Destined to Last (7 page)

B
y five o’clock the next day, Kate had come to the conclusion than in comparison to Mr. Hunter’s skills of persistence, Lord Martin was a mere novice. And a clumsy one at that, because while Lord Martin had a tendency to trail her about like a child stepping on her heels, Mr. Hunter kept a respectable distance even as he followed her from room to room.

It was the oddest thing, to see him appearing everywhere she went. Even now, as she sat outside on the back veranda, a book of poetry in her hands, she just
knew
he was watching her from the windows behind her. What could the man be thinking? In the past, he seemed to loom whenever they happened to be in the same room, but he’d never before stalked her.

Perhaps he was working up the nerve to form an apology, she mused. Perhaps she would accept it.

She swallowed a laugh at her false conceit.
Of course
she would accept it, provided it was sincere. She detested being at odds with someone and always took advantage of the first reasonable opportunity to smooth things over.

Besides, now that she’d had the night for her temper and embarrassment to cool she had to admit that he hadn’t done anything worse than kiss her…and then act monstrously arrogant about it.

Perhaps she’d make him squirm a bit before she accepted his apology.

He would not be apologizing.

Hunter didn’t mind apologizing as a rule. A well-crafted appearance of contrition was capable of smoothing many a rough path. For the time being, however, his purposes were better suited by keeping the path between him and Kate a little uneven.

From his position at the window, Hunter rolled his shoulders and thought through his next move. It was going to be a challenge, both keeping close to Kate and maintaining the appearance of being just out of reach. After careful consideration, he decided that the most expedient way of doing both was to inform her of the smuggling operation and offer her an opportunity to participate in the investigation. The benefits were twofold. First and foremost, there was no possible way for him to continue following her about without arousing her suspicions. Which brought him to his second reason—he bloody well wasn’t going to be following the chit about.

She could come to him, and appealing to her sense of adventure would assure she did.

He’d always meant for her to come to him, he’d just forgotten that pertinent bit of information for a moment in the sitting room last night. His jaw clenched at the memory. It hadn’t been his intention to let things get quite so out of hand. He’d intended to kiss her, certainly, but that kiss was meant to be no more than a test. He’d wanted to know how susceptible Lady Kate was to seduction, and as he had expected, she was open to it, but not easily blinded by it.

What he hadn’t expected, was what an unholy temptation kissing Lady Kate would be for him.

He’d never intended to take her innocence in the sitting room. Reaching for the buttons of her gown had only been
part of the experiment. And yet a small, irrational part of his mind had hoped she wouldn’t demand he stop. Some part of him had wanted to forget the purpose of the kiss, and see if she could be persuaded to ask for more.

And that was nothing,
nothing
compared to the temptation he’d felt the second time they’d kissed. She’d fallen into the heat of it within moments, and it would have been an easy thing for him to press his advantage. He’d come close to doing just that, so close to letting all his careful planning go to waste for a few minutes of pleasure…Well, an hour of pleasure at least, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t want Kate for a few minutes, or an hour, or even the duration of a house party. He wanted her for a lifetime. And a spontaneous tumble was not the best way to go about acquiring that lifetime—an expedient way, certainly, but not the best. He’d be damned if his marriage would be founded on something as flimsy as a compromising.

Confident he could, and would, do a better job of remembering what he wanted from Kate in the future, he smoothed his cravat, brushed a bit of lint from his coat and stepped outside onto the veranda.

“Good afternoon, Lady Kate.”

She spared him a brief glance over the top of her book as he walked around to take a seat beside her. “Is there a particular reason you’ve been following me about all day, Mr. Hunter?”

“Several, in fact. Would you care to hear them?”

“Not really,” she replied and turned the page. “I’d rather you just stop.”

“Can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve orders.”

“Orders?” She laughed a little at that and looked up. “From whom?”

He hid a smile when her eyes darted to his mouth. He’d known she would try to pretend the kisses hadn’t happened, just as he’d known she would not be able to pull it off.

“William Fletcher,” he told her.

