“’Tisn’t necessary.” Mrs. Pott waved off Berty’s thanks, but it was clear by the slight pinking of her weathered cheeks she was pleased.
As she rose to leave, Berty leaned forward. “Wait.”
Mrs. Pott turned, folding her hands in front of her starched uniform. “Aye, miss?”
“Please ask Mr. Willox to join me for tea.” Berty barely restrained the grin at her request. She was quite certain that Mrs. Pott was aware that Mr. Willox wasn’t simply a footman, so she wasn’t breeching his secrecy.
She hoped.
“Of course.” If Mrs. Pott thought her request odd, she didn’t show it as she left the parlor in search of Mr. Willox.
Berty sipped her tea slowly, letting the hot and slightly bitter flavor punctuate her quiet moment. As she set down her teacup, she selected a butter biscuit from the tray and took a petite bite, forcing herself to be polite rather than stuffing the whole delicious thing in her mouth.
Closing her eyes, she savored the sweet and salty delight that was Mrs. Pott’s confection.
“You requested my assistance?” Mr. Willox’s voice shattered her enjoyment.
As she blinked her eyes open, she frowned slightly in confusion. “I need no assistance, Mr. Willox. I simply deduced that you may be in want of refreshment. Care you join me?” Berty asked, lifting an empty teacup and filling it without delay. Surely, he couldn’t leave if she had already poured?
“I—” He paused, his gray eyes darting to the cup and back then closing as if resigning himself. “—would be delighted, of course.”
“I do believe that was six words. I’m nearly shocked,” Berty replied. “Sugar? Milk?” she asked quickly after.
His eyes narrowed. “Neither.”
“Ah, something we have in common.” Berty lifted the cup and raised her brows, waiting.
“Thank you.” Mr. Willox took the china and glanced from the door to a chair and then back.
“Dear me, you are afraid of women, aren’t you?” Berty teased.
Mr. Willox selected the chair farthest from her and at an angle where passersby wouldn’t notice his presence. “It’s in my nature to be wary, Miss Lamont.”
“Berty,” she corrected, taking a sip of tea.
“Miss Lamont,” he reinforced, sipping his own.
“You’re almost as stubborn as I.” Berty lifted her teacup in salute.
“I’ve yet to meet my match, miss,” Mr. Willox replied, but Berty thought she glimpsed the ghost of a smile before he resumed his refreshment.
“I was hoping that you could give me additional information on any sort of assistance you’ll need from me during our little adventure.” Berty set her china down then folded her hands to wait.
Mr. Willox glanced to the door then back. “I don’t know of what you speak, miss.”
Berty gave a very unladylike eye roll. “Very well, I’ll play along.” She shrugged. “I’m so thankful for your recent agreement to work for His Grace. I’m sure you’ll be such a delightful addition to the staff here at GreenFord Waters. It would please me greatly if you’d have my mount ready at seven a.m. sharp, mind you. I’m not one to sleep the day away.” She gave her most haughty sniff. “And I do require a carriage each day so that I may ride into Bath. Also, I hear that there is a Dragoon regiment of the Light Calvary stationed nearby. I believe it would be lovely to see the encampment. Can you possibly arrange for me to see it?” She sighed and leaned back, arching a brow as she waited for the implications of everything she just said to sink into her worthy opponent.
Mr. Willox’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing into slits. He glanced to the door, and as providence would have it, a parlor maid walked by — immediately presenting the need for him to maintain his cover story.
Trapped. Berty was thrilled with her quick thinking.
“Of course, my lady.” He bit the words like they tasted bitter in his mouth.
“Lovely. That will be all.” With an innocent smile, she watched as he stood slowly and regarded her, as if realizing for the first time that she wasn’t simply some silly debutante, but something more dangerous.
It was a delicious feeling to throw the gauntlet. Reckoning would emerge at some point, but it had been worth it.
“Until tomorrow,” he replied through tight lips.
