Surrender to a Wicked Spy (27 page)

She was so open, so giving, so generous—so dangerous. She threatened every fiber of the Lion's control. His duty was beginning to pale beside thoughts of her.

It wasn't supposed to have been like this. He was a peer, wedding the daughter of a peer. Their union should have been pleasant, solicitous, and comfortably distant.

Dane had the feeling that Olivia didn't know the meaning of the word
distant
. With her, every moment was immediate and real, bursting with vitality and intimacy.

Perhaps it was that she cared so deeply about things. Unlike the usual Society woman with her practiced ennui, Olivia shimmered with interest and diligence.

Even the tightly knit Greenleigh staff was susceptible. Petty was her willing slave. The driver, Errol, could speak nothing but praise of her. Yesterday, in an obvious attempt to defend Olivia after the kippers fiasco, even the severe Mrs. Huff had reported to him that she was much mended by her ladyship's bone-ache cure.

He smiled at the thought. Then he shook off the spell. Damn, she was doing it to him again! He could not go three minutes without slipping sideways into her!

He heard motion behind him and turned to see her stretching languidly, a smile forming on her lips before she even opened her eyes.

Something ached within him at her smile. He forced himself to turn away and knelt to add wood to the fire.

"The wood box is full and the cottage is spotless," Olivia said behind him. "What is this place?"

Dane fixed his gaze on the rising flames. "No one lives here, if that's what you're wondering. It is for my use alone." It was the cottage he'd ordered prepared for her—five days ago, after she'd entrusted herself to him with the first rod. Even the small pot of unguent had been on his order. He'd planned on bringing her here after they'd completed the "training," so they could be all alone and take their time.

The honeymoon she'd never been given.

She came over to him, her bare feet padding on the carpet, her toes peeking out from the blue silk pooling at her feet. Dane closed his eyes, thinking of the way she'd looked in the gown, an elegant goddess with eyes full of pain.

Now she laughed and knelt beside him, holding her hands out to the fire. "This isn't a place for guns and dead birds. You don't actually shoot grouse up here, do you?".

Just as he was about to speak, someone pounded on the door.

Olivia started, but Dane was already halfway across the cottage. "Marcus."

"How do you know?"

Dane flicked a glance at her as he opened the door. "Because he's the only one who knows where I would go." Marcus strode in. "His Majesty was fired on early this morning."

«
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Dane went very still. "Tell me."

Marcus paced and rubbed his face, obviously having had a very long night. "He was with the Duchess of Halswick in the east wing. Apparently there was a shout of 'Fire,' so of course he was rushed outside. While he stood there in his dressing gown, surrounded by Royal Guard who were dutifully lighting his way with torches—"

"Oh, bugger," Dane breathed. "Might as well have painted a target on his ass."

Marcus closed his eyes. "I know. He wasn't harmed, unless one counts having nine guardsmen flung over one's prone body."

Dane's jaw clenched. "I should have been there."

Marcus stiffened. "I was there. I moved him outside, then directed the staff to search for smoke or flames. I was only seconds behind, on my way across the garden to him. That's when I heard the pistol shots."

"
Shots
? How many?"

Marcus nodded. "Three. So, three men, do you think?"

Dane rubbed his jaw. "Perhaps. Or one man with three pistols."

Olivia raised her hand. "Ah, if you'll pardon the interruption—how do you know they were pistols and not hunting rifles? It is grouse season."

Dane shook his head quickly. "The sound is entirely different." He turned back to Marcus as if she weren't there. "How were the shots spaced? Three nearly together? Far apart?"

Marcus shook his head. "Two nearly together. One after."

Dane nodded. "One man." He mimed shooting a pistol in each hand, then grabbing up one more to shoot it as well.

Marcus nodded. "Exactly. Then we have him. You'll never guess who."

Dane became dangerously still. He slowly turned his head to look at her. "The only person here who wasn't properly investigated. Sumner."

Marcus turned to gaze at her as well, his brow creased in a shocked frown.

"It is Sumner," Marcus said slowly. "One of the housemaids recognized his voice as that of the one crying, 'Fire.' "

That would have been Petty. Poor Petty, to have her newest fancy turn wrong before her eyes. Olivia quite knew how she felt.

