The June Bride Conspiracy (The Spy Matchmaker Book 2) Page 3

  Chapter Four

  “It was very kind of you to come tonight,” Eugennia Welch murmured to Joanna as they stood against the pink-papered wall. The young lady playing the pianoforte at the evening’s musicale hit a wrong note, and Eugennia winced. “I don’t know if I could have braved it alone.”

  Joanna gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. They had discovered each other on their first Season a number of years ago now, attempting to hide their shyness behind the same potted palm at one of the balls. They had found many things to admire about each other in the intervening time. Jenny was terribly smart. What she didn’t know, she set about learning immediately. She was also kind and loyal and sweet. Yet, even with a fortune of some size, she had failed to find a fellow to suit her.

  “Are you certain you wish to subject yourself to this?” Joanna whispered. “It’s not too late to plead a headache.”

  Jenny raised her head, light brown hair already coming undone from the braid in which her companion had attempted to confine it. “What is the point of taking lessons on the border pipes if you never play them?”

  The young lady who was currently playing stumbled to a halt, and the audience applauded, the sound dulled by their fine silk gloves. Joanna refused to think it was their lack of appreciation that made the clapping sound so muted. She smiled encouragement as Jenny went to set up her pipes.

  Voices murmured as gossip rippled through the crowd. People changed seats strategically, smiled at the right people. Gentlemen cast knowing glances at ladies, who blushed and dropped their gazes. All this posturing, all this calculation. How glad she was to be out of the marriage mart! Of course, if Allister did not find the person who had sent the note…

  As if summoned by her thoughts, her intended appeared in the doorway of the music room, dark gaze scanning over the little gilded chairs, the ladies in silk, the men in their tailed evening coats. He met her gaze, and a little thrill skittered along her nerves. She smiled as he strolled to her side.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” he greeted her.

  “Eugennia is about to play.” She nodded toward the front of the room, where her friend stood, arms partially wrapped around a skin bag.

  Allister raised his brows. “The bagpipes?”

  Joanna shrugged. “She enjoys a challenge.”

  The other members who had assembled in Lady Badgerly’s music room looked just as skeptical as Allister. Men crossed their arms over their chests; ladies whispered behind fans. As was typical of her friend when intent on her studies, Jenny ignored them all. Instead, she blew into the pipe.

  Music rose, low and plaintive, and voices and bodies stilled. Gentlemen lowered their arms, leaned forward. Ladies smiled wistfully, dabbed at their eyes with embroidered handkerchiefs. The tune called to Joanna as well, whispering of highland heather, of deep lakes and towering tors, of lovers found and lost. She must have sighed, for Allister slipped an arm about her waist, and she allowed herself to rest her head against his chest. For a moment, everything was perfect.

  He was the first to applaud as Jenny finished.

  “She’ll have her share of admirers tonight,” he murmured against Joanna’s hair before she straightened self-consciously, smoothing down her poppy-colored skirts. “Come away with me a moment. We must talk.”

  She was on her feet and following him from the room before she thought better of it. Then she paused a moment to be certain her mother was busy with a friend. Perhaps she should tell her mother where she was going, with whom she was going.

  Joanna shook herself. Why was she being missish? She and Allister were affianced. They would be allowed a few moments without a chaperone.

  But instead of stopping to converse in the corridor outside the music room as she expected, he led her to where double doors opened out onto a balcony overlooking the rear garden. The cool night air brushed her bare shoulders above the bodice of her gown.

  “Have you something to tell me about our mysterious note, then?” Joanna asked, trying not to allow her concerns to show in tone or action.

  “Only that I remain on the scent,” he promised her. “But it struck me that perhaps I had jumped to an unwarranted conclusion. Do you have any idea who might have sent it?”

  Joanna raised her brows. Moonlight bathed him in silver, cast his features in sharp relief. “No, of course not.”

  “No swains pining for your love?”

