The Husband Mission (The Spy Matchmaker Book 1)

by Regina Scott

  He had done all he could to keep his cousin single. He never had known what magic Miss Katherine Collins had woven when a music recital featuring her on a friend’s harp had brought her widowed mother and his cousin together. But at least any concerns of additional children were past at last. Now he just had to take the fortune from Constance. What did two chits straight from the schoolroom, a whey-faced boy, and a cripple know about handling money anyway? It was far better off in his hands.

  And then there was Borin, who liked to think of himself as a great gentleman. Gentleman, ha! Templeman had seen how he looked at Miss Collins. Borin might be courting Constance’s fortune, but he lusted after the stepsister. Rather strange that. Templeman liked his women quiet, experienced, and substantial, but any idiot could see that in the Collins house, Constance was the greater beauty. Lord Borin obviously had different tastes.

  But he didn’t much care what the man did with his eccentricities so long as he did not threaten the fortune. Templeman had returned the blasted harp, for all the good it had done him. There was Borin, back taking refreshments, neat as you please. The fellow had stayed longer than ever, or so Templeman’s runner relayed.

  Well, two could play at this game. If Borin did not feel honor-bound to keep his word, neither did Templeman. The battle lines had been drawn, and Templeman had no doubt he would be the winner for the simple reason that he had no intentions of fighting fairly.

  He had two factors in his favor. No one seemed to suspect him of being behind the spy rumors, yet everyone was mad to learn more. And he had several fine Indian rubies in his possession with which to entice a certain ladybird to sing.

  Somehow he thought her music would be far more interesting than anything Miss Collins could play on her harp.

  –

  Sir Richard was far less pleased by the course of the day’s events. He could not remember Katherine being so upset as when learning that Borin might be in danger. He had had to threaten her with bodily harm to keep the girl from going to the viscount right then. It was quite clear to him that she had fallen in love with the fellow.

  Unfortunately, from Borin’s manner that day, Sir Richard also had a strong suspicion that the young lord did not intend to renew the acquaintance. He did not understand why. Borin was interested, perhaps more than interested. Yet he refused to commit. His niece was doomed to heartache, he feared, if he did not find a way to intervene.

  Even worse, however, was that Borin seemed to have blundered into something larger. Why else would he be shadowed? Common footpads would not have been after him for days on end without acting. Richard still thought it was more likely connected with this foreign agent business, though he doubted Borin realized it.

  And what was the connection with Miss Montgomery, the actress? He’d been more than a little shocked to discover his niece was acquainted with the woman. The looks exchanged between Katherine and Bixby told him it was more than mere knowledge through gossip. He decided not to ask the specific circumstances.

  He did, however, decide there was someone he needed to consult. Accordingly, he made his way before noon the next day to the War Office, going quietly by way of a private entrance known only to a privileged few.

  The Marquis of Hastings received him readily, coming around his desk to shake Richard’s hand.

  “Richard, good to see you again. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  Richard eased himself into the chair before the desk. If the marquis noted his difficulty as he took his own seat, he did not betray it, and Richard liked him all the more for it.

  “I have reason to believe,” he told the spymaster, “that a certain gentleman courting one of my wards is being followed. I wish to be certain you are not behind it.”

  His former supervisor made a show of polishing his timepiece against the silk of his navy striped waistcoat. “You think the fellow connected with the cadre?”

  “I know he would like to join your agency.”

  Hastings pocketed the watch as he blew out a breath. “Borin. Have no concern, Richard. I have known him for years; he went to school with my son. He would make a fine husband for either of your girls. In fact, I’ve encouraged him to set up his nursery.”

  Despite himself, Richard felt disappointed. It would not be so easy after all. “Then you are not following him?”

  Hastings shook his head. “No, but I am aware of the supposed incidents. Complained to you, did he?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Richard assured him. “He merely expressed a desire to discover the culprit. And these are not supposed incidents. I saw one. I had Bixby follow the pair of them last night.”

