Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (18 page)

A
na glanced up from her lap as the carriage they were traveling in eased around a curve in the wide road. Lucas was sitting across from her, reading through some paperwork with a seemingly focused intent. And if he had turned one of the sheets in his lap in the last half hour, she would have believed he was truly engrossed. Only he hadn’t. He was just as uncomfortable as she, herself was. Probably more so, considering the odd circumstances.

“Lucas?”

He looked up in surprise. They hadn’t spoken in over an hour. Not since the driver had informed them that they were nearly at their destination.

“Yes?”

She cleared her throat. What did she want to say? She had no idea. All she knew was that she didn’t want this heavy silence between them. She wanted the casual conversation they sometimes shared. The teasing.

She just wanted things to be normal again.

“Where did you go when you used to run away from home?” His brow wrinkled in surprise and she hastened to explain. “At supper with your family, they mentioned you used to disappear. You claimed you didn’t recall where you went, but I don’t believe that. I could tell by your face that it was important to you.”

He drew back as he closed the file in his hand and set it on the seat beside him, but he didn’t answer immediately.

“I never knew you paid such close attention to my expressions, Anastasia.”

Heat rushed to her face and she wanted to turn away from his gaze, but she fought to hold her ground. She wanted to know more about him, this man who would be her husband in such a short time. Something more than that he was a master spy or that he made her tremble with desires she had long tried to deny. She wanted to know him as a man.

“You shouldn’t pretend you aren’t utterly aware of how handsome you are,” she said with a wobbly smile. “But you don’t have to share your past with me if it is too personal.”

He laughed softly. “Oh, I think we moved beyond
claims that anything is too personal when we sealed our fate in the General’s garden. I am happy to tell you of my past, but at a price.”

Ana stiffened. A price. She could only imagine what kinds of demands Lucas would make of her. Sensual ones. Ones she couldn’t imagine granting considering the purpose of their journey today.

“I can’t…Lucas, we shouldn’t…”

His smile fell. “I only meant information. A question for a question. After all, I know as little about you as you do about me.”

“What do you mean?” Ana gasped. “You know my history completely!”

He shook his head. “There is so much more to you than the fact that you were once another man’s wife. You had a life before you married Whittig. You had a life after his passing. That is what I want to know. Is that fair?”

She examined his face closely, considering what he was asking of her. Finally, she nodded.

“Good. You began our game by asking where I went.” He hesitated and his gaze moved to the passing countryside. “I am the youngest boy of an important family, as you know. But you may not understand the feeling of having no place that a man in my position goes through. My eldest brother’s duties in life were well defined. He was to be the Earl. And Martin was the spare, so he had duties of his own. But I was not likely to inherit any title. And in many ways that left
me at a loss for what to do. As a child, I felt my lack of place keenly. So I ran away. Searching for…” He drifted off. “I don’t know what I was searching for. But I found it when Henry told me he had joined the ranks of His Majesty’s spies.”

She flinched. “Henry helped you make your way in the War Department?”

His nodded slowly, and she could see from his frown that he was troubled. Thinking of their investigation and her accusations against his friend. “I told you, we have been the best of friends for as long as I could remember.”

Silence returned to the carriage for a long moment and Ana shifted. She was responsible for Lucas’s doubt in a man he cared for. God help her if her intuition was wrong. God help them both if it was right.

He shook off whatever thoughts were working through his mind and smiled at her. “And now it is my turn for a question.”

Tension stiffened Ana’s shoulders as she waited for his query. Of course it would be about Gilbert.

“You have older brothers and sisters, yet you never speak of them. You talk about the grief of losing your parents and your husband, but you never talk of the rest of your family.” He leaned closer. “Why?”

She shrugged, surprised that this was the topic he’d chosen to pursue. “My siblings were all much older than I was. Fifteen years or more. I was an unexpected addition to the family. And, I think, unwelcome for
some of them. We were never close my entire life. They resented how my parents doted on me, I suppose. When my mother and father died, it cut off whatever contact I had with the rest of my family. I only hear from them once a year, if that. They are more like distant acquaintances than family. That is why Emily and Meredith are so important to me.”

