Kitabı oku: «The Disgraceful Lord Gray», sayfa 4

Chapter Four

Gray spent the better part of an hour with the Viscountess, being a very good spy, and learned nothing new whatsoever. She was amiable, if a little self-absorbed, her conversation mostly a ploy to receive a compliment. It was obvious she lived a small and inconsequential life. There was a brittleness about her, a need to be adored, which was quite sad for a woman her age and said a great deal about the state of her marriage. Gislingham himself had yet to make an appearance and his wife didn’t seem to know or care if he was likely to. Clearly, they lived completely separate lives, which meant she was unlikely to know anything significant about her husband’s nefarious business dealings. With Lord Fennimore the unwilling captive of the droning Colonel Purbeck and the deliciously smelling Miss Cranford mysteriously missing from the gathering, he found himself eager to move on as he extricated himself from the sofa.

If nothing else, he could have a little snoop around. This rose-covered mansion in the heart of the countryside, a good forty miles from the coast, didn’t appear to be the likely lair of England’s most wanted smuggler. Nor did the aged servants seem to be his criminal accomplices—but appearances could be deceptive. Look at Lord Fennimore. To all intents and purposes the world thought him a crusty old peer. One who turned up diligently at Parliament to vote and was a reliably reluctant guest at society events—yet for over twenty years had managed to hide the fact he ran the King’s Elite. Not that anyone in society circles or outside of it would know about that organisation either. Therefore, where better to hide than here? Who would suspect a respected country squire of high treason? In another life, he certainly wouldn’t.

Of course, in that other life he had no ambition either, other than to embrace whatever whims or pathways he took a fancy to and that had crept up on him unannounced. One minute he had been at a loose end on the cusp of leaving the merchant navy, the next he had accidentally fallen into working for the King’s Elite. Up until then, he had had no concept of possessing either the valuable skills necessary for covert espionage or the burning desire to see justice done. Yet because of things he had seen and his nagging conscience, he had approached the Excise Men with suspicions about the particular shipping company he happened to be working for at the time and inadvertently soon found himself spying on them.

After the resounding success of that first mission, Lord Fennimore simply assumed he would continue and Gray hadn’t corrected his assumption. For the last two years he had been working beneath Seb Leatham in the Invisibles, blending into the background, pretending to be someone else. Learning the trade and loving it. With Seb now working in a wholly different way alongside his new wife, Gray wanted more than anything to step into his friend’s shoes, knowing they would be the perfect fit. After an aimless life of searching for nothing in particular beyond what was happening in the moment, he had finally found his place.

If only he could convince old Fennimore.

For the umpteenth time he huffed out an irritated breath at this morning’s incident. His thoughtless lack of propriety had not helped his cause, but at least it had got him here, thanks largely to Lady Crudgington. Miss Cranford had seemed horrified to see him and had introduced him around the room most begrudgingly. He had made a much better impression on the Viscountess, although prudence dictated he be cautious with her. She liked male company. More than liked it, if his suspicions were correct, which made aligning himself too closely problematic. If Gislingham was the jealous type, Gray risked alienating him. The first priority had to be getting closer to their chief suspect. Only once all hope of that was dead could he risk a dalliance with the wife to get what he wanted. Or the ward.

Miss Cranford was entirely off limits until he understood the lay of the land. For the sake of the mission, she had to be his last resort even though she was the family member he was most drawn to. As much as he was tempted to shamelessly flirt with her and was wildly curious to know whether her vibrant blushes ended just below her demure neckline or travelled all the way down those shapely legs to her toes, seducing a gently bred young woman tended not to go down well with protective male relatives with a cruel streak a mile wide. Doing so would not only alienate Gislingham, it would probably result in getting Gray killed.

He could pretend to properly court her, he supposed.

