It was quickly becoming very clear that spy-work was not her forte.
Glancing up at Michael’s face to gauge his reaction to her conundrum, Hope saw that he was looking at her with a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. When he looked pointedly at their hands, Hope suddenly realized she was even worse at this than she thought, for there she was, holding his hand with the tips of her fingers, as she would when greeting any gentleman.
Blushing furiously, Hope tried to snatch her hand out of Michael’s grasp, but he refused to let it go.
“Release me, please,” she said.
“Why don’t you tell me exactly who you are first?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”
Michael raised his brow and looked at her dryly. Hope returned the look with a questioning one of her own. She had the strangest impulse to cross her arms to indicate her displeasure that he had not acquiesced to her demand (something she would not normally do in polite company or anywhere else for that matter), but as her hand had not yet been freed, she was unable to do so.
Just then, Hope noticed a movement over Michael’s shoulder. The men in the carriage were nowhere to be seen, and a different man on horseback was attempting to lead the post-chaise and four down a dirt path, presumably back to the stables from which they were hired.
“Oh,” Hope exclaimed in dismay, “they’re gone!”
Chapter Three
It’s amazing how loving someone can give you courage.
~The Duke of Lancaster
Michael whipped around to look at where the men had stood. They were, indeed, gone.
“Damn,” he swore quietly. Now what should he do? He still was no closer to finding out the purpose of his wild goose chase than he had been that morning. Tired, frustrated, and at his wit’s end, Michael turned back around to confront the chit who had ruined all of his efforts.
It was then he realized that in his haste to look for the men, he had released the girl’s hand. She was standing there looking at said hand, apparently as surprised as he was that it had been freed.
She then looked up at Michael with a huge smile, obviously very pleased with herself.
And instantly, Michael was bereft of breath. Only one woman of his acquaintance had a smile like that. The woman who had haunted his dreams for months.
When Lady Lancaster had first introduced Michael to Hope Stuckeley so many months ago, he had no idea that he would suddenly see the girl everywhere he went. Every ball, every musicale, every single society event he attended, his gaze was inexorably drawn to Miss Stuckeley. And every time he crossed her path, he was gifted with the sight of her stunning smile and undeniable grace and charm.
The way the woman was able to strike Michael dumb at sight was beyond humbling and frankly concerning. Over and over he told himself that from now on, he would simply avoid her and her disturbing effect on him (he had enough to deal with at the moment with his new role as viscount) but over and over again, he found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. It was disconcerting to say the least.
And, as added insult, the last time he had been rendered speechless by the young lady, he had been in the company of his best friend, William Bredon, Lord Pembroke. Ever since then, he had been the victim of unmerciful teasing and ribbing from the blasted man.
Michael and William had been friends for years and, as such, Michael was well aware of his chum’s rapier wit, but when William fell in love with Lady Hannah Rochester, Michael had witnessed a dramatic change in his friend’s mood—for the better, happily. As a result, that acerbic wit was much more prevalent and, when within Michael’s presence, aimed almost constantly at him…and his reaction to one Miss Hope Stuckeley.
“Miss…Stuckeley?” Michael asked in complete astonishment.
The girl was clearly stunned that he had recognized her. “How…who…ah… Hello?” Hope said finally, with a small, sheepish smile.
“It is you,” Michael gasped. He reached out and grabbed Hope by the arm and dragged her back to the hack she had hired. Michael yanked open the door and practically threw Hope inside.
“Stay there,” he mumbled.
Not even waiting to see if she would argue, Michael shut the door and, motioning to the driver to wait, he stalked over to his horse and led it to the hackney coach, tying it up behind the vehicle. Once his mount had been secured, he gave Lady Lancaster’s address to the driver and climbed into the carriage, settling in across from Hope.
Michael waited until the hack was in motion before turning to Hope.
…
Hope was mortified by everything that had happened in the last few moments. She was well aware that all her dreams of being with this man had most likely been dashed.
Somewhere deep inside, she had harbored the hope that Michael would find her disguise clever, even if he wasn’t aware of the reason behind it. And once he did discover her secret, he would be impressed with her mathematical acumen and entrepreneurial tendencies, even if no other man of her acquaintance would be.
In her mind, Michael was different, special—the one man (besides her father) who would appreciate her unusual talents. In her daydreams, he was always the perfect picture of her ideal man. In his conversations with her friends, he always seemed to appreciate a clever turn of phrase or insightful comment. So, it hurt more than she ever thought possible that he had reacted just as any other male would have. By manhandling her and hiding her away…as if she were something shameful to see.
“Now then,” Michael began, “how about you explain yourself.”
“Does it even matter?” Hope whispered, unable to look at Michael. Instead she turned her heartbroken gaze toward the window and absently watched the scenery rush by.
“I think it does, yes,” Michael replied quietly. “Please, indulge me.”
Something in the way he said that—curiously, rather than sarcastically—made Hope think that perhaps he had not yet completely condemned her actions. The fact that he seemed to be seriously asking her to explain must mean he planned to seriously listen to her explanation, right?
