He ignored her doubt. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees. “So, will you help? We’re counting on you to go unnoticed where we can’t. If this wasn’t a matter of national importance…”
Rocky crossed her arms. Today she wore a replica of the frock she’d worn when she and Felicia had met, in the same colors as the footmen. “Me, I understand, but how do you expect him to help?”
She glared at Catt. This time, he met her gaze. Their eyes caught and held. The hostility in Rocky’s expression slipped. Adjusting her glasses, she looked away.
Quietly, Catt said, “I can help.”
Whether or not Giddy noticed the tension between them—or if, perhaps, by that time he was inured to it—he answered, “Catt is treated like family here. He’s given free rein of the house and therefore it won’t be unusual to find him anywhere you might be.”
“Plus,” Catt added, his smirk growing, “We wouldn’t want you to shirk your duties while you do this favor.”
“Actually, I couldn’t care less. Forget your duties,” Giddy said. “If you’ll do it, this task takes precedence. But it will be difficult. I can provide you with a list of those in the household who are spies, but that doesn’t mean that someone else hasn’t infiltrated the house. I recommend looking at everyone and seeing who among the staff have changed their routine or joined the household recently.”
Rocky shot a smug look at Catt. “Among the staff. It looks as though I have the advantage there, doesn’t it? You can’t even remember their names.”
“I’m not a duke’s son. I don’t walk around utterly ignoring everyone around me.”
“Don’t you?”
As the argument veered toward juvenile, Felicia shot a glance toward Gideon to see how he was handling the insult. He looked resigned. Did he know the names of everyone on his staff? Given the amount of people he claimed worked at Tenwick Abbey for a time before returning to active spy duty elsewhere, Felicia wouldn’t have thought so. However, he’d offered the list of spies too readily. Unless he planned to extract such a list from Mr. Keeling—a dangerous avenue, considering that even the duke’s assistant was a suspect—he must be familiar with the staff.
Raising his hand to stall the fight, he asked, “Will you help us?”
“We will,” Rocky snapped, her eyes glinting from behind her spectacles. Her expression took on a competitive edge. “I will find the person responsible.”
‘I.’ Not ‘we.’
Although he’d undoubtedly heard the slip, Gideon pretended not to. He helped Felicia to her feet with a hand beneath her elbow. “Thank you. We appreciate it. We’ll be in Felicia’s wagon, should you discover anything. Shall we meet here this afternoon to discuss your progress? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that secrecy is paramount.”
Catt and Rocky instantly assured him that they would be discreet. Felicia only hoped they wouldn’t be engaged in a public row while they attempted to complete their task. When they stood, however, they shook hands cordially. Catt dropped his hand quickly and turned away.
Before she could see whether or not they would form a truce, Giddy steered Felicia out of the library. “We have work to do,” he reminded her with a pointed look.
She squared her shoulders. “You’re right.”
At this point, they needed to complete the serum as soon as possible. It might be instrumental in unearthing the French spy in their midst.
22
“I don’t understand how this is contributing to the plan.”
Giddy smirked as he glanced up from his beef stew to pay attention to the alluring woman seated across from him at their table in the Golden Goose. Felicia flicked a stray strand of her inky black hair out of her eyes, not for the first time tonight. Her tresses fought to escape the hasty coiffure she’d secured them into before they left Tenwick Abbey.
“This was your plan,” he reminded her.
When Rocky and Catt had returned from their search empty-handed, Felicia had suggested they switch tactics to draw out the culprit instead by leaving her wagon unguarded for the night. Mother and Lucy were looking after Chubs, who’d seemed content enough to lounge on the rug in front of the fireplace while Felicia and Giddy left the abbey to signal to the traitor that their work was ripe for sabotage.
In reality, Rocky and Catt were hanging around nearby to catch whoever infiltrated the wagon. The plan wasn’t without its risks, but Felicia had argued for it with such adamancy that Giddy had instantly suggested they try that same night. To his surprise, Catt and Rocky had agreed, for once not contradicting each other. The common denominator was Felicia. When she spoke, she delivered her opinions with confidence and authority. Others listened. He admired that about her.
It was one of many things. The way she held her lower lip between her teeth as she worked, as if she was afraid even a stray breath would impact their experiment. Her laugh. The way he’d caught her looking at him once or twice before—she made him feel invincible.
Then, of course, there was the way she kissed. Thinking of it was madness. They hadn’t spoken or acknowledged their kiss in the orangery since the accident. Now wasn’t the time, with someone out to prevent their mission from nearing completion. But he couldn’t help but relive it during quiet moments.
She hadn’t pushed him away. In fact, she’d returned his kiss with just as much fervor and heat as he felt for her. If he found a moment and kissed her, without a life or death situation driving a wedge between them, what would happen?
Felicia wrinkled her nose. “We’ve been away quite long enough, wouldn’t you say? I thought we would circle back to keep watch with Catt and Rocky.”
“And what if we were followed? It’s better that we’re seen, in public, to give the culprit time to realize that now might be their chance.”