The errant thought caught him unawares. Not because he wasn’t supremely confident in his abilities to thoroughly charm her, more because it terrified him to have even thought of it. He had willingly come within a hair’s breadth of marriage once before and had ended up broken-hearted and deceived. From the tender age of ten he’d had his future with Cecily mapped out. They were going to wed as soon as he turned twenty-one when he finally gained his financial independence; they would buy a nice house near their favourite beach in Wales and raise fine horses and the best Welsh lamb alongside their bushel of children.

Then his father and hers had brokered a different deal, one Cecily had been given a choice in, and to Gray’s horror the love of his life decided she would much rather be a wealthier marchioness wedded to his elder brother than live on that farm with him. It had been that same week that the walls of Jericho had come tumbling down. Blind with grief and convinced she would change her mind if only he could quickly enlarge his fortune to supersede his pompous brother’s, Gray had taken every penny of the money his grandfather had left him in his will to London and the hells where the savvy owners, gamblers and card sharps had quickly relieved him of it. It had been the harshest way to learn his lesson—daring to dream was as pointless as regret, and risking your heart was for tougher men than him.

He now avoided all serious overtures of intent, even if the serious overtures would be just a ruse to infiltrate Gislingham’s confidence. He couldn’t bring himself to toy with another person’s feelings as Cecily had done his. Heartbreak, it turned out, took for ever to get over. He avoided touching hearts with the same diligence that he avoided commitment and he wouldn’t trifle with Miss Cranford’s no matter how much his body wanted her.

Assuming she would be interested, of course. Which she didn’t appear to be in the slightest. She had barely said three words to him between all those polite introductions, so he had given up trying. Probably because he didn’t have Trefor with him. She had adored Trefor... Good grief! Another pointless train of thought in the grand scheme of things. He needed to be a better spy, not jealous of his dog.

He rounded the shrubbery and stopped dead. The object of his musings was lying flat on her back on a stone bench, a gauzy shawl draped over her face like a shroud leaving her fiery copper hair to crackle in the sunshine. One hand rested gently on her belly while the other was thrown over her head. The artful pose, reminiscent of one of the epic tableaux of the Renaissance where some ancient Greek heroine had been cut down tragically in her prime, was doing wonders for her bosom. Her covered face allowed him to gaze longingly at it for a few moments as her chest gently rose and fell with her breathing in her splendid, fitted coral gown. Bizarrely, despite that unexpected bonus, he missed seeing her smile. That stunning smile combined with her current alluring position would be quite something to witness.

A sensible, dedicated spy would silently retrace his steps and take another route to continue his unhindered reconnoitre. But for some reason, his feet had already decided to head towards her as if pulled by some invisible cord. He was halfway across the lawn when he realised she wasn’t asleep, in fact, and much to his amusement, she was talking to herself.

‘Give him a fighting chance, darling.’ If he was not mistaken, she was snippily mimicking Lady Crudgington. ‘You are a little too buttoned up.’ The hand that had been on her belly wafted in the air. ‘I cannot recall a time when I have ever heard you sound so waspish over a mere man, Thea.’ Gray suppressed the spontaneous snort which threatened to erupt as she blew a raspberry so fat the floaty shawl quivered. ‘Settle for a wholly unsuitable man before you become so decrepit and wizened no one will ever fancy you and to hell with the consequences. Your exacting standards are far too high and your imagination is as vivid as your wayward, vertical hair. And while you’re about it, become a total scandal, why don’t you? Throw yourself at the fellow. Stand on the precipice and leap! The clock is ticking after all. Tick-tock, Thea. Tick-tock.’

He did laugh at the second raspberry, making her sit bolt upright, the delicate shawl slipping to puddle at her feet and her lush mouth a delightful O of embarrassed outrage. ‘How long have you been there!’

‘Long enough to know that Lady Crudgington thinks you should give Mr Hargreaves a fighting chance, but that you are not so enthused by the idea.’

She was simultaneously blinking and blushing furiously. ‘Yes... Mr Hargreaves...indeed...and you are correct. I am not at all enthused by the idea.’ Primly, she straightened and adjusted her clothing. ‘If anything, I am thoroughly unenthused.’

‘I’m exceedingly glad to hear it. Having had to listen to him for the last half an hour, I found his conversation quite...’

