Surrender to a Wicked Spy (22 page)

Marcus smiled conspiratorially. "I do know a few. Let's see, there was the time he leaped off a bridge to save a young lady—"

Olivia tilted her head at Marcus. "I saved him, you know. His feet sank into the mud like a draft horse."

Marcus frowned. "Oh, I suppose you know that one, then. I hadn't realized that time was you."

She blinked. "That time? Were there others?"

Marcus grinned. "Oh, lend me your ear, my lady."

Olivia settled down into her favorite position for listening to Walter's storytelling, curled up with her feet beside her on the cushions. "Go on," she said eagerly.

Outside the carriage, Dane rode a few yards ahead. It was not far enough to drown out the merry laughter coming from inside.

Marcus was only keeping her amused, just as Dane had asked. But how could he think with all that chiming laughter that made him think of her smile and her lips and her kiss—

He had to keep his mind on his mission, the immediate one and the grander one that consumed his life. He was the Lion. He could not let his attention and his judgment be pulled aside by a woman, no matter how magnetic.

Another trill of laughter rose on the air to tickle his attention awry. Marcus was certainly being charming. Dane didn't like it.

Moreover, he definitely didn't like the fact that he didn't like it.

The entire party was weary and more than ready for the journey to end by the time they pulled up to the gates of Kirkall.

The gatekeeper was ready for them and had torch-bearers run before the carriages through the closing gloom of the day. Olivia had eventually fallen into trivial conversation with Marcus, then silence. Then she had curled up on her side of the carriage to sleep. Not a very viscountess-like thing to do, but it was only Marcus after all. He might as well have been Walter, she felt so comfortable with him.

Olivia took a footman's hand to step out of the carriage and looked about for Dane. He was difficult to miss, for he was standing in the center of the activity, directing the chaos into order.

Marcus took her elbow. "I'll go in with you. I've been here a few times, so I know my way about."

Olivia smiled at him, then stopped as she caught sight of Kirkall Hall. "Why don't they call it Kirkall Castle?" It certainly looked like a castle to her. The dark stone walls rose up to lose themselves in round towers vaguely outlined in the gray mist that hung low over them. Tall, narrow windows looked as though they might have archers ready within even now.

In the daytime, it would be either lovely or looming. At this time of the evening, it looked rather magical. She smiled at Marcus. "How wonderful. I shall be the lady of the castle. You shall be a knight."

"If I am the knight, then what is Dane?"

Olivia turned to gaze at her husband, who had not exchanged six words with her all day. "The dragon? The ogre?" She turned back to Marcus with a smile. "The giant?"

He threw back his head and laughed. Olivia saw Dane turn his head toward them for the first time. His expression was unreadable at this distance, but he was definitely not smiling.

Olivia smiled anyway and waved gaily at him. Just because he was in a mood was no reason not to enjoy being at Kirkall at last.

Then she saw a footman stepping into her carriage to retrieve the small items within. With a start she remembered the case of rods. Dashing through the lines of servants carrying in bundles and baggage, Olivia caught the fellow as he left the carriage with his arms full.

"I shall take my… my cosmetics case."

The fellow looked down at his burden. "I'm sorry, my lady. I don't think I have it."

He didn't, so Olivia waved him on and clambered into the carriage to feel beneath the seat. She'd put it all the way back on that side…

There was nothing. Perhaps it had slid over during the journey. She went down on her knees to search thoroughly beneath the seat.

Oh no
. Her stomach flipped over. She wriggled around until she could search beneath the other seat. Nothing.

She jumped from the carriage and sought out Sumner. "Sumner! Did you carry in my cosmetics case already?"

He blinked at her vaguely. "The carved box? No, my lady. I haven't seen it since I loaded your carriage in London."

Olivia felt sick. What if someone opened it? She'd made such a point of carrying it herself—everyone on the staff knew it was hers.

Wait. No need to fret. She forced herself to breathe deeply. They knew it belonged to her. Therefore, it would surely end up in her chamber, untouched. She was Lady Greenleigh after all. No one would paw through her things.

Still, she'd best find her room before Petty began to unpack her baggage!

