Shana Galen (9 page)

“But?” Winn asked, with that annoying eyebrow still cocked.

“I suppose I have no further objections.” None that she would voice, at any rate.

“Good.” He did not move away so she could pass. Instead, he remained rooted in place, locking her behind the pianoforte. She was not used to this behavior. Why did he all of a sudden seek her company? What did he want from her? Was it merely to torture her? She’d spent so many hours, days, weeks, wishing he would notice her, and she had finally managed to tamp her longings for him down to a manageable level. She did not think she could stand it if he made her love him again. She could not bear the loneliness and longing she’d feel when he inevitably forgot her.

“I must dress for the party and tell the girls the good news.”

“Of course,” Winn agreed. But he did not move. He was looking at her, his clear green eyes focused wholly on her. Elinor felt her heart begin to pound. Was there something wrong with her appearance? Did she have leaves in her hair? Dirt on her face?

“You shall have to move aside, if I am to go, my lord.” She could hear her voice shaking.

“I find myself quite content right here, my lady.”

Elinor swallowed. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” He notched her chin up so she was forced to look at him. The desire she saw in his face caused heat to slash through her. What game was he playing? She shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “Do not do this.”

He frowned. “Do not do what? Kiss you? You are my wife. I have the right to kiss you.” He leaned down, and she put a hand between them.

“Winn, please do not do this to me. You know—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed and attempted to steady it. “You know how I have always felt about you. I know your feelings are not the same, and I have come to terms with that.” She stared down at the green piping on the spencer she’d worn to meet Trollope at Hyde Park. She did not want to look in Winn’s eyes at the moment. It was humiliating that she should have to mention this again, but she did not know what else to do. She would no longer allow him to manipulate her affections to suit his purposes.

“You have come to terms?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

How was she to answer that question? By saying she no longer cried herself to sleep every night? No, she still had some pride. “It means I have learned to be content without you. I do not want you imposing yourself on my life again.

“Now”—she pushed past him. Rather, he allowed her to push him aside—“if you will excuse me, I wish to say good-bye to my daughters and ready myself for my friend’s party.” And she walked out of the music room without turning back. She finally breathed when she reached the nursery. Elinor stood on the other side of her daughters’ door and listened to their giggles and innocent chatter. Her back burned from what she imagined had been the intensity of Winn’s stare. She’d walked away from him, though. She’d done it. She had never thought she would be strong enough to walk away from him, much less push past him. But she had done it, which meant she could do it again.

She closed her eyes and remembered the first time she had seen him. He’d been so handsome, so cocky, so obviously bored with Society. After two Seasons, Society was her life. The balls, like the one where she’d first seen Winn, the on-dits, the rides in Hyde Park. Her mother and father had been minor gentry, and she knew it strained their finances to give her even one Season, much less three. That had been her last chance to snag a husband.

She hadn’t been staring at Baron Winslow Keating with any hope he’d ask her to dance. She wasn’t beautiful or engaging, rich or titled. A man like Winn would have no cause to notice her.

But he had.

He’d caught her staring, flashed a smile, and started across the ballroom.

The girls giggled again, and Elinor pressed a hand to her heart. It pounded as it had the night she met Winn. There were many times she wanted to regret her marriage, but how could she when it had produced her life? For Georgiana and Caro
were
her life. But perhaps a week or so away might be good for her as well as for them. They would be safe and well cared for. And she had a mission for the Babylon group. She did not want to involve her family in that business.

Elinor took a deep breath and opened the nursery door.

Winn stood beside the pianoforte for several long moments. He was speechless. Truly speechless. He did not think he would ever be able to remove the echo of Ellie’s words from his mind.

I
have
learned
to
be
content
without
you.

Winn supposed he deserved that one. He had not been around much, and what exactly had he expected Elinor to do in his absence? Pine? He had not pined for her. A small voice inside him piped up with the suggestion that perhaps that had been because he’d always known how much she loved him and had known she was home pining for him. He’d felt certain of it. But somehow, somewhere, she’d learned to be content without him. She didn’t want him anymore. She didn’t love him anymore.

And he deserved that as well. He’d never been in love with her, and he’d never lied to her and pretended he was. If she wanted to hold on to false hope, that was her affair. Except she was no longer holding on to false hope. And he was no longer
not
in love with her. He wasn’t exactly in love with her either, but his feelings were not what they had been. Something about her had changed. Something had forced him to see her differently.

All of which meant absolutely nothing, because she’d told him,
I
do
not
want
you
imposing
yourself
on
my
life
again.

Who the hell says something like that to another person? He’d never imposed himself on her life. Had he? Well, he had this morning, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Allow her to run off and meet another man? If that was what she wanted, she was going to have to learn to accept a lot more than him imposing himself on her.

The truth was he had missed her—or at least the idea of her. He missed his daughters. He wanted his wife and his family. Yes, he was late to this realization, but he’d had the realization all the same. He was weary of the Barbican group, tired of being an operative.