Risking a quick glance at Michael’s face gave her the strength that she needed. This was the man she thought she could love, with his thick black hair, deep blue eyes, and softly cleft chin. For him, she would chance anything…even possible ridicule.
Therefore, taking a deep breath, Hope tried to explain. “Which would you like me to tell you first? Why I, er, appear the way I do…or why I was, ah, following the same men you were?”
“Let’s start with this first,” he replied, motioning to her disguise.
Hope sighed. “Occasionally, I dress as a man so I may visit the City unaccompanied.”
She stopped there, half hoping that it would be enough of an explanation. If she could avoid telling him about all her bluestocking tendencies, she thought she ought to try. Hope had been told many, many times that men did not appreciate a woman who thinks.
Michael was silent for a moment before prompting her with, “And why do you feel the need to visit the City unaccompanied?”
Shrugging slightly, she began, “I am a follower of the stock market, you see…”
…
Michael couldn’t help but gape when he heard that. Who did she think he was? As if any intelligent man would believe a debutante of her upbringing would have any knowledge whatsoever of the stock exchange. And certainly not a woman as charming and proper as the woman before him.
Not that Michael thought women unintelligent. On the contrary, actually. Michael knew better than most how clever and industrious a female could be. For many of the years that Michael was part of the armed forces, he had assisted Lord and Lady Lancaster in their investigations with the war office.
It was then that his eyes had been opened to the amazing abilities of women. Many of the world’s most successful spies were, in fact, female; however, even in his experience, the silly, simpering girls he met on the marriage mart were not the femme fatales he regularly
came into contact with during his time in the war.
Eyeing Michael carefully, Hope continued. “As I was saying, I have an interest in the stock market and, as I am sure you are aware, women are not allowed at the exchange, much less able to initiate trades themselves. So…in order to pursue my interests, I, on occasion, dress as a man so that I may visit the exchange without censure.”
“And they let you make trades?” Michael asked, forgetting that he didn’t believe anything she was saying in the first place.
“Of course not,” Hope replied. “I can’t give them my real name, they wouldn’t believe I was my father, and what good would giving them a false name do me? If I actually made any money, how ever would I collect it?”
Hope was looking at him so morosely that Michael began to doubt his initial belief that she was making this all up. Shaking his head as if trying to clear it, he said, “I don’t understand, then. Why go at all?”
Hope’s eyes lit up with an excitement that Michael found difficult to ignore. “Because,” she said, “it is all so exciting. I read the paper every day, but it’s not the same as watching the trades actually take place. To see the action—the bargaining—behind the changing numbers…it makes it all so real. So much more than numbers on a page.”
“You are serious, aren’t you?” Michael said, trying to ignore the heat unfurling in his chest at the sight of her sparkling eyes and flushed features.
“Of course I’m serious! Why wouldn’t I be?” Hope exclaimed, looking at Michael as if he had lost his mind.
Clearly, Hope was insulted and Michael was no longer sure she shouldn’t be. What had he said in the last few minutes anyway? He was quite certain he had yelled at her, implied she was a liar, and now intimated that she was not intelligent enough to follow the stock market.
Honestly, the vast majority of women in Michael’s acquaintance—not the least of which included Lady Lancaster—would have slapped him by now.
And it was then that Michael suddenly remembered again who it was that had introduced him to Hope in the first place. And she had done it in a way that indicated a fondness for the girl. Damn, Michael thought. If the dowager considered Miss Stuckeley a close personal friend, then the woman was probably much more than just a simpering debutante.
“Oh Lord, I think I have made the most terrible mistake,” Michael groaned, dropping his forehead into this hands.
“Hmph, I should say so,” Hope agreed.
Running his hands over his face, Michael looked up at Hope and said, “Please allow me to apologize for…well, everything. I can only plead temporary insanity brought on by an extreme lack of sleep.”
Clearly taken aback by the sudden and sincere apology, Hope blurted out, “What were you doing following those men if you are so tired?”
Michael gave Hope a half smile. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”
With a gasp, Hope quickly replied, “I am so sorry, my lord. Of course I accept your apology.”
Michael watched as Hope turned bright red. She seemed positively horrified. No wonder he didn’t think she was the type of girl to play the market. This was a proper young lady, who behaved as a proper young lady ought, regardless of the inanities of what was considered “proper.” And yet, there was something about her…something that made Michael think that if Hope Stuckeley were given half a chance, she could be the most extraordinary woman.
Chapter Four
Just when you think you have someone figured out, he or she surprises you.
~The Duke of Lancaster
After Michael accepted Hope’s apology for not accepting his apology—which seemed ridiculous, but he didn’t want to appear churlish—he went ahead and answered her original question.
“Actually, I began following one of the men late last night. He led me to the other two and eventually to where you and I bumped into each other.”