‘Sycophantic? Insincere? Grinding?’

He smiled at her accurate assessment. It was refreshing she didn’t mince her words. ‘Yes. To all. You can do much better than him.’

She beamed again as she had this morning and the sight of it did odd things to his heart. ‘Thank you, Lord Gray! That is exactly what I keep telling Harriet, but she is determined to meddle.’

‘Well, I dare say the meddling is necessary. You are on the cusp of decrepit.’

‘You heard everything, didn’t you?’ The blush on her cheeks mirrored the deeper one staining her collarbone and disappearing beneath the lace edging her close-cut bodice. ‘It’s very rude to eavesdrop.’

‘Surely eavesdropping involves listening to an obviously private conversation between two or more people. As you were loudly talking to yourself, out in broad daylight, I didn’t think it counted. It gave me a very interesting insight into the young lady you are beneath that impenetrable exterior.’ She looked attractively flummoxed and guilty at his assessment, which was very intriguing. ‘Besides, like you, I sensibly came out here to hide and get some fresh air, so the eavesdropping was merely an unanticipated bonus. How could I resist it?’

‘For a big man, you move with impressive stealth. Was it your intention to sneak up on me?’

‘You credit me with too much talent, Miss Cranford. All I did was walk across the grass. If you hadn’t been talking so much, you would have heard me. Do you mind if I sit—or is that grossly improper? If it is, I can hide somewhere else.’

She hesitated, then wrapped the filmy shawl around her shoulders, her jaw set and her eyes riveted on a distant spot across the lawn, feigning complete indifference politely. ‘We are in view of the house and Harriet will be back presently.’ Gray decided to take that as acceptance and sat on the opposite end of the seat to her.

‘Why are you hiding? When I left you, you seemed to be having a high old time. My aunt appeared most enamoured of your charm.’ He detected the hint of disapproval and decided to pry. These little rifts and obvious censures, leaked in confidence, proved time and time again to be fertile hunting grounds for spies.

‘Your aunt obviously enjoys socialising.’ A very delicate way of saying the woman basked in the glory of being the centre of attention, particularly when surrounded by a bevy of eager, much younger gentlemen.

‘She does. More so than my uncle, so he indulges her.’

‘I was hoping to meet your uncle before I outstayed my welcome. Will he be rejoining the party later?’

Her dark eyes clouded as they stared straight ahead. ‘My uncle’s health is not good, my lord, and hasn’t been for several years. He managed much of the first hour, but prolonged socialising does take its toll on him. He needs his rest and sleeps like the dead most afternoons. I do not expect Uncle Edward will make another appearance today, I’m afraid. You shall have to meet him another time.’

He could tell by the worried look in her eyes she believed this to be the case and felt a rush of anger towards the man for his duplicity. Poor health was a convenient and ready excuse to disappear to do his dirty work. He’d wager every hard-earned coin in his purse that Gislingham was currently up to no good somewhere on this estate—or elsewhere—while his niece worried over him unnecessarily. ‘That is a shame. Perhaps my cousin and I would do better to call upon him in the morning?’ Before he left today, he needed to do a thorough reconnaissance of the grounds and as much of the bottom floor as he dare. His gut told him Gislingham ran his operation from this house and Gray needed to know exactly where.

‘He is at his best in the mornings and enjoys small, intimate company. I know he is keen to meet you—especially as Harriet has already apprised him of this morning’s unfortunate events.’

That didn’t sound good. ‘Should I expect a thorough telling off when I come calling?’

‘Not at all. Uncle Edward has a very warped sense of humour and found the state of me upon my arrival home hilarious. I fear Harriet brings out the worst in him.’ Gray sincerely doubted that. He had lost many comrades thanks to The Boss at his worst.

‘Lady Crudgington is indeed a force of nature.’

‘And very curious. She left me determined to give you a thorough grilling.’