Berty shrugged and lifted her cup, playing her part perfectly as he quit the room in a few quick steps. And as he glanced back over his shoulder, spearing her with his cold gray eyes, she wondered if maybe she’d just played not with fire…
But with harsh and unforgiving ice.
HENRY CARESSED THE back of a chestnut mare and gently set the saddle blanket in place. Weak, early morning daylight filtered through the stables, making the sputtering lanterns less necessary as he strode to the back room to collect the sidesaddle. As he lifted it from its position on the rack, he released a frustrated sigh at the turn of events yesterday.
She had caught him off guard, and it didn’t set well. He’d expected her to be pushy, ignorant, and flighty — rather, she was cunning, aware, and persistent. Her chocolate-brown eyes flashed with intuition, making him question just how much she noticed, how much she saw. It was fascinating to meet a woman who instinctively was aware of her surroundings. Clearly, he had misjudged her at first, but he wasn’t going to continue that mistake.
No.
He would set the record straight this morning when Miss Lamont came out for her morning ride, provided she actually showed up. He half wondered if she was toying with him, yet his instinct said she had been very intentional in her words.
As he cinched up the sidesaddle, the mare nickered softly, and the sound of delicate footsteps alerted him of someone’s arrival. He listened closely but didn’t turn, rather purposefully ignoring her entrance, curious as to how she’d react.
“Good morning.” Miss Lamont spoke softly, her tone low and slightly hoarse from sleep.
Without permission, his body reacted enthusiastically to the soft and sultry sound of her voice, and he took a moment to collect his wayward instincts while not responding to her greeting.
She tried again. “Ah, I see you’re the type that doesn’t speak till noon. Delightful. Just when I didn’t think you could get any less verbose.” She tsked her tongue as she walked around and gently patted the mare’s nose.
“Isn’t that right, Herra?” she crooned as the horse leaned into her caress.
Henry bided his time and simply gestured to the small mounting ladder before offering his hand.
With a reluctant sigh and a disapproving frown, Miss Lamont accepted his proposition of assistance, even as he bit back a grin at how easy it was to execute his own plans.
“Thank you.” She took the small steps ascending the ladder before putting a slight amount of pressure on his extended arm as she settled onto the saddle and pommel.
As she released his hand, he disregarded the way his body immediately missed the contact. It was some odd morning madness to have such base responses to her touch, her voice. It certainly had never been an issue before with other women. He pushed aside the observation, and rather than pass her the leather reins, he waited a moment as she tugged on one of her riding gloves and then extended a hand in apparent expectation.
With a grin he couldn’t contain, he turned his back to her and led the mare from the building.
“I’m perfectly capable of guiding my own horse from the stables. Thank you,” she replied tartly.
Ignoring her, he stepped into the growing sunlight and guided the horse toward a path to the wood.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Miss Lamont hissed.
Her mount’s ears perked slightly, obviously listening to her mistress, and doing such, jerked her head upward.
With a firm grip, Henry settled the horse and continued walking.
“What is the matter with you? Surely you cannot think it proper or wise to take an unaccompanied lady into the woods? What would people say or think?”
<
br /> Henry glanced around purposefully then met her furious gaze. “Because there are so many others about at this early hour? No, I do believe I have you quite captive, and it doesn’t please me to release you just yet. I’d find a comfortable position on your mount, miss. This may be a few minutes.”
“If you’re so insistent on accompanying me, why did you not simply saddle your own horse?” Miss Lamont asked, her tone exasperated.
Henry glanced to her, meeting her challenging glare. His leather glove tightened on the reins, causing them to squeak in protest. “Control.”
“And my reputation as a horsewoman precedes me so greatly that you didn’t think yourself up to the task of matching me?” she shot back.
“I’m quite capable.” He turned back to the winding forest path, hiding his amused expression.
“Or maybe you only perceive that you are…”
“Perhaps. Regardless, it is of no import currently, as I have control of your mount. I only wish I also had control of your tongue.” He glanced over his shoulder.
