Scoundrel (36 page)

“What? We’re going where?” Lily rubbed her eyes and started to sit up in bed. Then she remembered she was naked. Her head remained on the pillow, but she turned to stare at her husband as she tried to absorb it all. He stood in front of a tall chest of drawers, dressed already in a white shirt and gray pants. A basin sat on top of the chest, and a tall mirror hung from the wall. He scraped a wicked-looking razor across his face with deft strokes that looked as if they should be painful, if not fatal. Lily found it a fascinating process, but at the moment she was more curious about the time of day than the foreign techniques of shaving. The warm light of dawn streaked through the windows, the sun just barely over the horizon.

“We are leaving for Remmington Castle within the hour,” he repeated.

She turned to stare at his profile, trying to gather her sleep-muddled thoughts. “But… why?”

He glanced at her over one shoulder, a cool, impersonal look that made her wonder if she’d only dreamed the intimacies of the night before. He dipped the razor into the basin of water and swirled it in a circle. “The marriage of a duke does not go unremarked. If the news is not already in London, it soon will be. The gossips will find one excuse after another to visit Holybrook House if we remain this close to Town. I promised your father I would keep you secluded.”

Lily frowned. “Are you angry with me about something?”

“Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?” His gaze raked over her, brief and dismissive. “I’m sure you will want to say good-bye to your father. Sophie, too, I would imagine. You need to get dressed, Lily. Wear a gown that will be comfortable on the journey.”

He returned his attention to the razor. She tucked the sheets under her arms and sat up, trying to decide the best way to get from the bed to her robe. Unfortunately, the robe sat on a trunk well beyond her reach. She had no intention of parading around the room naked, as if she thought he would enjoy the sight. Last night Remmington showed an intense desire to see her unclothed, but this morning he didn’t seem the least interested. She knew why. Indeed, she had expected this much sooner. He’d looked his fill last night and found her somehow lacking.

She slipped her legs over the side of the bed, rearranged the sheets to cover as much of herself as possible, then inched her way to the end of the bed. The trunk was still five or six feet away. With one last glance over her shoulder, she made a dash for the robe, then back to the shelter of the sheets.

“Damn it.”

Her head pivoted in Remmington’s direction, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was dabbing at a small cut on his neck with a linen towel, scowling into his mirror as he tended the injury. She struggled to put her robe on with one hand while the other held the sheet in place. Her bid to conceal herself wasn’t entirely successful, but at last she tied the belt into place. When she looked up again, he was dabbing at another cut not far from the first.

She sat on the edge of the bed and watched the razor scrape along his cheek. “Does your valet usually do that?”

Remmington swore under his breath as another nick appeared on his chin. He poured fresh water over the towel, then wiped his face.

“Do what?” he snapped.

“Shave you.”

“No.”

“You don’t seem overly talented at the chore.”

He gave her a withering look, then jerked his head toward the dressing screen. “We now have three quarters of an hour. It’s time to get dressed, Lily.”

It took twice that long to rouse everyone and explain their departure, then make their good-byes. Remmington, Lily’s father, and Sir Malcolm met in the library, while Lily said good-bye to Sophie and Lady Bainbridge in the Queen’s Chamber.

If not for Remmington’s distant mood, she would have thanked him for their hasty departure. He didn’t seem the least bothered that everyone knew what they had done the night before, but Lily couldn’t look anyone in the eye, especially her father. When they finally pulled away from Holybrook House, her relief was tempered by disappointment that they couldn’t return to London. It could be weeks, perhaps months, before Sir Malcolm sent word that he had Lily’s attacker in custody. If her husband’s mood didn’t improve, any length of time would seem an eternity.

The silence in the coach grew longer. They sat on the same side of the coach—but the spacious vehicle allowed plenty of room between them and Remmington sat more than a foot away from her. He continued to gaze out the window next to him long after Holybrook House disappeared from view.

“I’m sorry we departed a little late.” She wondered if he truly blamed her for the slight delay. Personally, she didn’t think there was any great rush. Her father didn’t plan to send the announcement of their wedding to the papers until tomorrow. They could have stayed another day. Remmington shrugged and didn’t reply. His casual dismissal finally sparked Lily’s temper. “Would you care to tell me why you are in such a surly mood, my lord?”

He looked startled by the question, then he smiled at her for the first time that morning. “No.”

He propped one foot up on the opposite seat and watched her with an expectant air.

“If you are waiting to hear why
I
am displeased with
you
,” she said, “then I think the answer should be obvious.”

“Is it really?” He didn’t sound the least interested in the answer. He continued to watch her, his smile lazy.

She lifted her chin and looked away from him. “You should have told me last night.”

“Told you what?”

Untangling the tassels of her fan suddenly seemed an important task. She arranged the silky streamers in neat rows, then risked a glance at him from beneath her lashes. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked puzzled. She felt a surge of satisfaction. He’d left her guessing all morning about his displeasure. It was only fair that he should suffer his own moment of doubt. She took her time answering the question. “The reason for our abrupt departure this morning. After all, you can hardly expect me to guess your thoughts, or to…”

She couldn’t think how to put the delicate subject into words. She’d thought last night was wonderful, the most incredible experience of her life. He acted as if nothing had happened. Worse than if nothing had happened. He was treating her almost like a stranger. Only one thing could account for the drastic change in his mood. Last night she’d done something wrong. The only thing worse than knowing she’d failed to please him, was having to ask him how. It was humiliating. She refused to do it. “Oh, you should have told me last night!”

His brows rose over the sudden outburst. “I did not realize you would be so upset, Lily. Had I known, I would have told you of our travel plans much sooner.”

