by Robyn DeHart
With an odd feeling of regret, Evie took her hand from Somersby’s sleeve and took a step back. “Then perhaps you and my cousin ought to discuss it further before you approach me again.”
“No, no. This has come out all wrong,” Somersby said impatiently. “You were chosen by the senior-most agent in the…the association. You are particularly suited to the task. Even your cousin agrees.”
“Then what—”
Somersby grabbed her suddenly, hugging her to his chest as he spun her around and shoved her toward a corner of the balcony. A huge piece of clay pottery shattered on the ground next to him, though his shoulder did not escape unscathed.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his tone gruff but concerned.
She looked up at him in astonishment. Had he not moved so quickly, she’d have been crushed. As it was, he’d saved her.
…
Miss Marrington was shaking in Bennett’s arms. He did not blame her. How would anyone anticipate such a dramatic turn of events at a country ball? Lord Fenwick ought to be throttled for allowing the condition of his home to create such risks for his guests. Hell, even for his family.
People began scurrying about them, but Bennett only felt the subtle tremor of her body. She was like a small bird, far too delicate for him, yet somehow she fit perfectly in his arms.
“Oh my dear, Evelyn!” her mother cried, prying her away from him. She and Sir Marrington led Evie away from the crowd that had gathered, but her father stopped suddenly and returned to Bennett, clasping his hand and shaking it vigorously.
“Thank God for you, my lord,” Marrington said. “Thank God for you.”
Bennett looked up at the roof above them just as Ellis returned. “What do you suppose happened?” Ellis asked.
“Damned if I know.”
“A calculated attempt on your life?”
“Doubtful,” Bennett drawled. “More like a miscalculated schedule of house maintenance.”
“I suppose I should thank you for saving my cousin. It is a damned good thing you were here with her.”
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t have been had you not shoved her at me earlier, but you’re welcome nonetheless.” He had to admit that saving her had been one thing, but getting a taste of her in his arms had been quite another. Miss Marrington was definitely proving to be rather tempting. He might not always toe the line, as it were, when it came to propriety and rules, but he knew better than to tangle with a chaste country miss.
It was then that Bennett noticed that Evelyn Marrington was surrounded by her entire family, her gaggle of sisters fretting and swooning.
“Well? What do you think of her? Of Evie?”
He thought she was a distraction—a tempting, delectable distraction. “Does it actually matter what I think of her?”
Ellis grinned. “No, I don’t suppose it does. Potterfield has spoken.”
“Indeed.” It seemed he was going to be up to his neck in one particular flame-haired beauty, at least for a few weeks.
…
Evie barely glimpsed Lord Somersby before her parents whisked her and her sisters back inside the ballroom. They were not about to risk another mishap of falling exteriors.
She was ready to retire for the evening, but her mother insisted she remain for at least three additional songs to assure people that she had come out of the balcony incident unscathed. Besides, according to her mother, the ordeal had brought attention to her, and with all those bachelors in attendance, Evie couldn’t waste the opportunity.
Why couldn’t they understand that she had a different course in mind for her life? She loved children, of course, but could not envision herself as a mother, much less a wife. And how was she to join the ranks of such writers as Mary Shelley, or Jane Austen, if she was prevented from pursuing her writing?
Evie wanted to be an author. Her mind swam with thoughts and insights on the condition of men, women, and society. Would a husband allow her to pursue her passion? Would a man like Somersby share his wife with—?
Dear heaven. Where did that thought come from? Likely from the fact that she could see the brooding earl all the way across the ballroom; he towered over the rest of the guests. Her cousin left Somersby and sauntered across to where she and her family gathered.
“May I have a word with you, Evie… Ah, Evelyn?” Ellis asked.
Her mother chortled; her tittering laugh grated on Evie’s nerves. Their matriarch shepherded the other Marrington girls away. “Time for refreshments, ladies.” She placed her closed fan on Ellis’s arm. “Do let us know, nephew, if we have celebrating to do.” She eyed Evie, then they were strolling across the ballroom to the refreshments table.
“What was that about?” Ellis asked once the rest of their family had left them.
“My mother has hopes for me, and she believes you are the resolution of those hopes, or at the very least that you’ve brought him here.”
Ellis looked as though he would choke.
“Do not worry,” Evie said. “She has convinced herself, on more than one occasion, that a suitor was interested.” She’d been handling her mother for quite some time and would do so again.
Ellis nodded knowingly. “Somersby is, as far as I know, a confirmed bachelor. Perhaps I should have told her as much.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. She accuses me of having my head in the clouds, but she’s the one with the ridiculous imaginings.”
Ellis chuckled.
“Now then, did we have more to discuss? Can you give me any more information on this ‘mission’ you need help with?”
“Not much,” Ellis said. “We need you to accompany us to London where you will be told all you need to know.”
Evie studied Ellis for a moment, taking in the crease between his brows and the pensive set of his shoulders. “I asked you earlier if it will be dangerous, but you shoved me off on Lord Somersby. Is that your way of telling me it shall be dangerous?”
