Sari Robins

by When Seducing a Spy

  “I’m still working on Searles and Jacobs. And then there’s the Hogsworth matter.” She didn’t bother to mention her work at Andersen Hall since Wheaton clearly disapproved of her good works.

  “Put everything off. This is more important. The countess takes full priority.”

  “As you wish.” Tess rose, anxious to be free of Wheaton. She didn’t mind the work, felt good about aiding her country, was proud of her efforts and her independence. Yet she wished that she could collaborate with people a little less…zealous, as Wheaton put it. Then again, a wilting lily would make a dreadful spy.

  “I’ll report to you next week, sir.”

  Wheaton stood. “Report to Reynolds.”

  Tess ignored the drop in her belly. “Not to you?”

  “No.”

  “Is this…is this a permanent arrangement?”

  His smile was noncommittal. “Nothing’s permanent in our game, except for the fact that our enemies are dogged and so are we.”

  Nodding, Tess absorbed this new twist. She of all people knew that if a situation had the opportunity to worsen, it would.

  “He prefers a report every third day.”

  She straightened. “Every third day? Even if there’s nothing to report?”

  “That’s what he’s asked for.”

  “What a waste of time! I can do more good gathering information than making arrangements for clandestine meetings with him.” Pulling on her gloves, she shook her head. “No. I’ll contact him as soon as I have some intelligence to share.”

  “He will not like it.”

  “Then I’ll report to you.”

  He tilted his head. “I’ll be traveling a bit.”

  “But you will be back in London.”

  “Off and on, perhaps. But I still want you to report to Reynolds. He’s asked for more responsibility, and I want to see him rise to the occasion.”

  “You think he has the necessary skills?” She was unable to keep the doubt from her voice. Reynolds was a muscle man, not a tactician, and she couldn’t believe that Wheaton couldn’t see that.

  He smiled. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  Chapter 5

  “Good day, Joe.” Heath stepped into Tipton’s tavern and nodded to the barkeep. “How’re you faring?”

  Joe, a bald, wizened chap with a lame leg and a sharp eye, shook his head. “Better than yesterday. The damp’s a killa on the ol’ leg.”

  Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, Heath removed his hat. “Then it’s your good luck that it looks like we’re in for a spot of sun.”

  Spitting into a glass and wiping it with a gray cloth, Joe grinned, showing some vacancies for teeth. “An’ none too soon.” He jerked his head to the left. “Bills is in his usual spot. I’ll ’ave Ursula bring yer beer.”

  “Thanks.” Heath headed toward his old friend.

  William Lawson Smith, know to his chums as “Bills,” had been Heath’s best friend since they were green-heads joining Middle Temple in the hopes of being called to the bar. While earning their education at the Inns of Court, Heath had done everything to be inconspicuous, and his academics the only thing noteworthy. Bills had done exactly the opposite. He’d been a loud, cocky bugger, and as was his habit still today, had dressed like the most foppish dandy in London. Heath had tried to avoid the brassy chap at first, but ultimately he couldn’t resist Bills’s zest for life, that and his astoundingly astute political mind. The man was always one step ahead of the next chap and glad to take his friends along with him. He’d kept Heath safe while navigating the invisible strata at the Inns of Court, and had helped him land his first legal position. He’d also guided Heath in obtaining his current post, for which Heath would be eternally grateful.

  For all his political skills, Bills wasn’t particularly ambitious and had refused many coveted positions. He preferred the softer life, he’d say, answering to no one but himself and his clients. So he’d set up shop with a few other fellows and was content breezing by.

  Today Bills’s King’s yellow coat and pea green waistcoat were in marked contrast to the muddy walls and brown tables of Tipton’s tavern, his favorite haunt.

  As he closed his broadsheet with a crackle of paper, Bills’s smooth lips split into a wide, white smile. “Heath, old boy. So glad you could join me.” As was his style, he wore his blond hair slicked back with pomade and his whiskers thick but short beneath his cheekbones. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “Can you smell Winifred’s mutton? You’re in for a treat.”