She grimaced and coughed into her fist. That ragged cough was better than it was, but she still had healing to do. Thankfully, the smoke from the day before hadn’t had much of a permanent effect on him aside from a scratchy throat. “How much time?” Her face falling, Felicia pushed a chunk of meat around her bowl with the tip of her spoon.
She hated to be inactive. He understood and shared that feeling. Most of his life was in pursuit of knowledge, either by keeping up to date with the research of his peers or else by conducting research of his own. A pang struck him at the reminder that the orchid he and Catt had been attempting to bloom was one of the casualties of the acid. It would be months before they could begin anew with a fresh specimen. If, indeed, Catt still wanted to work with him given the strains on Giddy’s time. As much as Gideon would love for the war to be over within a year, he didn’t hold out much hope, due to their recent defeat.
We need that serum. Thankfully, he and Felicia had managed to work more in sync today than they ever had. They’d taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand and worked closely to revise the theory behind the serum. Which compounds would work best in conjunction with one another to bring out the full potency of the brugmansia oils? That was the question they had considered all day.
They had to ration what little oil they had left, or else wait weeks before he was able to get the plant they had remaining to the correct maturity to harvest more oils. He had spent some time experimenting with the roots and other parts of the plant they had in order to discover if it might be worthwhile to try pressing oil from targeted areas now.
Since they no longer trusted the staff, he’d ingested the raw plant himself. A risky move, but Felicia had monitored him closely. Although he thought he’d felt a bit woozy after chewing on the roots—a horrid, bitter taste—the feeling had quickly passed and yielded nothing worth following up on.
The whine of a fiddle being tuned returned him to the present. Given the agitated look on Felicia’s face, she badly needed a distraction. He stood and held out his hand.
“Come, let’s dance.”
Her gaze turned guarded. “Why? I don’t often dance, Giddy.”
“Make an exce
ption. We have to be seen, don’t we?”
Uncertainty crossed her face, but he waited patiently.
“We aren’t the only people dancing. No one will notice if you miss a step.” It was true. Men and women from the village paired up in the space left free in the center of the room. Even Miss Merewether seemed to have drawn the notorious flirt, James Brickleburr’s attention.
A smirk teased her mouth, drawing his attention back to her soft lips. “What makes you think I’ll miss a step?”
“An extrapolation of your last statement that you don’t often dance.”
She shot to her feet. Her chin lifted in challenge. “I’ll have to prove you wrong then, won’t I?”
If it convinced her to stand up with him, he didn’t mind if she saw the dance as a competition. He wasn’t the best dancer, in any case. He rarely took the time to practice. In fact, he avoided the pastime whenever possible.
As they joined the group on the dance floor, he amended that intention. The brush of Felicia’s hand against his, the flick of her skirts as she kicked up her heels, her broad smile that made the room brighter. He’d sacrifice as much time in the orangery as she wanted, if only he got to keep her exactly the way she was now. His head spun as fast as his body as they kept time to the music. A heady, potent sensation akin to flying. He never wanted the night to end.
If it did, he suspected he might fall.
“Enough.” Felicia held up a hand as she braced the other on her knee and bent over to catch her breath. “I need a break.”
“I knew you couldn’t keep up with me,” he teased, even as worry gripped him. She still hadn’t healed from her injury. Had he pushed her too hard? The fiddler played a lively tune that demanded the dancers’ full enthusiasm, not like the stately music of the balls to which Giddy was accustomed.
He started to offer Felicia his arm to escort her away from the dance floor and laughing couples, but she had already turned away. He dropped his arm and quickened his step to keep pace beside her instead as she headed toward the table where they’d sat.
When he reached it, he realized that she wasn’t with him. He turned, scanning the crowd until he found her. Her cheeks were rosy. Her hair had given up all pretense of behaving and framed her cheeks and chin. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded at something the serving maid said. Gideon straightened, expecting Felicia to turn to him at that moment.
Instead, she turned toward the door. Where was she going? Her pelisse lay on the back of her chair. He grabbed it and his greatcoat and used his long legs to advantage to catch her near the door leading out back.
When he touched her shoulder, she jumped and turned to face him. Her posture instantly relaxed when she saw him.
At least until he said, “Where are you going?”
Her eyebrows climbed higher, as if she couldn’t fathom why he was asking her such a thing. “I need to use the privy.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She took a step back, closer to the door. “I don’t think so. I’ll find it on my own.”
“Have you forgotten that someone nearly killed you twice—no, three times?” He resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. How could she have forgotten that they were the targets of a traitor? Even if the primary concern was their research. “We should go nowhere alone, just to be safe.”
She snatched the pelisse from his hand and flung it around her shoulders. “For Heaven’s sake, I’m only relieving myself. It won’t take a moment.”
Turning, she opened the door and took a step into the frigid October air. Her head crossed the threshold, but Gideon lunged for her arm and drew her back inside. “Give me a mo—” —ment to put on my coat.
He never finished the sentence. A heavy brick landed in the frozen dirt of the entrance with a thud. Chips of brick broke off, tinkling as they struck the door and side of the tavern. The brick was huge, easily five pounds of hard rock. If he hadn’t pulled Felicia into the tavern and she’d been struck on the head, she would have died.
