The Spy and His Lady Love

by Christine Donovan

  “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Could you please pencil me in for the first waltz of the evening?”

  “She has not been given permission from the Patronesses at Almack’s to waltz yet.” The duchess replied on Penelope’s behalf. “Perhaps another dance?”

  “Yes. Perhaps another,” Sinclair said.

  “Yes, another.” Penelope’s cheeks were aflame. The attraction she’d felt for Mr. Sinclair the other night and now on a higher level needed to stop since she was affianced to his cousin. Did Newbury know what a charming flirt his cousin was? Because surely the man was daft putting her in Mr. Sinclair’s care. Perhaps he was testing her loyalty? If so, she planned on passing. She could bury her attraction. She had to, and she would. She may be all of seventeen, but she’d learned long ago to hide her feelings from the world. Being a servant along with her mother in a degenerate’s house forced one to hide what was inside. Viscount Hadley thrived on fear, so she’d learned to hide it and all other emotions. Deadened them inside.

  As her mind wandered, she caught pieces of the conversation between Wentworth, Emma, and Sinclair. Weather, Parliament, Wigs, Tories, things she cared little for. All she’d cared about before coming to London was surviving. Some things were hard to change. She still needed to survive. The difference was the jungle had changed to include much more dangerous beings.

  Music had never been a part of her life, not until her dancing lessons, but even she recognized the first strings of a waltz after several country reels concluded. Relief and disappointment washed over her at not being able to dance the waltz.

  “Milady.” Mr. Sinclair bowed. “Since the waltz is forbidden, would you care to take a turn around the room?” He held out his arm. Penelope placed her arm on his, and he escorted her around the outer fringes of the dancefloor but in front of all the chairs. Chairs with people watching and gossiping. “I believe congratulations are in order for your upcoming nuptials to my cousin.”

  Her steps faulted, but he steadied her and they continued walking as if nothing happened. “Yes. Thank you. I hope he told you the bands won’t be posted until next week?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling the ton’s surprise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is there anything I can tell you about Newbury? He gave me permission to ease your concerns if you have any.” His voice was light. His lips were smiling, but his eyes darkened with a hint of worry.

  Did she have concerns? What newly betrothed would not when marrying a perfect stranger. An injured stranger with one eye, a painful-looking scar, and a leg that didn’t work properly. Besides the fact he held the title of duke, he wasn’t much of a prize. But then again, she wasn’t either. No, indeed, she was no prize. “Part of me has questions, part of me doesn’t.”

  He lead her towards French doors. “Let us get some air, and you can ask away whatever you want with no one overhearing.”

  Before she could protest to being in private with him, they passed thru the open doors and stepped out onto the terrace. He led her to a darkened corner overlooking dimly lit gardens where several people milled around. Mr. Sinclair leaned his back against a wrought-iron railing, his legs casually crossed at the ankle and his arms across his fine chest. The man exuded relaxation as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Unless one looked deep into his eyes to see the wariness. Strange. What did Mr. Sinclair have to be wary about as they discussed his cousin?

  Facing him, she toyed with her fan, which had been wrapped around her wrist. “I’m at a loss.”

  One side of his mouth tipped up, making him look devilishly handsome and dangerous. Dangerous because she didn’t want to play whatever game he was playing. It was clear he was up to something.

  “I presume you are wondering if he can perform his husbandly duties because of his injuries.”

  Mortified at his words, she gasped and turned to leave. His hand reached out, curled around her upper arm to stop her. Ignoring the heat of the contact and the warmth of her cheeks, she turned back and tried to think of a scathing remark. Her tongue, however, refused to work.

  “Please forgive me. That was uncalled for. A gentleman never says such things to an innocent. I find myself, for the first time since Newbury sustained his injuries, envious of him.” Stepping closer to her, he cupped her chin, tilted her head up, forcing her to look directly into his dark blue eyes. “I find I want what he has. To my dismay, I find myself wanting you.”

  She swallowed, her pulse hammering inside her body to go along with her beating heart. Not to mention, her insides fluttered with what she believed was desire. Having never felt it before, she couldn’t know for certain.