She found Marcus again, who showed her to the bedchamber traditionally used by the mistress of the house. Petty was already there, brushing out gowns and directing her sisters to prepare the room to Petty's high expectations.

Olivia cast her eye about the room and even rearranged a stack of hatboxes, but the case was nowhere to be found. There was no help for it.

"Petty, have you seen a carved case?" She held out her hands to measure. "About this size?"

Petty scarcely looked up from her fluffing. "Oh, that gift from Mrs. B.?"

"G—gift? Did you, ah, did you look inside?"

Petty lifted her head and frowned at Olivia. "Of course not, my lady. It were latched."

Olivia took a breath. "Right. Latched. So no chance anyone will peek?"

Petty, Letty, and Betty all turned to look at her oddly. Oops. She spread her hands apologetically. "It's only that it's… intended to be a surprise for his lordship. So I need to find it."

Sumner entered, carrying an unsteady pile of items that threatened to fall. Petty jumped up to help him, elbowing her sisters out of the way while smiling sweetly at the fellow.

"Did you find your cosmetics, my lady?"

Luckily, Petty was too busy simpering to notice the sudden cavernous hole in Olivia's story. "Er, no. Do please check the other rooms, Sumner."

He blinked at her. "All of them?"

She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from losing her composure. "Well, you may stop looking when you've found it. Will that do?"

He scurried away and Olivia went back to quietly panicking. The box was latched. No one would look inside. Sumner was searching.

Everything would work out and she wouldn't have to tell Dane that the box full of ancient ivory penises was roaming freely about Kirkall Hall.

Dane finally retreated from what was really Kinsworth's and Mrs. Huff's turf and let his staff do their jobs. Taking charge had served to keep him from having to speak to Olivia or Marcus for several hours. Now it was late and he likely wouldn't have to speak to anyone until tomorrow.

Then the guests would arrive and everyone would promptly retire to prepare for the Hunt Ball tomorrow night.

It flashed across Dane's mind that he still didn't know what sort of entertainment Olivia had arranged. Then he decided it really didn't matter. Whatever party the Prince Regent attended became George's party anyway. He did tend to sweep everyone up into his enthusiasm, whether it be for drinking, eating, or flirting.

Dane entered a bedchamber, then halted. The chamber was cold and unlit, the furniture still hung with dust cloths. This was his old room, the one he'd used since he'd been moved out of the nursery.

He was lord of Kirkall Hall now.

He turned and left the silent room. The master's chamber was down another hall. As Dane found the doorway to the room that had been his father's, he glanced at the next door. Olivia would be ensconced in there, undoubtedly too exhausted from her tiring day of having far too much merriment with Marcus.

He was being childish, of course. He'd been the one to ask Marcus to ride with her. Of course, Marcus hadn't seemed at all reluctant to help out…

Dane shook off those infectious thoughts. He'd been the Lion too long. He was seeing conspiracy everywhere.

He entered the master's chamber to find it lit and warmed by a cheerful blaze in the hearth. All trace of his father's things had been removed. It was just another room.

The study, on the other hand, was going to be a problem. He didn't think he could go into it without seeing his father lying there, looking broken and empty, with the pistol still smoking in his hand.

So he wouldn't use it. He'd lock it up and use another room. A study was simply a room with a desk, after all.

He strode to his dressing table and tore his cravat off with quick, hard jerks. Where the hell was Proffit?

He undressed himself to trousers and pulled on a dressing gown. He wanted some bread and cheese and tea. There was no one in the hall. In fact, there wasn't a single servant in sight.

Dane had the sudden eerie feeling that he was in the wrong house. Ridiculous. He shook it off. "
Proffit
," he bellowed down the silent hallway.

A door opened behind him. "They're busy."

He turned to see Olivia standing in her doorway, huddled in her wrapper. "Busy doing what, might I ask?"

Her gaze dropped. "Busy searching for the Rods of the Rajah," she murmured.

Searching? Dane felt a pounding in his head. "You lost the Rods of the Rajah?
Here
? They're rattling about somewhere in
this
house?" His father's house. Ivory penises, left out where anyone could find them.

He rarely raised his voice. It was certainly raised now. "Do you have any idea the caliber of guests we have arriving tomorrow?"

