To Wed a Scandalous Spy (22 page)

"So I would say you owe me," announced Basil.

Ren smiled sourly. "Ah, of course. What price kindness?"

"Oh, I want nothing for myself, you understand. It's my lovely bride. She cannot bear my cousin, you see. She feels his existence brings down the whole family's reputation. Have you ever been in love?"

Ren only looked at him.

Basil gave a gusty sigh. "Magical thing, love. Makes a man do many a mad thing to win his lady's heart."

The idea of this man being madly in love with anyone but himself was ludicrous. Furthermore, Ren felt no debt at all to him, no matter what he had done.

"Basil, I'm tired. Say your piece or go away."

Basil twitched, and Ren could see him fight down a snarl.

"Very well, then. Since you seem to have no grasp of subtleties. You want Nathaniel Stonewell to be a name carved upon the family crypt. I have come to see if you are planning on having another go."

Ren laughed, a hollow laugh. "The irony escapes you, Basil, I'm sure. I am the helpless one here, remember?"

Basil shrugged and stood. "I was only curious." He stopped at the door, only a shadow among shadows again. "Do mind the carpets next time, though, will you? They'll be mine someday." With that he was gone.

The room smelled better instantly.

Yet Basil's words lingered.

I have come to see if you are planning on having another go.

The next morning, as a curious Willa was heading to call on the newest resident of Reardon House, a strange deep voice rumbled in the front hall, causing her to halt, then backtrack to the top of the stairs out of sheer prying. Below, she saw Nathaniel talking to a tall man with dark hair. "Of course I'm not sorry it's you, Simon," Nathaniel was saying stiffly. "Ren doesn't know Dalton at all." Nathaniel took a breath. "You should look in on Father. He might be awake, and he'd be very glad to see you."
Simon
? Willa positively burned to see him better. But the bloody stairs were so high she could only see the top of his head.

Then again, he was coming to see Ren Porter… and she'd been on her way to see Ren anyway…

"Tea," she muttered to herself. "Tea will get you in anywhere." She made for the back stairs. "Hammil!"

Nathaniel felt like an outsider in his own home when Simon and Ren Porter greeted each other soundly. Damn, Simon always had made him feel that way—but for the first time, Nathaniel saw clearly that Simon did nothing to perpetuate the old rivalry.

Simon had let it go. Why couldn't he?

Then again, Simon is still welcome at Randolph's bedside, isn't he?

Nathaniel closed his eyes in an effort to banish such unworthy thoughts. When he opened them, he saw Willa standing pertly before them all with a tray.

"Tea?"

Nathaniel laughed out loud, not even noticing when Simon turned to look at him oddly. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned close to Willa's ear.

"Wildflower, could you be more transparent?"

She only smiled brightly and shoved the tray beneath his nose. "Tea?"

Simon looked bemused. "Will you not introduce us, Nathaniel?"

"Introduce us," Willa stated firmly. "Tell him I am to be Lady Willa Reardon."

Nathaniel leaned close again. "Actually, the proper form of address would be 'Lady Reardon.' "

That caught him an elbow in the gut and another blinding smile. "Introduce me to your handsome guest," she said through gritted teeth.

She thought Simon was handsome? "He's married," Nathaniel muttered.

"So am I—nearly," Willa muttered back. "Introduce me before I spill tea all over you, forcing you to leave the room to change, leaving me here to introduce myself."

"Heaven forfend," Nathaniel said, laughing again. He quickly swiped the tray from her grasp without spilling a drop and set it on a side table. Grinning, he turned them both to face Simon.

"Miss Willa Trent, may I present Sir Simon Raines? He is a friend of Ren's whom I have known for many years as well."

"Bother that." She stepped much closer to Simon and held out her hand. "Nathaniel's told me a great deal about you, Sir Simon." She cast a look over her shoulder at Nathaniel. "Although he left out the knighthood part." She turned her blinding smile back on Simon, who twinkled his blasted blue eyes right back at her. "How lovely for you, Sir Simon, although I have no doubt you soundly deserved it. When did His Highness bestow the honor?"