‘I suspected as much. But she was distracted by a fruit scone and clotted cream on the sideboard, so I managed to escape her clutches before I crept out. I can only cope with so much heat from the drawing room...and Mr Hargreaves.’ Gray might as well take advantage of her dislike for the man. ‘He brays when he laughs.’

The ghost of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. ‘Colonel Purbeck spits when he talks.’

‘Hence I stumbled across you shrouded like a widow.’

‘I’m sorry about that. It was most improper.’

‘Propriety is hardly a field it would be fair for me to judge you on and, anyway, it is vastly overrated. Don’t you think?’

Her fingers played with the dangling edges of the shawl as she glanced up at the cloudless sky and, inadvertently giving him more clues as to her character, she avoided answering his question. ‘Alas, I adore the sun, but it doesn’t adore me. With my fair skin, I burn easily, so I have to ration it. Hence the shroud.’

‘Then perhaps I should escort you back inside. The afternoon sun is always the worst.’

* * *

Prudence dictated that she should grasp the opportunity to escape inside seeing as he had offered it. It wasn’t proper for an unmarried lady to be in such a secluded place in the presence of a gentleman without a chaperon and she knew Harriet had no intention of coming back outside and wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near the garden if she suspected Thea was alone in it with Lord Gray. But her friend’s criticisms rankled and as much as Thea wanted to discount everything she had said, there was a great deal of truth in her words. She was becoming unacceptably jaded and had an ever-increasing suspicion of the motives of others. Since the smooth-talking soldier that dreadful night, she did make snap decisions about men and she did push them away. The fear of Impetuous Thea falling for a money-grabbing bounder, the huge responsibility of the unwieldy fortune her uncle had amassed on her behalf and the sense of responsibility and love she had for him had made her reluctant to consider anyone seriously.

To her shame, that reluctance had made her unacceptably stand-offish to the point where she risked never finding a decent man, and that simply wouldn’t do. Because one day when the time was right and the gentleman perfect, she did want to live happily ever after. She wanted to be loved and adored. Wanted to love and adore back. Wanted to fill her home with the happy sound of children laughing, the closeness of family and the promise of a future she could look forward to. Uncle Edward had insisted she have financial independence so that she could marry the man of her dreams without having to compromise as he had done. True love, he often waxed after a bit too much brandy, was the greatest joy in the world and worth all the hideous turmoil in the long run.

Somehow, while waiting patiently for true love to come, she had allowed those alarm bells to start clanging well before she got to know a gentleman, which made a lifetime of spinsterhood a foregone conclusion. If she had created the vicious circle, she could jolly well unmake it.

‘I suppose I can tolerate a little more sun.’ In a concerted effort not to be stand-offish and judgemental, she would be cordial and properly get to know this handsome new gentleman beyond his compelling, wolf-like eyes and splendid physique. Harriet was right. Aside from the fact he was local, he did live with an older relative as well, so might understand her situation. He was the first gentleman she had met in for ever who had not actively sought her out to begin with. They had met wholly by chance without the allure of her impressive bank balance, so perhaps she should give fate a fair crack at the whip before she wielded the repelling Shield of Suspicion. ‘Tell me something about yourself, Lord Gray.’

She could tell she had surprised him because his dark brows momentarily drew together. ‘What would you like to know?’

‘I suppose it makes sense to start at the beginning. Where did you grow up? Who are your family?’

‘Very close to the mountains of Snowdonia. My father was the Marquess of Talysarn.’

‘Was?’

‘He died a few years ago while I was at sea. My elder brother now holds the title.’

‘How sad. You missed the funeral?’

His face clouded and he paused before he answered. ‘Yes.’

‘Is your mother still alive?’

‘Alas, my mother died many years before. She was a lovely woman. I miss her greatly. You lost your parents young also, I believe?’

‘I have no memories of my mother. She died when I was a babe.’ Although Thea still missed her, wondering what her life and her character might have been like if she had grown up with a woman’s guidance. Probably less wilful and impetuous.

