by Diana Quincy
“Your two countries appear determined to stand against us.”
“Discussing politics, are you?” Cosmo strode into the room, bringing a restless energy with him. “I vow you are full of surprises, Miss Lamarre.”
“Actually, we are discussing chess,” she said, irritated by the excitement that arrowed through her at the sight of him. By her own design, she’d seen Cosmo briefly, only in passing, since the night he’d been drunk. He dropped his oversized frame into a comfortable chair by the fire. “What a relief. I thought you were attempting to squeeze government secrets out of Aldridge.” The ironic words held an uncharacteristically sharp edge.
“Stuff and nonsense.” Aldridge kept his eyes on the board. “As you know, Miss Lamarre and I share an interest in chess.”
Cosmo crossed one expansive thigh over the other, his dark gaze intent on her. “I’m curious, Miss Lamarre. What are your other interests? We know so little about you.”
Awareness prickled at the back of her neck. “I am an aeronaut,” she said with deliberate blandness. “That occupies all of my time.”
“All? Surely there are other pursuits to fill the hours when you are not tempting fate.”
She didn’t quite know what to make of this curious mood of his. “I read occasionally, but, with the exception of chess, I do not care for playing games.”
“Hm. You strike me as someone who enjoys games.”
“I don’t have a great deal of time for leisurely pursuits because I must work to help support my mother and sisters in France,” she said. “That concept is no doubt a difficult one for you to grasp.”
“Not at all. I am not completely ignorant of the working class. We do have servants, after all.” He tilted that head of luxurious dark waves. “And the serving wenches in the village obviously work to earn some coin.”
“Yes, forgive me,” she said tartly. “I had not properly considered your involvement with the lower orders.”
“Stop distracting her, Cosmo,” Aldridge said with some irritation. “Your move, Miss Lamarre.”
“A thousand pardons,” Cosmo said. “Far be it from me to divert Miss Lamarre from her pursuits.”
A sudden rustle of activity was audible in the hallway; the front door pulled open and shut, followed by the sounds of men talking. One voice she easily recognized as the butler, but she couldn’t immediately place the other.
Exuding supreme satisfaction, Cosmo came to his feet. “There is our guest now.”
“Do bring him in to take tea with us.” Aldridge turned to Mari. “An old friend of Cosmo’s is visiting for a day or two.”
“Why don’t you and Miss Lamarre finish your game?” Cosmo’s eyes glittered. “Our guest would no doubt like to rest from his long journey. We can all convene at supper.” He sauntered out, all large, loose-limbed confidence. The click of his heels faded away as the muffled sounds of his greeting his friend carried into the study.
Aldridge turned his attention back to the board. “Perhaps now we can finish our game.”
“Yes,” Mari said, privately cursing Cosmo for carrying her ability to concentrate out the door with him, right along with that mountain of cocky arrogance.
“Miss Lamarre,” Cosmo intoned, watching her intently, “allow me to present Mr. Will Naismith.”
A momentary flicker of suspicion crossed the smooth angles of Mari’s face. She wiped it away in an instant, leaving a cool courteous expression. “Enchantée, Monsieur Naismith.”
She’d come upon them fencing in the gallery, where the long corridor provided ample space for vigorous exercise when poor weather prohibited outdoor pursuits. Will had suggested the bout and Cosmo had welcomed the opportunity to burn off the excess energy that had kept him on edge these past few days. He hated himself for still being drawn to Mari, for grabbing every opportunity to bask in her company, even after he’d caught her interloping in Aldridge’s study. Every indication pointed to her being his enemy, and a very dangerous one at that.
Will bowed, breathless, red slashing across his pale, freckled complexion as a result of his exertions. “Miss Lamarre, Dunsmore has told me much about you.”
She inclined her head. “Indeed?”
“I must confess, I have never met an aeronaut.” He ran a hand back over his head, smoothing damp, copper-colored locks. “Certainly never one of the female species.”