  “I want one kiss. Just one, may I?”

  Penelope couldn’t breathe, nor could she move. She’d fallen completely under this man’s spell. What a horrible person she was to be wanting a kiss from the cousin of her betrothed. Where had her honor and respect gone? She may have been brought up differently than anyone else in attendance tonight, but her mother instilled honor and respect in her. Not only respect for others but herself as well.

  Kissing Mr. Sinclair displayed neither of those attributes. Looking into his eyes, which had darkened with what she recognized as want, need, and desire had the tip of her tongue running across her lips as they’d become parched. The thumping of her heart near deafening. She inhaled gently and held it inside her lungs as the anticipation dragged on and on. Did the man not mean to prepare her for his lips. Just as she planned to step back and give up, his breath skated across her lips. His mouth so close to hers she felt the heat.

  “Forgive me.” He stepped back and bowed. “I find I can’t disrespect Newbury, or you.” Stunned speechless, her eyes bored a hole through his back as he retreated inside the ballroom. She gasped, dragging in much-needed air into her lungs. Her hand gripped the iron railing as she continued to breathe in and out, in and out. Part of her was relieved Mr. Sinclair didn’t kiss her. If he had, it would plague her with guilt. And the next time she was in the Duke of Newbury’s company, she would not be able to look him in the eye. Yes. It was a good thing he didn’t kiss her. Her fingers touched her still trembling lips and the not so quite proper part of her wished for the kiss. His honorable actions had her wanting him more. Wanting one man and marrying another. Attracted to both men in unique ways. What a dilemma her young self had fallen into.

  Once her nerves settled down, she entered the ballroom, her eyes seeking her family or a friend. Too bad she had no friends. Someone to help her forget what almost transpired out on the terrace. Just as she was giving up hope, she spotted Emma and Bella, sitting together looking as though they were gossiping about someone or something. She forced herself to stroll slowly halfway around the ballroom so as to not draw attention to herself. When she really wanted was to hike up her skirts and run. Something she could not do unless she wanted to cause even more of a scandal than she already had just by being present tonight.

  Finally she arrived at their side, dropped into the vacant seat next to Bella, and sighed.

  “Where have you been?” Emma asked as she sipped champagne and nibbled on a biscuit. I was ready to find Thomas and have him search for you.”

  “Yes,” Bella said with a sparkle in her eyes and a beautiful smile on her equally beautiful face. “Where have you been? Did Mr. Sinclair steal a private moment with you? Which would be most improper seeing’s how you are affianced to his cousin. But I must admit, he cuts a dashing figure and his face is mighty handsome. If either of you repeat this, I’ll deny it. I can’t have Myles thinking there is any gentleman more handsome than he.”

  Penelope didn’t know what to say. Did she confide in the ladies or keep her secrets to herself? Perhaps if she explained what happened, they could advise her what to do if she found herself alone with Mr. Sinclair again.

  “I have something to say. But you each must promise me it goes no further. Don’t give me the line you have no secret
s from your husbands because that’s not true. Everyone has secrets.”

  Bella and Emma both agreed to secrecy.

  “Before I continue, I want you to know that nothing happened. Mr. Sinclair and I went out on the veranda. He said Newbury gave him permission to answer questions I may have about him. I couldn’t come up with any.”

  “Perhaps it would be better to ask His Grace if you have anything you want to know,” Emma said right before she finished the last of her biscuit.

  “I agree with Emma,” Bella said. “He may have given his cousin permission to answer your questions, but I would bet my next month’s pin money on Newbury wanting you to ask him yourself.”

  “That’s not all.” Penelope prepared herself for a scolding. She was, after all, only ten and seven. Even if there were days she felt years older, body and mind. “He said for the first time since the duke’s injuries, he envies him.”

  “Why?” Bella and Emma asked simultaneously.

  “Because he finds himself attracted to me and wants to kiss me.”

  Emma gasped and quickly covered her mouth to hide the noise. Her blue eyes, however, went big as a teacup’s saucer. Bella raised one perfect blonde brow.

