The Spy and His Lady Love

by Christine Donovan

  “What if you are wrong?”

  Harry shrugged one shoulder. Pretending calm when he was anything but. “Then we will come up with another plan.”

  “May I tell my wife?”

  “Since I find myself in a precarious situation with my upcoming marriage and dealing with two identities, one which will be hard to remain hidden in the bedchamber, I will allow it.”

  For the first time the Runner let his emotions slip. He sighed and relaxed against the back of the chair. “Then my answer is yes. If you don’t mind, I’ll take that brandy now, Your Grace.”

  Standing, Newbury poured both of them a generous portion. Smythe downed half his glass, then sipped the rest. “Thank you. The only time I’ve tasted brandy this good was from Wentworth.”

  “Then you can thank him as he sent me a case.” Harry didn’t dare take a sip; the smell alone had his stomach rolling. He placed the glass untouched on his desk. “Please, only call me by my title when we encounter each other out in society. Otherwise, Harry will do. Unless I’m dressed as Hugh. Then Hugh, please. My code name within the War Office is Nighthawk. I believe Gunslinger is quite apt for you. Any objections?”

  “None at all.”

  “Good.” Now that business was concluded, Harry had some personal questions for Smythe.

  “You do know I’m marrying Wentworth’s sister, Penelope, in just a little over a fortnight?”

  “Yes. I do. We have been invited.”

  “Good. I’ve a major dilemma, and since you are in the inner circle of friends with the Seabrooks, I’ve a personal question to ask of you.”

  Smythe’s hand tightened on the glass as he took a sip of the amber liquid. The only telltale sign he was uncomfortable. “I’ll answer depending on the question? I won’t divulge anything to do with the times they have hired me.”

  “Not asking you to. It has to do with Lady Penelope and the fact she’s marrying one person who has two personas.” He paused and dared a sip of his drink. “I’m torn between telling her before the wedding or afterwards.”

  “Definitely a delicate issue. Lady Penelope is a strong woman. If you want a meek and dutiful wife, you have chosen quite the opposite.”

  “Exactly why I have chosen her. I never expected to inherit the dukedom. I grew up on a farm, planned to stay in the army for life. She comes from rather less than stellar beginnings, not that I hold that against her, in fact, it works to my advantage. I rather like the idea of marrying into the Seabrook family and within it their circle of close friends. Never would’ve happened if she’d been legitimate. Wentworth would have found someone more suitable for a gently bred girl. However, I do not want to anger Wentworth or my soon-to-be-wife.”

  “I’m afraid I’m at a loss for advice.”

  Harry stood, concluding the meeting. “I was testing you. Welcome to the War Office. After my wedding, the events of your demotion will take place. For the time being I will create rumors of you taking bribes and payouts down in St. Giles. No one will doubt it since that’s where you come from and lived until recently. Please inform your wife soon. I don’t want to cause undo problems within your marriage. As for informing her brother, Spencer, I will think on it.”

  Once alone, Harry’s thoughts turned to Penelope and the intimacy they’d shared the night of the opera, making him think it was time to send her a message.

  Chapter 6

  “Have you received any correspondences from the Duke of Newbury?” Penelope asked as she entered Thomas’s study one afternoon only two weeks’ time from the nuptials. After the night at the opera when she called him Hugh, the only communication was a hot house delivery of four dozen blood red roses with a card in large letters signed, H A R R Y, underlined three times. She’d not found it humorous and had taken offense.

  If she’d insulted him, he never should have sent Mr. Sinclair in his place to dance and pay attention to her. The fault lay completely on him. Served him right if she’d fallen for his cousin. Except, that wasn’t true. She felt attraction to Mr. Sinclair, but Harry intrigued her, made her want to know everything about him. And his kisses…she wanted more.”

  “What has you blushing?”

  Good Lord, she forgot she was in Thomas’s study. “Nothing. Have you heard from His Grace?”