"He already as much as admitted it," Marcus went on. "We have him in custody even now."

Olivia could only gaze at Dane, a chill growing in her belly. "I—Sumner was employed by my brother. I had no reason to—"

Dane shook his head. "No, of course you didn't." Still, the man who had made love to her for hours was gone, replaced by the cool stranger once more.

Dane turned to Marcus. "Bring her back with you. I'll ride ahead." With that, he turned and strode from the cottage. Moments later, they heard the pounding of Galahad's heavy hooves fading away.

Olivia took a shaky breath. "Marcus, I don't know what is happening, but you must believe I had nothing to do—"

He turned from her. "I'm afraid it won't be comfortable riding before me. I'll put you up behind. We'll go slowly. It might give Dane time to—" He didn't finish but only bowed her through the door ahead of him.

Olivia again had the feeling that there was some scheme going on. All her mishaps—things she had dismissed as clumsiness or bad luck or some fault of her own! Someone had been conspiring against her all along.

And now she had a fairly good idea who it was.

George had been tucked into the vast bed he'd selected, surrounded by what had to be most of the pillows from the east wing, with the Duchess of Halswick fluttering over him, getting in the way of the superbly competent Royal Staff.

Dane bowed deeply. "Your Highness, my deepest apologies—"

George waved away Dane's regret. "Ballocks. I'll be all right once my physician tends my back. The important thing is, lad—did you get the girl?"

Dane straightened. "If you are referring to my wife, Lady Greenleigh is being safely returned to her room."

George blinked. "Oh." Then he frowned. "I don't believe she gave up on you. If she wasn't mad for you, she could have simply taken my offer."

Dane rubbed the back of his neck. "If Your Highness will recall, Lady Greenleigh did accept your company, until I… stopped her."

"That was simply desperation to leave the ballroom." George rolled his eyes. "You're a bigger fool than I thought if you don't realize she was dying for you to sweep her off her feet. That girl
is
mad for you, Greenleigh. Fully, can't-see-straight, no-other-man-exists mad for you." He looked disgruntled. "She turned me down flat, told me I was 'sweet.' You know what that does to a bloke's pride? Made me feel like her favorite uncle, whether I liked it or not."

Dane didn't respond. The real problem wasn't that she didn't love him or that she had the Prince Regent wrapped about her soft, pale finger.

The real problem was that it was the Lion's duty to protect the Crown… and he'd been off playing bed games, his duty forsaken for a roll in the sheets.

Never again.

When Dane entered the secure chamber where Sumner had been deposited, he saw the younger man standing at the window. Dane ordered the guard to remain outside, for even loyal ears could hear too much.

"Who are you in truth? Who do you work for?" The man was involved with the Chimera. Dane would wager his life on it.

Sumner turned, his mournful face a study in sorrow. "A simple servant, pledged to serve the wrong people."

Dane narrowed his eyes. "My most recent information states that you were Lord Walter Cheltenham's valet for two years and that you were the sole witness to his death last month."

Sumner shrugged. "More or less correct."

"Where have you been since then?"

The man sighed. "Trying to put it all behind me."

Dane was losing his temper. "Sumner, you shot at the Prince Regent of England! Speak before I hang you myself!"

Sumner sat abruptly, less in disrespect than in sudden weakness of the knees. "Hanged?" His voice was a faint murmur. "Yes, I suppose I will be hanged, won't I?" He rubbed both hands over his face, then looked up at Dane. "Then I ought to tell you everything… just to be sure she doesn't try again."

There was a woman involved. Somehow that didn't surprise Dane. The Chimera was known for using female operatives. Dane sat opposite the man and leaned forward. "To be sure who doesn't try again?"

Sumner tilted his head at Dane. "Lady Greenleigh, of course." His tone implied it was obvious. "Your wife."

Dane left the prisoner's chamber with a nod at the guard and strode purposefully down the hall. Sumner had tried to feed him some ridiculous codswallop about Olivia being part of plot against him. The man was obviously trying to gain some sort of bargaining chip against being hanged like a poached deer.

