Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (10 page)

Grant shook the powerful and erotic images away. “Yes?”

“The music.”

He started. Yes, the music was beginning. He took the first step, guiding Emily into the dance even as he cursed himself internally.

“Where did you go?” he asked, clenching his teeth to keep his mind from straying. It seemed he had little control over his wayward thoughts.

She glanced up at him, her gaze sharp. “When?”

He arched a brow at the harsh tone of her voice. “Last night, Emily.” She sucked in a breath at his use of her first name, but he ignored that. He liked saying it, propriety be damned. “You slipped away from the ball without even saying hello to me.”

Her eyes widened. “I did not realize speaking to me would mean so much to you,
Grant
.”

She emphasized his name just a fraction and Grant hesitated, nearly missing the steps of the dance before he righted himself.

The sound of his name seemed so familiar. The touch of her was so familiar. Like the woman last night. But that wasn’t possible. That other woman had been a lightskirt. Flaming red hair, bright makeup, tattered clothing, not to mention the accent. She’d taken him back to a home that was most definitely not Emily’s, in a neighborhood a lady like Emily probably didn’t even know existed.

It wasn’t possible the two women were one in the same, yet the idea niggled, pushing at him.

“My lord?”

He shook off the thoughts. “You must know I enjoy speaking to you.”

Now it was her eyes that widened, her face that reflected surprise and a very brief happiness that was surprisingly powerful. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her light up like that.

“Th-Thank you, I enjoy speaking to you as well,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft and shy.

“But you have not yet answered my question,” he pressed. “Where did you depart to so early in the evening?”

She met his gaze, unflinching and unreadable. With every look, every movement she made, his intuition pricked and his desire notched up. And though they were on a busy dance floor, it was as if they were the only people in the room. And that was dangerous.

“What an impertinent and ungentlemanly question, Westfield,” she scolded, though her voice was too silky to make him believe she was actually offended by his prying.

Tests. She was testing him. Well, he could test her right back. “There is something about you that often makes me forget I am a gentleman, my lady.”

High color darkened her cheeks. Again Grant flashed to last night and juxtaposed Emily’s face onto the woman who had brought him so much pleasure. That fetching pink tone would darken her cheeks when she found release as well.

“You should endeavor to remember that fact, my lord,” she said softly as the music ended. “Especially on the dance floor.” Then she backed away from his arms, gave him a dazzling smile, and said, “Now, I have promised the next to Mr. Hingly. Good evening.”

She left him on the dance floor, staring after her retreating back with his heart pounding and head spinning. He felt nothing like a spy on a mission. He felt like a man who had been well caught by a woman. And he was more than willing to be reeled in on her hook.

He moved off the dance floor and tracked her as she made her way through the crowd. There was such an effortless grace in her every movement. A calm strength that few ladies he’d met possessed. Emily Redgrave knew exactly who she was, what she was. She showed no fear. No desire for others to view her differently.

She just
was
and that made him want to chase her like a hopeless hound to a sly little fox.

Her movements slowed as she reached the terrace doorways. She glanced around. For a moment, Grant thought she was looking for whomever she had promised the next dance, but then she peeked over her shoulder. Their eyes met and she smiled. A wicked smile.

Then she gave him an audacious wink and slipped outside.

E
mily crouched behind a line of bushes beside the gazebo in the far back corner of Lady Ingramshire’s sprawling garden. The lanterns on the pathway hardly lit the area, so she was certain she would blend in nicely in the darkened shadows.

She balanced back on her heels as she adjusted her gown around her feet and waited. Grant would be coming soon. At least, she hoped he would be. She’d all but waved a red flag before his eyes in the ballroom. A good spy would follow. And when he realized she was gone, she wanted to observe his reaction, see how he searched for her.

As she waited in the cold, she thought about Grant. She wasn’t sure
what
to expect from him, in reality. Just when she started to understand him, he did something that took her off guard. Something that set her on her head and made her rebuild her image of him.

Like tonight. He held her so tightly when they danced, his fingers had brushed her hip with the slightest hint of possession. And then he said he enjoyed spending time with her. Those words seemed genuine, not just something said to further his case.

Her own reaction had been entirely real. Pleasure had washed over her like a warm, welcome wave, even though she was fully aware that she could have nothing deeper than perhaps a brief affair with him. She had a past to contend with, not to mention the fact that she had seen, through her friends, what good relationships required. Trust. Openness.

Those were things that had never come easy for her.

But Grant hadn’t said that he wanted those things with her, so it didn’t really matter. Instead, he whispered that she made him forget he was a gentleman. A shiver that had nothing to do with the frigid air shook her. Those words were as seductive as a caress. But one night previous he had been burying himself in what he believed was another woman.

So which was real? The passion he displayed with someone he believed to be a lightskirt? Or the seduction he was playing out with her in the midst of ballrooms and gardens and Great Halls?

Was it possible to be jealous of herself?

