Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (2 page)

G
rant was just keeping himself from yawning. It was only years of practiced control of everything he did and said and felt that allowed him to do it. Dear God, but he hated a ball. And he loved his mother, but her gatherings were the worst.

He scanned the crowded ballroom with a sigh. The marble floor had been scoured to a high shine. The French doors that lined the north wall and led to the wide terrace were cracked to let a little cool air into the stifling room. And all around, a sea of perfectly coifed, painfully perfumed, and obscenely rich ladies and gentleman laughed and talked.

Lady Westfield always drew a crush. She was popular, well liked, and powerful, though she’d never been one to hold that power over anyone’s head. Invariably, her parties were long and overly hot, not to mention always filled with more women than men. That part wasn’t accidental. She had been after Grant and his younger brother Ben to marry for years now, and packed her gatherings with eligible young ladies in the obvious hope that one of them would catch either of her sons’ attention. So far, her hopes had been unfulfilled.

For Ben’s part, Grant often thought his brother avoided marriage if only to tease their mother. He delighted in playfully tormenting her and had from the time he was a child.

But for Grant, it was different. His mother could never know the truth about the danger he was constantly in. That his duties to the King were the reason he would not marry, or at least not marry now.

Grant continued to let his gaze flit from one pretty, boring face to the next. There was still plenty of time to pick some nameless beauty who was just like any other nameless beauty and settle down to produce a few heirs to his title. In another decade or so…after he was finished with his duties in the War Department, perhaps when he was ready to take a job training other spies or overseeing assignments—
then
he would take a wife.

But not before. Because until he was no longer active, he was a threat to anyone close to him, anyone important to him. He had learned that lesson in Intelligence the hard way. He wouldn’t repeat that mistake again.

“Grant?”

He thrust away the powerful anger that suddenly shook him and turned. His mother stood at his elbow, staring up at him. Her striking silver-streaked hair was bound up in a complicated style on the crown of her head. The silver accents in her blue gown matched the color almost exactly. She was still one of the loveliest women in Society and her beauty was only matched by her wit and intellect.

Grant, like all his younger siblings, adored her. But the expression on her face was one he dreaded more than anything he’d ever encountered on a case.

Motherly concern.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a forced smile she would see right through. “I must have been woolgathering.”

“Yes, you were.” She slipped a hand through the crook of his elbow and squeezed gently. “I believe I said your name three times. You seem very distant tonight. Is there anything you’d like to discuss? Something troubling you?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I am the epitome of health and well-being.”

She rolled her eyes. “Grant—”

He looked down at her. “Mother, I am very well, I promise you.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could start in on a lecture, her gaze slipped away from his face toward the doorway in the distance and her eyes lit up. Grant knew what she saw even before he turned to look.

Emily Redgrave had arrived.

“Oh look, there is Lady Allington!” his mother gushed, confirming his intuition.

Grant pivoted in the direction his mother was motioning. As he had expected, Emily was there, standing just inside the ballroom entryway. Despite himself, he caught his breath.

He had first met Emily over six years ago, introduced to her at a stuffy dinner party that had dragged on for hours. They had been seated across from one another and though they hadn’t spoken directly to each other much over the wide table, he had been enchanted. How could one not be by her sparkling wit and quiet sensuality?

Of course, nothing had come of it. She was married then and he was only just beginning his life with the War Department. He had pushed away the attraction he felt for her that night, dismissed it. Over the years, he had sometimes felt it return, fluttering in the back of his mind, when he saw her at parties or balls.

But he ignored it, just as he ignored any attraction he felt to every ‘“suitable” woman, because of the dangerous life he led. Even then, he had known what kind of damage the life he’d chosen to live could do. He only wished he’d kept every woman at arm’s length. If he had…

No, he couldn’t think of that. He had this case to consider and he was no longer able to pretend Emily wasn’t nearby. So he took a good, long look.

