Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (11 page)

After about fifteen minutes of not seeing much of anything interesting, a man stuck his head out of one of the offices and asked the man sitting near the foyer area (
The firm’s factotum, by chance?
Hope wondered) to run and retrieve a file for him.

Michael leaned over and whispered, “That is Mr. Fearn.”

“Oh,” Hope replied in surprise, a shiver of excitement running through her. Though whether the excitement was from what Michael said or the feeling of his breath in her ear, she couldn’t have said. She turned her focus back to the weary looking gentleman who had asked for the file. Beyond him, she could just see the back of another man sitting in the office before the door was shut again. “I wonder who is in his office with him?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Stay here.”

“But—”

Michael gave her a sharp look that broached no argument and Hope sat back. From behind the safety of her newspaper, she observed him closely, wondering just how he was going to accomplish his task and not be seen or recognized. He was a spy after all, right? Maybe she would learn something.

First, all that Michael seemed to do was change his location. Hope watched as he walked over to the opposite side of the room and leaned against the wall. There, he opened his newspaper and began reading. Confused, Hope paid close attention to Michael’s eyes. While to the casual observer he appeared to be absorbed in his paper, Hope could now see that he was glancing quickly down the hall every so often, as if waiting for something.

Less than a minute later, the same young man they had seen earlier came around the corner with a file in his hands. It was then that Michael pushed away from the wall and, seemingly engrossed in the paper, started walking toward the young assistant. Then, with absolutely flawless timing—the broker’s factotum had just knocked on Mr. Fearn’s door—Michael bumped into the man.

It wasn’t an especially hard bump, but Michael managed to trip the fellow up enough that when the door opened, both he and Michael fell through the opening, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor, and the file the man was carrying flew out of his hands and skittered across the floor.

Hope had to bite her tongue to keep from giggling at the site of two grown men tangled up on the floor, and at the same time she was struck with a sense of awe at Michael’s feat. Falling into the room as they had, Michael was able to get a good look around while Mr. Fearn and his visitor were focused on retrieving the file and its contents. He then turned around and began apologizing profusely to the assistant, who quickly ushered Michael out of the office and away from his now irritated boss. She could clearly see how Michael would be considered an asset to the war office. The entire event took less than a minute and was so expertly done, no one was the wiser as to it being planned.

Returning to Hope, Michael whispered, “We need to move.”

He motioned to a more secluded nook of chairs situated near the entry to the office, and Hope didn’t hesitate for a moment before moving with Michael to the new seats. Once there, he immediately opened his paper and adopted a blasé look. Following his lead, Hope also re-opened her newspaper and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart by pretending to read the print in front of her.

Going crazy wondering what was happening, Hope was just about to ask Michael what he had seen when the door to Mr. Fearn’s office opened and out walked Richard Butt and another gentleman who looked somewhat familiar to Hope.

Suddenly, Hope understood why Michael had wanted them to move to the spot more out of the way. He was probably concerned that Mr. Butt would see Hope and recognize her. Hope was sure that in her current get-up that was unlikely; however, it was also possible that Michael didn’t want to be recognized as the man who had fallen into the room. Clearly they could not have left immediately after the incident as was prudent—the opportunity to spy on Butt was too great to ignore—but Hope could certainly understand the impulse to avoid a confrontation, especially in light of their investigation.

Taking even greater care to blend into the background, Hope kept her eyes on her newspaper and her ears open as the two gentlemen passed them.

“I don’t like where this is going, sir,” Mr. Butt was saying in a low voice. “An investigation has been called—”

“Yes, that is unfortunate,” the older man replied softly, looking around. Luckily, from his vantage point, the lobby appeared empty. “But I don’t believe we should be overly concerned. What proof is there that we have done anything wrong? As long as De Berenger is not found out, all they can prove is that we invested in the stock market and our investments came good. We chalk it up to good luck and move on.”