  “Yes. Just his morning. He said he’ll arrive at Stoney Cross Manor two days before the wedding.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his chin leaning on his hands. “Did I make a mistake by allowing him to escort you home from the opera? Did something happen in the carriage? We’ve not heard from him or seen him or his cousin in over a month?”

  Indeed, something did happen. In the heat of passion, she whispered the name of Hugh. Embarrassed beyond words, she could not admit such things to her brother. “Nothing that I know of. Perhaps he has taken ill?”

  “Perhaps.” Thomas looked at her with intense blue eyes, nearly the same color as hers, seeking her secrets. And she fought to remain still.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Thomas, I think I will spend time with my nephews in the nursery.”

  He chuckled. “You best change into a dress you don’t mind ruining.”

  Her heart lighter than when she entered his study, she made her way up two flights of stairs to the third floor and the nursery where she could hear laughter and squeals coming from inside. Leaning against the door jam, her heart warmed at the sight of the two boys sitting on the floor, climbing all over Emma who wore wide puffy trousers.

  “I dare say, Your Grace, no one would recognize you in your attire.” Emma burst out laughing as the two mischievous boys tickled her tummy. Then she rolled them over and did the same thing until their laughter could, no doubt, be heard two floors down. Such a happy house they all lived in. Penelope’s breath tangled up inside her lungs. She won’t live in a happy house much longer.

  They decided to take the boys out in the gardens and let them run off some of their endless energy before naptime. After their nurse tucked the boys into bed, both Emma and Penelope yawned. “I could use a nap myself,” Emma said as they descended the stairs. “Since it’s almost teatime, I believe I’ll change and hope the tea revives me.”

  “Me as well,” Penelope said as she entered her bedchamber and rang for her maid. Revitalized and dressed in a lovely pale blue frock, she made her way down the stairs to the drawing room. Her feet came to a crashing stop just inside the doorway when she saw Newbury sitting in a chair, sipping tea, and animatedly conversing with Emma and Wentworth who sat opposite him on the pink velvet settee.

  She must have gasped or made some sort of noise because suddenly three sets of eyes settled on her face. Putting her shock aside at finding the duke here, she forced a smile and made her way forward to join them. She curtsied before Newbury. “Your Grace, what a lovely surprise to see you.” As he reached for his cane, she waved him off. “Please stay seated.” After taking the chair beside his she reached for the tea cup Emma prepared for her and took a sip, hoping Newbury didn’t notice how her hand shook, causing the cup to clank against the saucer.

  “We were just discussing the weather,” Thomas said as he cleared his throat after taking a swallow of tea. “How can anyone drink this dreadful stuff without sweetener.” He reached forward and plucked two sugar cubes from a bowl and dropped them into his tea with a loud plop.

  Both Emma and Penelope laughed at Thomas, making Emma explain, “My husband tries to drink his tea with cream and no sugar but caves to adding two cubes. Amesbury and Myles have teased him relentlessly about not drinking tea like a man and saying only women add sugar. It is a sore subject and one that brings joy to those who watch him struggle with it.”

  “Yes, well, I prefer coffee to tea any time of the day,” Newbury said as he placed his empty china cup and saucer on the table and picked up a biscuit.

  “I agree,” Thomas said.”

  “Your Grace,” Penelope began, did you come to discuss plans for our upcoming wedding?”

  “Yes, I wanted to talk
with you about our wedding day.” He paused and looked at her brother. “I was hoping, with your permission, Wentworth, to have a few moments alone with my intended to discuss our honeymoon.”

  No sooner had the words left Newbury’s mouth than both Emma and Thomas stood and excused themselves from the room. Emma left the door to the room open barely an inch. Basically leaving the duke and her completely alone and with all the privacy they could want. Do I want to be in a private room with the duke? Not after what happened in the coach the night we attended the opera.

  Before Penelope could come up with something to say, Newbury stood and made his way to look out a large picture window that overlooked the formal gardens out back. His cane stayed beside his chair and he walked, taking a step with his good leg and swinging his bad leg forward. Over and over until he reached the window. It was painfully awkward to watch him struggle. Although it didn’t seem to bother him and he made surprisingly quick progress.

