The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five

by Taylor, Erica

  Vivian threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “I thought you to be a silly pampered boon companion of the Prince Regent! I’ve thought the worst of you! And this entire time, you never thought to correct me?”

  Luke shrugged. “People have always thought the worst of me. I’m shallow and frivolous and amusing, and no one ever looked deeper.”

  “You didn’t want me to look deeper? You were content having a wife who thought you were some adventure-seeking dandy who couldn’t take anything seriously?”

  “I never wanted that, but it didn’t take much to stoke your initially bad opinion of me. Your distaste for me and all you thought me to be was clear from our first meeting. You’d decided who I was before we’d even met. I’ve only ever wanted you to know me, which is why I’ve never lied to you. Stretched the truth and said purposefully silly things for you to take me less seriously— yes. But everything I’ve said to you has been true.”

  “Had you acted with an ounce of gravity I might have taken you seriously.”

  Luke snorted. “No one wants me to be serious. I am the fun brother. The one good for a laugh. Except, I take everything seriously, so much that it drowns me. The only way to survive is to laugh at it all.”

  “Had I not figured it out, would you have ever told me?”

  The question hung between them. If he answered truthfully, he might hurt her feelings, something he’d tried to avoid. But not being truthful might cause more damage. He lied to everyone in his life about the clandestine things he’d done for King and Country. Theft, lies, seduction, intimidation, interrogation, assassination—he’d been involved in scrapes that would make their eyes bulge out of their heads. He’d done things that questioned his sanity and moral compass, and yet he was relatively unscathed. He hadn’t fallen into the endless darkness of conspiracy that too many years of espionage might bring upon a person, but ten years away had splintered the relationships he did have. Redley and Quan were the only people who knew his secrets, only because they’d been witness to most of them.

  He’d lied to Colette, about who he was, about his motives for being in France and she’d lied to him in return. The outcome had been disastrous, for when he’d learned her truths, and she’d learned his, there was no longer a foundation for anything to be real. Their world together was built upon paper-thin lies, and their house of meticulously-placed cards had come crashing down around them, ending in tragedy. Deceit, when told for too long, did more destruction than any other act.

  But with Vivian, he’d decided from the onset he could not lie to her, not outright. He told truthful tales in outrageous ways to make her doubt him, stated some off-color things and convoluted parts of explanations, all so she wouldn’t discover the truth. But would he have ever told her if she’d never figured it out on her own?

  “No,” he stated, and did not drop his gaze from her hard state. “I don’t know. I wanted you to know, but it’s… it’s complicated.”

  Tears pricked at the corners of Vivian’s eyes and she looked away. “You spout such ridiculous statements, Luke. How am I to know what is truth? What is you and what is this façade you’ve built up?”

  “There is no façade,” Luke insisted, taking a step towards her but she took a step back. That small movement cut into him deeply. He cared about her, as much as he tried not too, and it was impossible to remain unaffected. More, he cared about what she thought of him. “I’ve never tried to present myself to you other than what I am. This is me— I am vain on occasion, I can make light of just about anything, and I try to amuse to relieve people of worry or stress. I’ve never lied to you, Vivian. Everyone else, but never you.”

  Vivian considered him; he knew she searched for any signs of humor or dishonesty, something to indicate this whole thing was some joke, but she would find none.

  “Why me?” she asked. “You barely know me. Why trust me blindly?”

  “I’ve not trusted you blindly. When I met you, I was not looking for a wife, and yet somehow, I found one. Whether it was your candid opinion of how I was failing as an earl, or as Kenswick, somehow, I found your candor refreshing. In my line of work, people do not give their opinions freely and without restraint.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Then Redley went missing and I found myself turning to you, and you proved to be an invaluable ally, Vivian. You knew things about Canterbury I would never have been able to connect. Redley’s disappearance convinced me I needed you to see this through. And his message simply reaffirmed what I had already come to realize.”

  Bewildered, Vivian asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “His note. The message I received at my rooms. It said Only Trust the Poppy.”

  “I remember, but you said the poppy meant Poppins.”

  His brows rose as he shook his head. “I never said that. Adam Poppins took that as the meaning and I did not correct him. But the poppy was always meant for you.”

  Vivian studied him as another layer of confusion settled across her features. “I don’t understand.”

  “In Bath, Redley gave me a note,” Luke explained. “He told me to be happy, and if I ever needed help, I would know where to look. He said if it involved you, send a poppy and he would be there. Poppy became your code name, in a way.”

  “I’m the poppy. Redley’s message was to trust me?”

  Luke nodded. “And only you. Which is what I have done, despite giving Poppins the impression otherwise.”

  Vivian laughed with a shake of her head. “It seems fitting my code name is Poppy. It is my favorite flower.”

  A genuine smile spread across Luke’s face as he remembered their masquerade of a wedding at Wells. “You carried a bouquet at our wedding.”

  The two regarded each other. A jumble of unspoken emotions raced between them, but neither moved. The past minutes’ worth of revelations was too much to process at once, Luke knew, and he could only hope she would not hate him forever. She had every right to be cross, as he could have been completely forthcoming with her at the onset and chose not to. He hoped she would understand.

