“Maybe I can change her mind.”
Morgan’s gaze sharpened as he pinned Tristan beneath his stare.
Tristan fought the urge to swallow. Why did he say that?
Because there’s no other way.
“How?” Morgan’s voice was thick with disbelief, disdain even.
Tristan’s hackles rose. His brother didn’t think he could do it. That, more than anything, made Tristan determined to succeed. He straightened, thrusting his shoulders back.
Freddie’s curvaceous figure and pretty face flashed across his mind again. The memory of her pressed against him mounted.
“Seduction.” The word left his mouth before he thought twice. He swallowed, but didn’t take it back. He didn’t want to.
He met his brother’s gaze. “No woman betrays a man she’s fallen in love with.”
Morgan’s mouth twisted in a wry smirk. “I suppose we’ll shortly find out.”
Freddie wove through the throng of people meandering up the wide, grassy lawn toward Tenwick Abbey. To her right, the small shed was dwarfed in the shadow of the giant oak tree. Ahead, up a small incline, loomed the abbey, a magnificent sight cutting up from the manicured lawn, carefully cultivated garden, and smaller trees beyond. The stone edifice seemed to rise in tiers, the windows fitted with glass that sparkled in the intermittent sunshine. It was a lofty, regal building perched on the edge of the Tenwick estate, like a benevolent overlord keeping an eye on his subjects.
The guests meandered toward the edifice like pilgrims, taking slow and plodding steps. Freddie elbowed her way between Mrs. Biddleford and Miss Maize, muttering her apologies. They glared at her as they closed ranks, blocking the path of the man who dogged her steps.
Tristan narrowed his eyes. As the sun hid behind the clouds, his dark gaze turned stormy. He pressed his lips together. Freddie turned her back, quickly slipping in and out of the other guests as she made her way toward the manor as quick as she dared. The entire way, she felt his hot gaze on the back of her neck.
He hadn’t given her a moment’s peace all day. From the moment she’d descended to the breakfast table, early as usual, he’d been waiting. Thankfully, they hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t spoken a word to her, but his gaze had bored into her while he methodically buttered a piece of bread from corner to corner, filled a cup with a strong, bitter coffee judging from the smell, and consumed it, alternating in sips and bites until he finished both at once.
He’d escorted his sister on his arm down the lawn to the church. The party had opted to walk rather than drive, given the mild spring weather. Even with Charlie and Lucy to serve as a buffer between Freddie and Tristan, she’d still felt his presence like the heat of a furnace.
He’d sat in the pew behind hers during Church, and although Freddie hadn’t dared turn her head during the sermon, she’d sensed that his gaze was fixed to the back of her bonnet.
His message was clear: I’m watching you.
Freddie couldn’t help but shiver at the thought. It was bad enough that, in a moment of weakness, she might have shared too much information with the enemy. Now he wouldn’t let her alone. How was she to accomplish her task and lift her family from Harker’s eye when Tristan stuck himself to her every move like a burr?
So don’t do it.
That wasn’t an option. Although Harker had been conspicuously absent from the festivities last night, along with Mama, and hadn’t approached her yet today, his beady eyes were upon her as well. The moment she managed to separate herself from Tristan’s side, she would have to answer to Harker.
A shudder crawled up her spine at the thought. If she’d only managed to get the book yesterday, this would have all been over. But no, she’d managed to become a watering pot, too bacon-brained to even probe Tristan for the book’s location while he confronted her.
She stiffened her spine. She had to do better. I promise, Mama. Harker won’t touch you again, not if I can help it.
As she reached the front of the group, Charlotte’s voice called her name from behind. Freddie ducked her head, pretending not to hear as she stepped beneath the shadows of the manor. The doors loomed, a beacon. She quickened her step and crossed the threshold.