“You don’t take orders from Mr. Fletcher,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Her gaze dipped to his mouth once more before she blushed and stuck her nose back in her book. “He works for the War Department.”

“That’s not common knowledge,” he commented, although he wasn’t particularly surprised she knew of it. Only to be expected, really, since a number of her friends and family members—including her brother Whit—worked for the War Department.

She twisted her lips but didn’t look up. “It’s not entirely uncommon knowledge.”

“Whit let something slip, or was it the duke?” He sincerely doubted it was the ever reticent James McAlistair.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she demurred.

“I’m sure you do, and while I can appreciate your circumspection on the matter, I’ll remind you that when Evie’s life was in danger, I was one of the men Whit and William chose to guard her.” That had been a remarkably shortsighted and precarious choice, in his opinion. He’d suggested they draw out their adversary by using Evie as bait.

“That’s true.” Kate seemed to think about that for a moment before inclining her head in acknowledgment. “Very well, I do know what you mean, but I don’t believe for a moment that you work for the War Department in any official capacity. Also, nothing was ‘slipped,’ as you put it. I am not so sheltered that I am unaware of what goes on in my own home. ”

He’d wager she knew only what had been gleaned in bits and pieces. And he had no intention of filling in the blanks.

“As it happens, I do work for Mr. Fletcher in an official capacity.” He stretched his legs out before him. “And he has ordered me to keep an eye on you.”

She seemed to consider that, and him, then lowered her
head a little, just as he had not long ago at her mother’s ball, and whispered, “Liar.”

“Liar, is it?” he asked on a laugh.

“Yes.” She straightened again. “To begin with, you’re not the sort to work for the War Department.”

“And what sort might that be?”

She frowned a little in thought. “Oh, patriotic, selfless, brave, perhaps a little reckless.”

“I’m an unpatriotic and selfish coward with a cautious streak?”

“I didn’t say that. I simply don’t believe you possess those qualities to the degree necessary to risk life and limb in the name of crown and country.”

The patriotic bit, he’d give her. The lack of selflessness as well. But damn if he’d have her thinking him a coward. It would better serve his purposes, however, to have that argument another time.

“Second,” Kate continued, “Mr. Fletcher would not employ one of his men as a chaperone for a young lady at a house party.”

“He would if he thought that young lady in danger.”

“What a lively imagination you have,” she said, and with enough amusement in her voice to tell him she didn’t think the less of him for it. “In danger of what?”

“From whom, actually. Your admirer is heavily invested in a smuggling operation.”

“Which one?”

“Which…” He nearly gaped at her. Holy hell, could he have been that mistaken about the girl’s innocence? “How many smuggling operations are you aware of?”

“Oh, all of them,” she drawled with a roll of her eyes. “Which admirer?”

“Ah. Lord Martin.”

“Really?” She stared at him, her blue eyes going round. “You’re in earnest?”

“Never more so.”

“Lord Martin a smuggler?” She blew out a long breath, glanced back toward the house as if she expected to see the gentleman in question coming out the door, then turned back again. “Goodness, I shouldn’t have thought he’d have the spine.”

“You say that as if he’s risen in your estimation.”

“I suppose he has, in a way. I’ve always thought him something of a milksop. Well, not always. There was a period of time, a significant period of time to be honest, when I was quite attached to him. Or at least the idea of him. He seemed terribly dramatic and romantic, and…” She trailed off. “I beg your pardon. I have a tendency to ramble.”

“Yes, I know.”

She shot him an annoyed look. “What I am trying to say is, I don’t think more of him for smuggling. I simply think more of him for being
capable
of smuggling. One can admire a talent without approving of how it’s put to use.”

He wondered how she would judge the use of his talents. Not well, he imagined. “Did you miss the part where I said his talents place you in danger?”

“No.”

“You don’t appear concerned.”

She shrugged. “I’m not particularly. Lord Martin shares a closer bond to others in residence than he does with me. You’d be better off following them about.”

“Which others?”

“Oh, Mr. Kepford and Mr. Woodruff come to mind. I believe the three of them attended school together.”

“I rather doubt he fancies them.”

