Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (7 page)

“Yes, Miss. A gentleman is here to see you,” Rivers repeated, this time holding out a small calling card to Hope.

Hope took the card, read it, and then leapt to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair in her enthusiasm. Michael! He was there…in her house…to see her. When they had parted company earlier in the day, he had said he would contact her after he met with the Stock Exchange Committee, but never did she think it would be this soon. And for whatever reason, it never dawned on her that it would be there in her house…

Beside herself with excitement, Hope tried to calm herself as she said, “Very good, Rivers. Please show him in.”

Rivers nodded solemnly, as only a butler can, and left to retrieve the waiting viscount. Hope sat back down and tried to appear as collected and unaffected as possible.
He is only here for business
, she told herself.
This is
not
a courting call.

…

As Michael followed the Stuckeleys’ butler through the large, clearly lived-in house, he wondered if he should have brought the flowers he was currently clutching. This was not your typical visit to a young lady. This was business. However, it would have felt very strange to arrive at a young lady’s house without the prerequisite bouquet of blooms. And, as he told himself over and over on his way to the Stuckeley home
,
the flowers were just a show put on for her family.

Pretending to court Hope would give Michael a plausible excuse to visit often. It seemed a stroke of brilliance to him at the time, but now he realized he would have to discuss it with Hope immediately to make it very clear right up front that any courting would be just an act…for the case…and that was all. It wouldn’t do to have any misinterpretations, or possibly hurt feelings, due to a lack of communication in the beginning.

The butler stopped just outside what appeared to be an office of some kind and Michael heard him announce “Lord Lichfield” to whomever was in the room. Michael had assumed the austere man was taking him to see Hope, but apparently, judging from the fact that he was about to enter a study, Michael decided he was about to meet with Mr. Stuckeley instead.

However, to Michael’s immense—although he was not exactly sure why—surprise, seated behind the desk in the well-appointed study was Hope. And in front of her was an impressive stack of ledgers that Michael presumed were not there just for appearances. Apparently, Hope was responsible for managing the estate accounts. Yet another unusual pastime for a young lady.

“Good afternoon, Michael,” Hope said, standing to offer her hand for a greeting.

Taking her proffered hand from across the desk and lifting it to his lips, Michael returned the salutation. Then holding out the flowers he brought, he said, “These are for you.”

…

The surprise Hope felt at such a romantic gesture must have registered on her face, for Michael rushed to add, “For appearance’s sake, you know. I needed a credible reason for, er, visiting you on what is sure to be a, ah, regular basis. This,” Michael continued, gesturing to the bouquet and all it stood for, “seemed the most obvious answer.”

“I…see,” Hope replied haltingly. “Yes…that was a…very good idea. Er, thank you, I guess.”

Hope put on what she hoped was a convincing smile, but inside, her heart was breaking just a little. Even though she had been reminding herself not a minute earlier that this visit was just business, the flowers had thrown her for a moment.

Needing a minute alone, Hope excused herself so that she could put the blooms in water. It was certainly a valid reason to leave the room, but Hope felt a coward nonetheless. She could have easily called for a servant, but sometimes a girl just needed time to pull herself together. Certainly there should be no shame in that?

Feeling much more composed after dropping the flowers off at the kitchen with a request to put them into something appropriate, Hope returned to her study to find Michael still standing where she had left him, apparently talking to himself, of all things. Michael looked up when Hope returned with what appeared to be a rather guilty look on his face. Hope wondered what he had been saying but couldn’t bring herself to ask. Professionalism—that was the way to go here.

“I must say,” Hope said as she made her way across the room to sit behind her desk, “I did not expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yes, well,” Michael replied with a small cough, “I was able to meet with the committee almost immediately after leaving Lady Lancaster’s. I told them about the imposter posing as Du Bourg and they found that information very interesting. Once I shared what I knew and why I could be helpful to them, they formally invited me to be part of the committee and shared what they knew thus far. Afterward, I felt I should stop by to tell you what I found out.”