  She shook her head. “And how am I to answer that without appearing pitiful or vain? Suffice it to say that no one I know wishes us ill, my lord.”

  He blew out a breath. “Of course. Forgive me. I didn’t want to leave any stone unturned.”

  Joanna touched the brocade of his waistcoat, then pulled back her hand. “We know little about each other, I suppose. Allow me to assure you that my life was tremendously boring before you arrived in it. No secrets, no tragedy other than the loss of my father too early. I had a quiet upbringing with a doting governess and indulgent parents.”

  “Loving parents,” he corrected her. “I can see that even now in your mother, and I envy you.”

  “Because you were nearly an orphan,” she surmised, remembering what he’d told her.

  “That and the fact that you have others you can rely on. Family, friends, suitors.”

  She shook her head with a laugh. “No suitors.”

  His head turned as if he was eying her. “Ever?

  “Well, certainly I had gentleman callers,” she said, back stiffening despite her best efforts. “Do you wish their names for references?”

  He started laughing, and her hackles came down. “No, thank you,” he said. “I need no one to tell me what a gem you are. I merely wish to be certain one of the fellows you once fancied isn’t trying to regain his hold.”

  “Rest assured, Allister, there was no one I fancied before you, and I know there will be no one after.”

  He touched her cheek, and she shivered, but it had nothing to do with the air. He drew her into the shelter of his arms, pressed a kiss against her lips, and the rest of the world faded away.

  All at once, he straightened, arms tightening protectively around her.

  “What is it?” Joanna asked.

  He set her back from him. “I merely realized we were being rude to our hostess and your friend to remain out here so long. We should return.”

  He took her hand and led her back through the door.

  Disappointment sat like a cloak on her shoulders. For a moment, she’d felt so close to him, their love as bright as the stars. Then the light had snuffed out. What was she to do? If she could not hold Allister’s attention on a moonlit balcony, she very much feared she would never hold it at all.

  –

  What was wrong with him? He knew Joanna might be in danger, yet he’d taken her away from the safety of her friends, stood an easy target on a balcony. She’d surely chide him if he claimed that danger might lurk outside these paneled halls. He could not tell her that danger had dogged his steps since the day he’d accepted Lord Hastings’ offer.

  Determined to put up a good front, he spent the rest of the evening listening and smiling. He offered praise to the various performers when it was warranted, commiseration when it was not. The set to Joanna’s shoulders told him she at least knew his mind was not entirely on the music.

  “Such a pleasure that you could join us, my lord,” her friend Miss Welch said as the evening ended with a buffet supper served in the long upstairs room. “I was certain Lady Badgerly mentioned you had not responded to her invitation. Your acceptance must have been mislaid in the post.”

  Her light hazel eyes twinkled. She was too clever by half. “Very likely I neglected to send it. I have already made my apologies to our hostess. Your playing was superb, by the way. Where did you learn?”

  She beamed and spent the next little while explaining how she had admired the music on a trip to Scotland to study wildflowers and resolved to find herself a tutor. Allister nodded, gaze flicking from person to pers
on beyond her. Matronly sorts, mostly. Less than the usual number of eligible gentlemen. Perhaps that was what had convinced Miss Welch to play. She had made it clear that she was firmly on the shelf.

  He insisted on escorting Joanna and her mother home anyway and readily agreed to her mother’s suggestion that he take Joanna driving in Hyde Park the next day. After all, the creature was unlikely to strike with so many witnesses.

  “Roomy, I hope,” her mother said as he bowed over her hand in the entryway.

  “Certainly,” he replied, though he wasn’t entirely sure of her meaning. She was the most adorable woman, small, compact, but full of fervor. Joanna must take after her father. Now her mother dimpled at him before starting up the stairs for the chamber story.

  “She means she hopes you have secured a box with sufficient seating for the opera on Tuesday,” Joanna said, smile fond as she watched her mother’s retreating figure.