The way her jaw dropped in apparent shock had him suppressing a chuckle. As if realizing his amusement, her eyes narrowed in anger.
“If I have a fault, it’s not speaking enough—”
“If you have a fault—” Miss Lamont interrupted, incensed.
“Yes, if,” he clipped as he stepped over a large stone in the path. “But your fault is surely that you speak too much,” he finished.
“So I’ve been told. You honestly think you’re the first one to uncover that character flaw?” Henry could hear the irritated drag of her tone clearly. “Or perhaps you think that no one would dare speak in such a way to me, since I’m the ward of the infamous Duke of Clairmont. I assure you, that is not the case. You think me prideful, no doubt, but you know nothing of me. And I’d appreciate if you’d keep your assumptions of my character to yourself and give me the opportunity to embody my character rather than simply make a fool of yourself by inferring it.”
Henry’s brows rose as he considered her words. If being frank had a face, certainly it would be the face of Roberta Lamont. “I shall endeavor to take your advice,” he replied, even as his judgment said it was foolish. Yet how often had he wished for someone to offer him the very same courtesy? To not be judged by who his father was… or wasn’t? To be defined by who he was as a man, not his position or lack thereof by birth? To prove himself, rather than be given a label? It was hypocritical of him to not extend Miss Lamont the same courtesy he wished to be given to him.
Damn the woman, finding his one and only weakness.
“Thank you,” Miss Lamont replied, her tone slightly surprised.
“I’m a spy, not a monster.” He spoke over his shoulder as he led her off the well-cleared path and onto a deer trail.
“That’s certainly good to know, since you’re leading me into a very remote area of the estate, and one could wonder at your intentions,” Berty dared.
“I assure you my intentions are honorable, mostly.”
“How encouraging,” she replied dryly.
“Though it is disappointing how easy it was to simply walk away with you utterly captive. I will speak with the duke upon my return about some safety measures. You are entirely too trusting.” He shook his head as he paused next to a small clearing and tied the mare’s reins to a nearby branch.
“Again with the assumptions.” She sighed. “It shall be my greatest delight to turn all your arrogant notions upon their ear.”
Henry extended a hand as he helped her dismount.
“And there goes that mouth of yours. Surely it has gotten you into trouble more times that you can count,” he chided.
“It is my greatest weapon and also my greatest weakness. Lucky for me, I’ve learned how to use it properly.”
Henry released her hand but paused as Miss Lamont adjusted her boot. Sighing in frustration, he bent down to assist her. Yet his annoyance turned to surprise when she quickly stood, leaving him in a vulnerable position as something cold touched the back of his neck.
“I should think that being a spy meant never being caught unaware. It would be wise for you to remember to whom my sisters are married.” Miss Lamont stepped back and quickly replaced the small knife in her boot then winked, pulling him from his surprise.
He rose with her, narrowing his eyes. “I can see I have misjudged.”
“Apparently.” That delicate brow arched again, he was beginning to almost anticipate the action.
It was glaringly obvious now that he considered it. Lord Neville, one of London’s most notorious spies, was Miss Lamont’s brother-in-law. Her other sister’s husband was Lord Graham, who was also quite famous from his association with the War Office. Add in the duke who was clearly protective of his wards… it was no wonder that Miss Lamont had some training in self-defense.
“I assure you that from now on, I’ll overestimate rather than underestimate you.” He twisted his lips, utterly amused and enchanted by the way she’d completely unseated him. Yet he forced his thoughts back to the issue at hand. “And since I’m overestimating, I shall assume that you knew full well what you were doing yesterday, and how you put me in a very compromising situation. It is imperative that my cover story remain unsoiled, or I assure you that your little adventure to the country will come to an abrupt stop.”
“You were in no danger of having your cover compromised.”
“You can’t know that.” He took a step closer to her, lowering his chin to meet her gaze in a forthright manner.
She gave a wry grin. “That is true. I can’t be absolutely certain, but this I do know… You acting like a stiff-necked servant will undermine your disguise faster than anything I said yesterday.” She took a step toward him, and he backed away slightly, keeping a proper distance between them.