"How could I?" she asked resentfully. " 'Forty guests' could be almost anyone!"

"Trust me when I say that they are forty powerful, influential guests!" At least no one was bringing along innocent maiden daughters. He rubbed both hands over his face. He hadn't slept at all last night, instead pacing Marcus's room until his friend had thrown a pillow at him and told him to pace in the tavern.

"Aren't you even a little upset about the other part?"

Dane dropped his hands, prepared for the worst. "There's more?"

She folded her arms, staring at him as if
he'd
upset
her
!

"Yes, there's more. Without the last rod, we cannot finish the training."

He let out a weary breath. "Oh, that." He shrugged. "I cannot worry about that now."

She gazed at him for a long moment, her eyes hurt and confused. Then she slipped back into her room and quietly shut the door.

«
^
»

The sky had scarcely lightened the next morning when Petty flew into Olivia's bedchamber. "My lady! My lady, wake up! The Duke and Duchess of Halswick have arrived early!"

Olivia woke instantly and completely, ice suddenly forming in her stomach. Duke and duchess?

Do you have any idea the caliber of guests we have arriving tomorrow?

As if her thought had summoned him, Dane strode through the connecting door in trousers and shirt, Proffit trailing after him with his arms full of clothing and Dane's cravat flying from his hand.

"Petty, go make sure the blue room is ready," Dane barked. "Her Grace favors blue." Petty took off at a run. Olivia scrambled behind her dressing screen, pulling off her nightdress while Dane continued.

"Olivia, have Mrs. Huff prepare a hearty breakfast for us all. His Grace must have traveled through the night. I think it is safe to say they will be hungry."

He snatched his weskit from Proffit and shrugged it on. "Her Grace is known for her finicky tastes. Tell the kitchen staff that she will only drink tepid water laced with lemon and she will require a plate containing precisely nine dates before she goes to bed every night."

Dane strode back and forth with Proffit trailing him, handing him items to put on.

"The tepid water is because her teeth hurt her and the dates are for her digestion. She requires buttermilk with every meal. Then there are the kippers—"

Petty rushed back in. "Her Grace is already in her room. Her maid said she's well satisfied with it." She began to help Olivia dress behind the screen.

Sumner followed Betty in carrying her coal bucket for her. The morning gown went over Olivia's head, muffling Dane's instructions. She stuck her head out from behind the screen. "What was that about kippers?"

Dane stopped to gaze at her coolly. "Weren't you listening? I said you must never serve kippers at any table containing Her Grace. The very smell of them makes her violently ill."

Ew
. "Right. No kippers."

"Her Grace will have her own staff giving her requests to the kitchen, but it is up to you as the lady of the house to personally make sure her specific needs are met."

Petty was doing up the buttons on her gown, so Olivia stuck her hand up from behind the screen like a schoolchild. "Will there be any more such particular guests arriving today?"

"We'll discuss that later. Right now, Her Grace will be preparing to meet us in the breakfast room."

Proffit tied the last perfect loop into the knot in Dane's cravat. Dressed to perfection, Dane strode to the door. "We must get there first, Olivia."

Olivia, with one stocking on and her hair still in a braid, glared around the screen at her husband. "That is easy for you to say. I wear twice the garments you do."

Dane remained unsympathetic. "I'll expect you within moments," he said, and left.

Olivia closed her eyes. "Betty, Sumner, go down and make sure the kitchen staff knows about the water and the dates and the buttermilk and… what was the other thing?"

"Kippers, my lady."

"Yes, the kippers. Go. Hurry."

With the male intruders finally gone, Olivia threw herself into the chair before her dressing table. "Hair, Petty, quickly!"

Moments later, just as Dane had commanded, dressed and hair temporarily tamed with an embarrassment of pins, Olivia was ready to greet her first guests in the breakfast room. She did think it was a bit rude of them to arrive at cock's crow with a list of demands, but apparently a duke and duchess made their own manners.

She and Dane waited. And waited. She wished she could sit, but there was no doubt in her mind that the moment her rear touched the cushion, the persnickety Duchess of Halswick would make her entrance.