from doing so.
She smiled, though the expression was weak. “I’m better, thank you. How is your shoulder?”
He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth. Just before he brushed his lips across her glove, he whispered, “Just a scratch, remember?”
Her smile softened and grew wider, even as a blush tinged her cheeks. Grant caught Anastasia Tyler’s shocked expression from the corner of his eye. With a start, he released Emily’s hand.
“Why don’t we sit?” Ana said as she motioned to the chairs beside the fire. “And I can explain why I asked you both to join us here this evening.”
It took a moment for everyone to situate themselves. Grant took one chair and Emily another, while the Tylers sat together on the settee. Grant couldn’t help but notice how Lucas Tyler laid a gentle, yet possessive hand on Ana’s knee. It seemed comfortable and normal. A powerful shot of jealousy worked through him. He had never before desired that kind of connection with a woman. He’d considered it a weakness for many years, and even more so since Davina’s death. But it didn’t seem to make the Tylers weak. In fact, it made them a stronger, more cohesive unit.
“As you know, Emily passed along a piece of correspondence to me this afternoon that the two of you found last night before her…” Ana paused and sent a look full of meaning toward Grant. “Accident. I asked my husband for help in deciphering the message, since the code isn’t a simple one. In fact, I wonder how a brute like Cullen Leary could have broken it.”
Emily shrugged. “He might have had a key hidden elsewhere in the room. He came home so unexpectedly, we didn’t have a chance to do the most thorough search.”
Grant clenched his fists at the memory of just what had interrupted them. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is what the note says.”
Lucas Tyler met Grant’s eyes and he saw the deep concern…even a bit of mistrust in his stare. Clearly these two people loved Emily deeply, feared for her safety when she was with him. Who could blame them after she was injured because of his stupid mistake?
Ana tilted her head. “What in the world have you two involved yourself in? This message talks about the Prince Regent, it talks about impersonating him in order to gain access to Carlton House. And they intend to make their entry in two days.”
Grant sucked in a breath. This conspiracy went deeper than he had thought. He opened his mouth to speak, ask questions, when Emily surged to her feet.
“Thank you for your assistance,” she said. “But I’m afraid I cannot tell you any more about what we’ve uncovered.”
Lucas Tyler came off the settee and turned on Grant as if Emily hadn’t spoken. “If this case involves the Regent, the War Department has a right to know. You might need help.”
Grant shook his head. “The Department will ‘help’ me right behind a desk. No, this is my case.”
Tyler opened his mouth to argue, but Emily interrupted first, “Our case.”
Grant sent her a glance. Despite his lingering doubts about her physical safety, he couldn’t deny that they worked well together. Their styles, personalities meshed to make them both better agents. Emily was cunning and observant. He wouldn’t take any of that away from her.
“Yes,” he conceded. “Our case.”
She smiled at him and for a moment there was only them.
Then Anastasia Tyler spoke. “Emily, I—”
But, as always, Emily remained cool. Calm. Grant watched in awe as she whispered a few quiet words to her friends. That wasn’t how he would have handled the scena
rio, but whatever she said, they both left with only a little hesitation. Once they were alone, Emily turned on him.
“Grant, we must return to The Blue Pony. If Leary and his partners are going to attempt entry to Carlton House in two days, we cannot wait any longer.”
The warmth Grant felt faded, replaced by a pounding sense of dread. “No. I’ll go.”
Emily’s lips thinned. “What happened to ‘our case’?”
“It’s too dangerous!” Grant paced away from her.
She snorted out a laugh. “It’s just as dangerous to you as it is to me! Leary has seen you interfere with him twice, and you weren’t even in disguise. He must have some recollection of you from the case you worked on a year ago. You cannot just barge into The Blue Pony and demand information. This situation calls for desperate measures.”
“What kind of desperate measures?” Grant asked, eyes narrowing. He didn’t like the gleam in her eye.
She folded her arms, all but daring him to argue. “I will return in the same costume I wore the first night there. I want to draw Leary out.”
Nausea roiled in Grant’s stomach. “Have you learned nothing from your fall? You could have been killed! You could have been injured beyond what even Dr. Wexler could have fixed. You could have—”
Emily stepped to him and reached up to cover his mouth with her fingertips. Her eyes snared his, filled with understanding, but dark with determination. “But I wasn’t. Grant, I need to do this. Not just for the case. For me.”
“For you?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”
She looked away, waging an internal battle he could only watch with fascination. And hope that he would be the benefactor of. He wanted just a little of her trust.
“After I was shot, my life changed,” she finally whispered. There was a tremble to her voice. “I told everyone it didn’t, but that was a lie to them, to myself. My memories haunted me, froze me. I hoped returning to the field would banish them, but—” She shivered and tried to turn away.
Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] Page 19
