To Wed a Scandalous Spy (24 page)

Ren was shocked to his soul. Her touch, her easy manner, the way she looked into his eyes, made him feel as though he were not scarred at all. He could still feel her cool fingers on his face, still feel the way his own lips had parted, as if he had wanted a kiss.

Dear God, if she wasn't engaged, he would have proposed to her on the spot. Hell, so what if she was engaged? Nathaniel could get any woman he wanted—well, perhaps not.

What was he thinking? He could scarcely care for himself. It was highly unlikely that he would be considered marriage material.

"I don't care to be the plaything of a useless lady," he said gruffly.

She blinked in hurt surprise, the look on her face was one of obvious disappointment. It made him uncomfortable. He wasn't used to having to live up to any code but that of misshapen freak.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You have very fixed opinions about people, don't you? Haven't you figured out that makes you just as bad as the ones who judge you for your scars?"

She was right. How irksome. He scowled more fiercely than usual. "What would you know about it?"

"Tsk-tsk. Judging again. You have no idea what my life has held. You should not categorically dismiss anyone as unworthy without knowing their story."

"What about Basil?"

That got her. Ren grinned as she hesitated.

"Well, that is a poser, to be sure. I, for one, feel a bit sorry for Basil. It can't have been easy growing up in Nathaniel's shadow."

"You've got it the wrong way round. Basil is the elder. Nathaniel must have grown up in Basil's shadow."

"Nonsense. Basil doesn't cast a shadow. Not compared to Nathaniel. He is the finer man all around. Quite enough to make one bitter, I should think."

Ren wasn't convinced, and it must have shown on his face. Willa waved away his unspoken protest. "Oh, I don't imagine Nathaniel has ever meant for Basil to feel eclipsed. But he cannot help being who he is."

Ren's eyes narrowed. "Do you know who he is?"

Willa pursed her lips. She was getting a bit tired of hearing everyone spout the same lie but did not bother protesting. It would all come out in the end. At the moment, she had something she needed to know.

"I would like to hear more about this alleged act of treason. I wish you would tell me the entire story."

He didn't look happy about telling her, so she smiled a bit pleadingly, the way she had always managed to cajole John Smith.

A short time later, Willa left quietly. She was sorry she had had to press him when he was so ill, but she was not sorry for what she had learned. She was even more positive that Nathaniel could never have done such a thing.

Yet how to explain Nathaniel's lack of denial?

There was an answer in her mind, just out of her reach. There was something that she should know, something that she
did
know but could not get her mental grasp around to bring to the surface.

No matter. She knew from experience that if she left it alone, likely it would surface when she least expected it.

In the meantime, she had something else that required her attention as well. She turned the corner that would lead her back to her room. It was time to get ready for her first ball.

«
^
»

That evening, preparing for the Knights' ball, Willa was fairly sure that Lily was more nervous than she was. The maid ran in tight little circles around Willa, twirling, tucking, tinting—Willa quite ran out of words for it. Finally, Willa stepped from the circle to stand before the tall mirror.

"What d'you think, my lady?"

Willa let her gaze travel from the hem of the blue silk to the neckline, low and now devoid of the cream lace. There had been no intricate structure beneath the lace, no ruffles or
ruching—only beautifully sewn silk.

Now nothing broke the solid fall of sapphire silk from the bare edge of Willa's breasts to the floor but a midnight blue velvet ribbon under her bodice that defined the high waist. Her hair was twisted high, with only a few dark ringlets allowed to fall to her neck. Paste ear bobs "borrowed" from Daphne's jewel case in a conspiracy of maids glittered from the intricate plaits that held the entire arrangement of locks together.

"There's no chance of it fallin', my lady. You could ride a lion through a thunderstorm and never get a hair out of place," Lily assured her.

"Well, there's a comfort," Willa said faintly. Hesitantly she turned sideways. Her elegant white silk evening gloves gleamed like moonlight against the blue silk.

"I look so… so…"

Lily's expectant expression began to crumble.

"I look so tall!"

Lily beamed. "Yes, my lady."