‘My father was a don at Cambridge. He taught mathematics and is still widely regarded in that field.’ Which was probably why he never quite understood his daughter. Thea had no head for figures and the only thing they had had in common was a boisterous sense of humour and their twin fiery tempers. ‘Did you go to Cambridge or Oxford?’

‘No... I went abroad.’

‘To study?’

‘After a fashion. I’m not much of a scholar, I’m afraid. I certainly have no head for numbers.’

‘Me either.’ They had something in common. Something deathly dull and inconsequential in common. ‘Aside from swimming scandalously naked with your dog, what do you enjoy?’ Why had she said that? Instantly her cheeks heated while she wrestled Impetuous Thea back into her box.

He shot her a sideways glance and chuckled, the deep sound warming her in places that had no right being warmed. ‘I thought we had drawn a veil over that. Or is the memory too awful for your tender sensibilities to forgive and forget?’ He was flirting. Despite refusing to meet his eye she could hear it in his voice, but she was already blushing and doubtless he could see it. What had made her bring it up again? He would think she couldn’t stop thinking about it, which was, of course, mortifyingly true. Aside from the memory of him naked, the wayward, wilful part of her nature was seriously considering swimming naked in the brook, too. It was ridiculously hot—even for July...

As if he could read her mind, he stared knowingly at her, the wretch. Better to acknowledge the discomfort head on and then brush it blithely aside. She was almost twenty-four, for goodness’ sake. Ladies of that age were expected to be a bit more worldly, no matter how well bred and proper they were.

‘I have forgotten it.’ Liar. ‘As much as one can forget such an outrageous anomaly so early in the day, especially as the day is nowhere near over yet and here you are again—being exactly where you shouldn’t be and encroaching on my privacy. Thankfully, it was a brief encounter, so therefore unlikely to make a lasting impression on my tender sensibilities. I am hopeful it will be nought but a distant memory by tomorrow.’ Gracious! Her true tartness had materialised out of nowhere when she had intended to be nothing but polite. Clearly she needed a much stronger padlock on the box around Lord Gray.

‘That is good to know. Nothing makes a man happier than knowing he is quickly forgettable. Especially when all his credentials have been laid bare for scrutiny. I shall sleep soundly tonight, secure in the knowledge the spectre of my bottom will not be encroaching on your dreams.’

It was funny that she could hear his smile. Funnier still that her own mouth was curving upwards, too, when this entire conversation was outrageous. Gloriously so. Not being immediately suspicious was liberating. ‘So shall I. For they would hardly be dreams, Lord Gray. I fear if your bottom scandalously encroached, surely, they would be nightmares at the very least. When one is as decrepit as I, one needs one’s beauty sleep.’ She was flirting! When she never flirted any more in case it gave untrustworthy men the wrong impression. This man clearly brought out the worst in her and she hardly knew him.

‘If you got any more sleep, you’d be dangerous.’

‘Although I should warn you, I doubt Harriet and my uncle will allow me to forget the incident completely until they have fully had their fun at my expense...’ Had he just paid her a compliment? Thea gave up staring off into the distance and risked flicking him a glance. He was sat staring cockily right back at her. Utterly gorgeous, the seams of his coat straining slightly against the muscles of his folded arms, those unusual blue-grey eyes twinkling with mischief. Her heart did a little stutter at the sight. That and his scandalously pretty comment, which the sensible part of her cautioned was probably best ignored. Reacting would only encourage him, making him think she was interested, and she certainly didn’t want that. Just in case he was a bounder in wolf’s clothing. ‘Kindly repeat what you just said.’ So much for ignorance and disinterest. Impetuous, easily seduced Thea was loose and running roughshod all over the terrace.

‘I said, if you got any more sleep, you’d be dangerous. Obvious decrepitude aside, you are quite beautiful enough already, Miss Cranford. I’m not entirely sure I could cope with any more. I find myself already totally smitten with you.’

