The Husband Mission (The Spy Matchmaker Book 1)

by Regina Scott

  “The latter, assuredly, though I cannot imagine many people appreciate the former either.” He knew he certainly didn’t.

  “They hate it,” she replied coolly. “Unfortunately, they do not seem capable of managing their own lives without my help.”

  “And do you put me in that category?” he demanded, temper rising anew.

  She sighed. “I confess that I did, once. But in coming to know you, I realize that you have a great deal of sense, for a man.”

  Despite himself, he chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling that is a far greater compliment than it appears?”

  She turned to him with a smile. “Because you are intelligent as well. You are undoubtedly right that I should simply have sent you a note. But I suspect I wanted to be of service to you. Forgive me?”

  He returned her smile. “There is nothing to forgive.”

  “Oh,” she argued, smile fading, “but there is. I put you through all this trouble, and I never spotted the real culprit who followed you.”

  Her disappointment was palpable. She certainly had heart, this one. “I think he was scared off earlier in the day,” he explained, then he cocked his head in interest. “What did you plan to do if you did spot him?”

  She obviously had no concerns on the matter for she shrugged. “Try to catch a glimpse of him and warn you. I know better than to accost someone bigger than me, my lord.”

  “But not a situation bigger than you,” he guessed.

  Her chin tipped up. “I never met a situation too big for me, until recently.”

  He knew her reference. “Your stepsister and her fortune.”

  She nodded, then sighed. “But that appears to have resolved itself.”

  “Has someone offered for her?” Alex asked with raised brow.

  “No,” she replied with another sigh. “She is resigned to losing her fortune. We agreed to start looking for homes outside London.”

  The thought of her leaving cut deep. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “As am I. The one bright spot is that Bixby and Emma have agreed to come with us. We will be one big happy family.”

  He frowned. “You sound anything but happy.”

  “I am selfish, I fear. Being together is what should matter. But, oh, how I shall miss London! The excitement, the bustle. The most intrigue we’ll find in the country is guessing which of our neighbor’s cows got into the cabbage last night.”

  He chuckled. “A rather dismal life, I quite agree. But take heart. You still have several weeks, and your stepsister’s charms are considerable.”

  “She is a gem,” she agreed readily. He was afraid she’d begin campaigning again and was relieved when she switched topics instead. “You will catch the villain who is following you, then?”

  “Rest assured that I shall,” he replied, although he wasn’t entirely confident of his chances. He decided not to tell her that. He wanted no more of these episodes.

  She leaned forward. “I have been terribly impertinent, my lord, having you followed then doing so myself. Would you stand one more question, as very likely we shall not see each other again?”

  His heartbeat quickened as his gaze met hers. “Ask anything you like.”

  She hesitated a moment, and he leaned forward expectantly. He could see her swallow. “You aren’t connected with the foreign agents, are you?” she asked carefully.

  He flinched, then barked out a laugh. “That was not what I expected you to ask, but no, again I assure you, I would never connect myself with the enemy.”

  She nodded sagely. “I knew it. I simply wanted to hear it from your own lips.” She paused as he leaned back, then asked quietly, “What did you think I was going to ask?”

  He smiled ruefully. “To tell you would make me the greatest coxcomb.”

  “I have certainly played the arrogant fool for you,” she replied with a smile. “I can hardly complain if you chose to do likewise.”

  He watched her. Lamplight glowed on the auburn curls escaping her hood and lit her eyes with cool fire. Could he be so bold? She said they might never see each other again. He knew she was right. Unless he moved himself, she would slip out of his life far more quietly than she had entered.

  “I thought, Miss Collins,” he said, “that you might ask me to kiss you again.”

  Her eyes widened. She licked her lips as if imagining the feel of his. That was all it took to heave his willing body across the coach and pull her into his embrace.

  Her kiss was full of sweet promise, her body as willing as his to touch, to hold, to caress. He felt his heartbeat speed, his breath quicken. This was the excitement he craved, this closeness the herb required to spice his predictable life. He knew in that instance that he would do anything to keep her with him, his sprite, his Katherine, his love.

  He broke off the kiss, hugging her close, struggling with the emotions that surged through him. Love? Yes, it was love. He could feel it filling the empty spaces inside him. He wanted to protect her, to cherish her. He didn’t want her miles away in some country retreat. He didn’t want to spend years in a foreign country behind enemy lines. He wanted the daily excitement of growing old with her. The very idea stunned him, and he could only sit and lean his chin against her temple in wonder.

  She must have noticed his sudden quiet, for she pulled back to look into his face. “What is it?”

  He was amazed his love wasn’t glowing from every inch in his face. He also found himself at a loss to explain the transformation to her. She had made no secret of the fact that she admired him. She certainly seemed to enjoy his kisses as much as he enjoyed kissing her. But did she love him in return?

  “Lord Borin?” she pressed, moving out of his arms. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

  He found himself laughing, and she recoiled further. He reached out and pulled her back into his arms. “No, no, Katherine, you mistake me. You have done nothing wrong. On the contrary, I would say you have done everything right.”