  She scrutinized him for a moment longer, and Luke was optimistically hopeful she would react well. She’d already proven to be stronger than he expected. He knew she could handle this.

  “I want to help you,” she said finally. “Whatever your work was before me, it seems as though it was important.”

  “It was, to an extent. No one person plays a large part in anything. It’s just a series of bits of information, reported to someone else to analyze, and someone else to decide and someone else to enact it. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. And I was good at it.”

  “Then, let’s get you back to it,” Vivian said with a decisive nod. “Let us find Redley and see you returned to active service. That is what we agreed to in the first place.”

  “You still want your house?” It was the least he could do now, after pulling her into this mess. Six months of marriage to him might have sounded like a manageable feat in the beginning, likely she was reconsidering.

  “I will always want that house.”

  “This could be dangerous, Vivian,” he warned, taking a step towards her again but this time she didn’t flinch away.

  Vivian’s brows rose. “Now you warn me of the dangers of being married to a spy?”

  “When we married, the danger was minimal. I don’t have much from my past that could come back to interfere, and any danger would be directed towards me. But after last night, you’re embroiled in this as much as I am. I’d hoped to keep you separate, safe, but it seems this is something we must do together.”

  He watched her jaw set, and her posture straitened a fraction. Determination pulsed through her gaze. “How can I help?”

  Luke stepped closer, a predatory look brewing behind his laughing eyes. The chill from the ocean breeze was gone, the worry in his stomach melted away into desire. He needed to touch her, to make sure she wasn’t angry with him. Slowly, he slid his hand around her waist. Reme
mbering their time together the evening before set him aflame, but his brother’s apple orchard, in view of the house, was not the place for such a delicious dalliance.

  “I need something from you,” he said, his breath hot against her cheek as he kissed just below her neck. Vivian didn’t move but he could see the blush of heat that ran across her pale skin at his kiss. His lips moved down her neck to the swell of her breast as her chest rose and fell with her rapidly increasing breath.

  “Luke, the windows.”

  He hadn’t forgotten the house and the show they were likely to give his siblings.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, leaving a trail of kisses along the other side of her neck. “I don’t intend for anyone watching to see anything wanton. They’d expect me to kiss my wife like this.”

  “You’re kissing me because it’s what they’d expect to see?”

  He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head up toward his. He pinned her beneath his heated stare. “I’m kissing you because you are my wife, and I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. I want to make certain you won’t run from me.”

  Her gaze blazed with resolve. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Because you want your house? He wanted to ask but knew better than to throw that in her face. An overwhelming part of him wanted her to want him, not because he could give her Kenswick Abbey, but the more rational part of him knew that was a dangerous avenue to waltz down.

  Never was anything great achieved without danger, Luke thought, the quote from some dead Italian resonating through his head. Templar had said that to him numerous times, but never had it felt so true. He could have something great with Vivian, he knew. He felt it when she laughed, the way she felt beneath him, and how she made him try just a bit harder to make her smile. He wished he could ease away the burdens of her life, erase the misery she’d endured, but that was not to be their life. She’d promised him six months, and he dared not ask for more. More was a promise he wasn’t certain he could keep.

  “If you’d like to help,” he said, his gaze rested against hers. “I’m going to need your wedding ring.”

  “My ring?” She fingered the gold on her left hand as she lifted her hands between their bodies.

  “Not that one. The one from our real wedding.”

  He looped his finger though the chain around her neck and tugged it from where it was tucked into her gown. His signet ring, the one he’d given her at their Wells wedding, hung heavy from the end. She’d rarely taken it off, and he was grateful for her dedication. It would likely save them.

  “What does that ring have to do with anything?” she asked breathlessly, as it dangled front its chain.

  “Redley and I have identical rings,” Luke explained. “Poppins has Redley’s ring with the notebook we found in the Canterbury catacombs. This is the other. It will work as the cypher the same as the other.”

  “And you gave it to me as a wedding ring?” she sputtered. “But that was before Redley told you to trust me.”

  Luke pinned her with his lavender stare. “Exactly.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vivian’s head spun with Luke’s revelations, but at least she felt they had some sort of plan. Though, who was she kidding? Luke likely always had a plan. He probably had two or three or fifteen backup plans.

  As they returned to the house, they were intercepted in the foyer by a determined Duchess of Bradstone.

  “Duchess Clara,” Luke said with a wink, but did not remove his hand from where he’d laced his fingers through Vivian’s. “Have I told you how lovely you are in such a vibrant shade of primrose?”

  Clara wasn’t falling for his charm. “You have in fact. Did you enjoy your walk through the orchards?”

  Luke smiled warmly down at Vivian. “We did.”

  The heat from his gaze was palpable and Vivian had to remind herself it was an act. It had all been an act, she realized, thinking over their brief, albeit dramatic, relationship. He liked her well enough, she knew that to be true, and certainly was attracted to her. He might enjoy their intimate time together, but the little looks of care and interest, those were for the show of his family. To prove he and Vivian were in love, and there was no other reason for their hasty nuptials.

