She and Catt had a decision to make on that front. One more decision, piled on so many others.
As Catt accepted her coat, he murmured, “Do you believe him?”
She sighed, defeated. “I do. Do you?”
He hung the outerwear in the closet and shut the door. Mr. Dowden had left the lantern on the table next to the closet, and it continued to emit a yellow circle of light, enough to read Catt’s expression. He looked harried.
“I do as well.”
Turning back to her, he blew on his hands, then took hers and rubbed them between his to encourage warmth. She tipped her face up to his, battling the urge to sink against him and feel the entire warm length of him against her. It was silly—they were dressed in nothing more than their nightclothes with the addition of his breeches and his nightshirt haphazardly tucked into them, but at that moment she’d never found him more handsome.
Maybe it was the absent, brilliant air he cultivated while he thought. Once he warmed her hands, he stopped rubbing them, but continued to cup them between their bodies.
“If he’s telling the truth, then Lewis—”
She tensed. “I know. He misled me.”
Obviously, Lewis would have known that his affair with Mrs. Dowden had played a role in her death. He had deliberately withheld that information and pointed the finger solely at Mr. Dowden. Had he truly believed they wouldn’t be able to find out?
“Do you think he pointed me in the wrong direction to mask what he is?”
“A traitor, you mean?” Catt mused. He ran his tongue slowly along his lower lip as he thought. “It’s a possibility, if he guessed your game.”
Rocky, along with Catt, had been given extensive training by the Crown on how to remain inconspicuous. However, the day Lewis had caught her and confessed his suspicions about the cook’s sins, Rocky had been trailing Stefan to learn more about his habits. She hadn’t noticed Lewis’s presence until too late, and by then he might have puzzled out that she was in search of something different than a liaison.
“I don’t know if he knows that we’re searching for V.”
Catt’s hands tightened on hers for a moment before he released her. “Neither do I, but we’ll have to be vigilant.”
“Whether he guessed or not, it’s clear he’s hiding something.”
Catt offered her a smirk, but it seemed weary. “Whatever he is hiding, we will learn of it,” he assured her. “That’s what we do.”
Chapter 21
Catt had been battling his attraction to Rocky for too long. If he were honest with himself, probably longer than their forced proximity due to this assignment. The night before, when she’d roused him from bed, he’d been afraid he was dreaming.
No, not afraid. Because his dreams would undoubtedly have included something more pleasurable than freezing his arse off in a snow-covered cemetery. The fantasy had gripped him when he’d finally fallen asleep. He’d woken to the illusion that he felt her nearby again.
Rocky seemed no less tense and sleep-deprived than he did this morning. She vibrated with contained energy, her shoulders hunched up under her ears as they completed their last circuit of the hothouse for the day, searching for any signs of the code Monsieur V had employed. So far, Catt had turned up nothing. Granted, he was a bit distracted with Rocky, even if she was across the room from him.
He wasn’t worthy of her. At least, he’d never considered himself to be. How was the disowned son of a soldier supposed to compare to a woman with as much drive and zest as Rocky? She was always so confident, so capable and independent. She didn’t need anyone, not a man and certainly not a man like Catt. And, if she didn’t need him, why would she want him?
She didn’t, of course. He should stop thinking about how it felt to kiss her, stop imagining what it might be like to wake up with her nestled in his arms. Once this assignment was done, maybe his head would clear a bit. He’d ask Morgan for an assignment away from Tenwick Abbey. Away from Rocky.
Helpless, he glanced to her again. If anything, she looked even more tense. She was working herself into a lather again. Sooner or later, she would snap from the strain.
Without thinking, he moved closer and rubbed her back. The muscles in her shoulders were as hard as rock. She jumped at his touch, tilting her face up to his.
Kiss her.
He couldn’t do that. He dropped his hand. “Maybe you should head to bed early tonight. We’re nearly done. I can finish the inspection.”
The hostility he knew so well lined her expression. By now, he recognized it as cover for a deeper insecurity. He couldn’t fathom what; Rocky was the most strong and capable woman he knew.