  He could feel her frown. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I, I assure you.” He chuckled again. “Miss Collins, Katherine, would you do me the honor of allowing me to speak to your guardian?”

  “Why?” She pulled away again, and he merely smiled at her. He rather thought it was a besotted sort of smile. He hadn’t felt this light-headed since drinking his first bottle of Madera. Her eyes widened as if she understood at last.

  “I…I would be only too delighted to have you speak to Sir Richard,” she stammered. “But my lord, Alexander, are you certain?”

  “Faith, my girl, I am not certain about anything at the moment,” he assured her. “Except the fact that the idea of you leaving London, going anywhere, doing anything, without me by your side makes me physically ill.”

  Her lower lip quivered, and he moved himself to taste it again. She threw her arms about his neck and gave herself over to their embrace. This time he let his emotions sweep them both away.

  A discrete cough warned him something was wrong. Raising his head, he realized the coach had been stopped for some time, and the driver was standing at the side, waiting for Alex to notice his presence.

  He reluctantly released Katherine. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her hair wild from his caress, her eyes dreamy. He imagined he looked no less seduced. He raked a hand back through his hair and pulled up her hood.

  “We’re a few doors down from the house,” he murmured in explanation. “Let me send off the driver, and I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

  She nodded, and he proceeded to do just as he had said. He marveled that some part of him could still think. It was difficult to walk beside her to the back garden of her house but allowing her to leave his side was the hardest thing he had ever done. He consoled himself with the fact that he would not have to wait much longer before she could stay with him forever. He watched until she was safely in the kitchen door, then turned to go.

  If anyone followed him home, he was feeling entirely t
oo well-to-live to notice.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Katherine nearly floated into the house. She was so enchanted, in fact, that she was halfway across the kitchen before realizing that Emma and Bixby were sitting at the worktable, staring at her. She paused and returned their gazes. The expectant looks on their faces told her they had been waiting for her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to remember why.

  Bixby rose. “I knew as soon as Miss Constance came looking for you that you had gone after his lordship. I fobbed her off. Well, Miss Katherine? Did you catch the fellow?”

  She gave him a lopsided smile before realizing he wasn’t talking about Alex. “Oh, the spy. No, I didn’t. But Lord Borin is aware of the danger and will take steps to rectify matters.”

  Emma threw up her hands as she too rose. “Oh, Miss Katherine, how could ye go out by yerself like that? What were ye thinking, child?”

  At the moment, she wasn’t thinking at all. Her blood sang, her spirit soared. “I’m just fine, Emma,” she assured her housekeeper.

  “Of course she is,” Bixby said, pride evident in his voice as he came around the table. “She was doing her duty, putting her conscience before propriety. If you ask me, that’s the mark of a true lady.”

  Conscience before propriety? She rather thought it was her emotions, not her conscience, that had the upper hand. But she really didn’t want to discuss that with Bixby. “Yes, well,” she hedged, edging for the door to the upper floors, “I think I shall just turn in.”

  “Oh, come on, miss,” Bixby begged, holding out a chair for her. “Sit down and tell an old campaigner all about it. Did you at least spot the miscreant? What did he look like? Does Lord Borin think him connected with the spy or Miss Montgomery?”

  Katherine shook her head. Her emotions were far too thick to sit and have a nice chat. She saw Emma regarding her with a frown and felt her smile slipping.

  “Enough of you, Willy Bixby,” the housekeeper said suddenly. “Can ye not see the poor girl’s done in?” She ambled forward and put a thick arm about Katherine’s waist. “There, my dear, ye just go on up to yer room. I’ll bring water for a nice hot bath. ‘Twill do ye a world of good.”

  Bixby’s face fell, but he made no move to stop her as she gave Emma a grateful hug and fled.

  She tried not to think about the scene in the coach while she changed out of her clothes. If she continued to dwell on it, she would get nothing done the rest of her life! But once she immersed herself in the steamy water of the bathing tub, she found she had shed her control with her clothes. Memories and emotions tumbled over each other, and she knew her tears contributed to the water around her.

  And why should she cry? He loved her! That could be the only explanation for his words and actions. Nothing on the walls of her War Office had indicated he trifled with ladies of the ton. While she was certainly not in his social sphere, neither was she the sort to be made a mistress. And had he been willing to overlook that fact, he could have taken the first move tonight. She did not think she would have been able to stop him had he demanded more from her than sweet kisses and a passionate embrace. She had been enjoying herself far too much.

  But he had made no move to dishonor her. Instead, he said he wished to call on Sir Richard. The only reason would be to offer for her. Why did she find that so hard to believe?

  Perhaps because she heard so many complaints about her skills and abilities. Oh, she knew her family loved her, but at times, she felt as if a spot deep inside her was empty. No one but Constance and her father had ever truly listened to her play the harp, until Alex. No one but her stepfather had ever praised her ability to manage a household or keep their family intact, except Alex. Few had ever noted that she was pretty in her own right, that she might have as much charm in her own way as the lovely Constance, but Alex did. That someone as handsome and kind and charming as Alex could actually love someone like her was beyond her wildest dreams. She wanted it to be true. Oh, please God, let it be true! She could imagine nothing finer than to be the wife of Alexander Wescott, Viscount Borin. She hiccoughed, half sob, half laugh. The hope he had offered her was too amazing to believe, and too wonderful to let go.