“But if they ever find—”

The other man stopped and grabbed Mr. Butt’s arm brusquely. “If they ever find what, exactly? There is nothing to find…
is
there, Butt?”

The smaller man blanched at the tone of his companion. “No, no, of course not, sir.”

“Good. Then let us go to the club. I need a drink.”

Hope and Michael watched the younger man scurry forward and hold the door open for his friend before following him out to the street.

After waiting a few moments to ensure the men were out of sight, Hope jumped up and said, “Quick Michael, we must hurry.”

“Hurry?” Michael repeated.

“Yes,” Hope said impatiently, reaching down to pull him up by the arm. “
Hurry
.”

Apparently too surprised to do anything but accede to her wishes, Michael quickly stood, and together they ducked out of the building and onto the busy street. It seemed everyone was on their way home and after just a few steps, Hope and Michael found themselves swallowed up by the crowd.

“Where are we going?” Michael asked when there was a break in the crowd and he was able to reach her side.

“To the carriage…we may not have much time.”

“Time for
what
?” Michael replied, but his words were lost as Hope darted through a particularly dense group of businessmen and they had to employ some fancy footwork to even stay together.

Finally, the couple came to where Michael had instructed the driver to wait for them and, after shoving Michael into the vehicle, Hope gave some directions to the driver and then leapt in after him. With a lurch, they were on their way.

“Hope, will you
please
tell me where we are going in such a hurry?” She looked at him with wide eyes as she gasped for breath. She wasn’t used to such vigorous exercise, but she was more than pleased by the maneuverability of her current outfit. She had never fully appreciated a gentleman’s ease of movement until now.

Suddenly realizing she was having the time of her life, Hope grinned at Michael and was surprised to find him glowering at her in the most disconcerting way.

Her smile faltered slightly. “Are you all right?”

Exhaling sharply, Michael replied, “I will be fine once you tell me what is going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“
Where…are…we…going…Hope
?” Michael said slowly.

“Oh…to Mr. Butt’s, of course,” Hope answered, surprised that he even had to ask. It seemed most evident to her, after overhearing the conversation between the advisor and the other gentleman, that that should be their next destination.

“Of course?” Michael echoed.

“Yes,” Hope said. “We need to go now while he and that other man are at the club.”

“You mean Cochrane-Johnstone,” Michael supplied absently.

“
Andrew
Cochrane-Johnstone? Of course. I knew he looked familiar,” Hope said, mostly to herself.

Michael shook his head. “But I still don’t understand. Why do we need to go to Butt’s house? I thought we had planned to search Mr. Fearn’s office.”

“Well yes, we did, but after what Mr. Butt said, I thought it would be more prudent to search his office first.”

Slapping himself on the forehead, Michael said, “I am such an idiot. He has held onto something that could implicate himself and the others, hasn’t he?”

“Yes,” Hope replied with some astonishment. “I should have thought that rather obvious.”

…

Grimacing, Michael had to agree with her. It
was
rather obvious, now that he thought about it. He clearly recalled the look of fear in Butt’s eyes when confronted by Cochrane-Johnstone. The man had quickly changed his tune about there being any evidence, but the look on his face belied his words.

Sighing, Michael rubbed his hands over his face. He was losing his touch. It wasn’t like him to miss such an important clue. And he had been so impressed with himself when his plan to stumble upon the occupants of the office had worked so well. Seeing the admiration in Hope’s eyes had caused more than a moment of pride, as well, he admitted silently.

“I guess I was too distracted by the mention of De Berenger,” Michael said with some preoccupation, patting her knee distractedly. “Good work, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Hope said, clearly delighted by the compliment. “This ‘De Berenger’ they were talking about? You know of him?”

“Ah, not well, actually. I believe he is a Prussian aristocrat I have only met once, which is why I couldn’t quite place him at first, but now I am positive that the man posing as Du Bourg was, in fact, De Berenger.”

“Really?” Hope asked with excitement. “Now that
is
big news. You will need to alert the committee as soon as possible.”