  “He didn’t. We didn’t,” Penelope blurted out.

  “Thank goodness,” Emma said as she used her hands to smooth her skirts. “What were you thinking going out onto the veranda with him alone? If you’d been caught, scandal would have you marrying him instead of the duke.”

  Breathe, Penelope, breathe. Half of her wanted to ask, would that be so terribly wrong? The other half knew better. “I’m sorry. If Wentworth knew he would keep me under lock and key until the wedding. And the duke, he’d be shocked and disappointed. There would be no need for Wentworth to lock me up because there’d be no wedding. What a disgrace I am to the Seabrook family. Wentworth should send me back, hence where I came from.”

  Bella touched her hand. “Don’t be a silly goose. Wentworth will never know. What’s done is done and luckily you came through it unscathed and without scandal. Don’t temp fate another time, though. You may not be so fortunate.”

  “I agree with what Bella said,” Emma chimed in. You must remain above reproach. I realize the Seabrook family, even before I arrived in England, didn’t always behave in a stellar manner, my husband had a dreadful reputation for being a rakehell and seducing young widows. The previous duke, your father, well you know about his scandalous past. Bella, stringing along two gentlemen. Amelia having,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Olivia out of wedlock. Even if she’d given herself to her betrothed only a week before his tragic death and their planned wedding.”

  “Not to mention,” Bella interjected, “Sebastian and Thomas fighting over you. Such scandal indeed.”

  “Please explain, with details, everything you just told me.” How had Penelope heard none of this before? She certainly came from an interesting family. And thank God she did. And she loved each and every one of them.

  “Not now,” Emma said. “Perhaps another time when we have privacy. Also, my husband and yours, Bella, are coming this way. I believe it’s time to go.”

  Once at home, in her room dressed in her night rail and matching robe, Penelope lay on the chaise in front of the roaring fire beneath a throw. Sleep eluded her, so she’d gotten out of bed and moved to the chaise. Her mind was swirling with thoughts and memories of the evening. One moment guilt bombarded her and the next memories of the emotions Mr. Sinclair awoke inside her, pushing aside her strange attraction to Newbury.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. What a terrible person she’d become. After tonight, how could she go through with her nuptials to Newbury? She worried because secrets had a way of being revealed. What if in a moment of anger, Mr. Sinclair told Harry about their almost kiss? What if Harry called him out? Surely, he couldn’t win a duel against his cousin. His death would be on her conscience forever. The future of all three of them ruined. More than ruined for Newbury. He’d be dead. How could she live with herself if that came to pass?

  No. The only way to solve this issue was to admit to the Duke of Newbury the truth. That his cousin and she had private words on the veranda alone and almost kissed. No. That would be worse. He definitely would call Mr. Sinclair out. What a dilemma. How did she fix this? Perhaps the only thing she could do was stay silent. Confessing to the duke would cause a rift between the cousins. For the sake of all parties, she would remain silent and deal with the guilt gnawing at her insides.

  Sometimes being a member of the Seabrook family was too hard. One always had to be at one’s best.

  Think before you speak, lest you embarrass yourself or a family member, or God forbid cause a scandal.

  Always use the correct utensil when eating.

  Sip your tea, do not slurp.

  Do not wear a day dress in the evening.

  Never, ever, leave the house without gloves and a hat.

  Do not address a duke as a lord or an earl as your grace.

  And the list went on and on. How was she to remember it all and not misstep or misspeak? She couldn’t blame Wentworth for bringing her to London. She’d sent a letter asking for his help. If only she could go back in time and find another way.

  Never to have sent the letter and become a burden on Wentworth and the rest of his family.

  Never to have met the duke or his cousin.

  She sighed, and more tears escaped her eyes. If she’d met none of them, her heart ached at the thought, she’d have missed out on ever having known such wonderful, caring, and loving people. Oh dear, her lungs burned. Closing her eyes, she wished for sleep. Dreamless, peaceful sleep so she could wake up in the morning fresh and ready to handle anything or anyone that came her way.