“Stiff-necked?”
“Yes. Dropping my hand the moment my foot touches the ground, all but ignoring my comments, or questions… even the way you keep your nose in the air speaks of a higher rank. Surely you are a better actor than that.” She waved a hand impatiently.
“Your presence is rather distracting,” he replied through clenched teeth. “And I’m not here to entertain you. You’re here assisting me, remember?”
“This is getting nowhere,” Miss Lamont shook her head.
Henry met her gaze and took a slow breath. “What I need from you is to be given space and latitude. Do not engage me because I don’t care to be engaged by you beyond what is absolutely necessary. In fact, the best thing you can do is forget that I’m even here. Because, as of later on this morning, I’m—” He paused, halting his thought.
“You’re?” Miss Lamont asked, tilting her chin in curiously.
“None of your concern. Leave me and my assignment alone. Do not engage, and all will be well. Are we clear?” he asked.
Miss Lamont took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, regarding him. “Very well. But I’d be a little kinder if I were you. You never know when you might actually need my assistance.” She untied the reins from the branch.
“That is highly doubtful,” Henry replied, stepping forward to help her into the saddle.
Miss Lamont studied his extended hand. “You’re difficult to figure out. You have some gentlemanly tendencies, yet you speak down to people as if they are lesser than you, when we both know that between the two of us, I could easily have treated you that very same way — yet I didn’t. I wonder what that says about my character… and yours?” She cocked a brow and grabbed the side-saddle pommel, using a nearby log to mount. “Come, Herra.” She clicked her tongue as she spun the horse around and then trotted back to the main path.
He watched her leave, part of him wishing she’d give one last parting glance behind, yet she didn’t.
And he couldn’t blame her.
It was better this way.
Keep her at a distance.
Push her farther away.
After all, she was fire.
And it was nev
er wise to play with fire when one had a frozen heart.
BERTY PRESSED HER lips in a firm line as she tossed her reins to the nearby groomsman and galumphed out of the stables. The gall, the ignorance, the pride, and arrogant nature of that man! For him to know so little about her and to make such assumptions of her character, it was horrific! She gave a low growl as she stomped to the manor, thankful for the still early hour that afforded her some privacy in her current fit of pique.
It took a pot of strong tea and several biscuits to cool her anger. And as such, she resolved to take a day to enjoy the sights of Bath and ignore the uncouth behavior of Mr. Willox. It was a lovely spring day, and she ordered the curricle to be readied and summoned her new maid, Alice, to accompany her so that she might take in the air.
Soon she was on her way to the lovely seaside city of Bath, her childhood memories as companions. The driver meandered through the city at a lazy pace, allowing her the opportunity to study the architecture of the Crescent along with the old Roman ruins. Alice was a silent partner, and for once, Berty was at peace with the quiet nature as she enjoyed the stroll down memory lane.
They passed the shops on Milsom Street, her careful gaze taking in the fashion that reflected the patterns of London. At seeing Molland’s, she directed the driver to halt. A delightful expectation hung in the air as she stepped from the curricle and into the heady aroma of fresh bread, pastry, and sweet confections. Alice tagged behind as Berty inhaled deeply, and her mouth watered as childhood memories warmed her. After selecting a delightful treat of marzipan for herself and one for Alice, she carried the paper-wrapped treats to the curricle, where she directed the driver to take them back to the Crescent. There they could enjoy the treat on the green expanse of lawn behind the monument.
The tang of salt in the air added to the already humid nature, but it was a welcome reminder that the sea was just beyond. Berty had always loved the water, and it was a great comfort to be near it once more. After they arrived at the Crescent’s lawn, the coachman helped her alight from the curricle, and soon she was selecting a position that would afford the best view for enjoying her marzipan. Alice followed as Berty circled a small area and then, true to her nature, sat down upon the bare grass, earning a frown from Alice.
A Hoyden and an Heiress (Greenford Waters Book 4) Page 3
