Love and Let Spy (Lord and Lady Spy) (14 page)

She opened her mouth, and he held up a hand. “Do not say
the
usual
reasons
. They do not apply in this case. A husband and the children accompanying marriage would be more hindrance than help to your
profession
.”

The hack slowed, and she turned her attention back to the window. “We’ve arrived. Do you have any blunt? If not, I’ll ask the jarvey to wait and have Moneypence pay.”

He gave her a scornful look. “I have coin enough for a hack. Who is Moneypence?”

“My uncle’s clerk.” With a nod, she moved to open the door, but he grasped her arm. “Our conversation is not over.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, and he pulled it back. “Good.” She met his gaze with her clear blue eyes. “Because I have more to add.”

“Do not open the door,” Dominic ordered her. “That’s for me to do.”

“I don’t need assistance opening a door.”

“I don’t imagine the majority of ladies need assistance opening doors. That isn’t why it’s offered.” He opened the door, jumped down, and lowered the steps, then held out a hand to assist her. She rose unsteadily, and Dominic realized she was too weak to make it down the steps on her own. Not that she would ever admit as much. He leaned forward, putting an arm around her so she might lean on him. He would have carried her, but that would be too much of a spectacle in the middle of Piccadilly, even at this late hour. The street still teemed with life.

He tossed the jarvey a few coins and followed the nod of her head to a small, unmarked brown door beside a men’s haberdashery. “That’s it? The door to the chamber of espionage?”

“Yes. Did you think it would be gilded and ornamented with diamonds?”

“That’s what they have you for, I suppose.”

The fact that she made no retort spoke for how exhausted she must be. Keeping his arm about her, he helped her to the door. She moved slowly, and he more or less carried her, dragging her feet. When they stopped before the door, he reached for the handle, but she shook her head and indicated a bellpull. Dominic pulled it. Nothing happened.

“Wait,” she said. “He’s slow.”

Dominic waited. And waited.

Finally, a rectangular slit in the wood opened, and two ancient rheumy blue eyes appeared. “Are you here to see Miss Leighton?”

Dominic shook his head. “No, we’re—”

Miss Bonde held up a hand. “Yes. I hear she cobbles shoes.”

The blue eyes narrowed and focused on Dominic. “She also makes blackberry pies.”

“Which I hear she sells in twos.”

The rectangular slit closed, and Dominic heard a clang inside. Secret codes? Hidden chambers? Dead spies? How had he become involved in this?

“Let me speak,” Miss Bonde told him.

“Gladly. I know nothing of pies or shoes.”

“It was the code to gain entrance. I had to give two lines of it, because you made Felix suspicious.”

“Doesn’t he know you by now?”

“This isn’t Almack’s, Griffyn. If someone is trying to find a way in, he or she will be much smarter than a debutante and far craftier too. We take no chances.”

The door opened slightly, and the two of them squeezed through. It was immediately closed again, shrouding them in semidarkness. Before them stretched a long, surprisingly wide hallway. It seemed carved into the building and cavelike, with walls of stone on either side and an arched stone ceiling above. Dominic began to move forward, but he realized Miss Bonde hadn’t moved. She leaned against the wall near the entrance, eyes closed and hand pressed to her belly. The crimson stain had grown larger, and even in the dim light, she looked pale. “Where is this doctor?” he demanded, but Felix was already gone.

“Moneypence can summon him,” Miss Bonde said.

“Fine. Where’s Moneypence?”

“End of the hallway.” She gasped in a breath. “There’s a door on the right.”

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly. She was never going to make it.

“Miss Bonde.” The man she’d called Felix appeared again. Damn these spies and their appearing and disappearing. He was beginning to feel as skittish as a new colt.

“Are you injured?” Felix asked.

“A scratch,” she answered.

Dominic refrained from rolling his eyes. He had a feeling that even if she’d lost a limb, she’d call it a
scratch
. “Go find Moneypence,” he ordered Felix before he disappeared again. “Tell him to fetch the doctor.”