“Yes, yes. I suppose you are right.”

“Michael? Is anything wrong?”

“Wrong?” Michael repeated uncertainly. “No, nothing is
wrong
, per se. I just cannot believe I missed what Butt had said to Cochrane and that you…” Michael trailed off slowly, looking at Hope guiltily.

“And that I…what?” Hope asked slowly. “That I did not miss it? Is that what you can’t believe?”

“Yes…no…oh, I don’t know.”

Sitting back and crossing her arms in a decidedly unfeminine manner, Hope looked at Michael accusingly. “Are we back to women not being smart enough for spy work again? Or, no,” Hope corrected, “it was just
me
who couldn’t possibly be intelligent enough for this type of thing, right? Well, fie on you and fie on your archaic ideas.”

Angry and hurt beyond all measure, Hope moved as far away from Michael as she could and looked unseeingly out the window at the rapidly passing streets and buildings. Their carriage was successfully carrying them away from the City and ever closer to the lodgings of Richard Butt, but for Hope, the excitement of the day had been ruined, and more than anything she just wanted to go home.

Chapter Twelve

Everyone makes mistakes; a truly wise person learns from them.

~The Duke of Lancaster

Michael sat on his side of the carriage and watched Hope staring moodily out the window. He had done it again. He had managed to insult the woman in the most unforgivable manner. His pride had been pricked, and like a child, he had lashed out at the person nearest to him. Now he was going to have to find a way to apologize…and he had a feeling it was going to have to be a very
good
apology, indeed.

With a silent sigh, he slid across the seat until he was just in front of her. He took her hand and held it softly between his palms. Although she had not yet looked up to acknowledge him, Michael took her lack of resistance as a good sign.

“Hope?” Michael prompted softly, to which he received no response. Not even a flicker of movement anywhere in her countenance showed that she was even aware he was there. Disheartened, but not discouraged, Michael decided it was just as well that she was not looking at him. He would be better able to express his thoughts and sorrows not having to look into what was surely a luminous pair of deeply hurt eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he began his plea.

“My dear Hope, I find I must apologize for being a colossal ass, yet again. I do not know what came over me except my own pride. I should not have missed the clue that you so brilliantly ferreted out, and in my state of disappointment in myself, I turned on you. It is not something of which I am proud. You are the most surprising woman—bright, kind, loyal, and beautiful. Why should I begrudge the fact that you discovered something I had not?”

Michael stopped there and waited. Hope was as still and cold as marble and he desperately wondered what she was thinking.

…

Hope felt numb and unable to move even the tiniest of muscles. More than anything she wanted to forgive Michael, to smile and throw her arms around him. It was in her nature to be forgiving, after all. But this hurt went deeper than even she supposed, because she could not bring herself to do so this time. She was so tired of being thought of as less than what she was.

It wasn’t until she met Lady Lancaster and the other girls of the Society that she realized how much she disliked being thought of as dependable, proper, pretty, and complacent. She wanted to be bright, witty, and stunning. Known for her clever repartee and great charm. She wanted to find a man who appreciated her for the lady she was in public, but all the while privately aware of her intelligence and cunning in other matters. She
was
a spy, for goodness sakes. Not something your typical thoughtless ninny should be able to achieve.

This was what she secretly wanted and she was suddenly discovering that it was also something she deserved.

Apparently, her continued silence did not sit well with Michael and he began anew with vigor. “Please, Hope. You must forgive me. And not because it is what is expected of a proper gentlewoman, but because I…I care about you. I mean, I was hoping we were becoming friends and I would hate to lose our new found camaraderie over my own stupid pride.”

As Michael continued his impassioned discourse, tears began to stream down Hope’s cheeks. Maybe he did see her as she wanted to be seen. Maybe he did think of her as more than just an obedient woman, to be seen but not heard. Maybe he truly wanted a partner and friend as much as she did. Perhaps her romantic notions of this man weren’t all folly. It was a rare man indeed who could apologize so sincerely.