has his own story in “My Earl, the Spy.” Read the prologue now….
My Earl the Spy
Prologue
Dorset 1806
Henry, Earl of Grinstead leaned against the wall. He must be getting old; the operation had nearly come unstuck. If the raid had gone wrong, the lives of his men could have been lost. A year ago that thought would not have affected him, but tonight ̶ tonight he went cold at the different scenarios that could have happened. It was more good luck than good judgement that had saved the day. He let out a long breath; not for the first time, the thought flickered into his mind that he wanted a change.
Millicent Holland, cousin of Baron Glazebrook and chaperone of Miss Baker, respectively, stormed around the edge of the building where Henry had sought a moment’s refuge from the scene of arrests and uproar that was currently taking place on the estate of Baron Glazebrook.
Milly came to a halt before Henry and put her hands on her hips. She blazed with anger; Henry would wonder later if he had actually seen flames flaring at him from her eyes.
“You nearly got them killed!” Milly hissed at Henry. Those who knew her would be astounded if they heard Milly’s tone, or the fact that she was berating the great Lord Grinstead. His position in society, handsome features and confident air would have been enough to silence most people if disagreeing with him. But Milly was not afraid of the man standing before her; oh, he was older than she and had far more influence and power; even more than she had guessed, if the evening’s events were anything to go by, but it did not matter; his actions had threatened her family.
“But I didn’t,” Henry responded, easily falling back into his normal devil-may-care slightly cold attitude.
“That was because of Charles’s actions to save his sister; you didn’t give a fig about what could have happened to them!”
“So, the young Baron is a hero in everyone’s eyes and can live on his brave deed for the rest of his days. I’m surprised he’s not shaking my hand in thanks,” came the derisive response.
Henry must have been more bone tired than he thought because he did not see the slap coming. His head whipped to the side with the force of Milly’s hand striking him across the face. She might be slightly built, but a strike fuelled by anger hit its mark well.
“Don’t you dare speak so carelessly about my cousins!” Milly hissed. She had never hated anyone in her life; in fact, she took pride in the knowledge that she could face most things with calmness. Tonight’s events had stretched her to the limit, and only one person was responsible for it in her eyes.
Henry tenderly touched the outside of his cheek; he could taste blood on his tongue. “Most people would be dead after delivering a blow like that,” he said quietly.
“That doesn’t surprise me! You’re obviously easy with anyone’s life except your own. Let’s just say that it’s a warning from me to you to stay away from my family,” Milly ground out. She had the overwhelming urge to continue slapping him until she saw something other than coldness in his hazel eyes.
“Anyone who mixes with smugglers and thieves will always be fair game, Miss Holland.” Henry had to admire the spinster, despite wishing her a million miles away; not many would stand up to him the way she was doing.
“It just proves what sort of a man you are if you go about risking lives so carelessly. Looking after the country’s safety includes considering all the people who live here not just the higher members of society!”
Henry paused for a moment; she was right. He had become so focused on Joshua Shambles that he had forgotten what was at risk; people could have died, and Joshua had escaped capture anyway. What was worse, the scoundrel now knew that Henry was on his trail. He looked at Milly standing before him, glaring at him with the same disgust and contempt that had started to creep into his own expressions when gazing at his reflection. He had started to avoid mirrors to try and block out the feelings that he needed to keep constrained if he was to be effective.
Henry gritted his teeth; he was being a sentimental fool; of course, lives would be put at risk. They were at war with a man who, for the greater part, seemed unstoppable; who the hell did she think she was questioning him? “You have no idea what you are talking about. Go back to your drawing books, Miss Holland and leave the professionals to keep you safe.” His tone was bored and dismissive.
Milly sneered at Henry. “If my safety is dependent on the likes of you, thank goodness I can handle myself. I dread to think what would happen if you were faced with real criminals; you couldn’t even arrest a bunch of smugglers without their ringleader escaping!”
Milly had hit Henry’s pride, shame and guilty conscience in two sentences, and he reacted badly. He took hold of Milly by the tops of her arms and dragged her closer to him. Lowering his face so that their faces were inches apart, gritting his teeth, he almost spat the words out. “You protect yourself? Ha! That’s a joke indeed! You while the hours away drawing or playing some inane instrument while, yes, I do try and protect the likes of you! From the look of you, you’ve never seen an angry man in your life! Tell me this: what would you do if faced by the men your family has seen tonight? Would you stab them with a pencil? What about the man that had his throat slit so badly that he could no longer speak but could still fight off half a dozen excise men? I’d bring him to you only he blew himself apart rather than face capture. I would have loved to see you stand up to him. These men are not the fops that frequented the ballrooms when you were in your youth; don’t confuse the two.”
Henry did not wait for a response from Milly. Some madness had stirred him, and he pressed his mouth roughly against hers, and he kissed her like no gentleman should ever kiss a genteel lady. He possessed her, dragging her into an embrace, pulling her roughly against his hard body.
Milly was tall but slightly built. It felt as if she had been enveloped by a strong beast, but with such passion that it literally took her breath away. She had been kissed before, but no in the manner she was being kissed now. Instead of pushing him away, she used her hands to grab his hair and keep his head bent to hers. The growl the movement caused sent the nerve ends through her body jumping to life.
All too soon, Henry pushed Milly away, not as roughly as he had grabbed her, but the movement forced her to step away from him; he still held her arms loosely, making her wonder if she was going to be pulled towards him again. “You can’t even fight off the advances of the likes of me! What use would you be against someone really intent on doing you serious harm?” he asked with derision.
Milly stiffened at Henry’s words. His words stung more than he could ever have hoped. Milly cursed her weakness as her eyes pooled with tears; she never cried; she had trained herself not to feel so much, but somehow his rejection reminded her of another time when she had not been good enough and, for some reason, it seemed to hurt even more this time, which was ridiculous.
Milly looked at Henry. Her eyes might betray her inner feelings, but she met his glare fully. “I think you have said quite enough, Lord Grinstead. I would be grateful if you could release me; I shall return to the house; I have, after all, drawings and such inane occupations that require my urgent attention.”
Henry released her without a word and stood leaning against the wall once more. He watched the young woman carefully. He had offended her; he had intended to do it, showing a side of him that he would never have shown in any respectable drawing room; only those who were closest to him knew of the block of ice that lived where his heart should have been. She had reacted violently once, but in reality he knew she would not react again; when making a hit, Henry always made sure he hit the target. She had not known what she had unleashed.
Milly straightened her spencer and pulled her skirt straight. Her movements were graceful. “Good evening, Lord Grinstead. I hope our paths never cross again.” She walked away from him with her head held high. He would not see the tears that would be shed during the night hours. She would never acknowledge openly how much
he had hurt her.
Henry ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He should follow her and beg her forgiveness; he had been a first class devil, and she had not deserved to be treated in such a way. She had reacted angrily because her family had been in danger; it was understandable; it was commendable.
He turned and leaned his arm against the wall, resting his head on his sleeve, breathing deeply when he thought of the tears his words and actions had caused. He never felt remorse, but there had been dignity in the way she had responded; if he had a heart it would have been affected. Again, he blew out a breath; she was better off without any more antagonism from him; he would not inflict further damage to her that contact with him would undoubtedly bring.
He stood upright; he had a job to complete, and he was going to do it. His pride depended on him carrying out the promise he had vowed to himself. No one could get in the way and, if her kisses were anything to go by, she could quite easily get in the way. No, Miss Millicent Holland was better off as far away from the Earl of Grinstead as she could possibly be.
Unfortunately for Miss Holland and the Earl of Grinstead, fate had other plans.
My Lord the Spy Page 20
