Surrender to a Wicked Spy (12 page)

Marcus only gazed at her sadly. "And drowned when he drunkenly fell off a pleasure barge fully stocked with prostitutes and opium."

Olivia sat back, her jaw set. "I don't believe you."

Marcus raised a brow. "You asked me what I heard. If you don't like it, I'm sorry." His eyes took on a steely glint. "You might want to rethink calling me a liar, however."

Olivia slumped. "I'm sorry. I know you are only telling me what I wanted to know. I know you aren't lying." But someone was. Walt might have been boisterous and occasionally careless, the natural result of being spoiled by their parents, but he would never, ever—

She stood. "Thank you for your time, Marcus, and your patience. I shall leave you to wait for his lordship now." She turned to leave.

"My lady—"

She turned back. "Yes?"

Marcus was gazing at her soberly, his eyes shaded and unreadable. "Stay away from Wallingford and his lot. I'm not sure they'd stop at dishonoring a lady."

Olivia pursed her lips. "Yes, well… good day, Marcus."

She turned to leave the study only to find Dane standing in the doorway watching them. "Oh, good morning, Dane!" Blast Marcus for ruining her mood. She smiled at Dane, confident he would smile back.

He didn't. He merely nodded and walked past her to seat himself in the chair Marcus had promptly vacated. "I'm glad you're up, Olivia. I want to speak to you on a matter."

He was being sly, the naughty fellow, just because Marcus was there. When the other man left, she'd get her kiss and then some, she'd wager. She smiled serenely and seated herself in the chair she'd had before. "Yes, Dane?"

First Dane pushed one of the papers in his hand over to Marcus, then he leaned back and regarded her seriously. "We're leaving in a few days for my—our—hunting house in Scotland. Once there, we will host our own Hunt Ball to, er, celebrate the opening of the season."

Olivia blinked. "I was under the impression we would be going to Greenleigh. I assumed that was the reason we had no honeymoon."

Dane frowned at her. "Of course not. My… business affairs precluded our honeymoon. Everyone goes to Scotland at this time of year. It is grouse season."

She frowned back at him. "You're going to hunt grouse? Why? You don't even like chicken."

He didn't care for chicken, although he was surprised she'd realized it. "Hunting grouse is for sport, not necessarily for food."

"But why?" she persisted. "You could shoot at clay targets, or run horse races, or very nearly anything! What did those poor birds ever do to you?"

"Because…" He sputtered for a moment. "Because that is what we do!"

" 'We.' I do not see anything compelling in your logic." She crossed her arms. Dane willed himself to keep his gaze level.

"Olivia." He gazed at her warningly. "Back to my topic, I would like for you to take on the planning for the Hunt Ball in four days. Cost is not an object, of course, but I should like sophisticated fare and entertainment. Plan for forty guests."

She blinked. "Oh. Ah… yes, of course. You do realize that four days is not much time."

He smiled at her confidently. "You can do it. Your mother assured me that you've planned many such events."

Oh dear. Mother had sold Dane a pig in a poke, for Olivia hadn't even
attended
many such events in her life. She fought down panic. She might not have, but she knew Mother lived for such things. All she had to do was get Lady Cheltenham's help in this.

She nodded regally. "Of course." She held out one hand. "Is that the guest list? I must send the invitations as soon as possible."

Dane put the paper facedown on his desk. "No need. I sent the invitations yesterday."

Marcus, who had been watching them without expression, jerked his head to look at Dane. Olivia was surprised to see a brief flash of astonishment and anger cross Marcus's face.

It was gone so fast she must have imagined it. Besides, she had her own astonishment to deal with. "I am not privy to the guest list?"

Dane's mouth twisted up at one corner. "Don't worry. I've only invited the best sort." He clasped his hands on his desk and gazed at her, apparently waiting for something.

He wanted her to leave, without a kiss or even a real hello. She'd been given her assignment, just as if she were one of the servants.

She stood. Marcus and Dane stood with her. "I… I suppose I had best begin, then."

Dane nodded, clearly dismissing her. "I expect to hear all about your plans tonight at dinner, my dear."

By
dinner
? "Yes… yes, of course."