The butler waited to one side, his stiff posture encased in azure livery with silver trim. He accepted her bonnet and shawl. Freddie’s shoes clicked, echoing along the long antechamber as she stepped away from the door. Behind her, the guests deluged the butler with garments. Bodies clogged the entryway as they impatiently waited their turns. With a smirk, Freddie hurried farther into the manor.
Her gaze rose to the balcony overlooking the antechamber. She’d first laid eyes on Tristan on that very spot. Had it only been two days ago? Her weariness reached down to her toes. She felt as though she’d fought a battle.
But she hadn’t won yet. She hadn’t found the book. If her sense of direction was correct, that balcony bordered the west wing. Were the family’s quarters connected to it?
You already checked there. You found nothing. She bit the inside of her cheek, even as she acknowledged the truth of the words. If she was going to find the book, it would be in someplace she hadn’t looked.
Like the library.
A gentleman and a young lady murmured softly as they left the butler behind. The guests thickened as more poured into the manor. If Freddie wanted to avoid Tristan, she had to hurry. Her heart in her throat, she looped her hem over one arm and bolted from the room. The echo of footsteps and the chatter of voices followed her, growing dimmer.
As she turned a corner, she came face to face with Tristan. Her mouth dropped open. He must have entered by another door. But how had he known she would come this way? The glint in his eye left no doubt that he’d expected to find her.
She shut her mouth with a snap. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a few ladies lazily crossing the corridor she’d traversed. Halfway down, they turned up a staircase toward the guest chambers.
Before anyone spotted her, Freddie stepped around the corner and out of sight. Tristan remained rooted in spot, a wall of solid muscle. Even in his conservative, gray Church clothing, with his hair neatly combed and his cravat tied simply, he looked dangerous. Her heart thumped faster. She wiped her clammy palms on the skirt of her flower-patterned yellow dress as she dropped the hem from her arm.
“Are you following me?” She kept her voice low, afraid of it carrying.
Tristan had no such qualms. He laughed, a deep, rich chuckle. They stood so close together, she could feel the air ripple from the vibrations.
“Why do you sound disapproving? It’s what you’ve been tasked to do, isn’t it? Keep an eye on me—follow me.”
The fabric of her skirt scraped against her palms as she fisted them. Not even close. In fact, she expressly tried to avoid his interest. By now, it was impossible.
He leaned closer. His cologne filled the air around her, a sultry whiff of sandalwood.
“In a way, I’m making your task easier. You don’t need to search for me when I’m right in front of you.”
He leaned his palm against the wall in a casual pose. His biceps strained against the tight sleeve of his jacket. Her gaze darted to that display of muscle. She swallowed, but couldn’t find words.
With a charming smile, he added, “Go on. Report on my movements to your master.”
She pressed her lips together, but even that couldn’t stem the tide of outrage that rose in her. “Harker is not my master.”
“No? He seems to be able to get you to do his bidding.”
If she were prone to violence, she would have kicked him. “What I do with my time is none of your concern.”
“No?” He cocked one eyebrow. “It is when I find you places where you don’t belong.”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m in the middle of a public corridor. I’m on my way to the library. You can’t possibly be so arrogant as to tell me that I’m not permitted to read.”
He chuckled, a deep sound that matched his e
yes. His gaze seemed to envelop her, dark with promise. “You know what I mean.”
She took a step back. Without her hem draped over her arm, she tripped on her train. A sickly tear rent the air. Her heel slipped across the fabric of her hem. She lost her footing. She yelped before clamping her lips shut.
In the next instant, strong arms wrapped around her as Tristan kept her from falling. He pressed flush against her from belly to knee, his hands splayed across her back. His gaze dropped to her mouth.
Freddie’s ears rang with a steady click, click, click.
A moment later, twin gasps punctured the air behind her. While clutching Tristan’s biceps for support, she peered over her shoulder.
Mrs. Biddleford, her gaze sharp despite the lack of spectacles perched on her long nose, beheld Freddie with unrestrained glee. Miss Maize, only as tall as her companion’s shoulder, fought a smirk. With her cheeks heating, Freddie faced forward, only to be confronted by Tristan’s panicked gaze.