  “Ah. I’ll catch the knack of it yet.”

  She cast him a glance. “If that’s what you want.”

  Perhaps she had inherited some of her mother’s gift for conversation after all, for he wasn’t any too sure why she sounded so doubtful.

  Chapter Five

  How could she fault him? After his abrupt change of heart on the balcony, Allister had been nothing but attentive at Lady Badgerly’s musicale. Joanna had seen the looks aimed their way, the sighs as they passed. She had been the envy of every lady in the room. So why did her doubts persist?

  She was determined to behave as if nothing was the matter when he came to call for her the next afternoon to drive in Hyde Park. They took her mother’s carriage, a roomy landau painted a golden yellow, with the hood thrown back so that they might enjoy the spring sunshine. A feathered hat on her hair, her shawl around the shoulders of her sprigged muslin gown, she thought she looked her best. Certainly Allister was every inch the gentleman in his navy coat and buff trousers tucked into tassled boots. He spoke of commonplaces, the usual sort of talk one made during the Season, yet she found the topics increasingly confining.

  As they drove into the park, she nodded to acquaintances. He seemed to be doing the same, yet his brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed. She could not help the sigh that escaped.

  He was not so far gone to his thoughts that he failed to notice. He turned to her, smile warm. “Is something troubling you, my dear?”

  “No, I…” Joanna made herself sit taller. “Actually, yes.”

  He raised a dark brow when she hesitated. “Oh?”

  How to state it so that she did not sound obsessive? “Have we nothing to discuss beyond the weather?”

  “I can think of any number of topics to cover, but I’ll let you choose.”

  Again, his charm was palpable. His lips tilted up, his blue eyes gleamed, and he leaned toward her as if ready to be fascinated by anything she might say. Why not be bold?

  “It seems to me that we seldom speak of anything of substance,” she told him.

  “Substance,” he said slowly, as if trying to follow her thoughts. “Such as?”

  Joanna waved a hand. “Your thoughts, your opinions. You rarely speak of them.”

  He barked a laugh. “Perhaps I have none worth noting.”

  Joanna couldn’t help her smile. “Now, that I cannot believe. Come now, sir. Tell me something of your deepest dreams.”

  He turned his gaze out onto the green of the park. “I have only one—to marry the woman I love and spend the rest of my life making her happy.”

  Such a heartfelt thought! She should grow teary-eyed just considering it. Except that he hadn’t said she was the woman he loved.

  “Commendable,” she allowed. “I have a similar dream—to marry the man I love and spend the rest of my life making him happy.”

  He took her hand, pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “You already have by agreeing to be my bride.”

  “And how else might I share your life?” she asked.

  He blinked, releasing her. “What else did you have in mind?”

  “Dozens of things,” she said, trying not to sound exasperated. “For example, will you be taking your place in Parliament, making your mark in political circles? Shall I be required to entertain statesmen, plot intrigue with their wives so that your causes are successful?”

  His mouth quirked. “I wasn’t aware I had causes.”

  “You should,” she told him as they drove past the Serpentine, the waters blue-grey in the sunlight. “What of these creatures who lie about Napoleon being killed only to watch the Exchange stocks soaring and then plummeting in response? Should there not be some official proclamation to protect the public?”

  “Very likely,” he agreed, shifting in his seat to face her more fully. “It is a nuisance for both the government and the military.”

  She nodded. “Perhaps you can introduce a bill to resolve the problem.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I might.”

  “And climbing boys,” she said. “They must be abolished immediately. We may have an act to protect them, but it is seldom enforced from what I can see. Children should not be forced to labor, and certainly not the dangerous labor of climbing up into chimneys to clean out the soot.”

  He frowned. “You seem to have given this some thought.”

  Joanna’s face heated, and she dropped her gaze to her gloved fingers. “I only know what I read and what I hear. But it seems to me there are many injustices in this world, and we should do our part to rid ourselves of them.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He tipped up her chin with a finger, smile so tender she nearly sighed aloud. “What else would you have me do? Find employment for all the misplaced in London? Reclaim the American colonies?”