She left the room, dizzy with confusion. Who was that man? Where had admiring-when-she'd-nursed-his-head Dane gone? What had happened to endlessly-willing-to-give-her-pleasure Dane?

How many men was she wed to, anyway?

The clock in the hall chimed. It was nearly noon. Her mother would be rising soon.

For the first time in a very long while, Olivia couldn't wait to see her mother.

Dane watched Olivia leave the study, then turned back to the sheaf of papers in his hand. "We need to—"

"You sent the invitations
yesterday
?" Marcus was clearly stunned. "Yesterday, the plan was merely a proposal. You hadn't yet secured the approval of the Four!" Dane sat, regarding Marcus levelly. "I don't need the approval of the Four to host a ball. If they'd not agreed, I would have held an interesting evening and Olivia would have made the acquaintance of some important people." He shrugged. "There was no reason not to move on it instantly."

"Without telling me. And what about Olivia? How do you expect her to pull this off in four days?"

Dane turned his attention to his work, but his jaw tightened. "Since when," he said without looking at Marcus, "do you refer to my wife as Olivia?"

Marcus threw out his hands. "Since this morning when she asked me to. You're changing the subject."

"No." Dane's voice was flat. "I've closed the subject."

"You know I don't agree with this plan."

"I know. You're not the Lion yet, Marcus."

"That horse should have hit you harder. Perhaps it would have knocked some sense into your thick skull."

"Don't be dramatic. This is a solid plan. If His Majesty chooses a lady, we're set. If he doesn't, we've all had some wine and dancing and no harm done."

"I suppose."

"No supposing about it. Now, may we please finish this other matter, Marcus?"

Marcus scowled, but took up the sheet that Dane had handed him when he'd entered.

"So this is the Chimera?" He tilted the drawing this way and that. "Not a very prepossessing fellow, is he?"

"That is his 'Denny' persona. According to Lady Jane Damont, he can seem entirely different at a moment's notice. A face so ordinary and so forgettable—"

A face flashed across Dane's mind.
A mild-looking young man at the edge of a crowd
. He reached for the drawing and held it nearer the light. "I feel as though I've seen him somewhere…"

Marcus brightened. "Excellent. Where?"

Dane searched his mind, but the image slipped away again. The fact that his head still pounded from last night's encounter with the cobbles didn't help. He shook his head. "I cannot bring it to mind at the moment."

"Well, let me know when you do." Marcus swore. "I want this bloke strapped down tight with a bright light shining in his eyes."

Dane sighed and rubbed at his aching head. "As do we all." Proffit had taken his obligations most seriously last night. Dane didn't think he'd slept more than a few hours all told.

Marcus sighed and took his place at the desk. They worked through three stacks of reports before Dane looked up. "Are you staying for dinner? You can hear Olivia's preparations and eat my food, which for some reason you prefer to your own."

"I'll stay. Do you really think she can pull it off?" Dane shrugged. "According to her mother, she's an extremely experienced hostess."

«
^
»

Olivia controlled her panic until the Greenleigh carriage pulled up outside Cheltenham House. She would not have thought she would return so soon, especially not voluntarily.

Mother was going to pay for this. How could she lie to Dane thus? Nervously Olivia wondered in what other ways Mother had misled Dane.

Mother had better get her out of this one, before the entire house of cards fell down on them both. Dane was not the sort of man who enjoyed being lied to.

She hopped out of the carriage on the Greenleigh footman's hand, too intent on her mission to look at him. It was only as she was turning away that she caught the insolent gleam of disdain in his eyes.

What was that about? Good Lord, were they all a bunch of Pettys?

No time.
Four days
. The panic began to well up once more. Blast Petty and the footman and all the other sullen Greenleigh servants. Olivia was about to be tested and she was very much afraid she would not pass.

Mother was still in her morning gown, having a cup of tea in the sunny, comfortably shabby back parlor. "Oh, good morning, Olivia. Why on earth did you wear a green spencer with an orange gown?"

Why on earth did you insist I buy an orange gown
? Olivia hated the thing. It made her sallow and it matched nothing. "Mother, I have no time to discuss my wardrobe choices. I'm here to discuss the ball."