  Another person would not have seen the interest flair to life in Hastings’ dark eyes. Richard strove to remain as cool as his former supervisor.

  “And how is Bixby these days?” Hastings asked politely. “Still not ready to retire, I see.”

  “Not at all,” Richard said, smoothing his brown coat over his tweed vest. “And I do believe he has infected my niece Katherine with his love for intrigue.”

  “How interesting. And did he find anything noteworthy on his reconnaissance last night?”

  Richard had him now. “Only that the fellow following Borin was last seen entering the apartment house of Miss Lydia Montgomery.”

  The light faded from his eyes, and Hastings glanced at the papers on his desk. “Well, there you have it, then. Miss Montgomery merely wishes to be certain she still has a hold on Lord Borin’s affections.”

  Richard clucked his tongue. “You are behind on the gossip, old fellow. Borin cast her off days ago. She has already switched allegiance to Rehmouth.”

  Hastings raised his gaze with a frown. “Indeed. You appear to be well informed as to Lord Borin’s activities.”

  “I told you,” Richard replied with a shrug, “he courts one of my wards.”

  “So you are being cautious. Of what do you suspect him?”

  Richard rose, pleased that he was able to do so without betraying the pain it caused. “I had thought you might suspect him of this spying business. However, as you are obviously not having him followed, I will have to investigate matters myself.”

  Hastings leaned back in his chair. “I could not have assigned a better man.”

  The marquis had never been given to sarcasm, so Richard decided to accept the compliment at face value. “Thank you. I ask only one thing in return. If I discover a connection to this spying business, I will let you know immediately. If you suspect Borin of misdeeds, I hope you will grant me the same courtesy.”

  “Agreed,” Hastings replied with a nod. “And Richard, good luck, for all our sakes.”

  –

  Katherine was not a little surprised to find her uncle up and gone when she went to call him late that morning. Neither Bixby nor Emma was aware he had left either. She would have panicked if she hadn’t found The Morning Chronicle still folded on the breakfast table as if it had never been read.

  She was not sure what to make of it, but even that mystery could not completely take her mind off the viscount. Her uncle had made her promise not to interfere, and she could only hope he was out doing something useful like alerting Bow Street. She could not even focus on tutoring her brother. Finally, she enlisted Constance to work with Eric, and she gave herself up to a couple of hours on her harp. She was draping the instrument when Bixby appeared in the doorway. His lean face was so stern that Katherine could only frown. “What is it?”

  “There’s a person here to see Miss Constance. She came heavily veiled and refused to give her name, but I know that voice. It’s Miss Montgomery.”

  “The actress?” Katherine gathered up her navy skirts to cross to his side. “Why would she want to see Constance? Do you think she knows we sent the ruby?”

  Bixby’s look darkened further. “I don’t know, but I cannot like her boldness in coming here.”

  Neither could Katherine. “Did she recognize you?”

  He shook his head. “She�
��d have little cause. I spoke to her maid when I delivered the ruby.”

  So much for that then. “Where is she now?”

  “I wanted to leave her to cool her heels on the front step, but I didn’t like to think what the neighbors would say. I put her in the library. Shall I tell her Constance is unavailable?”

  “No.” Katherine stood taller. “I will meet her. I must learn why she came, particularly after last night’s episode. Warn Emma to keep the others away, then join me.”

  The plan agreed upon, she hurried down to the library.

  Miss Montgomery was standing as if perusing the shelves as Katherine entered. She could not have been seeing much, for she still wore the veiled bonnet. Her pelisse was a modest grey, but of such a fine material as to make Katherine feel downright dowdy in her simple navy day dress.

  As Katherine moved toward her, her head turned. “You are not Miss Templeman.” Her voice came out clearly despite her disguise, and she did not sound pleased.

  “Miss Templeman is unavailable,” Katherine replied. “I am the mistress of the house, Miss Collins.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she could feel herself blush. Perhaps it was the word mistress.