Unfortunately, his wife had tired of waiting for him, and his girls had grown up while he’d been away. Now he would have to win Elinor back—a feat he was certain he could accomplish. She had been easy to win initially. All he’d had to do was to smile and ask her to dance, and she was his. He could charm her again.

Except he also had to find the head of the Maîtriser group, which was the most dangerous group the Barbican had ever encountered. Foncé had killed half a dozen elite, all-but-indestructible Barbican agents, and the sadistic madman had left his mark, carving the letter
M
into their bodies. This was not an assignment Winn could afford to take lightly.

But if he didn’t win Elinor back now, he might lose her. Perhaps he should have sent her away with Caroline and Georgiana. He didn’t care about their riding skills. He wanted the girls out of harm’s way. It was his own selfishness that kept Elinor near him. He feared if he sent her away now, she might never return.

And after this morning, he was curious as to how her “mission” would go. Smythe had promised to take care of it, but what did that mean exactly? Winn started for the stairs. There was only one way to find out, and that meant attending the garden party.

Winn had never liked Lady Hollingshead. He had no particular fondness for any of his wife’s friends, though after hearing Lady Ramsgate’s injunctions against marital infidelity, he felt more warmly toward her. He supposed he could not fault Elinor if her friends were empty-headed gossips. Almost every woman in the
ton
fit that description. It was not as though Elinor had many choices. And still, if he’d had his druthers, he’d have rather endured the torture of having his toenail pulled out—again—than suffer a garden party.

Several hours later, after a silent drive, they arrived at the garden party. Lady Hollingshead greeted them with her usual effusion, then flitted off to take care of some crisis or other, dragging Elinor with her. Winn watched his wife calmly take control of the situation, and marveled that he had managed to choose his mate so well.

She had not been one of the beauties that Season his father had died. The late baron had been thrown from a horse—a Thoroughbred with too much bottom—and died instantly from a broken neck. Winn had mourned his father, though he’d barely known the man. He could recall only about half a dozen brief conversations with his father in all his twenty-something years. He’d sworn he would do everything in his power not to emulate the man. And, of course, he’d turned out exactly like him.

From the start, Winn’s focus had never been on family. When he met Elinor, he’d scarcely paid her any attention. He had every excuse for his behavior. He’d been shocked by his father’s sudden death, his mother’s involvement with her former groom shortly thereafter, and the imperative from his family that he marry and produce an heir posthaste. But the truth was Winn had just embarked upon his career with the Secret Service and had begun to feel he might have a future in serving his country thusly. He’d been enjoying the work and feeling, for once in his life, as though he was making some sort of contribution, and then his world had come crashing down.

He’d chosen a wife because he’d been told to. He hadn’t been looking for beauty. He’d been looking for a woman who would not refuse him; who was not so silly he could not stand to be in her presence, thereby making the task more difficult; and who had a family with decent connections.

Elinor had been the perfect choice. He’d married her, consummated the union, and gone on with his career in espionage. He did not see why the fact that he was Baron Keating should curtail his involvement with the Foreign Office. It was true his family had been disappointed he had not produced an heir, but several of his brothers had male offspring, and Winn had no qualms about leaving the title to one of their progeny. Having grown up surrounded by brothers, Winn found he liked his daughters. He liked the sweetness of little girls, the way they held each other’s hands, the way their hair curled beside their rosy cheeks, the way they skipped and sang just because. Oh, there were the typical female dramatics, as well, but that was why libraries had been invented, was it not? He could go inside, close the door, and shut out the crying jags.

But something had happened since he’d returned from his recent business on the Continent, and he was at a loss as to how he might explain it. His perfectly forgettable wife had become… unforgettable. It was not only that she managed his household seamlessly. God knew how. She could not predict whether he’d be home or away, but if he did appear, his place at the table was always set, and his valet was always on duty. The larders were stocked, the servants paid, the children educated, and the family status maintained.

That in itself would not have impressed Winn as a younger man, but with age and experience came a new realization that not every household was managed so well. And when he began to look at his wife with new respect, he noted something else. At some point in their marriage, she’d grown beautiful. The unremarkable girl of twenty-one whom he’d married had become a ravishing woman in her thirties. Winn did not think women were supposed to do such things. He especially did not believe mothers of two children were supposed to grow in attractiveness. Shouldn’t she look haggard and worn? Why was her hair so glossy, her skin creamy, and her figure full and sensuous? When he’d been away from her shortly after their marriage, he’d rarely thought of her. But in the last few days, he could not seem
not
to think of her.

“If you could stop staring at your wife for a moment, you might see me attempting to garner your attention.”

Winn turned around at the familiar voice and blinked at Blue. At least he thought it was Blue. Blue always managed to blend in with his surroundings, to appear completely unmemorable. But this man with Blue’s signature bright blue eyes looked as though he wanted every eye in the room on him. He was what Lady Hollingshead would call
dashing
.