His eyes narrowed, and she could see him digesting what she had said. Suddenly he reached out and covered her hand with his. “You life has not been easy.”

Starting, Ana let her gaze come even with his. “No, I suppose not.”

“When we first met, I said you were sheltered,” he continued.

She flinched as she recalled that afternoon that seemed so long ago. “Yes.”

He let his fingers move up to stroke her cheek. “I was wrong, Anastasia. You are the strongest woman I have ever known.”

Her lips parted in surprise at that statement. She stared at Lucas and was rocked by the way he looked at her with such…tenderness. Understanding. And most of all, respect. No one had ever given her those things. Not like this. Not like him.

“Lucas,” she breathed, but before she could continue, the carriage slowed and then stopped.

He pulled his hand away and she nearly grabbed for it, grabbed for him, to keep him close. “We are here,” he said softly.

She turned to look outside. Sure enough, the high stone walls of the Whittig estate rose up before her, taking her back in time.

“I have not been here since…” She trailed off.

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

She was startled by the question. She hadn’t realized she’d even made the statement out loud. And she wasn’t sure she even knew the answer he sought.

He shrugged at her hesitation and his dark eyes moved away. “I apologize. My question is out of turn, isn’t it?”

She tilted her head. The withdrawal of the question was almost as troubling as the asking, and she felt an overwhelming need to breech the gap between them.

“This home is an old family estate,” she explained, waiting for pain to grip her heart as it always did when she thought about the past. But it didn’t. A tingle was there, yes, but it was dull. Muted. “Gilbert loved it here. He liked being so close to town, but still in the countryside. That is why he is buried here, because he enjoyed it so much.”

Lucas nodded wordlessly.

“That is why I have found it very difficult to come here. In fact, I’ve only been back a few times since his death.”

She hesitated as the footman opened the door. Her words seemed to fall away as her mind spun with images and memories of this house and the man she had lived in it with. But like her pain, her memories were
not as sharp as they once were. They no longer brought tears to her eyes. They no longer made her shake with the power of the emotions they evoked.

She found herself casting a glance at Lucas without even realizing she’d done it. When she looked at him, the emotions were strong. She wasn’t sure what they were…but they were powerful.

He moved to the carriage door and stepped down, then turned to help her out. She looked up at the house just as the front door opened and the housekeeper, Mrs. Gray, came bustling out.

“Lady Whittig, we didn’t know you would be coming.” The housekeeper wrung her hands. “We would have prepared—”

“I won’t be staying, Mrs. Gray,” she interrupted. “I—I just needed to do something. May I present Mr. Lucas Tyler, my—he’s my—”

Lucas’s face tensed. “I am Lady Whittig’s fiancé.”

Ana flinched as the housekeeper’s gaze slipped over to Lucas, then snapped back to her. She couldn’t tell if she was being judged or not by the woman who had once lovingly served her and her late husband.

“A—A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tyler,” Mrs. Gray said. “Won’t you come in and have a bit of tea?”

Ana took Lucas’s arm and followed the woman into the house. Clearly the rest of Gilbert’s family avoided the home he’d loved as much as she did. As she entered the sunny foyer, she noticed some of the
furniture was covered with sheets and most of the doors, which had been thrown open in welcome when she was mistress here, were shut.

“I’m sorry about the state of the place, ma’am,” Mrs. Gray said as she bustled ahead. “We weren’t expecting anyone for another few weeks.”

She tilted her head. “Another few weeks?”

“Yes. The new Lord Whittig will be arriving then.” She stopped as she opened the door to a parlor. Her eyes were wide. “Didn’t you know?”

Ana shook her head. Of course she knew Gilbert’s younger brother had taken on the title. In fact, he had married a year ago, and he and his bride had recently welcomed a son. But she hadn’t realized the new Lord Whittig and his family would take up residence here. She shut her eyes. This house would be full of laughter again. The squeals of children. It would no longer be a house of mourning and memory.

She waited for that to sting. But instead it gave her a small feeling of…joy.

“I’ll fetch the tea,” Mrs. Gray said. As she passed by, the housekeeper reached out and briefly squeezed Ana’s arm.