She shook her head as she saw Grant ease his way down the garden path. There was no time for silly musings. She’d stumbled upon a real case when she’d seen the man dressed as the Regent. And now she had to determine if Grant Ashbury was the right man to partner with her to solve that case.

He was all casual elegance as he moved his way through the cold, frosty garden, scanning one way, then the other as if he was just enjoying the cool air after the overly heated ballroom. She cursed him for the greatcoat he wore. She hadn’t had time to grab her wrap before she’d left the warm house and now she was frozen in the night air. Blasted man.

One of the lanterns illuminated his face as he turned toward her and she saw the focused glint in his dark eyes. Yes, he was definitely searching for her. Yet he remained calm, loose. No one who saw him would ever guess his true purpose. She liked that. Too many times spies forgot themselves when they thought they were alone.

He veered toward the gazebo and Emily tensed. Carefully, she shifted further into the shadows.

Grant’s face turned sharply toward her hiding place and she held back a curse. He couldn’t have seen her slight movement in the dark and he certainly hadn’t heard her! She was silent as the grave, that was something she prided herself in.

Yet he continued to stare, moving forward in a slow but steady pace toward her. He held himself with caution, ready to strike as all his attention remained firmly on her hiding spot. He was too focused for her to make an escape by slipping away behind the gazebo. All she could do was wait and hope he would decide there was nothing to examine in the shadows after all.

Which, of course, he did not. There was no avoiding the inevitable. She had wanted to see his reaction to the unexpected and she was about to have her wish granted.

With a deep breath, she pushed off her heels until she stood tall and walked out into the open.

Grant had a hard time keeping enough control not to stumble back in surprise when Emily strode out of the shadows as if a lady of quality hid behind a gazebo in the freezing cold every day. Her shoulders were thrust back, head held high, and she regarded him with what could only be construed as scorn.

“Lord Westfield.” She acknowledged him with a cool nod befitting royalty.

“Lady Allington,” he drawled as he looked her up and down. Her bare arms were covered with gooseflesh and her nipples were clearly outlined against the silky fabric of her gown. He stifled a groan at the sight.

“What are you doing roaming around the gardens?” she asked, with the gall to look irritated by his presence.

“One could ask the same of you, my lady.” He folded his arms. “Why in heaven’s name would you come out in the freezing cold without a wrap to warm you? Especially since you informed me you had promised the next dance to another partner. Surely the gentleman must be looking for you by now.” He tilted his head. “Unless he’s also hiding behind the gazebo for some strange reason.”

There was a thought to turn his stomach.

Her eyes widened. “Are you implying—”

He stepped forward and her entire body shifted, moving into a subtle fighting stance. The motion took him by surprise. How many women knew how to balance their weight? How to grip a fist like that so they were ready to throw a punch? Yet Emily had done both.

What the hell was this woman, really? And what was she hiding?

He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You’ll catch your death if you stand out here with no protection, especially after your recent illness.”

Her fists relaxed and she stared up at him, eyes shining with surprise in the dim lamplight. “You—” she pulled the coat closer—“thank you.”

“Let me take you back to the house.” He held out an arm. She gathered up the hem of his coat like it was the edge of a gown and lifted it as she took his offering.

For a few steps, they walked in silence. Emily stared straight ahead, clutching his coat so as not to drag it along the pathway.

Finally, Grant cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me
why
you were hiding in the shadows, without a wrap, watching me?”

Emily’s gaze slipped over to him, held on his face, and he felt her scrutiny. Her appraisal. He thought she was going to say something and found himself leaning closer in anticipation. Then she shrugged.

“No.”

He stifled a surprised laugh. No. Just like that.
No
. Without explanation or babbling about the ridiculous position she had been caught in, she simply denied him. He had never met another woman like her. He had certainly never been so thoroughly challenged, stymied, and confused by another woman before.

And he found he actually liked it, despite all the very good reasons he had to find her reticence troubling.

“I see.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairway leading up to the veranda. Without having to be asked, Emily slipped out of his coat and handed it over wordlessly. “And what about your lie about dancing with someone else? Do you want to explain that?”

She tilted her head and looked at him. By God, she was stunning. But it wasn’t just her pretty face that captured him. He’d known many women just as beautiful. It was the light in her eyes. Intelligence and mischief and sensuality rolled up in one sparkling package.

“No, Grant,” she said softly. “Not tonight.”

He drew back, surprised, yet again, by her answer. “No? Does that mean you’ll explain yourself another time? Because I admit, my curiosity is overwhelming.”

She smiled and it was like a punch in the stomach. How could something so small affect him so deeply?

“Tomorrow.” She reached out as if she wanted to touch his arm, then drew back. Disappointment crashed through him. “Come to my home tomorrow and have tea with me. I promise I’ll explain everything to you then.”

Then she turned and slipped up the stairway, her slender hips shifting beneath her gown with every step and drawing his attention in a most distracting way. For a long time after Emily was safely inside, he stood at the bottom of the stairs, thinking about her.