“Farrar,” Miss Bonde supplied.

“Yes, Bonde.” Felix shuffled down the long hallway, moving rather more quickly than Dominic had assumed was possible for a man his age. He turned to Miss Bonde, who had pushed away from the wall. His gaze caught the smear of blood she’d left behind. He moved to catch her as she stumbled forward and swept her into his arms.

“Put me down.”

“When you can stand on your own, I will.” He followed the hallway in the direction Felix had gone. He was about halfway to the door Bonde had pointed out when it burst open, and a slim, dark-haired man in tailored black shot out.

He skidded to a stop when he saw her being carried and put a hand to his mouth, which had formed an
O
. “Bonde!”

“I’m fine, Moneypence,” she said. “Griffyn is overreacting.”

The clerk’s gaze shot to Dominic for a moment, lingered with not a little distaste, and returned to Bonde. “What happened? Shall I send for your uncle?”

“Send for the doctor,” Griffyn said. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Moneypence’s gaze didn’t leave Bonde’s face. Finally, she nodded. “It would be helpful to see Farrar.”

“I’ll fetch him. He’s downstairs.”

“I’ll wait in my uncle’s office.”

But Moneypence was already gone. He’d opened a door in the wall and disappeared. Damn spies. Griffyn moved forward, but wherever the door had been, he couldn’t see any sign of it now. “Where’s Melbourne’s office?”

“Through that door.” She gestured to the one she’d indicated earlier. “You have to forgive Moneypence. He has a
tendré
for me.”

“Is there a man who doesn’t?” Dominic asked, sounding surlier than he’d intended.

“Plenty. I have my share of enemies.”

They reached the door, but before Dominic could grasp the latch, Felix opened it.

“Haven’t you disappeared yet?” Griffyn asked before turning to survey the room. It was brightly lit by both a chandelier and several lamps, and Dominic stepped inside, wondering if he’d somehow stumbled into White’s. It wasn’t as luxurious as the gentleman’s club—or what he knew of it, since he was not a member—but it was certainly not what he expected to step into after traversing the austere hallway.

Dark wood tables with lion’s-paw feet had been placed throughout the room, which was about half the size of a ballroom. Couches with plush pillows and sumptuous fabrics served as seats alongside padded armchairs. Desks, with clerks dressed in black, were located near shelves full of books and files. Stacks of paper piled like towers on every desk. About half-a-dozen men were at work this night, and every single one of them looked up at his entrance. All conversation ceased as they took in the situation. He was carrying a woman—one probably familiar to them—and she was obviously injured. He looked down at her, dismayed to see she had her head on his chest and her eyes closed. “You had better not die on me,” he grumbled.

“You won’t be so lucky,” she answered, but her voice was thin and weak. Where the hell was that doctor?

“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” Dominic began. The doctor wasn’t present yet, and light as Miss Bonde was, his arms were tired. “I’m looking for Lord Melbourne’s office.”

A clerk—judging by his dress and youth—stepped forward. “That area is restricted.”

Dominic raised a brow. If he hadn’t been holding a woman, he would have punched the man. “Shall I set her on a couch here to bleed to death, or is there somewhere more private?”

“I’ll show you.” A man not much older than Dominic stepped around from behind one of the tables and gestured to the far end of the room. He was short and unassuming, with dark brown hair and a confident gait. No one challenged him as he led Dominic out of the room and into a smaller antechamber. There sat an empty desk before a closed door. “You must be the reason Moneypence went scurrying into the unknown a few moments ago,” he said.

“He went to fetch the doctor.”

The man nodded as he opened the door to the office and gestured for them to proceed inside. He followed, going to the lamp and lighting it. “Farrar. Good man.”

“And you are?” Dominic asked.

The man smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Never ask a spy his identity. Put her down on the couch there,” he said. Dominic followed his gesture toward a leather couch in the far corner. The room was dark and masculine, and Dominic imagined the couch had cost a pretty penny. He didn’t think the blood would easily wash out of the furnishing.