Internally she was sighing and was in grave danger of melting into a puddle at the man’s feet. He thought her beautiful. Was already smitten... How lovely. Of course, outwardly, she hoped she looked unimpressed because she was far too sensible to be waylaid by flowery words any more—no matter how lovely Impetuous Thea thought they were to hear. ‘Oh, my!’ She fluttered her hand in front of her face and batted her eyelashes. ‘What a swoon-worthy compliment! If only I hadn’t seen you similarly flirting with my aunt a short while ago, I’d be tempted to be flattered.’

‘There is a distinct difference. Your aunt flirted with me first and it would have been rude not to respond in kind. That was merely social flirting, Miss Cranford, and therefore innocuous. My flirting with you was wholly unsolicited and wholly spontaneous. It was genuine flirting.’ The arrogant grin suited him and Thea found herself enjoying it.

‘Ah—I see.’ She tapped her lip and attempted to look thoughtful, enjoying this unexpected sparring match with a man who met none of her strict criteria, but seemed to be able to pick the locks that bound the chains around the inner Thea’s locked box. ‘So if social flirting is innocuous, does that make genuine flirting noxious?’

‘It makes it dangerous. Especially when both of us engage in it as we are now. It hints at intent.’ He raised his dark eyebrow. ‘At promise...’

Instinctively, she folded her own arms, mirroring his casual pose. ‘I hardly think I am flirting, Lord Gray.’

‘Gray will do just fine. And you are most definitely flirting, Miss Cranford. I’m afraid I recognise all of the signs.’

‘Really? Pray enlighten me, for I confess I am at a loss.’

He shuffled closer on the bench and leaned in conspiratorially, smelling sinfully of sunshine and spicy cologne. ‘To the unobservant, it would be difficult to tell, but there are subtle clues. Your insistence on reminding me of this morning, for example. Unconsciously, despite all my very proper clothes, your mind is scandalously picturing me naked.’

She scoffed, bristling, wondering if he really could read her mind. ‘I most certainly am not! Ewwwgh!’ She shuddered for effect. ‘I can assure you my brain has far better things to think about than the unsavoury picture of you in the altogether, although even if I was, which I most definitely am not, a person’s private thoughts hardly constitute flirting.’

‘The coquettish side glances and pretty pink blushes which accompany them does.’

Thea turned her head and stared him dead in the eye. ‘I’m a redhead and if I am a bit pink, then I have clearly been in the sun a tad too long, my lord.’

‘A plausible denial, to be sure—but it doesn’t fool me. And I thought we agreed you could call me Gray going forward, seeing as you’ve seen me in the altogether? But...your preoccupations with my impressive, manly nude body aside, there are other damning clues which only a true connoisseur in the subtle art of flirting would pick up. A moment ago, for instance, when you brought your finger to your lips... Why, it was obvious you were doing so to purposely draw my eyes there and set me wondering if they are as soft and inviting as they look.’

She had touched her lips quite innocently, or so she had thought, but now they tingled. ‘You are delusional.’

‘Right now, we both know the position of your arms has only one true purpose.’

She didn’t unfold them. ‘To show you I am not a fool, nor suffer fools gladly?’

‘To display your figure to its best effect.’ She hastily uncrossed her arms and gathered the shawl tighter, irritated at the missish response when he reacted with a knowing chuckle. ‘And...’ The word came out in a sultry whisper as his head leaned closer still before he paused and failed to finish his sentence.

‘And?’

‘That was a test and, I’m sorry to tell you, you failed.’

‘I did?’

‘Indeed. Because you leaned closer, too, obviously eager to hear what I had to say despite my intimate, wholly inappropriate conversation and my close proximity to your unchaperoned person being most impertinent.’

‘You are impertinent.’

‘I am—but you’d like to kiss me regardless.’

She would—which came as a huge, unwelcome shock—but she most certainly wouldn’t.

Ever.

On principle.

‘Oh, Lord Gray, you are labouring under the most fanciful of misapprehensions.’ With purposeful, indifferent, possibly flirtatious slowness, Thea stood and shook her head pityingly. ‘Perhaps it is you who needs to be mindful of the sun’s rays and ration them going forward, for today they have clearly addled your mind.’