“I rather doubt his fancying me puts me in any sort of jeopardy,” she returned. “Particularly in light of the fact that I do not fancy him. What do you expect him to do, exactly? Recruit me into his merry band of outlaws?”

“Robin Hood wasn’t a smuggler.”

“And Lord Martin isn’t especially merry. Neither of which is the salient point.”

It was fascinating the way her mind worked. “What is the salient point, as you see it?”

“That I am not interested in Lord Martin, smuggling, or any other outlawed activity—particularly the sort that runs to high treason, which I assume is suspected if the War Department has become involved—and therefore I am not in any real danger.”

“Regardless of where your interests and fancy are directed, his interest lies with you. The danger to you may be limited, but it still exists.” He smiled at her pleasantly. “And that makes you, Lady Kate, my newest mission.”

She frowned down at her book. “Is this the sort of mission Alex and Whit have been sent on in the past? I always imagined them engaged in something a tad more active. Bit disappointing, really.”

“You’d prefer they risk life and limb?” he asked, surprised by her comment.

“No, I would prefer they have nothing at all to do with the War Department. But that’s not likely to happen, is it? That being the case, I see no reason not to appreciate the work. Or I didn’t, until now…I suppose I’ll have to take back what I said about it requiring bravery.”

“Absolutely fascinating.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.”

Kate looked at the man before her—or more accurately, at his very tidy cravat as she was having some difficulty lifting her eyes to his face without her gaze becoming stuck on his mouth—and marveled at what he’d just told her. After first wondering what he meant by “absolutely fascinating,” anyway.

Mr. Hunter, an agent for the War Department. She could
scarce believe it. Oh, she’d known that Mr. Fletcher trusted him, but she never would have guessed Mr. Hunter was actively engaged as an agent.

Nor would she have guessed that after a mere two days at the
ton
’s most sedate house party she would already have been kissed, twice, and embroiled in a smuggling operation. Which reminded her…

“Your mission is to keep me from becoming involved in a smuggling operation?”

Mr. Hunter inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Correct.”

“I should think telling me of it is rather like involving me in it.” She smiled at him pleasantly. “Do you fail all your missions this quickly?”

He chuckled at that. “My orders were to see you weren’t involved in Lord Martin’s endeavors. William didn’t say a word against your participation in the investigation of those endeavors.”

Kate knew full well William Fletcher wouldn’t have said a word
for
her participation either, but she had absolutely no intention of arguing that point. She snapped her book shut and scooted forward in her chair. “Do you mean it? You’ll let me help?”

“That depends. Can you resign yourself to my giving you orders?”

“I am the daughter of the dowager Lady Thurston and sister to the earl,” she informed him in a dry tone. “I assure you, I long ago resigned myself to being ordered about.”

Following
those orders was another subject altogether, and one she very much hoped he did not broach.

“Will you resign yourself to being ordered about by
me
?” he pressed.

She gave him a decisive nod. “As those orders relate to this mission, yes.”

“Excellent, then—”

“And provided they are sensible.”

He lifted one dark brow.

“I only mean I’ll not endanger myself simply because you ordered it,” she explained.

“I see. You needn’t worry on that score.” He gave her a hard look. “Your involvement will be limited.”

She didn’t care for the sound of that. “How limited?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Kate wrinkled her nose. She well and truly hated that phrase. Her mother employed it whenever she wished to avoid answering one of Kate’s more sensitive questions, which meant her mother employed it with depressing regularity.

“If it wasn’t remaining to be seen,” Kate grumbled. “I wouldn’t have had to ask. I’d have seen it.”

“Beg your pardon?”

She shook her head. As that argument had never worked on her mother, it was a safe bet it would be equally unsuccessful with Mr. Hunter. “Never mind. What am I to do?”

“For now, keep your distance from Lord Martin.”

“I already do that. I declined an offer to go riding with him just this morning,” she informed him. “Couldn’t I do something else? Perhaps charm a bit of information from him? I could express an interest in acquiring smuggled goods of a harmless variety, like brandy. Surely, he means to bring at least some over.”