His throat closed as he was about to reveal the real reason she was in the country. He couldn’t. He hadn’t seen his closest friend in six months, and everything in his life had changed. After all, six months ago, Giddy hadn’t been a British spy.
In London, compartmentalizing his secret life was easy. His missions never occurred in his house, so he simply informed his family that he was going to the club, and removed himself from their speculative gazes. Even better when Morgan or Tristan left with him, because it cut short their suspicions that he was meeting with a lover. He’d dodged one too many of Mother’s disapproving glances over the summer. In her eyes, he was probably following in the debauched footsteps of his brothers. The assumption, at the very least, kept her from directly asking him where he was at night. He tried to make up for his absence by being the devoted son and irritating brother while he was at home, as if nothing had changed.
Now, his two worlds were entangling in ways he hadn’t expected. He was returning to the work he craved, the work he knew best, but it came at a cost—namely that he had to work with his rival. Even worse, he had to do it inside his own home. That meant exposing his family to the mission while simultaneously trying to keep his true purpose a secret.
Why had he thought this would be easy?
Knowing that his best friend would be able to call him on a lie, he said, “We’re working together on a project.” That was true.
Catt’s mouth dropped open. “She asked you for help?”
Not exactly. Gideon grimaced. He swiped his palm over his chin, feeling the rough stubble that had accumulated during his travels. “You might say that I asked her.”
In a roundabout way. Morgan had brought Felicia into the spy ring chiefly to help Giddy with this project, after all.
His lanky friend stopped short. Giddy glanced at the white steeple soaring above the tree line. So close, and yet so far.
“You asked her for help?”
Gideon walked away. If Catt needed clarification on the conversation, he wasn’t listening. After less than ten steps, he heard the rapid thumps of Catt’s footfalls as his friend jogged to catch up.
“Why would you do such a thing? You hate her. You fret yourself to shreds every time she calls you out in the Royal Botanical Gazette.”
He had—but that had been before they’d met. Surely now that they were working together, she wouldn’t disparage his work. He’d prove to her that he knew best when it came to botany.
“Please tell me you aren’t going to take her advice regarding the orchid.”
Catt had a right to be concerned. He and Giddy had been working on attempting to transplant a foreign orchid into British soil. The breadth of the botanical community was attempting to do the very same thing, to take advantage of the flower’s natural beauty and monetary value if it could be grown in a hothouse. However, it had been well over a year since the plant had been discovered in the jungle of South America, and no one had been able to coax it to bloom. When Gideon had published an essay on their work with the plant thus far, he had been publicly torn to shreds by Felicia as she tried to correct his research.
That would be a blow to the ego, had he made a mistake. But he hadn’t. Her hypothesis about the acidity of the soil affecting the grafting process was as nonsensical as her insistence about being able to create a truth serum. At the very least, he would soon discover the truth of that second point.
“We’re working on a new joint project. She isn’t touching our orchid.”
That seemed to mollify his friend somewhat, at least until Catt narrowed his eyes. “You met her in London?”
“I did.” Giddy drew out the words, wondering what his friend found significant about this fact.
“How long did you know her before you invited her help?”
He released a gusty breath. “Not long.” After all, Morgan had asked Felicia for her help before Giddy had even met her.
“I knew it.”
He probably didn’t want to know what had Catt sounding so smug. He quickened his step, trying to outpace the forbidding feeling creeping up his spine. Catt lengthened his stride, matching him.
“You didn’t realize she was a woman,” his friend crowed.
Giddy glared at him. “Neither did you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t seem to find her as beguiling as you do.”
Lud, please tell him the conversation wasn’t about to veer in that direction. He measured the length of the road with his gaze, trying to gage the distance to the church and the shortcut through the woods behind it. Not close enough.
As if his hint wasn’t enough comment, Catt added, “You invited her to work with you because you find her attractive. Admit it.”
“I will never admit that.”
