Her Ladyship's Man (20 page)

"I will have to go to Sir and tell him about Barrymore," he said, his voice still husky from unslaked desire. He prayed she was too innocent to recognize it, or the other signs of his arousal, although there was little he could do about it. For now it was taking everything he possessed to even think in a rational manner.

"I want your promise that you will give Barrymore as wide a berth as you can," he continued roughly, turning away from her. "Our trap is set to be sprung tomorrow at the Prince Regent's, and nothing must interfere. Barrymore may become dangerous when he realizes he has been caught, and I don't want you getting in the way. Is that understood?"

"Y-yes," Melanie stammered, stunned by the abrupt change that had come over Drew. He had been as ardent as she had dreamed he would be,
and she found it difficult to understand how he could go from a passionate lover one moment to a cold-blooded spy the next, unless the embrace had meant less to him than it had to her, she thought, the lowering realization making her pale in distress.

"I'll do all that I can, Captain," she said, forcing her voice to remain as cool as his. "But it might be rather difficult considering we will be sharing a coach. My father won't be in any danger, will he?" she added as the thought suddenly occurred to her.

"No." Drew heard the coldness in her voice and knew he had hurt her. He longed to take her back in his arms and bring the light back to her eyes, but for now the demands of duty were more pressing. Even if he could never call her his own, he was determined to clear her father's name once and for all. "We've arranged for Martinez to slip him a false message out on one of the terraces, and then the moment he is alone we will move in on him. It will all be done very discreetly, believe me."

Melanie believed him. If she had learned anything of Drew, it was that he always did what he set out to do. There was an air of ruthlessness about him that was unmistakable, but dangerous as he was, he lacked Sir's deadly aura. It was an odd realization, and one she dismissed at once. A discreet glance at the clock on the mantel showed that she and Drew had been closeted alone for almost twenty minutes, and she imagined her father would be chomping at the bit to get at his papers.

"I suppose we should give Papa back his study," she said with commendable calm. "And besides, we wouldn't want to raise any suspicions. Good night, Davies, and kindly give Sir my best. Will he be there for tomorrow's festivities?"

"Perhaps," Drew edged, relieved she was making it easy for him to leave, but annoyed at the same time. "But I wouldn't look for him if I were you. He will doubtlessly be in disguise."

"Of course." She inclined her head mockingly. "I might have expected as much. Good evening, then." She strode past him, her head held proudly in the air. She had almost made it to the door when she stopped.

"Davies?"

"Yes, my lady?" He regarded her cautiously.

"Be careful."

Chapter Twelve

"A
re you certain this will work?" Drew asked, studying Sir worriedly. "It all sounds too damned easy; I don't like it."

"Things need not always be as complicated as we make them," Sir answered after considering Drew's objections. "And often the simple approach is the best. We know that Martinez has acted as a courier for Barrymore in the past, so there is no reason to think he will suspect him now. Relax, Merrick, it will all turn out in the end."

"Maybe," Drew conceded, lifting the snifter of brandy to his lips, "but I still don't like it. There's too much that can go wrong, and there would be Melanie and her father caught in the middle. You and I both know how desperate a man can be when there is no way out."

"But Barrymore is not an agent," Sir reminded him, his mouth twisting with derision. "He is nothing more than an opportunist and a thief who would doubtlessly steal the shillings off a dead man's eyes.
We have taken down bigger and more dangerous men, Merrick, so rest assured that your employer and her father will come to no harm."

Drew said nothing, allowing himself to be convinced by Sir's unwavering faith in himself. And he was right, Drew decided, shifting back in his chair and crossing his feet as he studied the flames in the fireplace. Barrymore would be too busy smacking his lips in anticipation of the French gold he was expecting to sense a trap. And by the time he had, it would be too late. He smiled grimly at the pleasure he would derive from placing the manacles on the bastard's wrists.

Sir saw the cold smile on Drew's lips and wondered if the time had come to pull him out of the investigation. It was obvious he was personally involved with Lady Melanie, and he had already learned at a terrible cost what came of mixing emotion with espionage. The pretty little French aristocrat who he had been so foolish as to fall in love with had betrayed him to the enemy, and he had almost died before he was able to affect his escape.