He released her with alacrity. Freddie leaned against the wall for balance. Turning his gaze away from her, he said stiffly, “Yes, Miss Vale, the library is this way. Just down this hall. If you’ll excuse me, ladies?”
Without waiting for a response, he shouldered his way between the two older women and continued down the hall. His posture was stiff, his movements jerky. Had she noticed some heightened color in his face?
Her cheeks felt like a furnace as she met the two gossips’ examining gazes. As their attention roved over her, taking in every aspect of her from her staid coiffure to her modest walking dress, she felt as though they could see through to her very soul. She shifted in place, hoping her secrets weren’t shining on her face.
She cleared her throat. “I hope you’ll excuse me as well. I seem to be especially clumsy this afternoon. I believe I’ll go to my room and lay down.”
Mrs. Biddleford cackled as Freddie stepped forward. “Yes, I imagine you are…clumsy.”
Miss Maize beamed, her gaze sly. “I imagine I would be too, if I had Lord Graylocke’s strong arms to catch me.”
When the taller busybody nodded in answer, it looked a bit like the bob of a chicken’s head. “Yes, a sight better than the menfolk you’re usually accustomed to, isn’t it, Miss Vale?”
Freddie’s heart pounded faster. Were they talking about Harker? Surely they didn’t believe that she…entertained him the way her mother did. Freddie’s stomach swished at the thought. She would rather be cast out onto the street.
Ah, but would you rather Charlie was cast out? Freddie swallowed hard. That was a future she dared not contemplate. It wouldn’t come to that. She would find the code book for Harker, and that would be that. However clever Tristan thought he was, he would not outsmart her.
She wiped her hands on her skirts. Throwing back her shoulders, she said in a prim tone, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
Her eyes gleaming, Miss Maize pounced on the topic like a cat offered catnip. “If you’ll forgive us for saying so, that Lord Harker is hardly a pleasant one to look at.”
Freddie offered a tight smile. It was the closest to a pleasantry as she could come. “I hardly employ my time staring at him.”
When she tried to step past the pair, they shifted to block her.
Mrs. Biddleford added, “He does seem rather odious. One might wonder why you find yourself in his company at all.”
Freddie’s head spun. She bit the inside of her cheek to grant clarity. “I hardly have a choice. Lord Harker was kind enough to take my family in when we had nowhere else to go. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
She stepped past the pair, her heart beating faster as she heard the rustle of muslin that indicated movement. Would they try to stop her?
Mrs. Biddleford called after her, “Is that why you’re so adamant in pursuing Lord Graylocke? To provide another choice.”
Breathing became difficult, like she tried to inhale sludge. She swallowed hard, but even then, couldn’t come up with something to say. Instead, she beat a hasty retreat. Her legs shook by the time she reached her chamber.
I’m not pursuing him. He’s pursuing me—and not for the reason you think.
Chapter Fourteen
Lace tickled Freddie’s nose. She batted it away, fighting a sneeze. When she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to puzzle out why the room was sideways. She must have fallen asleep. Guilt nagged at her stomach over a wasted afternoon—the light slanting in through the window indicated that sunset approached. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
Charlie stood in front of her, beaming. A mint-green underdress was draped over her arm. The bottom six inches were tiered in lace with small white flowers embroidered above where it had been hastily added to the hem.
“I promised I would finish it, and I did.”
Freddie’s mouth fell open. “When did you find the time?”
Her sister grinned. “I made the time. You’ll wear it tonight, won’t you? I want to give you every advantage.”
Freddie reached out. When her fingers touched the smooth waterfall of fabric, she had to blink away tears. I want the same for you, Charlotte. She waited until she had her emotions under control before she craned her neck back to look her sister in the eye. Freddie’s throat was thick with tears. Her sister radiated satisfaction and pride.