  “How thoughtful of you to meet with me, Miss Collins.” Now the actress did sound amused. “However, if Miss Templeman is unavailable, I believe my message should be left with older ears. Have you a guardian about somewhere?”

  “Sir Richard Collins, my uncle, is also unavailable,” Katherine told her, more annoyed than curious. “You will have to make do with me.”

  “Very well, then, if you insist. I simply wished to impart a word of warning about a certain gentleman who is persistent in his attentions to Miss Templeman. He is a vicious brute, and she would be well advised to stay away from him.”

  “How very thoughtful of you to be concerned about my stepsister’s welfare,” Katherine replied, mind whirling. She could not mean Lord Borin. “But perhaps if I knew your identity, I would be better able to evaluate the import of this message.”

  She stood a little taller. “My identity is immaterial. Consider me a lost soul who seeks to help others avoid her fate.”

  That was certainly poetic. Katherine wondered if she had steady employment as an actress with such melodramatic lines. “Commendable, to be sure,” she said. “However, my stepsister has so many admirers that if you do not provide me with the name of at least the gentleman, I cannot be sure whom you mean.”

  Her voice took on the timbre of a prophetess. “I speak of a wealthy gentleman, a titled gentleman, one you allow in your home for protracted periods.”

  Katherine could not resist baiting her. “Oh,” she said wisely, “Lord Templeman. Well, have no fear. He does not court my stepsister. She has the misfortune to be related to him.”

  “My condolences,” she snapped. Then, as if remembering herself, she resumed her oracles. “But I do not mean Lord Templeman. I refer to a handsome gentleman, one who could talk the birds from the trees with his glided tongue and charming manner.”

  Katherine shrugged. “Sorry. All my stepsister’s beaus seem charming. You cannot expect me to turn them all away.”

  Behind her, she heard the door open and saw Bixby slide quietly into place along the wall. Miss Montgomery ignored him, voice rising.

  “But this one has eyes as dangerous as his temper, dark as the sky before a thunderstorm.”

  “I don’t notice eyes much. Could you be more specific?”

  “Borin!” she snapped, throwing up her hands.

  “Boring?” Katherine frowned to keep from laughing at the glee on Bixby’s face. “Oh, well, yes, I fear it is quite tedious chaperoning my stepsister with one fellow after another, but what can one do?”

  “Not boring you dim-witted shrew,” Miss Montgomery nearly shouted. “Borin, Lord Borin. Viscount Borin, Alexander Wescott.”

  “Ohhhh,” Katherine replied knowingly, catching a wink from Bixby. “Lord Borin. You must be mistaken. He isn’t courting Miss Templeman.”

  “He isn’t?” She must have realized that her surprise was obvious for she quickly continued. “Of course he is. Silly chit. I begin to think you know nothing about men.”

  “And I begin to think you know nothing about Lord Borin,” Katherine countered. “Your story of his brutality won’t wash. He has been nothing if not a gentleman.”

  “Of that I am certain,” she said, voice more like the purr of a cat. “His ways are winning as long as he gets what he wants. But refuse him…” She reached up and draped the veil over the top of her bonnet. Despite herself, Katherine gasped.

  “Rather colorful, isn’t it?” Miss Montgomery smiled grimly, turning her sculptured face so that the lamplight glowed on the purple and green bruise obscuring the left side. “Not the first he’s given me, but I must say it’s one of the showiest.”

  “You lie!” Katherine spat. “Lord Borin would never do such a thing!” She started forward, to do what, she wasn’t sure, but Bixby moved to block her way. Her feelings must be written all over her face. She couldn’t seem to care.

  “Oh, Lord Borin would do this and more if his desires are thwarted.” Miss Montgomery returned her veil to its former position. “You see why I felt I must warn you.”

  “I see only that you are a jealous tart,” Katherine replied, shaking with anger. “You aren’t worthy to walk beside him.”

  “And you are a blind little girl who’s in for a nasty tumble. Don’t expect Borin to pick you up.”