“No, of course not. I would not put you in such a position.”
“Oh. Well, that’s a relief.” Nevertheless, she still felt the strangest little pang of disappointment. It wasn’t that she wanted to be in danger. It was merely that thus far in her life, nothing interesting had ever happened to her. “Ellis, how am I to decide with so little information?”
“You will just have to trust me.”
“And Lord Somersby.”
“Well, yes. You will have the most contact with him during this whole thing.”
“I am not certain what am I supposed to say to all this. A secret mission, no information beforehand, dealing with Lord Somersby…”
“You say yes.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Or at least say that you will think on it tonight. Give me your answer tomorrow. But we truly need you, Cousin.”
“Is Lord Somersby always so quick?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“When we were on the balcony,” she said. “He moved so fast, I hardly knew what was happening.”
Ellis coughed into his hand. “Yes. He is one of our most effective operatives.”
“So he is often put into dangerous situations?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But this particular situation is not dangerous?”
Ellis’s mouth moved in an attempt to form words, but no sound came out.
“Ellis?”
“You can trust Somersby to keep you safe should the need arise.”
“Hm.”
“Do you have additional questions?”
“Other than what I’d be doing, specifically?”
“Yes, other than that,” he said.
“No, I don’t suppose so.” All her questions seemed to be about Lord Somersby, and it would be entirely inappropriate to interrogate Ellis about his companion. She supposed Ellis might not even know him well. “I shall think on your offer this evening and let you know my answer tomorrow.”
Although she believed she had already decided. If nothing else, this little adventure could sto
ke her imagination and give her material for her writing. She refused to entertain the possibility that spending time with Lord Somersby was part of her reason for accepting the task. It wasn’t because of the way she’d felt when he’d pulled her into his arms.
Or was it?
It had felt incredibly intimate. Men didn’t embrace women they’d just met. A strict protocol was always observed, and yet Lord Somersby had disregarded it. To save her life, of course, but still. Another man might have merely pushed her out of the way.
Somersby was obviously not a conventional man. Evie caught sight of him returning to the drawing room ahead of Lord Fenwick, practically into the arms of Lady Dawson, the wife of Viscount Dawson, and a most annoying woman.
“If you’ll excuse me, Evie, I believe one of your neighbors is attempting to foist her daughter off on Somersby and your mother is about to fend her off with a chair. If I don’t rescue him soon, there may be blood.”
Evie found herself smiling at the notion of the large and powerful Lord Somersby being coerced into doing anything he did not want to do. “I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one night, Ellis. Pray, do not let any other untoward thing happen to your companion tonight.” She took advantage of her mother’s distraction with Lady Dawson and her daughter to sneak out of the ballroom.
She managed to get to the bedroom she was to share with her sister, and methodically readied herself for bed. She craved the silence of her own thoughts for the remainder of the evening, and not merely to consider the request Ellis had made.
Getting away from her family for a time on a reasonably safe adventure was more than tempting. She’d wanted to say yes immediately, regardless of what the assignment was.
The thought of escaping her mother’s aggressive husband hunting was incredibly tempting. And the presence of Lord Somersby was certainly no deterrent; though, Evie knew better than to allow her curiosity about him to dictate her decision. She wondered what was behind that brooding visage, what made him so serious. He didn’t seem quite as convinced that she would be able to assist them in their mission, which was really the deciding factor. Evie intended to prove to him, as well as herself, that she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to.
…
Ellis had assured Bennett that his impressions from the night before had more to do with their disruptive entrance than the realities of the Marrington family. Intruding upon a country house party at Lord Fenwick’s estate had not been part of Bennett’s plan. But when they’d first ridden up to Marrington House, they’d been sent thirty miles further west to find the entire family attending a ball at the local earl’s estate.
As he’d stood in the corridor dripping on the Fenwick’s rug, everyone in the drawing room had gone quiet, surreptitiously eyeing him. He might be taller and broader than most men, and one would think he’d have become accustomed to the stares and whispers of people who saw him for the first time. It seemed he never could escape their curious gazes, but he could take it. Unfortunately, his poor sister could not. She was only an inch shy of his height, and gangly as well. He’d learned a long time ago to avoid Society and their silly, superficial attitudes. They had cost him his sister.
Damnation. He wasn’t here to ruminate on the terrible slights Christy had suffered at Society’s hands. He had a job to do, and he really needed to obey orders this time. He couldn’t defy Potterfield’s command once more and still remain in the Brotherhood, even if the old man still seemed to dwell in the previous decade.
Last night Ellis had whisked Miss Marrington away to speak with her privately and then she’d disappeared. He really needed to speak to her at length, needed to see whether she was up to the task Potterfield expected him to accomplish.
She had backbone, he’d give her that, and perhaps a streak of adventurousness. She’d been shaken by the incident on the balcony, but she’d also been curious, looking up at the roof from where the huge piece of stone had fallen. Had her parents not whisked her away, he was certain she’d have stayed and asked questions about the incident.