Mother perked up at that, of course. "Ball? What ball? The Season is well over, dear." She patted the pile of opened invitations she'd been perusing. "All I have here are readings and musicales and dinners, none of which will be any fun at all, now that everyone who matters is off to Scotland." She sighed. "I suppose your father and I will go on back to Cheltenham, though I dread another winter there. Do have Greenleigh send that cheque soon, will you, dear? I'll be wanting to fill every hearth with coal this year." She smiled at Olivia. "Isn't it lovely? We'll never have to worry about money again."

"You wouldn't have to worry about money now if Father had implemented even half of Walt's ideas on Cheltenham," Olivia said absently. Mother hadn't received an invitation to Dane's Hunt Ball.

How could that be? Why wouldn't he invite her parents?

Her mouth continued without her mind. "The restoration of the flour mill alone—"

"Olivia!" Her mother's shocked tone brought her out of her musings with a jolt. "How dare you criticize your father! And to remind me of Walter when you know how terribly I grieve!"

Oh dear. She'd actually said that out loud.

Olivia finally sighed. "Mother, why not simply ask Dane for the funds?"

Her mother gaped at her, appalled. "
Tell
him? Expose our delicate matters to a man of such standing in Society? I'd sooner tell the Prince Regent himself!" Her voice began to rise shrilly once more. "Why not pin a beggar's badge to my bodice right now? Should I smear soot on my face and crawl on the cobbles? I'd as soon do that than speak one word of this outside the family!"

"But Dane is my husband," Olivia said soothingly. "He is family now."

"Hmph." Mother turned away in a snit. "Thanks to my efforts. Nevertheless, do you think he would have given you a second glance if he'd known we were beneath such a cloud of possible scandal?"

Olivia frowned. "What scandal? Many people have financial troubles. Most of Society is living in debt."

Mother looked at her hands. "There is debt and there is debt. Cheltenham had been in severe debt for several generations. Eventually, those one owes stop waiting for a good crop that never grows or a rash of new tenants that never come."

Olivia patted her mother's shoulder awkwardly. "No one can actually take Cheltenham. It is entailed and Papa is the last of his line now that Walter is gone."

Mother made a damp, exasperated sound. "No one
wants
Cheltenham, Olivia. It is a heap of rubble amid weed-choked fields. The danger we are in is much greater than that." Mother took a deep breath. "
Ruin
."

"Ruin?" Olivia drew back. "I don't understand."

Mother managed a glance of vast irritation even through her tears and theatrics. "Debtors' prison, for pity's sake! I realize you haven't much experience of these things, Olivia, but for people of our stature to declare bankruptcy is—is—well, let us just say that it is disastrous enough that not even Lord Greenleigh's stature could save your children from the stain of it!"

Bankruptcy
. Olivia's blood went cold. What would Dane think of such news?

I do have rather high standards of behavior for myself and others.

Mother wailed once more and Olivia turned her attention back again.

"Mother, that cannot happen now! Dane will help you. I know he will."

She only wished she could be as sure as she sounded.

It took several minutes to reassure Mother, but all the time Olivia's mind was racing furiously.

She was going to have to do the ball on her own. She couldn't very well ask Mother for help when she hadn't been invited! That would be cruel—not to mention the fact that she'd never hear the end of it for the rest of her life.

Then something else occurred to her. Marcus's story about Walter must be untrue. It was only gossip, after all. Unfortunately, Olivia knew that much gossip contained a grain of truth within.

"Mother, I know it pains you to talk about Walter, but there is something I must know."

Mother heaved a great impatient sigh and dropped her hands to her lap, sodden handkerchief still clutched tightly. "Oh, very well. What is it?"

"Do you know precisely how Walter drowned?"

Mother sniffed. "He fell off a boat his friends had rented. That's all there is to it."

"What sort of boat was it?"

Mother blinked. "I have no idea."

Olivia longed to discuss the gossip with someone. Mother was not that someone. "How do you know that was what killed him?"

Mother grimaced. "Goodness, I had no idea you were so morbid, Olivia. It's most unbecoming."

Olivia opened her mouth to answer that one, but Mother only fluttered her handkerchief at her. "All I know is what Walter's valet told us. He saw the entire thing, you know. Walter had a bit too much wine and fell off the boat into the Thames. It must have been awful for him.
The Thames is so filthy!"