“They discovered something important, I gather?”

Sitting down in the chair across the desk from Hope, Michael said, “Yes, quite. Since late yesterday when the hoax was discovered, the members of the stock exchange have been going through all of the trades to find any suspicious transactions. Today it was revealed that there was a sale of two different government-based stocks for more than one million pounds total…most of which had been purchased last week when the prices were especially low. It was the most significant event found.”

“I knew it,” Hope whispered to herself. Then she said louder, “Do you know who was involved in the sale?”

“No,” Michael replied slowly, but with a twinkle in his eye, he added, “however, I asked the gentlemen of the committee to entrust all the records to me, so that I might study them in an attempt to identify the perpetrators.”

“And by
I
, you meant
me
, I presume?” Hope replied with a knowing smile.

“Ah, no,” Michael stuttered. “I, ah, had hoped…I mean…I thought maybe
we
…”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Hope replied quickly. “That is what I meant, too…
we
can study them, ah, together, as it were.”

…

Michael nodded jerkily and reached up to tug slightly on his suddenly too tight cravat. What was he thinking? Why hadn’t he just handed the damn files over to Hope and bid her a good day? Certainly she would get much more done without him there.
But no
, Michael sighed inwardly. Something inside him wouldn’t give up this chance to spend time with her…preferably huddled together over a mountain of paperwork.

Really, that shouldn’t sound like nearly as much fun as it did.

“Good, well, I have the files in my carriage. Is now a good time to begin?”

“I don’t see why not, but I have a dinner party to attend this evening, so we will not have much more than a couple of hours.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Warren and Trumbull’s dinner party.”

“Were you invited, as well?”

“As a matter of fact, I was. It seemed a rather important occasion, if I recall.”

Hope stared at him thoughtfully before saying, “Yes, it is.” She leaned in to whisper, “Rose is working on a case for Lady Lancaster.”

“A case? What are you talking about?”

Looking immensely surprised, Hope said, “Oh, dear. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything…but I felt sure you knew.”

“Knew
what
?” Michael ground out. Honestly, if Hope didn’t tell him what she was talking about, he would drag her to Lady Lancaster’s that instant and have Elizabeth tell him what was going on around here.

Hope gave him an aloof look before saying, “You are aware of the Young Ladies Garden Society?”

“The little tea party Elizabeth holds every week for all those pampered girls? What of it?”

“Well, first of all, it is
not
a ‘little tea party’ and second of all, it is
not
for ‘pampered girls’.”

Michael felt a flush start at his neck. “Ahhh,
you
are part of the Garden Society, I gather?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh…I see.”

Hope looked as if she highly doubted that he did, but she continued nonetheless. “Myself and four other young ladies—my
very
good friends—were recruited by Lady Lancaster to help her solve crimes, mysteries, and intrigues all throughout London. The Garden Society is just our cover.”

Michael opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Hope and her friends were
spies
for Elizabeth? How…? Why…?
What
was the woman thinking? Spy-work was a dangerous business. What right did the venerable Duchess of Lancaster have to put these impressionable young girls in danger? Michael could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Hope asked.

Michael shook his head as his mind raced. Perhaps Hope was exaggerating about the types of cases the duchess was assigning to her and her friends. Girls often made mountains out of molehills, didn’t they?
Oh Lord, Elizabeth would have my head over that notion.
Thank goodness the woman could not
actually
read minds, although most people were convinced she could.

Hoping a youthful embellishment was indeed occurring here, Michael asked, “What kind of, ah, things are you and your friends doing for Lady Lancaster?”

“We-e-l-l-l,” Hope replied slowly, “Hannah foiled a smuggling plot by blowing up the old Custom House and Rose is trying to catch a killer. Oh, and you and I are trying to solve a crime involving the stock market and one million pounds of illegally gained money. Those kinds of things, I suppose.”

Damn! It was worse than he thought. Those were the types of cases that got people killed. Well, maybe not the case he and Hope were working on, but surely smuggling rings and murderers brought with them substantial danger.