Even so, the idea of substituting her for Victoria was ridiculous. He could not see how they would ever get away with it. Miss Marrington did not possess the sophistication of a London debutante, and certainly had none of the polish of Court. Her eyes were guileless, and her mouth…so plush and pink…was too quick to smile, to question, to fascinate.
All right, so she did resemble Victoria. Slightly. In stature only. Perhaps a bit in facial features, too, the way siblings might appear similar. But that flaming red hair was impossible. It made him think absurd thoughts, like how it would look spread about her on a silken pillow, whether it would feel as soft as it appeared, if the smooth wisps about her face would curl tightly around his fingers.
She’d been blessed with curves, too, and Bennett had awakened more than once during the night remembering the lush bounty he’d felt beneath the bodice of her gown when he’d pressed her against him on the balcony.
Good God. This mission was making him a simpleton.
He ordered his thoughts, straightened his waistcoat, and made his way downstairs in hopes of finding breakfast. It was early enough that the dining room should be relatively free of guests. The empty corridors gave him hope that he’d be able to break his fast in peace and quiet. The aroma of fresh cooked meats and bread led the way, indicating that even though it was an early hour, the staff was prepared for Fenwick’s guests to eat.
He had already opened the door when he heard the guests’ lively chatter. If he wanted a quiet breakfast, he was not going to find it here. And to make matters worse, women, all animatedly speaking over one another, surrounded the table.
This would never work, and he decided to say as much to Pennington as soon as possible. The Brotherhood couldn’t share a valuable national secret with even one of them. With any luck, Miss Marrington would refuse the assignment, and Bennett could come up with another plan for Pennington. Because in truth there was no reason for Miss Mannington to put herself out for a purpose that had not been explained to her.
“Come in, my lord,” a voice beckoned.
Every instinct in his body insisted he turn and flee the room, and he did exactly that just as Lady Fenwick arrived. “Lord Somersby! I see you are an early riser, too. Come in, come in!”
There was no turning back now, not when she threaded her arm through the crook in his elbow and pushed through to the breakfast room. Sadly, there was no legitimate excuse that would allow him to turn around, so he closed the door behind him.
The woman who had first called to him smiling broadly was Mrs. Marrington.
Bennett nodded and tried to ignore the staring eyes of the people around the table. Three of the Marrington daughters sat near their mother, and all four women watched his every step as he made his way across the dining room.
The heat from their stares burned into his back as he stood at the sidebar and loaded his plate. He had not felt such attention since his father died and he’d assumed the Earldom. He’d been arrogant and foolhardy back then and enjoyed the attention from the eligible maidens and their mothers. Then he’d met Gwyneth and learned how truly deceptive they could be.
He took more time than was necessary selecting foods for his plate, knowing full well he would not eat everything.
“As I was saying, I still think that if our monarch was a man, none of this would have happened,” Mrs. Marrington finally said.
Bennett was nearly ready to take his seat, but the words stopped him.
“She is young and inexperienced, but we should give her a chance, she is our queen,” Miss Marrington’s sister said.
He could not stand here any longer without drawing undue attention to himself, so he turned and took his place at the far end of the table.
“What are your thoughts on our new queen, Lord Somersby? She is awfully young to be weighted with such important duties,” Mrs. Marrington said. “And unmarried at that.” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
> “Indeed she is.” He smeared butter on a chunk of bread. “But she was raised knowing she would be queen and therefore has had time to prepare,” he said.
“Have you met her?” one of the Marrington girls asked, this one delicate and fair.
“She is my cousin,” he said simply.
The girl’s eyes widened and he looked down at his breakfast. That should end the gossip about Victoria, at least while he was in the room.
“What brings you to Essex?” Mrs. Marrington asked.
“A travel companion to your nephew. Nothing more.”
“It is lovely countryside, I do hope you’ll have time to explore,” she said.
“Unfortunately, we’re leaving today.” He did his best to be polite, but beneath the scrutiny of the Marrington women, he was losing his patience. None of them looked at his face, but rather seemed entirely enthralled by the breadth of his shoulders and the volume of food on his plate—all except for Evelyn. Her flaming wild hair was pulled back in some sort of modest confection, but curls still teased her cheeks. She did not look at him at all.
Mrs. Marrington clicked her tongue. “Perhaps another visit then. It is really quite lovely. I’m certain one of my daughters could show the two of you around.”
“Leave the man alone, Eleanor.” It was Sir Marrington, who quickly shuttered his annoyed expression and went to the sideboard for his breakfast.
Bennett nodded to him, but the man was not allowed to take his plate in peace.
“I was merely being hospitable,” Mrs. Marrington said. “It is quite unfortunate to be in a new part of the country and not have a guide to show one around.”
The door opened and two more Marrington daughters entered with Ellis. Well, they were a family of early risers.
“Uncle, might I have a word?” Ellis asked.
“Indeed.” He set his plate back on the sideboard, then followed the younger man, leaving Bennett in the dining room with only the Marrington women for company. This was the second time he had done this in two days. Bennett would box Ellis’s ears for this later.