And the attraction roared to life, as though he’d never muted it at all.

She was, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on in his life.

Her blond hair caught the light like waves of spun gold. Those bright blue eyes watched everything and everyone like she was on the hunt. She had lost a little weight since he last saw her, which made sense after her long illness. Where she had been more athletic before, she was now slender…almost fragile.

He had the strangest, strongest urge to protect her. Of course, that was likely because of his case. She was reportedly in danger, after all. Of course he would want to ensure her safety. That was his assignment.

It was his
other
reaction to Emily that was more unwanted.

Desire. Potent and powerful. Guttural and purely visceral. He wanted to walk across that room, back Emily into a dark corner, and press his body against hers until there was no space between them. He wanted to fill himself with the scent of her hair. Taste her skin until he was drunk on its flavor.

All those thoughts rushed through his head, strange and gripping reactions that made his knees quake like some green boy. Thankfully, those thoughts were interrupted when his mother spoke again.

“You asked for her to be invited especially, didn’t you?”

Grant shook away the sudden desire Emily inspired before he met his mother’s eyes. “Don’t start your matchmaking, Mama. I didn’t ask for Lady Allington to be invited in order for you to throw me into her arms or vice versa.”

Though the idea was not entirely unpleasant, despite the fact that such an encounter was doomed to be brief.

His mother’s lips tilted in a smile. “I would do no such thing, Grant!” Then she placed a hand on his back and gave him a shove toward Emily. “But since you invited her, you should go say hello. Before Andrew Horne reaches her first.”

Grant shot his gaze to the left to see Andrew Horne, a well-known rake, eyeing Emily with undeniable interest in his eyes. Grant clenched his fists. If Horne got hold of her, Grant would have no chance to speak to her all night. And he needed to do that in order to feel out the situation. Get to know the woman in order to uncover more about the kind of man who would stalk her.

“Excuse me, Mother,” he said, giving her a brief glance. “I shall see you later, I’m sure.”

He heard her murmur some kind of reply, but he was already off into the crowd, his focus now entirely on his case. Entirely on Emily as he weaved around party guests and past servants with their trays.

She looked up as he moved ever closer, her stare focusing on him as if she had sensed he was coming to her. For a brief moment, her expression changed. Her face flashed an emotion he didn’t recognize, yet it seemed familiar. But then it was gone, replaced by a bland yet friendly smile as he drew up beside her.

“Good evening, Lady Allington,” he said with a short bow. “I’m so pleased you could join us this evening. My mother was otherwise engaged, and I was sent to welcome you.”

Emily’s lips parted in a wider smile, but Grant was still struck by something…odd. Like she was holding back. Not in the coquettish way of some women, but something more. Something deeper.

Why, he couldn’t guess. Certainly, they shared no relationship where she would feel the need to keep secrets from him.

At least, no relationship
she
was aware of.

“Thank you, Lord Westfield, I appreciate your kindness. And I look forward to saying hello to your mother to thank her for the invitation.”

Despite her polite words, her entire demeanor was still false. Grant tilted his head. Damn, he wished he’d paid closer attention to Emily in the past, rather than trying to pretend she didn’t exist. Then he would know if she’d always kept herself at such a distance, or if it was a new habit.

“This is the first event you have attended since your illness, isn’t it?” Grant asked.

Emily’s eyes widened and another flash of powerful emotion passed over her face and then was gone. “Yes,” she said softly, a slight break to her voice. “That is—”

She didn’t finish the sentence, instead something over Grant’s shoulder seemed to catch her attention. Her eyes narrowed. He glanced behind him to find Andrew Horne and one of his cronies still advancing toward them.

“Damn,” she breathed. “This is going to sound presumptuous and terrible, but I just don’t care. Dance with me. Now.”

Grant drew back, staring at her in disbelief. Few women were so utterly forward. “I—I beg your pardon?”

She met his stare with a hard one of her own. “Please. Dance with me.”