And as he pulled his coat back around his shoulders, he was confronted with yet another reminder. Her soft, fresh scent wafted around him. She’d worn the coat for all of three minutes, yet she left the mark of her fragrance to haunt him.

He sucked in a deep breath of the scent. Seductive, enticing…and so very familiar. Where had he smelled that fragrance before?

A cold breeze rippled through the trees and wiped the question from his mind as it chilled him to his bones. He headed up the stairs to the house with a sigh.

Tomorrow Emily promised explanations. And perhaps tomorrow he would uncover the truth and finally be able to protect her.

“You have visitors, my lady.”

Emily glanced up from her notes to the grandfather clock by the door where her butler stood. Grant was early and she couldn’t ignore the stirring in her belly at the thought that he was just as eager to meet as she was.

She could only hope he would react well to her admissions. No doubt he would be furious that he’d been deceived by his superiors and shocked to discover she was a spy. But once those initial reactions had faded, would he accept her, work beside her to uncover the truth about the Prince in disguise she’d seen that wicked night in the club?

“Did you put him in the Rose Parlor as we discussed?” she asked as she set her work into the escritoire drawer and turned the key. Later she might bring Grant here to show him her notes, but for now it was better to secure her papers.

“It is not a ‘he,’ my lady.” Benson sighed. “It is Lady Carmichael and Mrs. Tyler.”

Emily’s hand froze in the action of turning the key and her gaze snapped up. “I thought I told you I was not in residence if either of them arrived.”

He nodded. “You did, madam, but they were quite insistent. I do apologize, but you know Lady Carmichael can be…
wily
.”

Emily tried not to laugh at his assessment. She could only imagine what tricks Meredith had used to make her way past the butler. But she wasn’t happy with her friends and she wouldn’t forgive them, at least not for a while. Even if they were charming and wonderful.

She certainly had no intention of sharing details of the very real case she had uncovered yet. Not until she and Grant had a solid handle on everything. Only then could she be certain Charlie wouldn’t take the investigation away from her out of some attempt to “protect” her.

She gritted her teeth. “And they are where, exactly?”

“The Rose Parlor, my lady. It took everything in me to convince them not to storm your office. I was under the distinct impression that if you did not receive them within a reasonable time, they might do just that.”

Benson gave her a long-suffering look and she smiled at him. The poor man really did go through hell working for a bunch of upstart female spies. But despite his prickly nature and blatant disapproval of her profession, she had faith he would remain true.

If only it were so easy to trust everyone in her life.

“I do apologize for their behavior. I know they were probably most unpleasant for you to deal with.”

She finished locking the drawer and put the key in her pelisse pocket. Smoothing her skirts, she girded her strength for facing Ana and Meredith.

“There will be no need for tea,” she explained as they walked down the hallway together. “They won’t be staying long enough. No interruptions unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Benson nodded once, then split away from her as she reached the Rose Parlor door. She drew in a deep breath as she turned the handle and entered.

Meredith was standing beside the fireplace, dressed in a simple traveling gown. Emily arched a brow at her appearance. That was right. Meredith and Tristan were bound northward for his first case. Her friend must be out of sorts to come to Emily’s home mere hours before their departure.

Ana was perched on the settee, watching the door with an expression of anxiety. When Emily entered, she surged to her feet.

“You could have done without the dramatics, you know,” Emily said as she shut the door behind her. “That sort of thing upsets Benson. Now I’m going to be forced to hear about his displeasure for a week at minimum.”

Meredith folded her arms, sparks of frustration lighting her dark blue eyes. “If you hadn’t been pouting and avoiding us, we wouldn’t have been forced to barge into your home in the first place.”

“I have never pouted in my entire life,” Emily snapped, fisting her hands at her sides.

Ana stepped between them, holding up a hand to each side. “Ladies, arguing over frivolous things is not going to resolve anything and will likely lead to nothing more than hurt feelings. Please, Meredith.”

Meredith shrugged and Emily relaxed a fraction. But her anger didn’t diminish and now that she faced her two best friends at once it was joined by deep and devastating disappointment and betrayal.

“Why would you do this?” she asked. “Meredith, why would you lie to me? Make me an utter fool by having me chase around a man who is a spy and can take care of himself? Do you have such little faith in me and my abilities after all we’ve been through together?”

Meredith had the decency to look chastised for a moment, but then she stepped forward. “You and Ana are my dearest friends. I have never desired anything but the best for you both. I’ve never had anything but the highest regard for you and your abilities. But it is exactly
because
of all we have been through that I agreed to this deception. Dearest, you cannot deny that you are changed—”

Emily cut her off with a wave of her hand. Her emotions welled but she pushed them down with violence. “No. I won’t hear of how my injury changed me. How you no longer trust me.”

Meredith shook her head. “We trust you—”

Emily interrupted a second time. “How is it that you and Ana can claim I am so very changed while you ignore the fact that you have changed equally in the last year and a half? Perhaps even more than I!”