  “Would you mind joining me.”

  It was presented as a statement, not a question. After placing her half-eaten biscuit on her plate, she rose and softly walked across the oriental rug to stand beside the duke. As her pulse soared and her palms dampened she tried to calm herself by inhaling and exhaling slow and steady.

  “I beg forgiveness for my behavior the night we attended the opera,” Newbury said as he stared out the window as though something interesting held his attention. “I should have escorted you to the door. It was quite rude of me. There is no excuse for my poor judgment.”

  She opened her mouth to speak several times before she could come up with something to say besides thank you. “There is no need to apologize. You did not hurt my feelings or insult me with your decision to stay inside the coach. I presumed your leg was bothering you. Besides, I believe, correct me if I’m wrong, that as a betrothed couple, are we not allowed to relax on certain formalities when not in public. And the same when we are finally wed.” From what she had observed from her married family members, they relaxed all formality when in the privacy of their homes and surrounded by family and close friends. She certainly hoped he didn’t want all the bowing, curtsying, and formality to exist between them when in the privacy of their home.

  “Yes. But that night…” He paused, turned to look at her, and she gasped at the intensity in his deep blue eye and the thoughtful frown on his face. “I thought we made progress toward the intimacy we will share as husband and wife. I should have respected you and seen you properly inside your residence.”

  Before she could stop herself she blurted out, “And I should not have called you Hugh.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and wished she could crawl beneath the carpet and hide forever. As she waited for him to say something…anything, heat scorched her cheeks, her body trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes. Whether from anger at herself, from shame, or embarrassment. Most definitely all three. What really bothered her was the pain she briefly witnessed before he buried his emotions to a blank look and stare. Time stood still as she waited and waited.

  Finally, one side of his mouth quirked up into a smile and his eye softened as well as the rest of his features. She swore she could see the tension in his body ease as well. “If you forgive me for my rudeness, I’ll forgive you for calling out my cousin’s name…in the throes of passion.”

  He had to use the word passion? “I forgive you. My referring to you as someone else’s name will never happen again.” Pain radiated inside her at her mortification. Once she and Newbury were married, seeing Mr. Sinclair on a regular basis would be awkward. Perhaps Mr. Sinclair would find other lodgings. Wouldn’t bachelor quarters be more to his liking? She could only hope.

  The three of them living in the same house would only cause unnecessary tension.

  “Thank you for your forgiveness. And I will pretend you never referred to me as another, provided it doesn’t happen again.”

  “It won’t.” She prayed with all her heart she told the truth.

  “Then.” He moved close to her, his warm hands gently cupping her cheeks, causing her to inhale as she waited for his lips to touch hers. When they did, she closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. The kiss, as before, started out gentle and teasing. He licked across her lips, silently asking permission to enter. Her lips parted and he thrust his tongue inside her mouth and she twirled her tongue around with his. Need pooled inside her belly, she moaned and pressed her breasts against his hard chest. Seeking to repeat the feelings he gave her in the coach and wanting to touch him, she moved her hands to his face and just as her fingertips grazed his skin his fingers curled around her wrists and pulled them away. He stepped back out of reach. Oh God, she’d forgotten about his face and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  They stood several feet apart, both breathing heavily, and she noticed his features were flush as she knew hers to be as well. What shocked her was he looked as moved by the kiss as she was.

  “No need to apologize. I should’ve told you I don’t like my face touched.”

  “I’ll remember for…next time.”

  “Thank you.”

  The air between them thickened with tension, and she didn’t know how to change it. “Did you really want to discuss our honeymoon with me?”

  He’d forgotten all about that. “Yes. Unfortunately, due to my work schedule, we’ll have to postpone our honeymoon until a later date. I promise I will take you on a trip to the continent in the very near future.”