It had been beyond his control, after all.
His reaction to her, when she’d been wearing the gauzy chemise that covered little and hid less, was an entirely different story. The vision of her scantily-clad body haunted him along with the memory of her kiss. She was no wilting flower to pretend at demure behavior. If she wanted something, the devil take anyone who stood in her way.
That fact would have been enough to console him—if she’d been the one to initiate the kiss. Apparently her blasted perfume was supposed to entice her to kiss him, unless she was somehow immune. But no, he’d been the one to lose his inhibitions.
The same way he’d lost himself in one simple, earth-shaking kiss.
Catt wore a devilish smirk. “You’re blushing. I’m right, aren’t I? You only asked to work with her because she’s a beautiful woman.”
“That is not why I am working with her. She’s a brilliant chemist.”
Catt laughed. “And you’re a botanist. What use do you have for a chemist in your research?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Giddy muttered, “More than I’d care to admit.”
“Of course.”
Gideon could have lived without his friend’s sarcasm. They strode along in silence for nearly a full minute.
“It has nothing to do with the way she looks in a dress.”
It would be wrong to darken his friend’s daylights. Giddy jammed his fists into the pockets of his greatcoat.
“She is here because of her mind, not because of her body.”
There. That ought to put the subject to rest.
It did not. Catt nudged him with an elbow. “Ah, but finding yourself in the company of such beauty doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Giddy rubbed at his tight, aching forehead. “Actually, it does,” he muttered under his breath.
“Aha! I knew you were drawn to her.”
“I am not drawn to her.” Although Gideon forced out the words, the lie burned his throat. It likely imprinted itself on his cheeks, too.
“No?” Catt’s smile infused his sly voice with warmth. “Then why did I witness quite so much touching during your… exchange a few minutes ago?”
The cold wind slapped against Giddy’s burning cheeks, but it did little to squelch the heat in his face. “If you recall, she touched me. I made no move to reciprocate.”
His friend laughed, the rascal. Giddy pulled the collar of his greatcoat closer to his neck to hide the growing flush of his skin. Mark my words, when you’re next beguiled by a woman…
No. Gideon was not beguiled by Miss Felicia Albright. She was a partner for this one assignment, nothing more. Once they ruled the mission impossible, she would be on her merry way.
Unfortunately, that could take months before Strickland was satisfied with the lack of results.
Under his breath, Giddy added, “If anything, that indicates her interest in me, not the other way around.”
He clamped his lips shut before he confessed to kissing her. He still couldn’t believe that he’d succumbed to temptation—let alone admit to how tempted he still was at the thought.
Catt lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “You’re the son of a duke. Of course she’s interested in you. Aren’t all young wom
en?”
No. At least, not while Giddy’s brothers had still been eligible for marriage. Now that he was the only unmarried Graylocke brother on solid land, he had to contend with much more interest from the matrons with marriageable daughters. And, often as not, the matrons themselves, for a different reason. It was one reason why he’d been glad to hide behind his spy work and not have to field off the advances of women who, six months ago, hadn’t remembered his existence.
“This is strictly business,” he told Catt. “I’ll thank you to drop the subject.”
Judging by his friend’s slim smile, he would do nothing of the sort. For the moment, however, Giddy managed to earn himself a hope of peace as the church loomed on the left-hand side of the road. He and Catt crossed to the trail behind the edifice and returned to Tenwick Abbey inside ten minutes.
His stomach shrank with every step. It wouldn’t be long before Felicia returned and they set about their task. How was he supposed to work with her when her demeanor defied professionalism?
He would have to find a way. By this point, it was far too late to back down.
11
Felicia sold three other perfumes that afternoon. With each, the tight feeling in her chest lightened. Take that, Gideon.
By the time an hour had passed, Chubs was dancing on his feet, whining. The wind whipped stray strands of her hair, chilling her to the bone. She peeked from beneath her awning at the sky, churning with clouds. A storm was on its way, and if she didn’t care to be caught in it, she had best pack up and return to the safe, solid walls of the abbey.