It was too soon to be a coincidence. Someone wasn’t only trying to disturb their research, he was trying to kill the only scientist capable of reproducing it. And if Gideon hadn’t been there, he would have succeeded.
23
Felicia would have died. If Gideon hadn’t pulled her inside at that exact moment, it wouldn’t only be chips of brick littering the walk. Her blood and brains would decorate it as well. She shivered, and not only from the cold seeping through the open door.
“My God.” The words gushed from his mouth, as icy as the outdoor air. He herded her against the wall, pinning her there with his body as he craned his neck for signs of danger. His heat and body enveloped her.
Was he trembling? She was the one who had nearly died—she should be afraid, not him!
“I knew it. I knew it wasn’t safe for you to go out alone.”
She barely heard him. Her teeth chattered. She felt the vibration along her jaw, but was helpless to stop it. She stared at the open doorway, completely numb.
Think. You can’t stand here.
“We should return to Tenwick Abbey.”
Yes, that was a good idea. She should do that.
However, the moment she stepped toward the door to comply, Gideon stopped her. “I’ll go first.” He positioned her against the wall as he shrugged into his greatcoat. He flipped the collar up to shield his neck, but didn’t fasten the buttons.
Raising his arms over his head to shield himself, he darted through the opening and away from the building. What did he think that would have done, had the assaulter thrown another brick? He would have broken his arms, at the very least.
She approached the doorway, but he held up his hand. “Stay there.”
The sharp tone of his voice stopped her in his tracks. He craned his neck, squinting as he tried to see the upper stories of the tavern. He must not have spotted anything suspicious, because a moment later, he beckoned to her.
“Quickly.”
She adjusted the pelisse around her shoulders and hurried to him. When she came abreast of him, she realized that they had forgotten something pivotal to their journey home. “I’ll have the driver bring the carriage around.”
The skin on the back of her neck crawled with her back facing the tavern, as if someone watched with sinister intent. When she turned, the upper stories appeared too dark compared to the bright light of the lantern next to the door.
“No. I’ll go. You stay here. Exactly here.” He positioned her in the middle of an open area. No overhangs, no trees, she was completely exposed. Her breath frosted in front of her face as she danced from foot to foot. The moment he disappeared, her full bladder made itself known once again. A tall, narrow outhouse resided in the corner of the open area, out of the way. She hurried to do her business.
As she finished, Gideon left the stables with his hands shoved into his pockets. The moment he scanned the courtyard and found her striding away from the outhouse, his face darkened. He met her in the middle.
“I told you not to move.”
I don’t do your bidding. She bit her tongue to squelch the sarcastic retort. It wouldn’t help matters. Steeling herself, she answered in an even tone. “I had to relieve myself. I didn’t go far.” She couldn’t believe that she was having an argument about the matter.
More than that, she couldn’t believe that he was being so stubborn! The lantern near the tavern door cast fingers of orange light over his face, but his skin looked a bit ashen.
“You should have waited. I would have kept watch.”
That sounded incredibly awkward. “I was fine.”
“What if the spy had followed you to the outhouse?”
She crossed her arms. “And done what? Set it on fire?” That would not have been fun. She turned on her heel. “Whatever the case, our plan to use the wagon as bait did not work. I’m returning to the abbey.”
“Wait.” He lengthened his stride and caught up to her. He pulled the hood of her pelisse up o
ver her hair. “It’s cold out. You’ll catch a chill or worse. Wait for the carriage.”
Snowflakes sparkled in the air like stars slowly drifting to earth. Few and far between, but gusts of wind blew them into her face. Her ears burned from cold, only a touch warmer beneath the fur lining of her borrowed pelisse hood. Even so, she yanked it down again.
“I am a grown woman. I can choose for myself what to wear.”
He made a face. “Far be it from me to attend to your welfare!”
When she stormed off down the street, he was on her heels, his boots making clipped steps in the frozen dirt. She couldn’t believe he was treating her this way. She’d thought they were equals, but one little scare… very well, one big scare, on the heels of several others. But he had no right to treat her as if she was made of glass! Hadn’t she proven to him that she was every bit as capable as he was?
How foolish for her to believe for a second that he had considered her to be his equal. The only reason he’d taken her suggestion in any matter had been in order for him to steal a kiss. And she’d liked it—she’d relived the kiss more than once despite the urgency of their situation. A day in close quarters with him had been torturous. At every brush of their arms, the memory of his kiss surged. The desire to repeat it had been overwhelming.
It was a desire she squashed now. Whatever madness had overcome her, it was done. They were done. They were colleagues, working together for the good of the nation, nothing more. Once they unearthed the traitor at Tenwick Abbey and completed the serum, she would part ways with him and her life could return to normal.
Never mind that she’d already accepted the invitation to stay the winter with the Graylockes. Surely Evelyn and Lucy would understand that she couldn’t possibly stay near Gideon any longer. He was forming an attachment to her, one she couldn’t return. They were from different worlds, and she’d long ago vowed not to diminish her worth for the sake of a man. She was a scientist, not a wife.
Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3) Page 22