Simon took Willa's hand and bowed over it. "This past spring, Lady Reardon. Thank you for your kind words." He straightened but did not release Willa's hand. Willa didn't seem to mind too bloody much.

"You know, Miss Willa Trent soon to be Lady Reardon, I must introduce you to my wife sometime. I think you would find a great deal to talk about."

Willa brightened eagerly. "I shall call on her—if you think she would like that?"

Simon smiled again, clearly smitten. "I think she would be transported with joy."

Willa sent an arch look over her shoulder again.
There, you see
?

Nathaniel had had quite enough. He strode forward to detach Sir Stranglehold's grip on Willa, then practically shoved her from the room. "Go out and play now. The adults have to talk." It was worth riling her just to have her focused fully on him again.

She shot him a black look. "You'll pay for that one, Nathaniel Stonewell."

Nathaniel swallowed. Then again, perhaps he'd riled her a bit too much. He leaned forward to cup the back of her neck and kissed her soundly. "Gladly," he whispered huskily. She sagged toward him with a hungry, breathy sound.

He shut the door on her. Now he was
truly
going to pay.

He couldn't wait.

Turning back to his guests, Nathaniel grinned without apology. "Isn't she something?"

Head tilted, Simon was watching him with assessing eyes. He glanced at Ren. "Besotted," he declared.

"Completely," Ren agreed sourly.

"None of your business," Nathaniel said brightly.

"Hmm." Simon turned back to Ren. "We were discussing what Jackham told you on that last visit."

Ren looked uncomfortable. "Simon, I was very confused. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"But he warned you to leave before you could reveal what had happened during your attack?"

"Essentially. He said there were those who had never wanted me to wake up, or something of the sort."

Simon leaned forward urgently. "What
do
you remember about that night?"

Ren shook his head, then coughed. "I don't remember—but I do. It's like a broken mirror, but none of the pieces match up. None of it
means
anything to me." His frustration was obvious. "All I knew was that I couldn't trust anyone, not even the Liars. Even before Jackham said it—but I can't remember
why
!"

Ren looked awful, gray and weak. Nathaniel stepped forward. "Simon—"

Simon sighed. "I'm sorry, Ren. I'll leave you be for now. If you remember anything, anything at all—"

Ren waved a hand in assent but seemed barely able to lift his head from the pillow.

"Do you need professional care, Ren?" Simon asked with concern. "I could send Mrs. Neely. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to see you returned."

Even sick and exhausted, Ren's eyes widened in alarm. "Please, no. She's a dear soul, but…" He leaned close and whispered, "She's an extreme advocate of sponge baths."

Simon grinned. "Ah. Well, perhaps someone here in Reardon's household—"

"I'll do it!" Willa's voice was muffled but clear from the other side of the door.

Horrified, Nathaniel strode to the door and yanked it open. "Were you
listening
?"

Willa huffed. "Of course not. I just came back to bring Mr. Porter his broth." She hefted the new tray in her grasp.

Nathaniel relaxed slightly. She'd clearly been down to the kitchen and back. "Oh. My apologies."

"For shame, Nate," Simon said easily. "You should know that if she'd wanted to listen, you'd never have caught her at it."

"What?" Nathaniel scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

But Willa sent a guileless glance to Nathaniel that didn't exactly reassure him. "We've an appointment with the Bishop shortly," she told him gaily.

Nathaniel nodded, although he was beginning to regret his fair-minded impulse to allow the Bishop to have a shot at convincing Willa.

He waved Simon through the door. "I'll walk you down, Simon."

Simon left with a devastating smile and another invitation for Willa and a promise to return soon for Ren. Once they'd left earshot of the room, Simon stopped Nathaniel in the hall. "I have something you should see." He pulled a news sheet from his coat pocket. "Feebles brought this in this morning."

Nathaniel opened it and groaned. The Voice of Society was back, and it knew all about the incident with Finster.

Who is the mystery lady who so fiercely defends England's most hated son, Lord Treason? Sources have it that she is nothing other than Reardon's broomstick bride from the country! If she doesn't know who she married, one wonders if she can read. Do you think she is adjusting well to wearing shoes?

Fury coursed through Nathaniel. "Shoes? That self-abusing bastard!"