  Just over the scent of beer, the air smelled enticingly of roasting fat, meat, and potatoes.

  Grabbing the opposite chair, Heath sat. “Why else do you think I’m here?”

  The barmaid, Ursula, ambled over, flashing a saucy grin. “How are ya, Mr. Bartlett? It’s been a while.” She slapped a tankard down before Heath, froth dripping in rivulets down the glass and splashing onto the table. She was a pretty thing, well rounded, with buxom breasts and a plump end, and she stood close enough to Heath to give him an eyeful of her offerings.

  From the bar, Joe called, “Yer ma needs ya in the kitchen, Ursula!”

  Not bothering to turn, she yelled. “Leave me be, ol’ man!”

  Joe kept an eagle eye on his daughter, not that it did either of them much good; nothing seemed to lessen Ursula’s appetite for men, and her father’s nagging was a splinter in their already fractious relationship.

  Heath busied himself removing his gloves and setting them with his hat on the bench. “Thanks.”

  She leaned forward, so that her loose blouse gaped open providing an ample view of curvy white flesh. “Stayin’ long?”

  “Ursula!” the barman warned, laying his palms on the bar.

  “He’s no longer in the market, Urs,” Bills supplied, sipping from his beer. “The poor sod only has eyes for Miss Penelope Whilom.” Pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, he sighed. “Oh, Penelope, Penelope, wherefore art thou, my Penelope.”

  “Lemme know if ya change yer mind.” Shrugging, Ursula turned and walked toward the kitchen. “See ol’ man. I wasn’t doing anythin’.”

  Heath sipped his beer; it was earthy and warm, just as he liked it. “How are you, Bills?”

  Bills’s pale gray eyes were stormy. “Devil’s to pay.”

  “So your mother’s in town.”

  “Along with her blasted sisters. They’re worse than the witches of Macbeth.”

  “You’re hiding out where you know they’ll never dare to tread.”

  “What else am I to do? Listen to their constant harping? ‘She’s a lovely girl,’ ‘good breeding in that family,’ ‘her uncle’s a member at Serjeants’ Inn,’ and so on. It’s like a pig-squealing contest, but I don’t get to eat the swine.”

  As if on cue, Winifred, a woman who looked like her daughter but wore her years in the many lines on her face and the hunch on her back, brought over two bowls of mutton stew and set them on the table with a loaf of bread.

  Bills gave his most dazzling smile. “Thank you, my dearest Winifred. With just a hint of the aroma of your fine fare you could bring me back from the dead. Swear to me you’ll bring a bowl to my funeral and I’ll hop right out of that coffin and give you a kiss.”

  “I’ll be dead long before you, and mutton’s the last thing I’ll want ta be smellin’.” Though she scowled, her dark eyes glowed warmly as she cleaned a few crumbs from the table with the cup of her hand. “Eat up, now.” She took her leave.

  They ate a few moments in silence. Heath liked the hot stew, although he found the meat a bit chewy.

  Bills wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “So what’s bothering you?”

  Heath smiled; his friend knew him well. “A ticklish issue, one that cannot enter public discourse.”

  “Duly noted. I shan’t tell a soul.”

  “George Belington claims to have been swindled.”

  “The man’s a gambler, he gets what he deserves. Besides, why should the Office o
f the Crown care?”

  “Because he’s Lady Bright’s dear cousin.”

  Bills leaned back, clapping his hands together. “I love it! A hero in the making!”

  “Don’t start blasting the horns just yet. I need to build a case against the alleged culprit—”

  “Gamblers are all cheats, it shouldn’t be that hard. Besides, he’s a swell, and most of the fellas he probably deals with are far from innocents.”