Lucas took a seat and looked at her. Emotions hidden, as always. But so quiet. So serious. She wasn’t sure what to think.

“She seems very kind,” he said, motioning to the woman’s retreating back.

“She always was.” Ana let out a sigh. There was no
putting if off any longer. She needed to do what she’d come here to do. Waiting for tea wouldn’t make it any easier. In fact, the longer she waited, the more nervous she became about her duty.

“Will you tell her I’ll have my tea when I return?” she asked. “I want to do something. I
need
to do something first.”

He got to his feet slowly. His eyes were filled with understanding. And a little frustration, too. But he didn’t express either. “Of course. Shall I go with you?”

She halted, staring up at him. She’d brought him here for that purpose, to hold her hand, to hold her up if need be. But now she felt strong. Perhaps because he said she was. And she realized that she needed to face this final demon, this final moment in this house, alone.

“No. I think I must do this by myself.”

His gaze turned hooded, his emotions buried in an instant. “As you wish.”

She turned her back, drew in a deep breath, and left the room. She’d come all this way only to find that the house, that the family, had begun to move on, finally.

And now she had to do the one thing that would allow her to do the same.

Would it be wrong to ask for whiskey instead of tea? Would it be wrong to get stone drunk and ask rude questions about Saint Gilbert?

Lucas sighed. He supposed it would be. And it
wouldn’t change anything. He would still be in the other man’s house, following the other man’s servant, waiting for a woman who very well might always consider herself another man’s wife.

Even when she was his.

He clenched a fist as Mrs. Gray led him around a corner into long, wide hallway that brought the east and west parts of the house together.

“This is the family gallery,” she explained. “All the portraits are here.”

“Hmm.” He stared at the faces, bored out of his mind. Where was Ana? Upstairs lying in her old bed? Sobbing hysterically as she walked the halls through the family quarters? Or was she at Gilbert Whittig’s grave?

“And here are the most recent Lord and Lady Whittig,” the housekeeper continued, stopping before a portrait that had been hung at eye level.

Thoughts bled out of Lucas’s mind as he stared at the painting. It was Ana, a younger Ana. Softer eyes. More naïvety and innocence. There wasn’t a sense of loss about her, but also less sensuality in her stare.

She was sitting in a chair, a pretty blue gown arranged in perfect folds around her. And on her shoulder was a man’s hand. He looked up and found himself staring face to face with the person for whom he had come to nurse a powerful hatred in the last few weeks.

He’d never seen an image of Gilbert. Ana hadn’t spoken much of him beyond her assertions that she had loved and would love him forever. This face was not the
one he’d expected for his enemy. He was almost as young as Ana. With bright blue eyes and ruddy cheeks. There was a lot of hope and light in that stare.

“How did Whittig die?” he asked.

The housekeeper halted, her face pale as she turned back. He met her gaze evenly. It was an impertinent question, but he needed to know. Some part of him had to know.

“It was a hunting accident.” She looked away. “He lingered for nearly a week, with her ladyship fighting to keep him on this earth.”

He shut his eyes. No wonder Ana was so protective of Emily, why she constantly fretted over her condition. Like her husband, Ana’s best friend had been shot. She’d seen life bleed away before, she’d tried her best to keep that life with her…only to fail.

“He was very young,” he said, tilting his head a bit more.

“Aye, very young.” The housekeeper swiped a sudden tear. “Too young.”

A silence filled the hallway and finally Lucas stepped away, unable to look at the portrait anymore. Unable to look at the younger Ana’s hopeful expression when he knew that just a few years later her life would be ripped out from under her.

The housekeeper began to walk again. She kept her eyes forward as she said, “Lady Whittig seems happy now, Mr. Tyler. And that is what we all would wish for her.”

“Happy?” he barked out a laugh. “You thought she looked happy today?”

The woman paused and turned to stare at him. “Sir, she’s only been here three times since he died. And every time, she’s been sick with grief. Today I saw her joy.” Color flooded the housekeeper’s cheeks. “Now I’m just rambling on. Come, I’ll fetch you some tea.”