Gleefully Willa spun around to make her skirts flutter. Then she fell on Lily with a grateful hug. After a hesitant moment, Lily hugged her back with equal vigor. Willa backed away to gaze in the mirror once more.

"I," she stated proudly, "look wonderful in blue!"

Nathaniel tugged at his waistcoat and examined his cravat. The lemon yellow figured silk waistcoat shimmered against the deep blue wool of his double-breasted frock coat. Personally, he favored a more somber style—but he wanted "Lord Treason" to be noticed.

To make a showing in blue, with Willa also in blue, was an unabashed bit of attention grabbing.

He had not cut his hair, either. The mode of the day was military short, for everyone was army-mad. The symbolism of his long hair only reinforced this evening's theme of "I dare you to stare."

With his tricorn hat and gloves in hand, Nathaniel stood outside Willa's door. His knock was answered by the maid Lily.

"Yes, my lord. She's ready."

Nathaniel did not step into the room, so he didn't see Willa until she rounded the bed. Then his mouth went dry.

Striking
. That was the only word in his mind for a long moment. She was all sweet curves and porcelain skin, wrapped in a severely elegant gown that served as a showcase for soft white shoulders and long, shimmering curls. And her breasts! Plump, silken mounds pressed high—the stuff of dreams for any man!

And her eyes—they were enormous, framed by thick dark lashes. So blue…

The woman before him was lush, lovely, and yet elegant and flawless.

Willa
? His quirky, artless, occasionally messy Willa?

She was watching him, he realized. Her gaze was cautious and hopeful. Then, as he continued to stare at her in disbelief, the blue wariness in her eyes began to spark irritation.

Finally, she plunked both fists on her hips and glared at him. "What? Do I have soot on my nose?"

She was back. Nathaniel began to breathe again. " 'Tis a great relief," he said, smiling. "For a moment, I wasn't sure it was you."

She folded her arms beneath those magnificent breasts. Nathaniel's mouth suddenly wasn't so dry. In fact, he feared he needed to wipe his chin. "That isn't precisely a compliment, you realize," she pointed out. "You're saying that I used to look terrible."

His lips curved warmly. "You used to look like Willa. Now you look like heaven."

She blushed, but the sheer surprise in her eyes made him wonder if he'd never paid her a compliment before. Unfortunately, he couldn't pull any such occasion to mind.

Lord Treason wasn't much concerned with the feelings of others. The Cobra was even less so. Nathaniel Stonewell, on the other hand, was never one to let a lady go by without praise.

One of these days, he was going to have to find that man again.

But not until this mission was over. He must remain bent on finding Foster.

So he straightened and coolly offered his arm. "Shall we go?"

As he accompanied Willa down the stairs, he kept his gaze averted so he would not see the sheen of disappointment in her eyes.

Tonight was not a time for flirtation. Tonight the Cobra was at work.

Willa forcibly cheered herself on the carriage ride to the Knights' residence. She was perfectly dressed for the occasion—something she was usually completely careless of—and she was escorted by the most handsome man in the world.

When she had seen him standing there in midnight blue evening wear, so tall and lordly and fine…

Well, one never knew when the urge to copulate was going to strike, did one?

There were no other vehicles pulling up before their destination. "We are very early," Nathaniel explained. "Mrs. Knight did not want her father—who is in the government—to be put in the awkward situation of having to shake hands with me in the presentation line."

Willa looked up at him in surprise. "That does not insult you?"

He gave a short, jerky shake of his head. "It would be most awkward for all. I expected nothing less. This invitation is a great favor. I'm only surprised there were no more conditions."

"Well, I am glad that there are still people in London who are willing to give you a chance. The Bishop was entirely wrong," she declared stoutly.

Nathaniel slid his gaze her way. "No, he wasn't, wildflower. You and I both know that."

She put a reassuring hand on his arm. "But that is what this evening is all about! We
will
change their minds about you!"

He covered her hand for the merest instant, then turned away. "It matters little. What's done is done. You should leave well enough alone."

He was in no mood to be bolstered, she could tell. "Very well, Nathaniel." It would indeed be very painful for him to raise his hopes, only to have them dashed if she was not successful in her new mission. She would let him be… for now.