  “I’m astounded at your cynicism. The legal process can only work if each person is judged on the merit of his actions as it bears on the particular crime. Otherwise we’ll have the good men, the bad men, and a sliding scale of depravity, judged by whom?”

  Bills sniffed. “You, my dear friend, would fare appallingly well in such a system. I can’t recall the last time you bedded a wench or got foxed with me. Where’s your sense of morality, man?”

  “I suppose I left it at Lord and Lady Bright’s.”

  “Come on, admit you miss it.”

  Heath smiled. “I do. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not ready to be more serious—”

  “Heaven forbid!”

  “I want respectability–—”

  Bills covered his ears. “Pray, say no more!”

  “A family–—”

  “A death sentence!”

  “Just because some of us are ready to marry doesn’t mean you have to be such a naysayer, Bills.”

  Bills wagged a finger. “You’ll be sorry, my friend. You have a rosy image of marital life but all you’ll get is a life sentence with Macbeth’s witches in the form of Lady Bright!”

  “Don’t start picking on them again.” Heath frowned. Bills didn’t hold his sharp tongue from any topic. Yes, Heath recognized their shortcomings. Lord Bright was a bit of a boozer, Lady Bright had her self-absorption and dramatics, but that didn’t mean he wanted those flaws aired. Heath knew the damage wagging tongues could cause from his experiences with his own father.

  Bills sipped from his drink. “I still can’t believe how you allow that dragon lady to use the engagement like some sort of leading string.”

  “As I told you before, it’s barely six months since Lady Bright’s mother died. Propriety calls for us to wait to announce it.” He wasn’t about to admit that Lady Bright was using the investigation as yet another hurdle.

  “But public or not, is the engagement official?”

  Heath gritted his teeth. “Will you help me figure out my problem or not?”

  Bills’s gaze was assessing as he sipped his drink. “Leading you again, is she?”

  “Bills,” Heath warned.

  Burping loudly, Bills waved a hand. “Of course I’ll help you. Tell me the obstacle in your grand quest to capture the fair maiden’s dragon lady of a mother’s heart.”

  “The alleged culprit has been inaccessible to me.”

  “Inaccessible how?”

  “Well, my first issue is that I cannot make the suspect aware of the investigation.”

  “The Beaumont affair has your hands tied in a knot, I’d say, and with good reason. So it’s a tacit inquiry and you need to approach your target unseen.”

  “Yes. Dagwood insists upon it. He does not want any possibility of a scandal or any possibility of a suit for harassment.”

  “Very prudent of him. But then, again, Dagwood is no fool.”

  “Hardly. He wants me to be discreet, and not have the suspect know that she is being investigated.”

  “She? Now it’s getting interesting.” Rubbing his chin, Bills smiled. “And why has she been inaccessible to you? Is she married?”

  “No.”

  “Are you afraid she’ll think you’re interested?”

  Heath snorted. “Not in a thousand years.”

  “Why? Is she a hag?”

  Picturing Tess’s crimson curls, her milky white skin, and those eyes that flashed blue fire, Heath shook his head. “That’s not the problem.”

  Wagging his brows, Bills grinned. “Oh, a dazzler eh? Now I’m really intrigued! So what’s the trouble? An overzealous guardian?”

  “Nay, she’s a widow. An independent lady in her own right.”

  “Ugh. I can’t stomach those ‘I’ll stand on my own’ ladies. They have no respect for the roles our Heavenly Father delineated for male and female in the Good Book.”

  Heath chuckled. “I must have missed that passage.”

  “But if she’s independent, without a man standing in your way, why can’t you see her?”

  “I’m hindered because she spends every waking moment at the Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females.”

  “Blast the woman! How dare she associate with her own kind! The nerve!”

  “She’s been selected as the new membership chair. So she’s in charge of events, screening, and all things related to the new member applicants. To my great irritation, she takes the role exceedingly seriously. She’s there day and night.”

  “Have you attempted to call upon her at the society?”

  “Under what pretext?”