After that he had vowed never to allow himself or any of his men to become emotionally or romantically involved while on assignment. He had broken that vow in Marchfield's case, and although everything had worked out for the better, he was not so foolish as to think it might happen again. If Merrick was so in love with Lady Melanie that he would put her safety above the safety of the mission, then he would have no qualms about replacing him.

"Actually, I should think the earl and his daughter are already amply protected," Sir drawled, his casual tone belying the sharp interest in his blue eyes. "From what you have told me, the marchio
ness and that companion make a formidable team. If you like, we can arrange to have them followed when the earl and the others dine at Carlton House. Lord knows the marchioness is almost old enough to be one of Prinny's flirts."

"That's a thought." Despite the seriousness of the matter, Drew chuckled softly. "She could certainly lead His Highness on a merry chase." Then as abruptly as it came, his light mood turned grim. "Are you quite certain they will be safe?"

"As certain as one can ever be in this business," Sir replied bluntly. "There are no guarantees, Merrick, you know that. And what of you? Will
you
be all right?"

Drew considered the question, knowing Sir would pull him from the mission without a moment's hesitation if he thought him incapable of carrying it through. In the end, however, he knew he had no choice but to do his duty. Not just for his own sake, or even England's, but because it was the only way he could think of to protect his beloved. Until Barrymore was safely locked up, he would not rest.

"I will be fine, Sir," he answered, his voice cool as he met Sir's assessing gaze. "You may depend on me."

Sir hesitated, reading Drew's determined expression before reaching his own conclusion. "Very well, Merrick," he said softly, "then we shall let matters stand as they are. By this time tomorrow evening, it will all be over."

"Yes, Sir," Drew agreed, fighting off a black wave of despair. "It will all be over."

"But, Grandmother, you cannot possibly want to stay home this evening!" Melanie exclaimed, star
ing at Lady Abbington in dismay. "The prince is expecting us! Whatever shall I tell him?"

"You may tell him anything you demmed well please," the marchioness retorted, pulling the bedcovers up to her chin. "I have the ague, and I'm not stirring from this bed."

Melanie eyed the elderly lady suspiciously, wondering what she should do. To the best of her knowledge, her grandmother had never feigned illness before, and yet she looked rather hardy to be as sick as she claimed. "Are you quite certain you couldn't come just to the dinner?" she asked with a cajoling smile. "I dare say no one would object if you were to make an early evening of it."

"Please, Melanie, the very thought of all that rich French food is enough to make me quite green," Lady Charlotte replied with a shudder. "To say nothing of the stifling heat. One would think Prinny to be as delicate as one of his orchids, as overheated as he keeps Carlton House. No, I would get as sick as a cat, I am sure of it. You and your father go on without us, my dear. It is all for the best."

"Yes, do go on," Miss Evingale urged, assuming a martyred expression. "I shall be more than happy to remain here and bear Her Ladyship company. Pray do not give us another thought."

In the face of such opposition Melanie knew there was little she could do. She could hardly insist that they accompany her without revealing Drew's plans. Besides, she decided, brightening at the thought, given both ladies' love of intrigue, it was probably better for them to remain at home. At least then she needn't worry that they would pop up at some inopportune moment and ruin everything.

"Very well, Grandmother," she said with a heavy
sigh. "If you are so ill, then certainly I won't insist that you accompany us. Would you like me to send for the physician? Perhaps you need a tonic."

"Oh, no." The haste with which she refused the offer convinced Melanie her suspicions were well founded. "I'm not so ill as all that! Besides, you must know that I cannot abide having those simpering quacks poking at me. I'm sure it's just something I ate for luncheon."

"I'm certain that you're right, ma'am," Melanie agreed, secretly wondering what book they were reading that made them so loath to leave. "In that case, I shall leave you to recover. Would you like me to look in on you before we leave?"

"Oh, you needn't bother, for I will probably be fast asleep," Lady Abbington answered, exchanging frantic glances with Miss Evingale. "But mind you keep a sharp eye out tonight, I shall want a full report tomorrow morning!"