"Still don't think the Voice is a top priority, Cobra?" Simon's smile was very nearly vicious. "He called Agatha 'The Chimney Sweep's Doxy.' That's nearly as bad." He took the news sheet back and read it again. "No, I think I still win."

The man hiding out in the shabby room held the news sheet in hands that trembled in rage.

Lord Treason's broomstick bride.

Reardon had beaten him to the girl and likely to the item as well. How the hell had Reardon become a player in this? He was flaunting her, taking her about town, spending money on her.

Reardon wanted him to see. Wanted him to know he had the advantage, that he had his hands all over the bloody political prize of the decade!

Whatever side Reardon was on these days, he was a loose end that needed tying up.

Immediately.

«
^
»

Willa was very curious about seeing the Bishop. Nathaniel didn't speak at all on the carriage ride over, but Willa didn't allow his silence to disturb her. The Bishop believed he could talk her out of wedding Nathaniel. The man had no idea he was too late as far as Willa was concerned.

Once they were inside, the halls of the abbey were very fine. Nathaniel let her go with a squeeze of her hand. She followed her escort, trying not to crane her neck too obviously as she was led through the halls by a novitiate. The young man stopped at a large door and knocked twice before sliding the heavy oak door to one side. It disappeared into a pocket hidden within the wall. Willa coveted the design at once. Imagine doing away with the swinging of hinges entirely !

Then her attention was captured by the enormous desk that seemed anchored in the center of the grand room like a fine ship on a sea of carpet. The Bishop stood as she entered. Willa took his extended hand and bent to kiss the ring there. She'd never had occasion to greet a Bishop before, but she would not let her mother's teachings down.

The Bishop indicated a seat opposite his own. Willa took it gingerly. It was a low sort of chair that made her feel rather small before the man looming behind the desk. To keep from sinking farther down, Willa sat primly on the front edge and sat as tall as she was able. This put her nearly on eye level with the Bishop, although she suspected his chair was much higher than hers.

He was a stout man; she could tell even through his heavy robes. His face was round and pink behind his white mustache and sideburns, and his cap did little to conceal the fact that most of his hair was on his face. He didn't seem kindly, but he did not seem frightening, either, so Willa allowed herself to relax, although not enough to sink into the chair.

"Miss Trent—" the Bishop began.

Willa raised her hand promptly, straight into the air like a good student. The Bishop raised a brow but nodded for her to go ahead.

"If you please, Your Grace, I am Lady—"

The man raised his own hand swiftly, palm forward, halting her in midsentence. "That remains to be seen, young woman," he said disapprovingly. "Pray, do not interrupt me again."

Since she herself had just been interrupted, and not very nicely, Willa thought his reprimand a bit much. Still, Nathaniel wished her to impress the Bishop with their need for his approval. She restrained herself and only nodded obediently.

The Bishop went on. "Lord Reardon tells me that you know the facts about his disgrace." He leaned forward. "Tell me, precisely what do you know?"

Willa sat forward as well, thankful to have the answer. "I know that it is believed Nathaniel joined a group called the Knights of the Lily who were supposedly trying to overthrow the throne—although they never actually did anything that I know of."

The Bishop scowled. "They planned to. That is enough."

Willa drew her own brows together. "Is it? We all
think
about doing terrible things at some point in our lives, do we not? I think about eating piles of sweets, but I don't, because gluttony is a sin." She tried not to look at the Bishop's considerable paunch as she said that, but she noticed that he sucked it in at her words.

"Young woman, you are missing the point! The very fact of Lord Reardon's association with this group is his sin. He did not
think
about joining a group of traitors and then resist temptation. He
joined
. He attended meetings in the dark of night; he plotted right along with them."

"How do you know?" Willa asked, truly curious.

"He was
seen
," the Bishop said meaningfully. "I have the evidence right here." He opened a drawer of his desk and took out a scrap of newsprint. He handed it to Willa gravely but with a certain air of smugness that grated on her. She took the sheet slowly. She had no problem believing in Nathaniel's ultimate innocence when he stood before her, but part of her was afraid that the Bishop did have some horrible proof that would force her to face something she didn't want to face.