“I am perfectly capable—”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “You are. You should know me well enough by now to know that I’m not trying to insinuate otherwise.” He ran his fingers through his hair, not caring if it stuck up on end a bit.
Rocky’s posture relaxed, but her chin was still set in a mulish expression.
“You’re mulling over what we know. I can see it in your posture. Why don’t you let me tend to this part of our job, since you won’t be able to ignore that part of it? Take a bath. Go to bed. Whatever relaxes you.”
He swallowed thickly, hoping that his desire to help with that relaxation didn’t show on his face. They were friends, for Heaven’s sake! If she knew how much he desired her…
She nodded slowly, her hostile expression fading. It left something vulnerable behind, the soft part of her that she tried to hide with her prickliness.
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft. It raised gooseflesh over his skin. He fought not to fidget.
Instead, he stepped aside, indicating the path to the door. She held his gaze for a moment longer before she nodded and left the room. He fought to remain in place, reminding himself that he still had work to finish.
And that he wasn’t worthy of her.
As he resumed checking the last patch of plants in the room for signs of tampering, he tried to focus on that fact, perhaps the only thing keeping him from running after her and…
What? Kissing her? She might slap him. Or sharpen her tongue on him.
Or kiss him back…
He didn’t know what frightened him most.
You’re worth ten of them. His uncle’s words. A silly, typical response from the old scholar, but Catt didn’t doubt for a second that he meant the words. His uncle didn’t say things that he didn’t mean.
Catt didn’t need to be worth ten of one of London’s peers. He only needed to be worthy of one woman. Was he? He doubted she would have relinquished her work to anyone else. She didn’t trust others to do as thorough a job as she did.
Except, it seemed, she trusted Catt.
Could he be worthy of her, after all?
He swore under his breath as he finished the inspection and came up empty-handed. He stared at the door to the hothouse, willing himself to rein in his emotions. He couldn’t follow after her. It would be madness.
But what if it isn’t?
Maybe he’d rather be mad, anyway.
Shoving aside his misgivings and all the imagined what-ifs that might occur if she didn’t hope to see him as much as he did her, he strode from the hothouse and meandered toward the servants’ quarters. Had she already reached her room? He hadn’t taken long to finish the inspection. They’d been nearly finished as it was.
As he turned into another corridor, he froze in place. He found Rocky pinned against the wall, barred from escape by Stanley’s larger form. He braced one hand on the wall by her head, hemming her in with his body on the other side. And, although his stance and expression were lecherous, it was clear to Catt that Rocky did not feel the same.
A hot, murderous feeling filled his chest as he fought to catch his breath. He couldn’t stand idly by, even if it might raise suspicion in Stanley’s eyes as to their true identities and purpose in the household. If Rocky wouldn’t stop him, Catt would.
Lost in thought, Rocky amb
led to the servants’ quarters by rote. She was consumed with thoughts of the mission, the tangled web of secrets in the Belhaven household, and who was left on the suspect list. Unfortunately, that last number was still larger than she would like. Although she and Catt had uncovered a frightening number of secrets and suspected still more, they hadn’t truly ruled out many people.
Stefan and David likely didn’t have the time to command a network of spies, given that they were so engrossed with their ladies. Likewise, Hollander spent his free time amassing a fortune beneath Lady Belhaven’s nose. But however unlikely it was that they found additional time to keep in touch with French spies, recruit new ones, and sift through the information presented to them by such spies, it wasn’t impossible.
Eric was too young to be Monsieur V, and Eliza was of the wrong gender, but that didn’t mean that neither of them knew of the true culprit or aided him. Mr. Dowden might be consumed by guilt over his wife’s death, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t working for the French. Lady Belhaven’s son and even her grandson Stanley seemed too self-indulgent to be mentally capable of the level of cleverness Monsieur V employed at every turn. But there was still the question of Lewis, Lance, Lady Belhaven herself and even Faulker. Did Lady Belhaven know a French spymaster operated beneath her roof? Was she aiding him? Rocky liked the old woman too well to want to consider such a thing, but she had to push her feelings aside and look at the facts. The fact remained that one of the possible suspects whose secret she hadn’t yet divined was related to Lady Belhaven; the others had been a servant for decades. If either were the French spymaster she sought, how could Lady Belhaven have no inkling?