After promising to do just that, Melanie gave her grandmother a good-night kiss and went to her own rooms to dress for dinner. In honor of the prince, she had decided to wear the family diamonds, and the precious gems glittered from her ears and throat. She was even wearing the gaudy necklace and tiara that completed the set, and studying her reflection in the glass she thought she looked a perfect cake. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she picked up the white kid gloves and hurried downstairs, where her father and Mr. Barrymore were waiting.

"Ah, good evening, my dear," the earl said, giving her a paternal smile as she glided into the room. "I am pleased you decided to wear the diamonds; they make you look like a fairy princess."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, smiling as she dipped in a low curtsy. "That is most kind of you."
She turned next to Mr. Barrymore, who was regarding her with admiration. "Good evening, Mr. Barrymore," she said, forcing herself not to recoil from his touch as he swept her hand to his lips, "are you as nervous about this evening as am I? I vow, I fear I shall do something exceedingly foolish and disgrace us all!"

"Never you, my lady," Mr. Barrymore answered earnestly, his blue eyes lingering briefly on the perfectly cut gems circling her throat. "And even if you were to commit some small faux pas, your beauty would more than compensate for any indiscretion. That is a lovely gown."

Melanie accepted his praise with what she hoped was a maidenly blush. The dress was one of Madame Philippe's more inspired creations, and she felt quite exotic in the Nile-blue silk gown with its low décolletage and tiny puff sleeves. When she felt it was safe to do so, she extracted her hand from Barrymore's and told her father of Lady Charlotte's illness.

"Such a pity she won't be accompanying us," the earl said, looking more relieved than disappointed. "But the elderly are often subjected to bodily complaints, so we mustn't be surprised."

"Yes, that is so," Melanie agreed, deciding now was as good a time as any to slip away for a private word with Drew. She knew he was expecting the entire female population of Marchfield House to be at Carlton House, and thought it advisable to inform him of the change in plans.

"If you will excuse me, I believe I shall speak with Mrs. Musgrove," she said quickly. "Even though Grandmother insists she isn't hungry, I want to order a small collation for her. I will be back in just one moment."

As she expected, she found Drew hovering near the door, and after glancing about surreptitiously to make certain they were alone, she hurried to his side. "Grandmother and Miss Evingale aren't coming," she whispered in an urgent voice. "She claims to have the ague, and Miss Evingale is to remain and keep her company."

"I know, Mrs. Musgrove has already warned me," he answered, unable to tear his eyes from her. My God, she was beautiful, he thought, drinking in her appearance hungrily. His fingers trembled with the urge to caress the soft white flesh revealed by the exquisite gown, and it was all he could do to keep from touching her.

"Actually, it all has a rather familiar ring to it," he said, forcing himself to speak in a rational manner. "I seem to recall a particular evening when you remained at home on some pretext of illness."

"Yes, but I don't think you need resort to a pot of Mrs. Musgrove's special milk for them," she replied, her eyes moving wistfully over his muscular figure. He was wearing a butler's coat of black serge and a pair of plain cream breeches, and yet she thought him twice as handsome as Mr. Barrymore, who was dressed to the nines in a jacket of black velvet and white silk evening breeches.

"Do you mean the marchioness is really ill?" Drew asked, his brow wrinkling with concern.

"No, but unless I am much mistaken, she and Miss Evingale will be too busy reading to give you any trouble," she said with a light laugh. "You know how seriously they take their novels."

"Mmm," he agreed, unable to resist brushing a raven-black curl back from her cheek. "But actually I am rather relieved that they have elected to remain here. I must admit I have been in a perfect
quake for fear of them stumbling in and ruining our rendezvous. At least here I can keep an eye on them."

"My thoughts exactly." Melanie was pleased their minds were so attuned. "Grandmother does have a penchant for mischief, does she not?"

"Almost as big a penchant as you," he said, his smile vanishing. "Which reminds me, on no account are you to let yourself be alone with Barrymore. I know you are eager to prove your father's innocence, but I don't want you taking any chances."