Grant shrugged. And here he thought he would be forced to work around the subject of getting closer to Emily. Instead, she was practically launching herself into his arms.

And he found that idea was appealing, for more reasons than just those related to his case.

Grant’s hand cupped hers, and Emily couldn’t help but stare. His skin was at least a shade darker and his hand dwarfed hers as he enveloped it in warmth. Again, her mind revolted against the idea that this man, of all men, needed her protection.

The music rose up from the orchestra off the dance floor behind them and Grant launched into the steps of the waltz. For a man so large, his movements were surprisingly graceful and agile. He even managed to maneuver them out of the way when a slightly drunken earl stumbled into their path.

“Has Horne been bothering you long?” Grant asked, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her waist.

Emily fought the urge to suck in her breath at the familiar touch. What was the feeling that this man holding her inspired? It was one she hadn’t experienced for a long time, but it had returned, sudden and unexpected, the moment he touched her.

Desire
.

She caught her breath. Where had that come from? She wasn’t sure, but she felt it settling into her heavy limbs, making her belly tingle, despite the fact that such a thing had no place in an investigation.

She blinked as she tried to regain focus. Ah yes, ridiculous Andrew Horne, her excuse for why they were dancing.

“Horne?” she managed to squeak out like an idiot.

“I couldn’t help but notice that his approach prompted you to demand a dance with me.”

Little laugh lines crinkled around Grant’s dark brown eyes, and she found herself smiling without meaning to do so. And blushing. Which she never did.

“You are observant,” she admitted. “Mr. Horne took an interest in me after I attended a tea his sister hosted when I first recovered from my illness. Lord knows why. But you are acquainted with him and his kind. He’s a rake. He’ll find someone else to pursue if I ignore him long enough.”

Grant arched a dark brow. “Would you like me to hurry that realization along?”

Emily nearly faltered in her steps. Was Grant Ashbury offering to intervene on her behalf? That was certainly a reversal of their roles. Wasn’t she supposed to be the protector, whether he was aware of that fact or not?

“Thank you, my lord, but interference by another might only encourage him.” She smiled. “However, if you wish to intrude upon any conversation I am forced into conducting with the man, I give you full permission to do so.”

He smiled, but the expression was tight and humorless. He was truly taking Horne’s interest in her seriously, though she knew for certain that the dandy was no threat. In fact, as she glanced around the room, she saw he had already transferred his interest to another young lady. One who appeared to be more open to his advances.

“Whatever the lady desires,” Grant said softly.

Emily returned her gaze to him and found that he was staring down at her. Watching every movement of her face, even as he executed the final few steps in the dance.

It was an odd feeling, the intensity of his stare. Over the years, she had made it her business to observe those around her. To watch them for every movement, every little thing that might reveal their darkest secrets. In that study of human behavior, she’d learned things that did not relate to cases. One such tidbit was that very few people ever
really
looked at each other. Fewer still met the eyes of their companions.

Grant Ashbury was doing both. Holding her captive with dark and devastating eyes. Eyes that searched deeper, looked for things she did not normally allow
anyone
to find.

Feeling hot blood flood her cheeks, Emily broke the stare. The music came to an end at the exact same moment and she extracted herself from Grant’s warm arms to give him a slight curtsey.

“Thank you, my lord, for the dance and for your assistance,” she said, hating the slight tremor in her voice. Hating that she was suddenly too cowardly to look the man in the face.

He reached for her hand and she let him lead her from the dance floor, ignoring the sparks of awareness that made her whole arm tingle.

“It was my pleasure to come to your aid, my lady,” he answered with a cocky grin. “If you ever need rescuing again, do not hesitate to call upon me.”

Her chin tilted up with his comment and she stared at him. He continued to smile, but there was something serious in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she managed to squeak out. “I—I will keep that generous offer in mind. If you will excuse me, I believe I see some friends across the room.”