So wrapped up in her troublesome thoughts was she that Rocky didn’t notice that she was no longer alone in the dimly lit corridor until a shadow moved. She jumped. When she squinted, trying to discern more than the figure’s silhouette by the light of a lamp in a bracket at the far end of the hall, her heartbeat sped. Who was there? The other servants, save for whomever was due to remain awake to help Lady Belhaven should the need arise, were all abed, leaving the floor utterly quiet. Had Monsieur V deduced Rocky’s purpose in the house and decided to confront her? The lamp flame wavered, close to sputtering out. She battled a sudden wish that she’d never left Catt.
The man stumbled closer. The light slanted across his face, illuminating his identity. Stanley Belhaven. His disheveled hair stuck out over his forehead, half-falling into his eyes. He stank of whiskey.
“There you are, love.”
Her skin crawled. Please tell me he did not come looking for me. Aside from a few unreturned warm smiles, which she’d assumed he’d given all of the female staff, he hadn’t paid her a whit of attention. If he had, she would have rebuffed him long ago. Or, at the very least, gone out of her way to avoid him. She injected steel into her spine as she prepared to face him.
At Tenwick Abbey, she’d come across a scattered few intoxicated guests who liked to have their way with maidservants. A sharp refusal and the occasional knee to a tender area swiftly made uncomfortable situations disappear. But at Tenwick Abbey, she didn’t fear a rebuke. In fact, the one time a guest had complained of her reaction to the duke, he’d ejected the man from his home.
Her life hadn’t always been that way. In the first household she’d worked for, she hadn’t had a choice whether or not to accept a man’s advances. The question was: did she have the choice now? She didn’t rely on Lady Belhaven to keep her employed, but she needed to stay in the household long enough to complete the assignment the Crown had set her. Britain might not be able to insinuate another pair of spies into the house if she found herself ejected.
Her situation was dangerous, precarious, and her throat tightened. She struggled to breathe evenly, not to let him know that his advances affected her in any way. Some men confused fear for arousal; others still preferred the fear. She held herself stiffly, making her refusal clear in her posture.
Her voice, she kept to a more neutral tone. “Are you turned around, Mr. Belhaven? These are the servants’ quarters.”
He grinned, his smile a bit lopsided. His eyes caught the light, looking glazed. Just how much had he had to drink?
“Where else would I go for a spot of fun?”
Anywhere else. Rocky clenched her fists, fighting the inferno of anger that woke at his words. He was the son of her employer. She couldn’t use her spy training to beat him to a bloody pulp. Had he tried to take advantage of any of the other female servants in the house?
Worse, had he succeeded?
When he staggered closer to her, Rocky took an instinctive step back. She needed to think of a way to rebuff him, a way to convince him she wasn’t worth it or desirable. Unfortunately, Rocky didn’t know a way to do that. With men of his class, sex was as much an exertion of power as it was of desire. Her mind whirled so fast, she couldn’t catch any of the thoughts long enough to examine them.
Her back struck the solid wall. Stanley followed her, planting a hand by her head. The rest of his body blocked her escape, his arm crossing the air in front of her chest. She fought back a retch at the stench of liquor and cologne. She had to find a way to deter him from this path, or at the very least distract him enough for him to relax his stance so she could slip beneath his arm and run to her room. If she tried while he was still on alert, he would catch her.
How could she make herself less desirable to him? Did he even care that she was here instead of one of the other servants? If Catt had been there in Stanley’s place…
No. That was a ridiculous thought. Catt would never corner a woman on her way to bed. He was more honorable than that.