“Is there no one who catches your eye here, Charlie?”
Her sister made a face. “No. Freddie, I’ve told you, I’m not interested in marriage yet. I have time yet before I have to decide.”
Not if I don’t procure the code book for Harker. Freddie’s chest filled with a hot burn. She gritted her teeth. The look in Charlie’s eye, if anything, made Freddie even more determined to do his bidding. She would earn that promised cabin and dowry for her sister if it was the last thing she did.
She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Will you take the rest of the party to enjoy yourself?”
Charlie draped the dress over the royal blue settee and straightened. Her smile was blinding in its brilliance. “I will, as long as you promise to do the same.”
Freddie choked back a laugh. Now that Tristan knew of her spying arrangement with Harker, she didn’t know how that would be possible.
Freddie sat squarely in the middle of the long table. The white tablecloth tickled her legs. To her right, at the very end of the table, was the Graylocke family, seated in a square next to the guests of honor, who Freddie gathered were also related to the Tenwick title in some peripheral way. The youngest, Lucy sat opposite her mother with the duke in between them. Diagonal from her, on the dowager duchess’s right, was Tristan. Several yards and myriad people separated them, but even so, every time Freddie cast her gaze toward the head of the table, she found Tristan staring at her. At that distance, in the shimmering light cast by the chandelier overhead, she couldn’t make out his expression.
Pressing her lips together, she focused on the food on her plate, spiced beef and creamed parsnips. With Tristan’s gaze on her, her stomach jumped and buzzed like it was filled with grasshoppers. She moved her food around her plate, but didn’t eat.
On Freddie’s left, her sister leaned closer. “I think Lord Graylocke is staring at you.”
Freddie didn’t look up. “You must be mistaken.”
“Am I?”
The wondering note in Charlie’s voice made Freddie rear her head in alarm. Her sister wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to her anymore. Instead, she was busy staring at the head of the table. Her eyes were narrowed, her thick brown eyelashes jutting out like the accusing point of fingers.
“I thought I caught him paying attention to you during Church this morning.”
Freddie didn’t like the look on her sister’s face. She gulped a hasty sip of wine. “How would you know? He wasn’t sitting with us.” Her voice emerged high and thin, not at all natural.
Charlie didn’t seem to notice. Her attention remained, unwaveringly, on Tristan. “He sat in the row behind us with his brothers
. I saw him when I stretched my neck.”
Charlie always had a more difficult time concentrating during Church than Freddie.
She hazarded a gaze at Tristan. He appeared to notice her sister’s regard. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. He said something in reply to his mother and picked at his food, but a moment later, his gaze returned.
“Aha!”
The exclamation was no louder than a whisper, but Freddie cringed all the same. A quick glance down the table proved that no one appeared to have noticed. For that reason alone, Freddie was glad that Charlie had tenaciously claimed the seat next to her instead of adhering to the seating schedule that paired women with male partners on either side to encourage conversation. Freddie doubted that a man seated between them would have stopped her sister from engaging in this conversation. At least this way, they weren’t overheard.
Charlie leaned so close that the artfully arranged curl by her temple tickled Freddie’s cheek. “He did it again. He is definitely looking at you.”
“Are you certain he isn’t looking at you?”
Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Why would he be staring at me? We’ve scarcely exchanged two words.”
“And you think he and I have held a debate?”
“You spent the morning with him yesterday in battledore.”
Freddie winced. She was right.
And, judging by the shrewd gaze Charlie turned on her, her sister knew it, too. “You know him infinitely better than I do.”
That is closer to the truth than you know.
Freddie had difficulty finding her voice. She spluttered. “I would-ldn’t say that I know him well. He… He and I…” She stared around the room, hoping for an excuse. Weakly, she ended, “He is c-competitive, is all. We didn’t speak. At least, not much. We—”
Stop talking!
Freddie shut her mouth. She didn’t like the gleam in Charlie’s eye.
Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) Page 11