“What are you wearing?” Winn gestured to Blue’s caped greatcoat, which he had not removed; his Hessian boots, shined to reflect like a mirror; and the fussy cravat and high stock at his neck. Blue’s hair was a dark brown and waved luxuriously down to his shoulders. He looked like some sort of Italian lothario.

Blue gestured toward a corner near a set of bushes, and Winn followed him. The spot was secluded and afforded the men a view of the party but sheltered them from sight. “Wolf said you needed a secret agent.”

Winn frowned. “Not an actual agent.”

Blue looked at Winn as though he were an idiot. “Pre-cisely. I am in character. That much should be obvious.”

Winn narrowed his eyes, trying to see Blue how others might. “I suppose if I were looking for the caricature of a secret agent, I would look at you.”

Blue bowed with a flourish. “Am I correct in assuming the woman you were ogling is your wife, the one with the coded message to give me?”

“I was not ogling her.”

Blue said nothing.

Winn shifted. “I was thinking, and my gaze traveled all about the crowd.”

“She’s an attractive woman, Baron. You do not need to justify yourself to me.”

And yet Winn could not help but wonder how much Blue knew. Had Smythe told him Elinor was involved with another man? He felt suddenly inadequate, and the feeling was entirely new to him.

“If you will excuse me,” Blue said, tossing his cape over his shoulder, “I must look secretive and mysterious.”

“You win all the good assignments,” Winn muttered.

Blue smiled. “I do, don’t I?”

And with a dramatic glance over his shoulder, he walked off, only to slip, completely unsurreptitiously, behind a column. Winn watched the ladies watch Blue and wondered, fleetingly, if Blue was married. What kind of woman would Blue choose? The agent looked out from behind the column, then ducked back behind it. More importantly, what woman would have Blue?

And then he had his answer, because Elinor had obviously spotted the decoy and was making her way toward him. She, however, was actually doing so quite unobtrusively. If Winn had not known her intention, he would not have guessed her destination.

The woman had hidden talents.

And he would be damned if any other man was going to catch a glimpse of them.

***

That was him! Elinor sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. She excused herself from Lady Hollingshead’s side with some paltry excuse and made her way to the refreshment table. She could see him better from that vantage point.

Yes, that must be him. Mr. Trollope had said she would be able to spot the contact, and if that man wasn’t a spy, then she didn’t know what one was. He looked exactly as she imagined a spy would look.

Oh, but he was handsome, even more handsome than Rafe Trollope! She could all but imagine him listening to her message, then sweeping her into his arms and kissing her senseless.

Not that she would allow such behavior, of course. Winn would certainly object. She looked about but did not spot her husband. If he had bothered even to remain in attendance, that was. He’d probably slipped away to take a nap or play at cards with some of the other dull gentlemen. The thought actually reassured her. Perhaps he had not changed as much as she feared. Perhaps her heart was not really in jeopardy, and she had nothing to fear from that quarter.

She stopped to chat with several ladies of her acquaintance as she made her way toward the column where the spy had hidden himself. Had he spotted her? Was he waiting impatiently for her message so he could dash to the rescue of King George or Queen Charlotte? Elinor moved with a bit more haste until she was finally standing in front of the column. She cleared her throat, hoping that would catch his attention. “Sir, are you perhaps waiting for a message?” She did not dare look at him.

He answered without revealing himself. “I am. And I find myself in some haste. Life or death, you understand?”

“Yes.” She turned to look at him, but he put a hand on her shoulder. “It is better if you do not see me clearly.”

His hand was warm and strong on her shoulder, and she took a shaky breath. “I understand. The message is
oranges
and
lemons, say the bells at St. Clement’s
.”

The man was silent, and then he squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you. I cannot tell you the service you have done for your country.”

“No, she hasn’t,” a familiar voice said. “All she’s done is recite a children’s song.”

Elinor gasped and turned to see Winn glaring at her.

“Take your hand off my wife, Blue.”

The secret agent lifted his hand from her shoulder. “My lord,” Elinor began tersely, “this matter does not involve you.”

“Perhaps I might…” the secret agent began.

“Oh, I think it does,” Winn said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Any time you deliver messages for your lover, it involves me.”

Elinor’s heart lurched into her throat. So she’d been right! He
had
known. That explained everything. But Mr. Trollope was never going to trust her with a mission again. She had to find some way to salvage this. “Winn, I promise I will speak to you about the matter momentarily. It’s not what you think.”

“No, it’s not what
you
think,” Winn said. “Your Rafe Trollope is not a spy. He lied to you.”

She blinked at him. “But how do you know Mr. Trollope is a spy?”

“He’s not a spy.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “And you know this because?”

“Because I am.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. Was Winn so jealous he would fabricate lies?

“And with that revelation,” the secret agent standing between them said, “I will take my leave.” He bowed and took her gloved hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He glanced at Winn. “Baron, working with you is never dull.” And the man sauntered through the crowds mingling in the garden and disappeared into the house.