  “Likely there are some things even beyond your skills,” she said, willing herself not to sink into his gaze.

  He leaned closer. “Don’t you know you make me want to battle dragons for you?”

  She gave up and let herself sink, drawing closer, reveling in the feel of his lips brushing, the way he whispered her name like a caress. In his company, the world felt far away, her concerns merely fragments of a nightmare.

  He pulled back, and she smiled, content for the moment merely to sit beside him. Then he stiffened, gaze going past her. Joanna turned as well.

  A gentleman stood not far from the path, nearly hidden in the shadows of the trees. As if he saw their gazes, he ducked behind the largest tree.

  “Stop the carriage!” Allister commanded.

  Joanna caught his arm as the landau drew to a halt on the path, sure she knew his intent. “Allister, no!”

  He put his hand over hers, gaze as urgent as his voice. “Stay here. I’ll come back for you.”

  “No. I will not have you haring off after every passing shadow. We are in Hyde Park. Surely there is no danger here.”

  He hesitated, head swiveling from her to the trees and back again.

  “Allister?” Despite her best efforts, her voice was becoming heated. “Is there some danger here? What are you hiding from me?”

  –

  How could he answer her without worrying her further? Even now, those graceful brows were lowering, her lips trembling. Finding someone spying on them had unnerved her.

  Truth be told, it had unnerved him as well, and he was far more accustomed to the practice.

  “It’s probably nothing,” he told her. “As you said, this is Hyde Park, and the Season will begin shortly. You see how many are already in town. We should not be surprised if we run across someone out for a walk on a quiet path.”

  “But you think it’s more,” she accused him.

  “I’d like to be certain,” he said, edging toward the door of the carriage. “I will take no chances with your safety.”

  He thought that might reassure her, but her mouth was set in a firm line. “Very considerate. So, to protect me, you will pursue a shadow and leave me alone on the path.”

  She could not know how torn he felt. To ensure her pr
otection for the moment, he should escort her home, but he lost the chance of catching the fellow, who was even now slipping away. And that meant he had less chance of protecting her in the future.

  She settled back in her seat. “Thomas, hold the horses steady. Lord Trevithan will be stepping down here.”

  His relief was tempered by annoyance that she’d throw him out. “Joanna…” he started.

  She waved a hand. “Go. It is obvious your mind will not be satisfied any other way. All I ask is that you come to the house afterward and tell me what you learn. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” he said, stepping out of the carriage. “And thank you.”

  She gave him a regal nod as the carriage set off.

  Allister slipped into the trees. The spot where he’d sighted their watcher was empty, but that didn’t surprise him. The fellow had known he’d been noticed. So, where had he gone?

  Beyond the circle of trees, the park opened to grassy lawns, where couples even now strolled in the sunshine. He’d no more than glimpsed the fellow for a moment, enough time to note a coat of a medium tone—brown? Grey?—and a slender physique. He saw any number of brown and grey coats among the park visitors, but all the gentlemen wearing them appeared to be engaged in conversation with other fellows or ladies. Worse, he knew most and could easily rule them out.

  All except one.

  George Safton strolled along the path on the other side of the trees, ebony walking stick glinting in the light. His dove grey coat highlighted shoulders that seemed too broad to belong to the man who had been watching them, but perhaps it was the angle. The lady on his arm had no concerns. She simpered up at him, blond hair curling around her face inside her fashionable bonnet. Had she not heard that those who knew Safton best called him the Snake?

  Allister strode to intercept them. “Ah, Safton, good to see you. How goes the campaign?”

  The Snake drew up, eyes narrowing. They were nearly as dark a brown as the Skull’s, and, for a moment, Allister allowed himself the luxury of thinking the two men might be one. How satisfying to rid England of two villains at once.