“Finished playing your game with Aldridge, Miss Lamarre?” Cosmo asked.
Her mercurial eyes took on the color of whiskey. “The marquess was fatigued and decided to retire until the evening meal.”
“You wearing a man out?” Cosmo said with a lightness he didn’t feel. “Imagine that.”
She ignored the provocation. Brushing away a loose tendril of dark hair, she said, “Monsieur Naismith, Dunsmore says you’re down from London. I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
“Well enough, thank you. I’m afraid we got caught in the elements for the last leg of our travels.”
“Will here works for the Home Office,” Cosmo said, watching for her reaction.
“Is that so?” Her facial expression didn’t change, not even a flicker. “It must be very interesting work.”
“At times,” Will said politely.
“I would guess you run into all sorts of interesting characters,” Cosmo said.
“Some yes; others are quite boring, I’m afraid.” Will offered a slight smile. “Such is the life of a bureaucrat.”
“Do excuse me,” Mari said. “I will leave the two of you to take your exercise.”
She turned and strode away, her gait sure and confident, her posture erect, the skirt of her simple white day gown smoothing over slim hips and flapping at her ankles.
“She’s a diamond of the first water,” Will said once she’d moved out of earshot.
Jealousy, dark and sudden, seared his gut at Will’s appreciation of Mari’s appeal. “I suppose so.”
Will’s pale hazel eyes fixed on him. “Have you docked her yet?”
Cosmo bristled. “Considering I suspect she’s a French spy out to compromise England and my father, prigging her should be the last thing on my mind.”
“She looks like she’d be fire in bed.” Will put his foil down and reached for his spectacles. “Surely, you’ve been tempted.”
“I’m always tempted, as you well know.” Discomfort surged in him at the idea of discussing Mari in sexual terms with anyone, as though she were a common wench. In the same breath, he cursed himself for having any tender feelings toward her at all. She was, in all likelihood, a spy, and only a fool would forget it. “What do you think of her?”
Will emitted a short laugh. “I can’t determine if someone is a spy just by looking at them. If I could, we’d all have to give the game up, wouldn’t we?”
Will was a mid-level clerk who pushed papers around for most of the day. Yet, despite his friend’s unassuming appearance—a slender form and modest height—Cosmo never underestimated Will, on account of his sharp mind. He had little doubt the man would rise rapidly through the ranks. “I realize you might not be in the thick of the spy business,” he said, “but I hoped you would, at least, know who to take this to.”
“I might.” Will drew on his spectacles, carefully wrapping the ends around the curve of each ear. “What do you know about her?”
Cosmo recounted what he’d learned from the moment Mari landed at Langtry up through her recent middle-of-the-night forays to search the house.
Will’s eyes widened. “You’ve watched her search several rooms and she hasn’t detected your presence?”
“This house is full of secret passageways that even an accomplished agent would have difficulty discovering.”
Will crossed his arms, the look in his eyes lost behind the glare off the lenses of his spectacles. “Do you believe your father is keeping information of importance here?”
“Of course not. That is why I am allowing her to search to her heart’s content. I’m convinced there is nothing t
o find. You know the old man. He is honest, honorable, and conscientious to a fault.”
“Right.” Will straightened up. “I think it best if I leave in the morning. I’ll ride straight through. Once I arrive in the capital, I shall immediately relay what we’ve discussed to my superiors.”
Cosmo’s small measure of relief mingled with anxiety. What would become of Mari if she were arrested in England and branded a French spy? His chest ached at the thought. “Will they know if she is working for Boney?”
“I’ve no idea.” Will pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “I’m not exactly privy to the inner workings of England’s spy network.”
Cosmo contemplated his friend for a moment. “If she is an agent, this discovery could elevate your position within the Home Office.”
Will’s pale eyes shone with anticipation. “Identifying and stopping a French spy would not adversely affect my career.”
Tensioned tightened across the back of Cosmo’s shoulders. “What will happen to the girl?”
