Unmasking the Spy (10 page)

Chadwick accumulated more than
mere antiquities – the library boasted an impressive, diverse collection. Ian
walked past the painting and inspected the first row of books.

What had the note said?
A
Complete System of Astronomy
by Charles Ledbetter. Brown cover, hollowed
center, third row, near the rear window. Ian ambled past the rows of books,
wishing he were there to read for pleasure.

He ran a finger along the base of
each volume, grateful the moonlight allowed him to scan the titles without need
for a candle. Astronomy, Astronomy, Astronomy … nothing. The end of the row
produced no results. Ian paused and considered. Perhaps “third row” had meant
third from the bottom, not third from the top. He sank to his knees and
examined the jackets carefully. Nothing.

Of course, the presence of the
book at all would imply some degree of validity to the note. Ian looked around
the room. He was less than certain any clues existed to be found. He smothered
a sigh. He would have to examine the contents of every single shelf.

He stood and crossed to the
doorway, beginning his search from top to bottom, in a clockwise manner.

As luck would have it,
counter-clockwise would have been a much better choice. Second row from the
floor in the bookcase closest to the hallway,
A Complete System of Astronomy
sat wedged between a novel and a collection of poetry. Resisting the urge to
inspect it immediately, Ian removed the book from the shelf and slid it in his
pocket. He stood, turned toward the window and stretched.

If the volume proved to be as
innocuous as it seemed, he would have one more mark against the credibility of
the anonymous informer.

Spindly branches scraped against
the exterior walls. At least an hour or two had melted away. If he hurried, he
would have just enough time to search for the false-bottomed drawer in
Chadwick’s office.

Ian left the library and slipped
down the hall.

The stairs were empty and bathed
in pale moonlight. Shadows filled the corridor on the other side. Ian crept
past the dining room. He stopped in front of the office. Ian reached out his
hand and nudged the cracked door further open when the unmistakable sounds of
movement came from within.

He froze.

Ian stared in stunned disbelief
as the delectable Elizabeth, again clad in whispery folds of white, serenely
sorted through the jumble of documents cluttering Lord Chadwick’s desk.
Unbelievable.

He slowly slid one boot
backwards, intending to exit unnoticed, when her eyes flicked up and met his.
Papers fell to the desk. Her breath hitched and she slapped slender hands over
her mouth, her face shadowed underneath a disheveled house cap.

Damn.

He couldn’t present himself as a
recalcitrant robber again. Ian ran through potential stratagems in his mind. At
least he wasn’t carrying around the painting for a second time. That would be
difficult to explain. But if he weren’t there for burglary, he could only be
there… for her. He would have to move forward with an alternate plan. Dazzle
her with charm and play on her romantic sensibilities.

He was going to regret this.

*          *          *

Alicia stared at the man before
her and tried to think. Her shallow breaths sucked wildly at the fingers
clapped over her open mouth. Rogue was back. Against all odds, he really had
returned.

Her heart thumped an erratic beat
as her rogue lounged in the doorway, watching her. He looked just as handsome
as last time. Just as unexpected. And just as mysterious.

Consciousness dawned that once
again, she faced him alone in her father’s office, wearing nothing but her
nightclothes. True, he didn’t seem to be stealing anything – but why had he
returned?

Handsome or not, Alicia was
debating whether screaming was the better part of valor when he spoke.

“If turnabout is fair play,” he
said, “should I bop you on the head with my walking cane?” Rogue brandished the
black, silver-tipped cane with a melodramatic flourish. He winked, leaned the
cane against the wall, and waited for her reaction.

Alicia felt her lips twitch
against the backs of her fingers. She lowered her hands from her face and shook
her head.

“Not at all the same, sir. One
must always use a fire iron when striking intruders.”

His answering grin caused her pulse
to flutter. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“My deepest apologies, my lady. I
am sure you are correct.”

Alicia lifted her chin. “In any
case, I’m quite within my rights to look for something I left behind earlier.
This is my family’s house. It is you who are intruding.”

Even though the desk was between
them, she took a step backwards when he suddenly dropped to one knee.

“That is what I wish to apologize
for. I had no right to impose upon you, even to save my sister,” he said. “I
felt I needed to see you again, in order to beg forgiveness.”

Alicia narrowed her eyes. His
tone and manner seemed impressively genuine, when she considered he dressed all
in black, face half hidden by his mask, kneeling unannounced on her floor.

“I noticed you replaced the
painting in its rightful spot,” he said when she didn’t respond, then added,
“As you can see, I refrained from re-borrowing it.”

“Such restraint is certainly
nothing to sniff at,” Alicia said. He did not rise until she nodded and waved a
hand. “Do stand. I can see you better upright. You seem the sort I should keep
an eye on.”

Rogue grinned again and rose to
his feet. His black shirt stretched across his muscles and a tangle of dark
hair tumbled across his forehead, brushing against the top of his mask.

Oh, he was dangerous all right.
Why couldn’t her father have wished her to marry someone as charming as him?
Her cousin’s already pale countenance paled even further in comparison. Her
rogue was inimitable.

“Am I to understand,” she asked,
“that you snuck into my house in the dead of the night simply to apologize to
me?”

He tilted his head. “Who else
would be awake?”

Who else indeed. Nobody!
Precisely why she thought it a fine time to search the office. An hour and a
half into her hunt for information on the business dealings driving her father
to push her out of the house, who should appear but her mysterious rogue.
Gorgeous, yes. Contrite, perhaps. And as improper as ever. What did he think
he’d do, woo her?