“Travel plans?” she echoed. “What are you talking about?”

“My decision to leave for Remmington Castle this morning,” he clarified. “Last night I didn’t want you to worry about leaving. Sophie will be in good hands, and your father and Sir Malcolm will return to London this morning anyway. There was no pressing reason to stay, yet several pressing reasons to leave.” He gave her a considering look. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“The same thing, of course.” Did their lovemaking mean so little to him? She supposed it must, for he’d obviously dismissed the matter from his mind. She’d thought of little else all morning. If she voiced her concerns now, he would think her hopelessly naive about the intimacies between a husband and a wife. He would be right. “I am not quite myself in the mornings. The news that we wouldn’t return to London just came as a surprise. “

Remmington was silent for a moment, then he brushed his knuckles over the curve of her cheek. “Considering what you’ve been through the past few weeks, I’d say you took the news remarkably well.”

Lily felt a burgeoning glow of warmth over the praise. She glanced up at him, caught by the tenderness of his expression.

He lifted her hand and pressed a feathery kiss against her wrist. “I want to keep you safe, Lily. At Remmington Castle I know every nook and cranny, every face. Someone who might melt into a crowd in London will be marked a stranger there. It seems the best place for you.”

He was concerned for her safety. She felt churlish for baiting him.

“There is also the fact that my brother will be at the castle. Before we left for Holybrook Hall, I asked him to attend a tenant dispute in my place. I would like to tell him of my marriage before he reads about it in the papers.”

“Does your brother know of your work?”

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “He works for Bainbridge as well. My titles come with responsibilities that make it difficult for me to leave England for extended periods of time. Trevor handles the assignments that we know will involve weeks or months of work abroad.”

“Will you tell him about my work?”

“I would like to.” He regarded her with eyes that were more blue than gray in the morning sunlight.

She assumed he would be the sort of husband who thought it his right and duty to make such decisions for his wife. It took her a moment to realize that he was waiting for her permission. “You wouldn’t tell him if I asked you not to?”

“Would you tell anyone about my work if I said not to?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Why are you surprised that I show you the same consideration?”

“Most men wouldn’t.” Off the top of her head, she couldn’t think of one who would.

“I am not most men.” He looked indignant, yet she grew wary when one dark brow rose. “
Some
men might take offense at being placed in such a low category by the one person who should think them a male superior to all others, wise in all things.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I may not be an expert on marriage, but I am not
that
naive.”

He placed one hand over his chest. “You wound me,
chérie
.”

He said the casual endearment in jest, yet it warmed her anyway. “At least your brother cannot object to the fact that you married a woman who is in league with spies, being one himself. I did wonder how you intended to explain our marriage, when I accepted an invitation to ride with him in the park just a week before.”

His smile faded. “That reminds me. I was not overly pleased to learn you had agreed to go on an outing with my brother.”

“You needn’t give me that look. He refused to accept no for an answer. In that, you and your brother are much alike.”

“Persistent?”

“Arrogant.”

“Hm. First you class me with most men, now I am arrogant. One wonders what you will think of me after an entire week of marriage.”

She smiled back at him. “Are you fishing for compliments, my lord?”

“Miles,” he corrected. “I would never be so vain.” . His mood perplexed her. First brooding silence, now teasing humor. She had no idea what to think of him after one day of marriage, much less a week. And still the one question she really wanted answered kept repeating itself over and over in her mind.
Did I please you last night
? He said that she shouldn’t be afraid to ask him anything. She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask him that. “How long do your assignments usually last?”

For a moment he looked perplexed by her question, then he shrugged his shoulders. “It depends upon the assignment. The voyages I make are most often to Normandy, and those take no more than a day or two. There are operatives in other parts of France, and those voyages may last a week or more. Then there are smugglers. For the most part, the local officials are well aware of what goes on and the names of those involved, but they turn a blind eye to the business. We track the operations to make certain the cargoes are harmless. Those assignments often take several weeks.”

“But how do men like Lord Granger become involved with the transport of spies?”

Remmington frowned. “All too easily. The only thing Granger appreciates more than French brandy is a game of chance. He plays often, and he plays deep. In time his estates became so heavily mortgaged that even his smuggling activities could not keep him afloat. The officials already knew of Granger’s smuggling enterprise, so no one noticed when his ship began to carry an extra crew member or two. However, we became suspicious when Granger paid off all his debt within a matter of months. We know now that there are four spies who operate through Granger. For a time we thought there was a fifth, but it seems he returned to France before we caught on to the operation.”

“At Crofford House, Sir Malcolm said he didn’t intend to arrest them. Isn’t he afraid of the information they are leaking to the French?”

“None of their messages reached France. We kept the net open only long enough to find out how and where they obtained their information. Sir Malcolm took them into custody after we left for Holybrook House.”

“Lord Granger, too?” she asked.

He seemed in no hurry to answer the question. He propped his foot on the opposite seat and laced his hands together around his knee, his expression grim. “Bainbridge offered Granger two choices. One was to hang for treason.”

“And the other?” Lily whispered.

Remmington scowled at his folded hands. “Three days ago, Granger died by his own hand.”

“Oh, my God.”

Remmington seemed to speak more to himself than to Lily. “Bainbridge notified our operatives in France before he arrested the French spies or confronted Granger. That is part of the reason I left for Normandy so abruptly last week. Bainbridge feels his counterpart in the French government will retaliate by arresting anyone he suspects is an English spy.” He took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “At any given time, we know the identities of a few of their agents, and they know a few of ours. It’s a cat-and-mouse game, really. We arrest one of theirs, and they arrest one of ours. We’re just never sure which one it will be.”