At the Knights' residence, their hostess, Katrina— "everyone calls me Kitty"—Knight, was young, blond, cheerful, and blunt.

"Oh, good, you're wearing something daring!" was her greeting to Willa. "I was hoping you wouldn't turn out to be a country mouse."

Willa blinked. "Am I daring? I had no idea."

"Oh yes. To wear that color when you are yet unmarried? Although you are engaged, so that is perhaps not quite so daring after all. Hmm. Are you by any chance known to behave outrageously?"

"Absolutely," Willa said with a straight face. "Nathaniel says I'm incredibly odd," she promised.

Kitty laughed. "So am I. Although I believe Knight's term is
quite impossible
."

Willa smiled, recognizing a kindred spirit. Kitty grinned in response. "Mind you, I was worried that our ball would not be the final destination of the evening for anyone, for we have no actual ballroom—only these large drawing rooms with the wall panels which can be removed between."

"I think it a charming arrangement," Willa assured her. "Very practical."

"Thank you, but we need not worry now that you are here. Absolutely
everyone
will be ending the evening here, especially after word gets around the other events tonight. Oh, if you think I'm using Lord Reardon as a novelty attraction, you're absolutely right. This is my first ball and I want it to be remembered. Now it will be."

Kitty was so gleefully shameless about it that Willa could not resent the younger woman's opportunism.

"There is another reason, as well." Kitty did not seem so confident suddenly. "I was eager to help, you see. I do feel a bit responsible for ruining things for your fiancé."

"What do you mean?"

"It was I who realized that it was Na—Lord Reardon in the drawing. I—I was a bit infatuated, I'm afraid, and when I thought that he was competing for a demirep named Fleur, well, I was hurt, so I made sure that absolutely everyone in London knew it was him."

"How could you possibly manage that?"

Kitty gave a small, rueful laugh. "That was simple. I simply told Mama. It is not a wise thing to tangle with Mrs. Trapp!"

"Ah," Willa said. If Kitty's mother was anything like Moira…

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. Do not leave tonight without taking your gown," Kitty urged her.

Willa frowned slightly. "What gown would that be?"

"Why, your Court gown, of course!" At Willa's obvious confusion, Kitty elaborated. "Lord Reardon asked Aunt Clara to find you a Court gown that would fit for your presentation to the Prince Regent tomorrow, for you've not weeks to have one made. I do think you and I are of a size, and very nearly the same height as well. You may wear mine!"

"Presentation? To the Prince Regent?
Tomorrow
?"

"Well, don't worry. Aunt Clara says Prinny scarcely takes notice of the presentations. She said sometimes he sleeps right through."

"How… comforting."

"And Aunt Clara said your banns will be read for the first time this Sunday and then in two weeks you'll be wed." Kitty sighed. "I love weddings. I had two."

Willa almost let herself be distracted by that revelation but firmly brought her own curiosity—and Kitty's meanderings—to a halt. "Kitty, who is Clara? How does she know so much about me?"

"Clara is my aunt. Lady Etheridge." Kitty's brown eyes widened. "Didn't Nathaniel tell you about her?"

"Apparently not as much as he told her about me," Willa grumbled.

"Well, they're great friends. Of course, being married to Lord Etheridge, Clara can't be
too
public about her support, can she?"

"Of course not," Willa said drily. What lady could be public about being "great friends" with another man?

Kitty nodded vehemently. "Why, Lord Etheridge is practically the Prime Minister's right hand!"

"Hmm." Lord Etheridge was probably old and ugly. And Clara was probably young and lonely and elegant and beautiful. "Kitty, would you describe your aunt Clara to be tall?"

Kitty blinked. "Heavens, no. She's little taller than I am."

"Well, that is something, at any rate," Willa grumbled.

"Here she is now!" Kitty waved vigorously across the room.

Willa turned to see a dark-haired woman approaching them with a smile. Blast. Not much older than herself. Very nearly beautiful. Absolutely elegant. Willa felt a little ill.

"Kitty, dear," the woman cried as she neared them. "You look delicious! I do so love you in amber."

"Thank you, Aunt Clara! You look very fine as well. Is that a new gown?"