  Bills made a face. “I see your point. ‘Ah, hello, I’m here because I’m interested in getting educated in the arts of knitting and gossip.’”

  “I thought about trying to use our history as a reason for a connection—”

  Leaning forward, Bills interrupted, “History?”

  “My father was once her family’s tutor.”

  “Let me guess. It ended badly with your father being sacked.”

  Heath looked away. “Yes.”

  “I swear I don’t know how your father keeps getting new positions.”

  “I do. A lot of charm and a golden reference from the Duchess of Medford.”

  “But doesn’t she know about his antics?”

  “Of course, and she considers them amusing. She’s very indulgent where my father’s concerned.”

  Bills shook his head. “So why not use the past connection with…who are you investigating?”

  “Lady Golding.”

  Bills’s whistled, and his brows lifted almost to his hairline. “No wonder you need to be circumspect.”

  Heath shifted in his seat. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” Still, Tess had managed to marry Lord Golding, the cheating knave, and there was that terrible scandal surrounding Lord Berber. Heath wondered what the truth of it might be. And now Tess was being accused of theft. So perhaps she had changed from the good-natured girl he’d known? Stranger things had been known to happen.

  Still, he was disappointed. She’d been so sweet, a bit timid, perhaps, but always kind to him when others had been less than pleasant to the tutor’s son.

  Shaking off the memories, Heath continued, “But as I was saying, I ran into her recently and she wasn’t especially friendly. I don’t believe that I can play upon our prior acquaintance. And Lady Bright wants results, as does Dagwood. Some serious political coin weighs in the balance, not to mention my prospects as Penelope’s future intended.”

  Squinting his gray eyes, Bills tapped a finger against his mouth as he always did when thinking.

  Heath waited, knowing that his friend never disappointed. Bills’s ability to maneuver around people or issues was legendary, which was why, despite a dislike of work, he did astonishingly well in his legal practice.

  Bills licked his chops. “I was just thinking, I would love to be a fly on the wall in that society.”

  “Why?”

  “What is ‘female enrichment’ anyway? If not stuff about our superior gender?”

  “You believe that the society members spend their time discussing men?”

  “What else do they have to interest them?”

  “A little self-centered of you, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t forget, I grew up with the likes of Macbeth’s witches. Still, I’m sure there must be something interesting to the place, if not the possibility of being the only bull in the running.”

  Heath straightened. “What are you saying?”

  �
�I’m saying I’m astoundingly brilliant and I have exactly the means for you to achieve all of your goals and then some.”

  An uncomfortable feeling began to grow in Heath’s gut. “How?”

  “You make application for membership to the Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females.”

  “Have you gone round the bend? That’s the crankiest idea I’ve heard since you ran off with Sir Arthur’s prized grays!”

  Bills grinned. “What a grand day that was! But this idea is far better.”

  “How the blazes so?”

  “You want to get close to the lady who has no choice but to spend an inordinate amount of time with the applicants for membership. This will force her to do so, and she can’t do a thing about it.”

  “You forget one very pertinent point—I’m not female.”

  “I find it hard to believe that the society has any particular rule in that regard.”

  “Because no one would think it necessary!”

  “A fact in our favor.”

  Heath ran his hand through his hair, appalled at Bills’s suggestion. “I can’t believe that you would even propose such a course. Here I am seeking advice and you offer the one answer that would ruin everything for me.”

  “How?”

  “Lord and Lady Bright would be horrified.”

  “Not if they think you are moving heaven and earth to help them. Nobility like nothing more than someone who will go the extra mile for them. Mark my words, they’ll be delighted.”

  “My reputation—”

  “Will be enhanced. We’ll put out the story that you undertook the challenge on a bet. You’ll be the most popular gent in town. The man who had the guts to enter a sacred domain closed to his sex. Every man will want to know what you learned, every woman your own secrets. It’s bloody brilliant, if I do say so myself.”