With her lips pressed tightly together, she set about the task. She fed Rudolph another carrot to keep him from growing agitated as she boxed her perfumes and cradled them in the tablecloth to keep them from rattling and breaking. After putting away her awning and table, she whistled Chubs into the wagon and leaped onto the driver’s seat.
Rudolph didn’t need encouragement to remove himself from the spot. Not only had he chomped the brittle grasses around him to a nub, but the only thing he hated worse than going hungry was enduring a storm. He hauled the wagon with vigor. The road, a bit soft in places, was as a whole tightly packed half-frozen dirt. She held her breath every time Rudolph strained at the harness, but the wheels never remained stuck for more than a moment.
By the time Tenwick Abbey came into view, her lips were chapped from cold and her eyes streamed tears from the wind. She squinted, hunching her shoulders to keep herself warm. Her numb fingers fumbled with the reins as she directed Rudolph around the arcing circle to the place where her wagon had been parked when she’d arrived. The moment she hauled Rudolph to a stop, she crumbled to her mastiff’s whining and opened the door for him to join her. Antsy, he loped in a circle around the wagon, barked next to Rudolph’s ear and nearly earned himself a kick in return, and tangled himself in her skirts. Felicia splayed her palm against the cold wood of her wagon to steady herself as Chubs ran another few laps around the wagon.
His help in herding Rudolph to the stables was not appreciated. When they reached the door and he risked scaring the other horses, she raised her voice and commanded him to sit. He flopped to the ground in dejection, his ears pressed tight to his skull and his eyes large and pitiful.
After she handed her mule into his assigned stall, brushed him and ensured he had enough food and water—to the objections of the hostlers, who assured her they would look after him—she smiled and waved and returned outside. The bite of the wind cut through her dress. Chubs, with his thick fur coat, didn’t appear to be affected. He whined and slithered on his belly to her feet. With a sigh, she crouched to scratch him.
“You aren’t in trouble. I know I’ve been away for some time. Come on, you have to return to the wagon now.” She very much doubted that a ducal family like the Graylockes would welcome an eleven-stone mastiff into their home.
When they reached the wagon door and Chubs realized that she wasn’t about to enter with him, he cried and raised his paw to get her attention. Her chest ached at the thought of leaving him out in the storm. He cowered from thunder and lightning. Perhaps the Graylockes wouldn’t mind if she cried off tonight and spent the night with him out in the wagon.
“Felicia!”
The wind nearly whipped away the hollered words. Pinning her hair away from her face with one hand, she turned to the abbey to spy the caller. Lucy and Charlie huddled in the partially-open doorway to the massive stone edifice. Both women had changed from their travel clothes into more colorful dresses. Lucy beckoned Felicia closer with broad sweeping motions of her arm.
Felicia eyed her dog. He tilted his head, his ears flopping to one side with the motion. “Guard,” she commanded.
He melded his rump to the ground and straightened regally. From the resentful way he met her gaze, he wasn’t happy with the command.
I’ll be back in just a second, she promised silently. Picking up a fistful of her skirt in each hand, she jogged across the drive to the wide stone steps leading to the double doors.
Lucy looked past her, a small frown on her face as she viewed the wagon. “Aren’t you going to bring Chubs inside? The weather doesn’t bode well.”
Can I? Felicia glanced over her shoulder. Chubs was out of guard position, scratching his ear with a hind leg. She didn’t want to leave him out of doors.
Hesitantly, she said, “I didn’t want to intrude. He is large and not used to spending time in a kennel with other dogs.”
“What kennel?” Lucy asked with a shrug. “Bring him inside. So long as he knows to do his business outside, it will be fine.”
“He does,” Felicia assured. It was one of the first things she ensured that he knew how to do, given that they shared very small quarters and she didn’t care for the smell or mess.