“Mademoiselle Lamarre?” The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “I shouldn’t concern myself with that, if I were you. If she is an agent, she’ll know how to look after herself.”
Chapter Seven
Mari took a deep breath and slipped into Aldridge’s private chambers. She’d left the marquess taking after-supper port and cigars with Cosmo and his guest. The marquess’s valet had the night off, so she’d seized the chance to explore this last bastion of the house, an opportunity which had eluded her until now.
She entered a dimly lit chamber decorated in aubergine velvet. Heavy curtains smothered any possible light from the windows, and a large four-poster bed dominated the space. Orderly, clean, and devoid of many personal items, the chamber felt more like a guest room than a place in which someone lived.
The faint smell of illness tinged the air. That Aldridge’s chamber would hold the scent of a sickroom made sadness pull at her chest. Moving to the dresser, she surveyed its contents. Several bottles of medicine stood on top of it. If Aldridge needed it all, he was far more ill than he liked to let on.
Moving with methodical intent, she completed her search of the bed chamber before crossing over to the marquess’s dressing room.
Something about the air changed. Mari paused; her scalp tingled. Instinct told her that someone was watching her at this moment. She’d felt the strange sensation before, when she’d searched other parts of the manor, but there had never been anyone else in the room. She’d made certain of it. And there was no one else here now. It unnerved her that her usually excellent instincts seemed to be failing her of late. Shaking off the feeling, she concentrated on the dressing room.
Here, the scent of Aldridge lingered: the bergamot shaving soap, the freshness of pressed clothes. She moved through the stacks, careful to leave the folded cravats looking undisturbed. Valets were notoriously fastidious when it came to gentlemen’s neck scarves and would notice any insult to them.
“Find anything of interest?”
Her heart froze. Turning, she found Cosmo standing on the threshold of the dressing chamber, his enormous frame blocking the light from the chamber behind him.
The air dragged cold and heavy in her lungs. How had he gotten in here? “Not really,” she said coolly, lifting her chin.
He uttered a surprised laugh. “I’ve caught you red-handed going through my father’s things. Are you really going to turn all French and haughty on me?”
Slowing her breathing, she calmed herself. She’d planned for such a situation. A professional must always be prepared. “What are you going to do?”
He clicked his tongue. “I’ll ask the questions here. What are you looking for?”
“Anything of value.”
Leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, he crossed sizeable arms over the generous breadth of his chest. “Such as?”
“I’m a simple girl in need of blunt.” She gestured around the room. “I look for anything of value I can pinch. One of your father’s cravat pins could put food on my family’s table for months.”
His stance was deceptively relaxed, yet his dark eyes took in her every move. “So you’re out to steal some jewels, are you?”
“Oui.”
“You’re lying,” he said sharply. “Try again. The truth this time.”
“That is the truth. What are you going to do with me?” She loosened her stance, pushed her chest out a bit. The dress she’d worn to dinner showed her breasts to their full advantage. Normally, she found their voluptuousness to be annoying, but at the moment, they had their uses.
His forehead shot up. “That’s the way of it, then? You expect to fuck your way out of this.”
Nervous energy rocketed through her. “It seems a distinct possibility.”
Desire darkened his inky eyes. His gaze swept over her bare shoulders to the upper swells of her breasts. “You think I would stoop to extortion to get my hands on those delightful diddies of yours?”
She gave an exaggerated shrug, knowing the movement would cause the soft flesh to quiver. “We’ve wanted each other from the first. If I did not find you desirable, I would not offer myself.”
She could see he believed her. The prodigious bulge in the front of his breeches told her he was not indifferent to her proposal. Her mind raced through her options. When he got close enough, she could use her knife on him, but then the mission would be lost, likely inflicting immeasurable damage not only on her family, but on countless others.
He advanced on her, the sharp angles of his face cloaked in darkness. “Perhaps I should take a taste of what you offer before making a final decision.”