Dominic set her down gently, placing her head on the arm. She’d kept her hands over her abdomen, and they were covered with blood now.

“Stomach wound,” the spy said. “Those are rarely fatal, if treated.” He shrugged. “And if they don’t succumb to infection.”

“That’s reassuring,” Miss Bonde said, surprising Dominic. He hadn’t realized she was still conscious. “Any other words of comfort?”

“No. But you don’t look as though you need any, Miss…”

“I’ll tell if you do.”

Dominic watched the two spies volley verbal balls back and forth. He had no doubt she would win, but he didn’t intend to sit here and wait for the inevitable outcome. “Is a doctor actually coming, or shall I fetch one myself?”

“Allow me to inquire about the good doctor’s progress,” the spy said and took his leave, closing the door behind him. On a table behind the large desk set against a wall, Dominic spied a decanter of what looked suspiciously like brandy. He had neither time nor inclination to study the room, but he did note the large painting. It seemed to depict a group of men in a tavern, heads close together in earnest conversation, while all around them the patrons of the tavern engaged in one folly after another.

“It’s good brandy,” she said.

He gave her a curious look.

“I saw you glance at it.”

“I didn’t think ladies drank spirits,” he said, going to the table.

“Ladies, no. Spies, yes.” She swallowed and paused, as though gathering her strength. “Farrar is good, but he is not exactly delicate. I’ll need a drink for what’s coming. Unfortunately you should never, never give liquids to a person with a stomach wound.”

He poured himself two fingers and drank it down. Kneeling beside the couch, he helped her position her head more comfortably. “Thank you.” She closed her eyes and laid back. “I’m sorry you must play nursemaid. If you want to go—”

“Do not insult me.”

“I don’t mean to, but you must know you don’t owe me anything. We are not engaged, or, I think, likely to be.”

Silently, he agreed. But he did enjoy playing the devil’s advocate. “Oh, I don’t know. I may still ask for your hand. If you live.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “Is that an incentive to die? It won’t work. I’ll live, but I won’t say yes.”

“Why not? Your uncle seems quite keen to marry you off.”

“As does your mother,” she shot back with more venom than he thought she had strength for. “I overheard her threatening my uncle in the garden.”

“When?” he demanded.

“Tonight. When the ladies retired and the men drank port, the two of them had a tête-à-tête. Apparently, you are to marry me…or else.”

Dominic shook his head. “Or else what?”

“You don’t know?” She’d slipped down off the couch cushion again, and he helped her lift her head. She felt warm. Was it simply his imagination, or did she feel too warm? Where the hell was that doctor? He looked in her eyes, which were still steady, not overly bright, but the color in her cheeks was high. She swallowed and lay back again. “Your mother threatened to reveal her liaison with my uncle to my aunt.”

Dominic cursed and rose.

“So you did know.”

“I knew of no such…liaison. But I do know my mother. I do not doubt the veracity of her claim, or that she will follow through with her threat.”

“So you see.” She closed her eyes. “It is not me who
must
marry, but you.” Her eyes opened again. “Why?”

He paced the room, stopped before the decanter, and poured himself another brandy. He was not a man given to drink, but tonight he felt the need of it. He didn’t know how much to tell her. He preferred to say nothing, but that would not do. She had been thrust into something that had nothing to do with her, and she deserved an answer. Not that he pitied her; she’d thrust him into something far worse.

“There was a woman,” he began, sipping his brandy.

She gave a bitter laugh. “There always is.”

“She—that is to say, I…” He sighed. How the hell was he supposed to say this? “She made an accusation. I am not guilty, but she—well, I—”

“Oh, dear, Mr. Griffyn,” Miss Bonde said, her lips curving in an expression that appeared suspiciously like a smile. “This is not a promising beginning, I fear.”

At that moment, he was saved from continuing by the sound of footsteps. The door opened, and a man of medium height and advanced years entered, followed closely by the clerk Moneypence. Moneypence went straight to Miss Bonde, all but shoving Dominic out of the way.