“Then bring him in.”
Pursing her lips, she glanced in her dog’s direction again. He sat upright again, but not directly in front of the wagon. He tested the limits of her command. She battled the urge to shake her head. Two days away from him, and he’d already learned bad habits. Not that she was the strictest taskmistress. In fact, she’d never spent a night away from him before. They shared the wagon, or the tight accommodations she chose for the winter.
“Only during the storm,” she acceded. She couldn’t see him left out, afraid, not even in the safety of the wagon. “The moment it passes, he’ll have to guard the wagon again.”
“Why?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide. “No one will touch it.”
With a nod, Lucy added, “Our family estate is secure and our servants are trustworthy. Your wagon will be fine.”
The moment Felicia lifted her fingers to her lips to whistle, Chubs charged across the circular drive toward them. He slowed as he reached the steps, tail wagging. Felicia started to lift her knee, afraid he would jump, but he remembered his manners. He vigorously sniffed the ladies’ skirts instead. Cooing, they leaned down to scratch his ears.
Smiling to herself, Felicia shook her head.
The moment she stepped into Tenwick Abbey, her smile slipped. It was like walking into a palace. The main antechamber was bigger than most London townhouses. Marble floors glistened in the light streaming through narrow cathedral windows set high in the stone wall. On the left side of the chamber, a balcony with a mahogany railing overlooked the vaulting chamber. Her footsteps echoed off the floor as she entered.
You don’t belong here. Her stomach shrank to the size of a pea. Once upon a time, she was a humble scholar’s daughter and had lived in a house perhaps half the size of this one room. Now she lived out of a wagon a fraction of the size. This room—this house—was a place for princes.
Or dukes.
Lucy didn’t appear to notice the grandeur, or Felicia’s reaction to it. She grinned as she passed, Chubs trotting at her heels as they traversed the length. Felicia took slow, plodding steps.
When a hand ghosted over her elbow, she jumped. Charlie gave her a kind smile. “It’s a sight to behold, isn’t it
? You’ll get used to it before long.”
That, Felicia doubted she ever would. She was a pauper in a palace.
As they reached the end of the antechamber, where Lucy lingered in the doorway to what appeared to be a corridor, Felicia forced a smile. “It looks easy to get lost in here. Is there a room laid aside for me?” She prayed it was close to the servants, someone closer to her ilk.
“Of course. We put you in the guest wing next to Charlie and Mrs. Vale.” Stepping into the opulent corridor, she crossed the scarlet runner and purloined one of several tallow candles on a low table. Aside from the unlit candles, the table also held a delicate-looking vase patterned in gold paint that shimmered in the light of a single lit candle. After Lucy lit the candle, she jammed it in a narrow candlestick holder and offered it to Felicia.
“You’ll want to carry a candle. We don’t light the breadth of the abbey unless guests are in attendance.”
Felicia would hope not. Lighting a single room would cost a fortune. She accepted the candlestick and clucked her tongue to Chubs. “Heel.” Aside from the vase, fragile decorations lined the corridor in both directions. Statuettes, busts, gilt-framed mirrors and priceless paintings on the walls. If her boisterous dog knocked one of them down, she couldn’t hope to be able to repay the cost. Better he stick close.
He obeyed her without question as Lucy led the way. “I’ll give you a proper tour after I show you to your room,” she said over her shoulder. As she went, she pointed out several parlors used for different occasions, an informal dining room, and the corridor toward a ballroom and what she deemed the ancestor’s hall beyond. Felicia was grateful to reach the wide marble staircase and followed mutely to the second level.
At the top, Lucy turned right. Over her shoulder, she said, “The guest wing begins here and lasts until the far staircase at the end of the wing. During our annual house party in the spring, we situated the women on this side of the hall.” She turned to indicate the left side with an idle wave of her hand. “The men are assigned rooms over there. Your room is next to Charlie’s.”
Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3) Page 11