“I cannot believe that Elizabeth is exposing you ladies to such danger,” Michael said through tightly clenched teeth.

“I don’t see why not. Lady Lancaster has told us on many occasions that women make the best spies, so why not us?”

Hearing Hope repeat what he, himself, had thought just a couple of days prior did not improve Michael’s mood. He didn’t care about any of the other lady-spies he had met (aside from Lady Lancaster, of course), but Hope was different. And Hope’s friends were different. As much as he hated to admit it, he cared about Hope and, by extension, her friends.

When exactly had he begun to care about Hope so much? Until yesterday, he hadn’t really even known that much about the girl. He supposed he still didn’t, but there was something about her…something about the way she made him feel. It was different with her than it was with any other woman of his acquaintance.

Shaking his head again, Michael vowed to have a talk with Elizabeth as soon as possible, but for now, it was probably wise to stop thinking about Hope and her friends and just concentrate on the subject at hand. “I will go get the reports,” Michael muttered, rising to his feet.

“Fine,” Hope replied briskly. “I will put my books away so we can work here.”

“Fine,” Michael replied as he walked out of the room, kicking himself again for putting himself in this situation in the first place.

One of these days, he would learn that where this girl was concerned, he was in
big
trouble.

Chapter Eight

“Dreams can become reality, if only one acts upon them.”

~The Duke of Lancaster

When Michael returned with the records given to him by the committee of the Stock Exchange, Hope was ready for him. She had cleared off the top of her desk and moved another chair around to her side of the table so that they could both review the records together more easily.

Michael appreciated her preparedness, and honestly, it was the same set-up he had in mind, but as he took a seat next to Hope and caught a whiff of her beguiling scent, he began to question the wisdom of sitting so close to her. Hope, on the other hand, seemed to have no compunctions about it whatsoever. Wanting to appear as equally unaffected, Michael tamped down his racing libido and began to organize the papers in front of him.

Hope looked over at Michael and smiled. “Are these all of the records?”

Michael swallowed hard, trying to get what was apparently a very large frog out of his throat.
Funny
, he thought wildly,
I don’t remember trying to swallow an amphibian just before entering the room
. Choking back some nervous laughter over his own sad attempt at humor, Michael rasped out, “Ah, ha, ah, yes.”

“Is something wrong?” Hope asked.

“No, no, not at all…I just, ah, have something in my throat.”

“Oh, well I ordered some tea while you were fetching the records. It should be here any minute.”

“Thank you. That was very, er, kind of you.”

“I didn’t do it to be kind,” Hope replied. “I did it because it was only polite to do so.”

Sighing inwardly, Michael replied, “I see. Well, I still thank you.”

Forcing himself to focus, Michael was just beginning to understand what he was looking at when Rivers appeared with the tea. Putting the papers aside once again, Hope reached for the pot of tea at the same time as he. When their hands brushed against each other, Michael froze and stared at Hope for a long moment.

“I, uh…that is…ah,” Hope stammered, her eyes flicking toward his, “I believe it is proper for me to, er, serve you.”

“Really?” Michael drawled, giving Hope a heated glance before removing his hand. “Then please do, by all means.” Michael motioned to the tea set with the sweep of his hand, but it was clear that he was not just talking about the pouring of the hot beverage.

Blushing warmly, Hope ignored the innuendo. “How do you, ah, take it?”

Michael simply quirked his brow and smiled wickedly.

“Your tea, Lord Lichfield! How do you take your tea?!” Hope clarified loudly, feeling once again very overheated. “My goodness,” she muttered.

“Milk, no sugar,” Michael replied, softly adding, “please.”

…

Hope looked up quickly, somewhat startled by the way Michael had said “please.” Or perhaps it was her own reaction to the word that was so surprising. It was as if she felt the request all the way down to her toes. When she locked eyes with his, there was something in his gaze that took her breath away. She didn’t know quite what the look meant, but she was rather certain it had nothing to do with the way he liked his tea.