Mari forced her muscles to relax. She could bed him. Many factors—male and female—slid between the bedclothes when the mission called for it. Mari never had. She’d never even considered it before, but it would be no hardship with Cosmo.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her to him in a none-too-gentle motion. She came up against his tense body; the arousal pressing into her belly made his intent clear. The clean cedar scent of his skin mingled with notes of cheroots and port. His lips lingered at the tender outer curve of her ear, his breath warm and humid. “I’m curious to know how far you would go with this charade.”
“I desire you.” Heat suffused her skin. “It is no charade.”
“Is that so?” Tightening his arms around her, his voice turned icy. “If I demand it, will you get down on your knees right here and let me shove my cock into your mouth?”
Stiffening, she said, “Perhaps,” and felt his hard, unyielding body go tense against hers.
“And then I shall flip you over and bare that sweet little arse of yours.” The words were devoid of emotion. “I’ll take you in the most unnatural manner, which only the lowest of whores tolerate.” Revulsion filled her, a dark and bilious thing. This, then, was the true Cosmo Dunsmore, a man who enjoyed being cruel to women, who dominated and humiliated them during the most private of acts.
When his lips came down on hers, she didn’t flinch or back away. His tongue demanded entry into her mouth; he tasted of berries and the lingering tang of wine. The kiss—unforgiving and absent of tenderness—asked a question with its demands. She answered aggressively, tangling her tongue with his. The other response, however, was in the hand that snaked down her side. She cinched up her skirt until her fingers found the cool, sharp blade of the dagger strapped to her thigh.
She slipped it out, moving with the alacrity and skill that years of experience had honed. In order to best such a large man, the element of surprise had to be on her side. She aimed for his soft underbelly, although in truth there was little softness to be found in the broad planes of his stomach. She pricked his skin, intent on pushing the blade all the way in, but he twisted away in a lightning-fast motion, his hand darting out to grab hers.
“Ah non!” she cried, uttering a string of French curses as he forced the blade from her hand. She watched helplessly as it hit the ca
rpeted floor with a quiet thud. Her heart pounding, she fought furiously, jerking her head in an attempt to break his nose.
“Hold still.” He caged her against his body, trapping her arms at her sides by wrapping iron arms tight around her. “Settle down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He slumped into a soft tufted chair in the dressing room, bringing her down sideways across his lap, his implacable arms forming a vise around her. “My angel.” He laughed, his mirth genuine. “You truly are a delight.”
“Cochon.” Mari let loose another string of epithets. “Let me go. Brute! You are disgusting.”
He laughed again, his eyes wrinkling with merriment; the warmth of his breath puffed across her bare shoulder. “Calm yourself. I’m not going to do you any injury.”
She glared at him. “I am not surprised abusing a helpless woman amuses you.”
“You, my dear,” he said, flashing a row of slightly crowded teeth, “are anything but helpless.”
“I fail to see why you are so much amused.”
He loosened his arms, but kept them pressed around her waist. “It would have been gravely disappointing if you had agreed to my outrageous proposals. But I wanted to see how far you would go.” He’d let her hands slip free, and she put one of them to good use by punching him hard in the shoulder. “Ouch!” He caught her fingers, bringing her hand to his mouth and pressing a soft, moist, beguiling kiss into her open palm. “Truce?”
Warmth sizzled up her arm. She looked away. “There is no peace with one such as you.” His lips moved to her shoulder, the roughness of his chin abrading her skin. She sighed, enjoying the scratchy sensation against her flesh.
“So tell me what your true business is, Angel.” He nipped the tender spot on her bare shoulder. “Now that we’ve ruled out thievery and whoredom.”
“I am an aeronaut.”
“Mm. Not a good answer.” He nipped a little harder, then tended the spot with the tip of his tongue. “I won’t let you hurt him, you know.”
She shivered at the sensuous feel of his tongue against her sensitive skin. “Who?”