Alicia swallowed.

Woo her? The very thought sent a
chill along her spine. No one had ever wooed her. Tempting a thought as it may
be, it simply wouldn’t do to encourage him. Granted, he cut a dashing, romantic
figure. Such irony. The one man who wooed her was the one she couldn’t have –
for a multitude of reasons.

For one, he wore a mask.

She crossed her arms and
considered him. Naturally, someone hoping to enter houses undetected would wish
to remain unrecognized – hence the mask. On the other hand, he spoke in highly
educated accents. He could be a well-bred, impoverished gentleman. In that
case, the mask’s dual purpose would be to shield him from scandal, should he be
seen.

She moved her hands to her hips.
Even if he masked himself to hide his good blood, he remained horribly
ineligible. Oh, perhaps not if his midnight escapades were never exposed.
Regardless, she could hardly introduce him to her father or parade him about
the
ton
if she had no reasonable explanation of their introduction.

Yes, the mask was the number one
indication he’d be an ineligible suitor.

For two, what on earth was she
thinking? Considering the logistics of any sort of relationship with a masked
man, handsome as the devil or not, was the sign of a madwoman.

“Are you here to beg money?” she
asked.

He flinched. “I am not. A benevolent
associate has offered assistance and already my sister’s health is improving.”
He bowed his head. “I came to see you.”

Alicia bit her lip. If only she
could be certain he was as good as his word.

“And if I ask you to prove your
purpose was merely to call on me, how would you show such intentions?” she
asked.

He raised his head, lips
twitching. “I brought you flowers.”

Alicia eyed him doubtfully. She
could see both of his hands, both of which were empty now that his cane rested
against the wall.

He reached into a pocket and
thrust out its contents with a flourish. He smiled triumphantly then jerked his
gaze from her mirthful face to the offering in his fist.

The more Alicia tried not to
laugh, the more impossible such a task became. What were once wildflowers of
some sort – possibly cranesbill or willowherb – were now a crumpled tangle of
limp leaves gracing two haphazardly bent stems. Three purple petals shivered
atop one of the crooked stalks, while the other remained starkly bare. He
opened his fist and a wilted leaf fluttered to the floor. Alicia dragged her
eyes from the falling leaf to the dismayed expression on his face and stifled
her laughter. He seemed truly horror-struck.

Putting them into a vase seemed
anticlimactic.

Alicia schooled her features into
a noncommittal expression and stepped around the desk. She reached out to sweep
the pile of petals and leaves from his open hand into her palm. The moment the
pads of her fingers brushed across the soft leather of his gloves, heat surged
up her finger, past the pulse throbbing in her wrist, along her bare arm, until
it covered the rest of her skin. The petals floated to the floor.

She looked up through her
eyelashes to find his face inches from her own.

Alicia waited without breathing.
The only sound was the wind whipping scattered foliage against the windowpanes.
After a moment, she realized he held his breath as well. Could it be that her
touch had affected him in the same way it did her? The thought made her feel
powerful. Desirable.

She didn’t dare touch him again.

After a moment, she could feel
his breath, hot and gentle, caressing her face. She swallowed, not daring to
move.

“May I see you again?” he asked
huskily. “Perhaps in a couple days. An hour or two before dawn?”

No. No, no, no. Tell him to go
away and never come back. He is more trouble than you can handle, Alicia’s mind
shouted to her.

His face inched a little closer.
Rogue stared at her mouth for a moment then met her eyes.

“I promise to bring you a better
flower.”

There she stood, eager to evade a
betrothal to Louis, and he appeared, looking every inch the perfect pirate,
wanting nothing more from her than to bring her romance? The thought was
intriguing. Flattering. And a bad, bad idea.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He tilted his head, his eyes
glittering behind his mask. “Pardon?”

“I would like that,” Alicia said
recklessly. Every girl deserved a little romance.

He stepped back and gave her a
graceful bow. “I will plan on it,” he said and disappeared down the hall.

Alicia clapped her hand to her
forehead. What had she done?

*          *          *

He couldn’t put it off any
longer.

Ian peeled his rigid spine from
the straight-backed chair and forced his arm to stretch in front of him. One
dusty – and perhaps dual-purpose – tome rested on the surface area of an
otherwise unadorned desk.

It might be a reference volume,
nothing more.

It might not.

To be honest, its very existence
surprised Ian. He had been so certain of Chadwick’s innocence.

Ian lifted the cover and stared.
Empty.

The volume truly held a hidden
hollow, large enough to contain a deck of cards. What could this mean? The note
spoke true about the secret compartment’s existence, although it was wrong
about the book’s location and contents. Ian rubbed his chin with the back of
one hand.

A man could own such a book for
any number of reasons. He might have perfectly logical things to place inside.
He might keep it for notions of pure novelty. He might even have inherited it
from his sire without even realizing its existence.

The possibilities seemed
infinite.

The villain himself could even
have placed the book on the shelf to incriminate Lord Chadwick. Ian grimaced.
He would find some way to suggest Chadwick House employ a hall boy… just as
soon as he completed his own investigations. Ian slapped the cover in place and
dropped the book in the center of his desk. Tiny plumes of dust flew from the
jacket and dissipated into the air.

What did he know for sure?

Ian rubbed his forehead. Chadwick
would never have implicated himself. Likewise, an accusation from an embittered
accomplice seemed improbable, since an accused man stood to gain nothing by
keeping silent about a partner’s hand in the crimes. A third party interested
in deflecting suspicion onto another continued to be the most plausible theory.