Nevertheless, the man had given some interesting information about Olivia's parents and their involvement. It would be easy enough to disprove, since Lord and Lady Cheltenham were still in residence.

As he walked to the west wing where the guests were staying, he let out a small laugh. Olivia might be many things, but the one thing she was not was a spy.

He slowed slightly then, thinking. She might be in the middle of something, all unaware. If even a fraction of Sumner's story was true, Olivia might actually be in some danger.

Olivia stared at Petty. "What do you mean, there's a guard outside my bedchamber?"

Petty nodded, her brow crumpled in worry. "I swear, my lady! He has orders that no one is to come in or out except for me or Mrs. Huff!" Petty's face furrowed again. "What's more, there's talk belowstairs that Mr. Sumner told his lordship that you were a traitor!"

Olivia put a hand to her midriff. "Oh, no." Sumner must be mad—or worse. Why else would he have done all those things to make Dane angry with her? Why else would he concoct such a ridiculous tale? Still Dane had no reason to believe the valet. The man had even shot at the Prince Regent!

An act which Dane had taken most seriously…

"I must get out of this room," Olivia said fretfully. "I must speak to his lordship!"

Petty wrung her hands. "His lordship is questioning your parents, my lady."

Olivia went very still. Why would Dane do such a thing?

Unless he believed Sumner's rantings. In which case he wasn't likely to believe her denial.

I should have respected you more for taking responsibility for your failure.

Hiring Sumner had been her wish—her responsibility. Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Then I want to speak to Sumner myself. I must convince him to stop this charade and tell Dane the truth!"

She turned to the worried maid. "Petty, will you distract the guard for me?"

Dane stared at Lord and Lady Cheltenham in complete disbelief. The graying conspirators gazed defiantly back. In their hands they held the drawing of the Chimera. Neither one had denied knowing him.

"We did it for Cheltenham," Lady Cheltenham insisted. "He holds a majority of the notes against the estate. He promised to tear them up if we assisted him."

Dane blinked. "You baited a trap for me with your own daughter at a French spy's request?"

"We knew nothing of any treason," Lord Cheltenham huffed. "We were told that you were looking for a wife, that you might like a girl like Olivia, and we were told where you'd be that day. The rest is your own doing."

That was true. He'd made his decision within hours of meeting Olivia and he'd not regretted it. "You exploited your own daughter," he said wonderingly.

Lady Cheltenham snorted. "Of course, we did. As did you. You wed her to be your broodmare, do not deny it."

It was an unpleasant truth, but truth nonetheless—at the time.

"Precisely how did this man intend to use Olivia against me?"

Lord Cheltenham looked at his wife. Lady Cheltenham looked at her hands. "She was to influence you with her charms," she said. "To give her information."

Dane laughed out loud. "What could he possibly accomplish with a woman who knew nothing of his plans?"

This time, Lady Cheltenham looked at her husband, who looked out the window.

Ah. This time Dane was prepared. "You're telling me that Olivia is knowingly working for this man."

Lord Cheltenham huffed. "She's a good daughter. She knows her duty to her family."

Dane shook his head. Olivia was no more working for the Chimera than he himself was colored blue. He stood. "You don't know her at all, do you?"

He turned to go, then he turned back. "My drawing, if you please."

Lady Cheltenham handed it to him silently. Dane looked down at the mild-faced young man in the sketch. "He wouldn't have exposed your bankruptcy, you know," he said conversationally. "He could hardly do that without bringing himself to unwanted attention." He waved the drawing at them. "This man would simply have killed you outright."

They looked startled, but Lady Cheltenham raised her chin. "I should have preferred death to scandal."

Dane turned and left them there, uncompromising and unapologetic. How in the world could warm, open Olivia have sprung from that chill union?

Olivia.

It was time to talk to Olivia.

"I'm here to speak to the prisoner."

The Royal Guard standing at attention only gazed at her uncertainly. He obviously knew who she was, which meant that he assumed she was an "intimate" friend of the Prince Regent's, and wife of the lord whose hall he stood in.

Olivia balanced the tea tray in her hands. "My Lord Greenleigh doesn't dare send a servant in there. We have no idea who might be in league with the traitor. You will stay with me at all times." She'd learned in the past week that it was best to inform, not request.