Rocky blurted the first thought that entered her mind. “I’m engaged to someone else.”
Wait. Where had that come from? She didn’t want to get married. Did she?
Stanley leaned closer. “I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
“We can’t afford one.”
The man made a low, grating sound that was probably meant to be seductive. It just made Rocky want to shake him like a rattle until he stopped.
“Sounds to me like you need to look for a man who knows how to take care of you.”
Sounds to me like you need a swift kick in the—
No. Violence had to be a last resort. Think! What would make him back off short of blistering his manhood?
Or perhaps she only needed to buy herself time. He swayed a bit, leaning heavy against the wall. Had he consumed an entire whiskey bottle? From the smell, she would guess so. If that was the case, it wouldn’t take much more alcohol to render him oblivious and unconscious.
“Perhaps you’d care to share a drink with me instead,” she said, trying to imitate a seductive purr. Given the rigidity in her shoulders and the tightness in her throat, she didn’t think she succeeded.
Lud, she didn’t want to share a drink with him. Or take him to bed. The only man she wanted to do those things with was…
No one. She wanted no one. All she craved was a good night’s rest and the ability to finish this assignment before it was too late.
Stanley started to lower his head as if hoping to steal a kiss. Grimacing, Rocky turned her face to the side. If he touched her, she might gag. That, or snap and turn her fists on him.
Movement blurred at the corner of her eye. As she glanced up, she locked gazes with Catt as he stormed around the corner. His posture mirrored hers, the fury evident in the stiff set of his shoulders and his balled fists at his side. His mouth was set in a tight line. Without saying a word, he stormed up to Stanley, wrenched the man away from Rocky, and laid him bare.
Rocky gasped and pressed against the wall as Catt’s punch landed. He, like she, had been taught the dirty, underhanded fighting tactics of London’s criminal class, but she hadn’t expected him to use them. He was a lanky botanist, devoted to study, not to strong-arming others. He didn’t rouse to violence, not even when she attacked him viciously with her words during one of their many spats.
&nb
sp; Apparently, finding her with a man provoked him to violence. As Stanley staggered and lost his footing, Catt’s pugnacious stance didn’t waver. Never mind that Stanley was almost as tall and had at least two stone on Catt. Catt looked prepared to face down an army if he must.
Her heart jumped at the tremendous thump that echoed along the corridor. She cringed. Who would wake up and investigate? Her heart thundered in her ears as she waited for someone to find them.
A door opened along the hall, easing nearly shut as the inhabitant caught sight of who was out there. Rocky squinted, catching movement that might have been a figment of her imagination or might have been other people peeking from their doors. Whatever the case, those roomed along this corridor opted not to interfere. Given that their employer’s grandson was currently groaning and clutching his face, they were likely afraid of the repercussions falling on them.
Rocky didn’t blame them. How could Catt… What had he been thinking?
Stanley staggered to his feet. At first, they didn’t seem like they wanted to hold him up. His legs wobbled like he was made of jelly and he lunged toward Catt before he straightened and managed to stay upright. Rocky would have taken a step back to get out of the way, but Catt held his ground. He didn’t budge, not even when Stanley snarled at him.
The intoxicated man let out a stream of insults better suited to a dockside tavern than a house near Mayfair. He jabbed his finger through the air at Catt. “I’ll have your job for touching me.”
Catt glared. “I’d say I’ll have yours for touching her, but let’s face it, you’re good for nothing.”
Rocky sucked in a breath. What was he saying? This was the grandson of their employer, albeit a temporary employer. Stanley was of a higher class than they were.
Then again, until this assignment, Catt had been of that class as well. He hadn’t had to work for a living, surviving off a stipend instead. His family had connections to the peerage, if technically only on the very fringes themselves. Catt didn’t know what it was like to work for a living, to be treated as lesser even though you put in more effort. Rocky did. Those of the working class avoided quarrels with the upper echelon. They didn’t instigate them, not for any reason.
Charming the Spy (Scandals and Spies Book 4) Page 17