  Norah had warned her as much, that night at the ball. Luke smiled and charmed to get what he wanted, and now she knew to what lengths he’d been willing to go to obtain what he needed.

  “Lovely,” Clara said sweetly. “Might I steal your new bride away for just a moment, Luke? I think Andrew is awaiting your company in the sitting room.”

  “An interview with the duke sounds diverting but we are en route—”

  “Whatever you’re off to do can wait just a moment,” Clara interjected. “I’m sure Lady Kenswick would agree?”

  “Yes, your grace. That would be lovely.” Truth be told, despite her warm and welcoming demeanor, the duchess terrified Vivian much more than whatever was between her and her husband.

  “Lovely.” Clara looped her arm through Vivian’s unoccupied arm and steered her towards the open sitting room door. “Off you go, Luke. Don’t keep your brother waiting.”

  Clara’s sweet smile was the only endearing thing about her now. The duchess shut the door, leaving Luke alone in the hall.

  Three other people awaited them in the sitting room. Susanna’s husband, Ian, the Earl of Westcott, lounged against the bookcase. Norah’s husband, Trevor, the Earl of Sandton, sat in a chair with his head tipped back against the cushion and Vivian couldn’t be certain he wasn’t asleep. Sarah’s husband, William, the Duke of Foxton, sat uncomfortably on the settee.

  “Please, sit,” the duchess said as they moved further into the room. Vivian followed Clara, choosing a stiff chair opposite the one the duchess chose. “I hope your walk was pleasant?”

  Vivian nodded. “The air was brisk, but the outing was… enlightening.”

  Clara’s brows rose, but her face did not give away any indication of her feelings. “You must be curious why we have asked to speak with you?”

  “I think my curiosity is overrun with my concern,” Vivian admitted. “I’m sorry, but have I done something wrong? You four look awfully put out with me.”

  Trevor’s head snapped up as if he was just coming awake, and the three gentlemen shared a glance but remained silent.

  “We are concerned for Luke’s happiness,” Clara began. “We simply wish to put our apprehensions to rest that this… union has everyone’s best interests at heart.”

  Vivian didn’t know how to answer that.

  “To be blunt,” Ian said. “Did you marry Luke for his fortune?”

  Vivian impressed herself with her lack of reaction to such an absurd question.

  “Has Luke a fortune? If he has, I am unaware. I never asked.”

  Trevor chuckled, and tried to cover his gaffe with a cough.

  Clara’s knowing gaze was focused on Vivian. “Did you marry him for his title?”

  “The Kenswick earldom?” Vivian asked innocently, trying Luke’s tactic of just stating something ridiculous. “Truthfully, that was the least appealing thing about him.”

  Clara looked as if she might growl.

  “What our darling duchess means to say,” William interjected. “Is we are worried your marriage with Luke is for all the wrong reasons.”

  “How could you possibly know my reasons for marrying Luke?” Vivian asked. “Or Luke’s for that matter? Do you not trust him to make his own informed decisions?”

  “We trust Luke implicitly,” Clara stated.

  “We just don’t trust you,” Ian added.

  William threw his brother-in-law a hard look. “It’s not that we do not trust you,” he said, working to salvage the conversation, and likely the relationship. “We just do not know you. And it was… shocking to have Luke arrive with a wife none of his family knew anything about.”

  “Trevor and Norah knew about it.”

  Ian, William, and Clara all turned to reg
ard the new earl who clearly did not enjoy being put on the spot.

  “You knew about this?” Clara asked him.

  “I did,” he replied with a nod.

  “He and Norah were at our wedding,” Vivian continued. “They even hosted the wedding breakfast. Would you care to offer your opinion of our nuptials?”

  “Oh, um,” Trevor glanced from Vivian to Clara, and then to the sitting room door, his longing gaze begging for an escape. “It was nice. Special license and all that. In the sitting room of our new house in London.”

  Clara turned back to Vivian. “You must understand, this family is dear to us. As outsiders, they took us in and welcomed us when we had no one else. This family has suffered enough heartbreak, and we will protect them with our last breath. If you are what makes Luke happy, then so be it. We will welcome you with open, loving arms.” The smile that spread across Clara’s face held more malice than mirth. “But if you make him unhappy, there is not a corner on this earth we could not find you.”

  Vivian paused for a beat. She understood the threat, and knew she needed to ease their concerns lest they make the next six months difficult. But Vivian was also not one to be bullied, not by the fashionable Macalisters, no matter their last name.

  “I assure you I only have Luke’s best interests at heart,” Vivian said, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Luke wanted to return to his government work, and she wanted that for him. His best interests might not include her, but her new siblings-in-law didn’t need to know that. “But I ask that you trust Luke to know his heart. He’s not an idiot. I doubt any fortune or title hunting lady could get within ten feet of him. I was not looking for a husband when I met Luke, but somehow…” Vivian paused and thought about their wedding at Wells, the warmth of the sun, the lightness she’d felt as they giggled over the ring sliding around her fingers. She hoped she could convince them what she and Luke had was real and true, even if it was a lie.

  Vivian sighed, letting the easy smile and lightness in her eyes linger for a moment. “Somehow, we found each other, and it may have been sudden, but it felt right.”