  The kiss they shared had his body strung up tighter than a violin, and just now his heart slowed down to a normal beat. He needed to be very careful with her. He’d almost let her touch his face. Been so lost in their kiss, he’d almost missed her hands moving. Until he divulged his secret, he had to be more careful. It didn’t help that he craved her touch everywhere on his body including his face. Hopefully, his actions just now didn’t frighten her away from touching him once they wed. When he’d gripped her wrists and pulled away, he’d seen the shock register on her face. And a little bit of pain as he’d gripped her wrists tightly in his panic.

  “I believe you are attending a musical this evening at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh. I wish I could attend, but alas I cannot. My cousin will be in attendance and will seek you out.” He bowed. “Good day, Lady Penelope.”

  In his haste to leave, he almost forgot his cane. Good thing he wore his brace, otherwise he would have walked with only the slightest limp, or none at all, giving himself away.

  The ride to the musical seemed to take forever as Penelope looked out the window into the darkness beyond, wondering what was holding them up. Not long after they approached a coach with a broken wheel, Wentworth signaled the driver to pull over and see if they were in need of assistance.

  How fortunate or unfortunate for her that it was Mr. Sinclair’s carriage with the broken wheel. Wentworth invited him to travel with them when he realized they were both attending the Cavanaugh’s musical. Wentworth climbed in the carriage first and took his seat beside Emma. “Mr. Sinclair is joining us since he’s having transportation issues. You remember my wife, the duchess, and my sister, Lady Penelope?”

  Mr. Sinclair took the seat beside her and nodded his head first to Emma and then to her. “Yes. It’s a pleasure to see both of you again. And I must thank you for rescuing me. Dreadful thing when a carriage breaks down.”

  “We are happy to give you a ride,” Emma said with a gracious smile.

  “I understand, after speaking to Newbury, that plans for the wedding are coming along nicely,” Mr. Sinclair said.

  Wentworth replied, “Yes. It was a pleasant surprise when he dropped by for tea this afternoon.”

  “Yes. He told me. Let me say how sorry I am that I’ll be away taking care of business when the wedding takes place.” Mr. Sinclair pivoted in his seat and looked right at Penelope, and she shivered.

  Why did his eyes have the same effect on her as the duke’s? Was it because their color and their looks were so similar
? That looking into Mr. Sinclair’s eyes was like looking into the duke’s? And their features. So familiar? The reasoning did not matter, what mattered was how her body responded, making her confused. How could she be in Newbury’s arms this afternoon, kissing him and willing to give herself to him. Then wanting the same with his cousin. Could she be losing her mind?

  “I’m sorry. His Grace must be disappointed as you are his only living relative,” Penelope said as she dropped her eyes to her lap to hide her disappointment.

  “He understands completely.”

  Thank goodness they arrived because Penelope needed fresh air. The cologne Mr. Sinclair wore was the same as Newbury, making her wonder why they both preferred the same scent of sandalwood. Perhaps Mr. Sinclair had no cologne of his own and borrowed from Newbury. No matter the reasoning, it unsettled her to have them both smelling the same.

  Penelope sat in the third row between Emma and Mr. Sinclair. Wentworth sat on Emma’s other side. Really? she huffed. Wasn’t it bad enough they’d given the man a ride, did he have to insinuate himself into their party and take the seat beside her? She knew she was being unkind, but couldn’t help herself.

  “I don’t understand why these poor girls have to perform.” Mr. Sinclair leaned close to Penelope, and the warmth from his body melted into hers. “Two of them are good, but the poor youngest one hasn’t had time to perfect her voice or violin. If their parents are seeking husbands for them, I wish them well.” He paused. “Although the eldest daughter is quite fetching. I would consider her myself if I was in the market for a wife.”

  Quickly, she covered her mouth before an unladylike noise escaped and made its way to all the ears in the room. Mr. Sinclair thought highly of himself. What made him think Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh would even consider him for one of their daughters? “I believe they are seeking titles. And unless I’m mistaken, you do not possess one.”