  Bixby caught Katherine’s shoulders as Miss Montgomery sailed to the door. With a warning glance to Katherine, he released her and hurried to let the woman out.

  Katherine stood in the library, hands balled at her sides, emotions churning. How dare she malign the viscount that way! How horrible to think someone might believe him capable of such violence. The woman must be stopped.

  “She’s lying,” she said to Bix as he returned.

  “Of course she’s lying.” Bixby rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’d wager that bruise was nothing more than paint. If anyone had hit her hard enough to leave that mark, I’d also wager the Duke of Rehmouth would have a thing or two to say about it. You pegged her, miss: She heard the rumors that his lordship had thrown her over to marry Miss Constance, and she came here out of jealousy. Pay her no never mind.”

  She would have liked to do just that, but her stomach churned as fast as her emotions. “How can I,” she demanded, “when she is connected to the ones who follow Lord Borin?”

  Before he could answer, she gasped. “Oh, Bix, I’m an idiot! I was so busy baiting her I never thought to ask the connection. We lost our opportunity to learn the name of Lord Borin’s enemy!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bix tried to console her, but Katherine would have none of it.

  “I’ll call on her,” she threatened, starting for the door. “Turnabout is fair play. Fetch me a carriage, Bix.”

  “If you’d started that command with I shall kill him, you’d sound just like Sir Richard,” the butler replied, moving no farther than her side. “You can’t do it, Miss Katherine. How would you explain a visit to someone like her?”

  “I shall go at night then, in disguise.”

  Bix shook his head. “It won’t suffice. Too many people visit her at night. You’d be spotted for sure.”

  “She came here,” Katherine protested.

  “And she has less reputation to protect. Please, Miss Katherine, calm down and think.”

  She knew he was right, but she couldn’t seem to still her agitation. To think she had let such an opportunity slip by. She had to find a way to gain it back.

  From out in the entry came the sound of the door.

  Bixby stiffened. “That will be Sir Richard. Perhaps he can talk sense into you.” He hurried out.

  With no choice but to wait, Katherine paced the library. Why had she become so upset as to forget her purpose? Surely no one who knew Lord Borin would believe that ridiculous tale. Nor would the woman be so
foolish as to repeat it in public. Bixby had the right of it: The story was a tarrididdle concocted to sour Constance on a romance that was no more real. As such, the tale had only the power Katherine was willing to give it. She must force herself to focus on what was important.

  By the time her uncle limped into the library, she had calmed herself sufficiently to tell him about their visitor.

  “And so I let her go without asking whether she had hired the men to follow Lord Borin,” Katherine concluded.

  “She’s enough of a witch to do it,” Bixby stated. “Lord Borin never hit her, but I hear tell she beats her maid for nothing more than turning down her bed the wrong way.”

  “That’s beastly,” Katherine said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Then you think she had Lord Borin followed because she was jealous? I thought she had a new beau.”

  Her uncle scowled at her. “I refuse to ask how you know all this, young lady. Suffice it to say you are not to demonstrate your knowledge before anyone not of this house. Do I make myself clear?”

  Katherine drew herself up. “Certainly, Uncle, but you have not answered the question. Why would she have Lord Borin followed and make up that story about him as well?”

  “Someone doesn’t want Borin hanging about,” Sir Richard guessed.

  “Lord Templeman,” Bixby offered. “He’s the only one with an interest.”

  “But would he stoop to this?” Katherine pressed. “Can we be certain Lord Borin isn’t being followed for some more nefarious purpose?”

  Sir Richard shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.” He went on to relate the discussion he’d had with Lord Hastings at the War Office.

  Katherine felt her concern arise anew. “Then he may indeed be the target of this spy?”

  Her uncle’s handsome face was grave. “No doubt he’d make a good choice. He is well known to much of the ton and has connections to the War Office. If someone knew he had been refused by Lord Hastings, they might believe him bitter enough to sell his country.”