  She must have been more tired from her exertions than she had thought for she slept far later than usual the following morning. She found the breakfast table deserted and only curdling chocolate left for her to drink. Curious, she went to the withdrawing room, where she found Constance reading a book.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” her stepsister greeted with a smile. Her pink lustring gown was fresh, her curls glossy. Even though she had bathed the night before, Katherine felt dusty in her grey poplin.

  “Eric is supposed to be at his studies with Sir Richard,” her stepsister continued, “and Bixby went to answer the door.”

  Katherine stiffened. “The door? A bit early for callers, is it not?”

  Constance pushed out her lower lip thoughtfully. “I suppose so. It must have been a tradesman to keep him so long.”

  “At the front door?” Katherine shook her head as her heart started to beat faster. “Not likely.” Turning to go, Katherine saw Constance set down her book and rise.

  “What is it?” she called after her with obvious concern. “Has something happened?”

  Katherine paused in the doorway. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I intend to find out.”

  She knew her stepsister was at her heels as she hurried to the stairs and down. She saw no one until she reached the ground floor. The door was shut, the entryway empty. Peering around the stair, however, she found Bixby and Eric in deep study at the library door. Bixby leaned with one ear to the oak panel while Eric knelt with one eye squinting in the keyhole.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Katherine demanded.

  Bixby’s head jerked up. “Hush!” he cautioned, waving her to his side. “Lord Borin is in there with Sir Richard.”

  “What?” Katherine flew down the corridor. She joined Bixby with her ear to the door, but only succeeded in hearing muffled voices.

  “How long have they been in there?” she whispered to Bix as Constance tiptoed down the corridor, eyes wide.

  “A few minutes,” the butler murmured. “You should have seen his face at the door, miss. I never saw a man so tense. Was he angry you followed him last night?”

  Katherine frowned. He had come angry? Had she totally misunderstood him? He had called speaking to Sir Richard an honor. Surely that meant an offer of marriage.

  “You followed Lord Borin last night?” Eric asked. “Oh, would I have given a quid to see that!”

  “Katherine, you didn’t,” Constance chided.

  Before she could answer, Bixby hushed them all again. “Quiet! Do you want to get us caught before we learn why Lord Borin came?”

  “He’s no doubt here to offer,” Constance said sagely, crossing her arms over her chest. “It is his duty to protect Katherine’s reputation.”

  Duty? Her heart plummeted. With all her stratagems, had she managed only to compromise herself and him in the process? She had no doubt he desired her, but she didn’t want him if all he felt was lust and duty.

  Bixby had returned his ear to the door.

  “What’s happening?” Constance begged in a whisper. “What are they saying?”

  “Hush!” Katherine said in unison with Bixby. She didn’t know whether she could stand to find out but found she certainly couldn’t stand to wait wringing her hands like Constance. She pasted her ear to the door once more.

  They were so intent in their studies that no one heard the rap on the front door or its repetition several seconds later.

  –

  Lord Templeman frowned when no one came to answer his knock. He glanced to where his carriage waited beside the one bearing the Borin crest. His spies had come to warn him the minute they’d spotted the viscount. The wretch had broken his word and come calling yet again. It remained to be seen how far
matters had gotten. He had come immediately to find out.

  But he couldn’t find out anything if they didn’t answer the blasted door. He glanced about again, noticing that none of the neighbors were in evidence. He shifted his bulk to hide his movements from the coachmen and grooms, then pressed on the door handle. To his delight, it opened easily and silently. He peered into the entry.

  He was not prepared, however, for the sight that met his eyes. His cousin stood beside the library door, wringing her hands. Their miserable excuse for a butler had the effrontery to lean against the door listening. If Templeman wasn’t very much mistaken, that was the brazen Miss Collins partially hidden behind the fellow doing the exact same thing. He even spotted her brother at the keyhole. A nastier group of petty spies he’d never seen. He puffed up his chest to reveal them, loudly, but before he could open his mouth, Bixby stiffened.

  “There! Did you hear that, Miss Katherine? He offered!”

  Constance cried out and threw her arms about her stepsister while the boy jumped from the door and began doing a hornpipe in the corridor. Bixby grinned from ear to ear.

  Templeman stumbled back out the door and closed it silently behind him. Clutching his heart, he managed to reach the coach, waving his man to drive on.

  Collapsing against the velvet cushions, he gulped in air. This was so much worse than he had feared. Offered! Borin had offered for Constance. There was no question that Sir Richard would accept, or that his cousin would have any regrets in agreeing. Borin was titled, Borin was well-connected, Borin was disgustingly, impossibly rich. With so much wealth, why would he insist on separating Templeman from his own rightful fortune? Had he not done everything from the start to dissuade Constance from this union? Yet, despite his best efforts at rumor-mongering and innuendo, Borin had not been shunned.

  Well, the time for subtlety had passed. Borin must disappear, as soon as possible. And he knew just the way to do it. He rapped on the panel over his head.