Hope’s brow crinkled up adorably in confusion and she asked, “Why, then, did you start to follow the first gentleman?”
“Well, I was in a hotel in Dover last night—”
“You followed him all the way from Dover?”
Michael simply gave her a sidelong glance before continuing his tale. He filled her in on all the details of the unexpected visitor. “Then the man took his leave…and, being suspicious of the entire event, I followed.”
“May I ask why you were so suspicious, my lord?”
“Of course you may ask, Miss Stuckeley. There is no need to stand on such formality given the circumstances, don’t you think?”
“No, I suppose not,” Hope answered, though it was clear she thought that a little formality might not be such a bad idea, considering all the oddities of the day.
Michael thought he might agree with her there, but continued nevertheless, “As it happens, I am somewhat acquainted with the actual Du Bourg and I knew immediately this man was not who he claimed to be.”
“Oh dear,” Hope breathed. “That is suspicious. And you followed him all the way here to London, watched him join up with those other two and continue through the City as they did?”
“Precisely.” Michael watched a myriad of expressions flit across Hope’s face. Obviously, what he had witnessed meant something to her. Something he had not yet figured out himself.
“My word, but that is terribly ingenious,” Hope whispered, mostly to herself.
“What is terribly ingenious?”
“Oh, I am sorry, my lord,” Hope was quick to reply. “It is just that I think everything you witnessed this morning and then what we both saw this afternoon has been an elaborate hoax to somehow manipulate the Stock Exchange.”
Now it was Michael’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”
“Do you follow the Exchange at all, my lord?”
“Will you quit calling me ‘my lord’? It’s Michael.”
“Oh no, my lord. That would be most improper…” Hope replied, blushing a deep scarlet.
“I have given you permission,” Michael pointed out, “therefore, it is perfectly acceptable.”
“Oh, all right,” Hope chirped, “if you insist.”
Michael couldn’t help but chuckle. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of Miss Stuckeley addressing him by his given name. And furthermore, he would like to be given license to use her first name as well.
“And may I call you Hope, Miss Stuckeley?” he found himself asking quietly, locking his eyes with hers. His hand itched to grab hers, but he was afraid he would frighten her with the sudden intensity of his desire to be more than just an acquaintance. Because, for the first time, Michael found he was able to have an intelligent conversation with Miss Stuckeley, rather than just staring at her, slack-jawed. Perhaps it was her costume that distracted him enough for him to keep his wits. Or perhaps it was just the oddness of the situation.
Whatever it was, Michael wanted to take advantage of his loquaciousness while he could and maybe, just maybe, determine what it was about this woman that affected him so.
“Of course,” Hope replied softly, her voice ever so slightly breathy. “You may call me whatever you wish.”
Michael’s brow lifted with surprise. “Oh really?” he said, smiling wickedly. He liked that answer very much, indeed.
Hope seemed to realize what she had said, because she blushed prettily and turned her head away. And amazingly enough, Michael honestly believed the action. So many young debutantes put on an act of modesty and demureness, but Hope seemed to honestly be a lady. A rather intelligent one at that.
Suddenly in a much better mood, Michael turned the conversation back to the intrigue of the day. “Now then, about this stock scheme you were mentioning… Would you please explain further?”
Apparently grateful for the change of subject, Hope quickly replied, “Oh yes…the scheme. Do you play the stock market, my lo— ah, Michael?”
Feeling a bit sheepish, Michael answered, “I’m afraid I do not. I tried my hand at it once but found I have n
o knack for it.”
“All right, here is the simplest explanation,” Hope began. “Securities are issued by the government to help raise the funds necessary to pay for its expenses. People who purchase these securities are paid a specified rate of interest during the life of the stock and the face value of the stock when it matures or comes due…” Hope stopped to ensure Michael was following her thus far.
Nodding his understanding, Michael indicated that Hope should continue.
“The value of the securities will go up and down throughout its lifetime based upon the success of the government from which it was issued. And historically, one iron rule can be applied to the stock market during times of war: conflict is good for shares, but only once investors become convinced that they are on the winning side.”
“Because,” Michael added slowly, “if England is on the winning side, the government stands a great chance of benefiting monetarily from the victory, not to mention gaining ultimate power and respect.”
“Precisely,” Hope stated grimly. “Napoleon’s death would be a clear indicator that the British government was—or would be soon—flourishing, thereby increasing the value of the government stocks.”
“All right, I now understand how the exchange would be affected by the rumors, but I am not sure how anyone could benefit from the effect.”
“Well, if I bought a large number of stocks at a low price and then manipulated the price to go up, at which point I sold the shares that I bought at the higher value, I would stand to make a pretty penny, don’t you think?”
Michael grimaced as he suddenly understood Hope’s implication. “Right…so someone out there presumably bought a large amount of something and then perpetrated this hoax so that he could sell it for an inflated profit. The question is, who benefitted from this latest rumor? And which stocks were affected? Is there any way to tell?”
Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (Entangled Scandalous) Page 3