  After leaving the ball, Harry took his unmarked carriage to his ex-mistress’s house. His driver knew to drop him off a block away, and he made his way silently in the night. Knowing to expect him, she greeted him at the back door under the blackness of night dressed in a her night clothes, her long auburn tresses down and brushed to a high sheen. Rose Albright was comely. He’d known her most of his life. Her mother had served in his father’s home and then she had. After his father and uncle’s deaths and Harry left the army she’d arrived in London on his doorstep asking for employment. She’d served as a maid for a time, before she became his mistress. Harry had turned down her offer of being his mistress from the beginning. Fought it for several months as she worked as a downstairs maid in his home. Until one night, she somehow knew the demons from war visited him in the dark of night, and she’d come to him and offered her body.

  Thinking back now, he wasn’t proud of himself for given in to his sexual urges. She hadn’t been a virgin but that didn’t lessen the responsibility he felt for her and refused to allow her to continue on as a maid in his home. He Rented her a small residence and provided her with a lady companion. Rose was his mistress for the better part of a year. When the year ended things gradually changed. Their sexual relationship ended and they became friends. He still felt responsible for her and his support continued.

  “Something is bothering you, Harry. Please join me in the parlor by the warm hearth, and I’ll pour you a brandy.”

  Rose was the only person, other than those he worked with, who knew about his work with the War Office. He trusted her with his life. After dropping his weary body onto the settee and taking the offered drink, he stretched his legs out and sighed. Rose sat beside him and covered them both with a throw.

  “So tell me what has you upset. And don’t say nothing. I know you too well.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and the sound of her even breathing traveled to his ears.

  “I don’t know where to begin. Before you read it in the London Times, I offered for Lady Penelope Seabrook’s hand in marriage. Her brother accepted.”

  “I see.”

  “There is one more thing I’d like to talk to you about. Please keep an open mind and know I’m doing what I believe is right for you.”
He stretched his arm around her back and hugged her close.

  “I’m giving you a dowry, and I’ve written Mr. George Heatherford from Lancaster.”

  “What…” She gasped and pulled out from beneath his arm. He tugged her back.

  “Let me finish. George and I served together under Wellington. I trust him with my life, and I have. Just as he trusted his life to me. We served as brothers. If I could choose anyone in England to be my brother, I would choose him. George is the youngest son of a Marquess. Has lands and is working those lands. He needs and wants a wife who has no aspirations of becoming a Marchioness as he has five older brothers. He is a fine and honorable man and most of the ladies find him handsome. I have invited him to visit. He arrives the day after tomorrow.” Harry waited for some sound from Rose besides the sound of her crying and sniffling.

  After a time, she said in a soft sad tone, “I understand why you are doing this. You won’t keep a mistress or an ex-mistress once you marry so you’re finding a worthy man who can and will take care of me. But why would Mr. Heatherford agree to this arrangement? I’m soiled goods.”

  He never thought of her as soiled goods. He preferred to look at it as though she were widowed. And Heatherford, as a younger son, understood the plight of those less fortunate. It really did not differ from any arranged married. There were no guarantees the lady was pure and untouched. Honestly, Harry wasn’t brought up within the privilege of the ton so it didn’t matter to him. Harry had explained the whole situation to Heatherford, and he didn’t take offense to Rose’s plight. She intrigued him. And he knew if Harry cared enough about her to secure a wonderful future for her, then she was worthy of being his wife.

  “Please never utter those words again. We have loved each other for many years, as friends, then lovers, then back to friends, and there is no shame in giving yourself to someone you love.” He turned and cupped her cheeks with his hands, his fingers swiping at her tears. “Whether or not you believe it, you saved me from myself. I’d been broken in body and soul when I returned from war and became a duke. I couldn’t sleep, or when I did I had awful nightmares, which made me afraid to sleep. I had no appetite. I didn’t socialize, nor leave my new home, unless I really had to for work.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You brought me back. Your kindness, compassion, understanding, and love saved me. You do not understand how close I came many times to taking my life. Living had become too painful until you.