The Fashionable Spy (15 page)

* * * *

Once home, and still shaken by the intensity in Sir Edward’s voice before she had left his home, Victoria found Julia waiting for her.

“I have some news for you, Vicky. Mr. Padbury said that, while he often goes to other places. Sir Edward can most frequently be found at the Golden Bird. Is that what you wished to know?”

Victoria undid the last of the fastenings of her pelisse, then paused as the import of the words sank in. “Indeed,” she breathed. “That is precisely what I wished to know. Thank you, Julia.” She absently strolled up to her room, intent upon the plans forming in her mind.

At the foot of the stairs Julia stared after her, and hoped her little sister was not getting into trouble.

* * * *

Sir Edward glanced about the Golden Bird, noting with care who was here this evening, who was absent. He drifted from group to group, pausing to chat now and again, always moving on, ever circulating, always listening.

He felt unusually restless this evening. Oh, his knee did not particularly ache, nor had he observed any gaming irregularities among the patrons. Not one of the
ton
who frequented this place guessed he had a proprietary interest in the gaming establishment. His part-ownership was more to permit him to rove at will whenever he pleased, rather than for the monetary gain, though to be sure, that had proved to be more than adequate.

It was Victoria Dancy. She lingered in his mind, as she had since he had first caught sight of her. When she had taken his chin in her slender, capable hand to position his head, he had been tempted to move just so she would be forced to touch him again. Her gown had rustled softly about her form, and she’d smelled like lilacs in the spring, fresh and sweet. How did that poem go? The one by Marlowe?

Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove

Why that came to mind, he didn’t know. Yes, he did. He hated to admit it, but he wanted to prove all the pleasures of the world with Victoria Dancy. He wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her until they were both utterly exhausted. And then repeat it. Annoying, but there it was. Would he ever get her out of his mind? He very much doubted he would have the opportunity to do as he pleased. His esteemed butler had hovered near the open door to the library like a confounded Spanish duenna. That blasted dog draped itself across his feet, effectively reminding Edward what was his due to a lady. And Victoria Dancy was no doxy. She was not the kind of woman a man could trifle with in the least, more’s the pity.

The gaming room was not brightly lit, no distracting pictures hung on the wall. Over each table hung a shaded Argand lamp that lit up the table below, nothing else. The faces of the players remained shadowy, obscure, just the way they preferred. There were still a few old beaux who wore the floppy straw hats decorated with flowers that effectively concealed expressions. The younger men relied on a passive countenance, rigid control. There was a stir near the door and he turned to discover the cause.

A woman entered the main room. Her black silk cloak whispered as she moved toward him, her half-mask concealing most of her face from view. He wondered if he had conjured her into being. It was the redoubtable Miss Dancy ... in the flesh. He’d know her anywhere, even with a mask. She glanced about the large room, and he wondered what she thought of the place. What had she expected when she came incognito? He ought to be shocked at her presence, but somehow wasn’t. Miss Dancy seemed to dare anything.

“It is an honor to see you so soon, my dear,” he said in a soft voice.

“You recognize me?” she replied faintly, the alarm clear in her voice. Quite obviously Miss Dancy had not expected to be recognized so quickly. What had she hoped to do? Perhaps watch the play, or did she have something more sinister in mind? He’d take care of that.

Edward glanced about them, taking note of the gamesters, who concentrated on their game. As far as he knew, no one had paid the least attention to the woman in black. Her shadowed figure had not proved of interest to those intent upon winning money.

“Come, let us find a more private place, so we can . . . talk.” He wondered for one wild moment if his desires were by some chance to be granted. Then, quickly ushering Miss Dancy into a small room removed from the eyes of the others, he knew he could not take advantage of her. Not unless she permitted. That last thought proved interesting, and he savored the notion for a bit.

She covered her nervousness by whipping off her taffeta cloak, draping it across the chair closest to the door. Removing her no-longer-needed mask, she toyed with it as she turned to face Sir Edward. “What a pity you recognized me so soon.”

Edward stared at the woman before him, feeling as though he had been punched in the stomach. Hard. Victoria wore a gown that defied belief. Made of a nearly transparent fabric that he knew to be called aerophane crepe, it was a rich cream, so delicate that it appeared to blend with her skin. It was almost as though she wore nothing at all. He supposed she had a petticoat of fine silk underneath, for naturally the gown was not really transparent. But the illusion was there. He swallowed with difficulty and wondered how he was to survive this meeting in one piece. He was no green youth, but then, Victoria Dancy was no ordinary woman either.

Victoria returned his gaze. “Is something wrong, Sir Edward?” she inquired sweetly.

“You ought not to be here, and you know it.” He held her eyes with his, feeling a blazing warmth stealing over him.

“Could we play a game of cards?” she inquired at length, her words falling into the silence of the room with startling clarity.

She had shrugged as she spoke. Edward wondered if the dainty straps that held up her bodice would tolerate such motion. Intrigued by her possible motive in coming to the gaming hell, he nodded, then removed a fresh deck of cards from a drawer in the table.

He dealt after she cut the cards, and the game proceeded silently. She was good, he reflected as she made an excellent play. Had her absent brother taught her? Or had one of the men who hovered at her shoulder been permitted that privilege? He firmed his mouth in a grim smile, then played his next card.

It took more concentration than he knew he had to
not
watch the dipping neckline of her gown. Perhaps that was why she wore it? She intended to fleece him through distraction. It might just work, he thought as he observed the bodice slip lower when she leaned forward to discard. Just another inch and he would see the blue-iris locket. The delicate gold chain slipped inside her bodice, leading the eye, tantalizing the imagination.

“Why are you here?” he demanded quietly.

“Curious.”

“About what? Gaming hells?”

“Is that what this is? I thought they were wretched places. This one seems fairly respectable.”

“It is. However, it is not Brooks’  or White’s. I repeat, why did you come here tonight?”

“It seemed like a good idea when I first thought of it,” she confessed, but not to his enlightenment.

“Now, that’s a taradiddle if ever I heard one.”

“Well, you might have accepted it.”

“But for your gown, perhaps.”

“What has this gown to do with anything? I chose it because I felt it to be unobtrusive. A plain color that no one would remember.”

Sir Edward raised his gaze to the ceiling, wondering how anyone had let this child out of the house without a keeper.

“Did you check yourself in your looking glass before you left the house?” he inquired in what he hoped to be a mild tone.

She shrugged again, and Sir Edward thought he just might lose what sanity he had remaining. Tossing his cards on the table, he abruptly rose and walked around to confront her. “Get up.”

Clearly puzzled, she obeyed, standing to face him with an inquisitive defiance. “Well?”

“Miss Dancy, whoever designed that gown did not have a simple, unobtrusive impression in mind. Not in the least. Would you like to know the effect it gives?” he inquired politely.

“Indeed.” She trembled, yet did not yield an inch at his searching gaze. He’d wager she was frightened right down to the soles of her satin slippers.

He slowly reached out to grasp her shoulders, drawing her to him with an exquisitely unhurried movement. She ought to
look
afraid, yet she remained motionless, controlling her fears admirably.

And then Victoria Dancy found herself kissed with a thoroughness Edward suspected she’d not known before. His hands played over her back with a delicate caress, so light it was but a burning whisper on her satin skin. He felt her resist, then slowly yield to his practiced enticement. The delicate silk slid beneath his fingers as he pleasured himself.

She melted against him, seeming to surrender.

Edward deepened the kiss, a shudder racking his frame as he fought for control even as he enfolded her more tightly in his arms. He had wanted this, her, since he tended her that night at the windmill.

Then she tore herself from his arms, backing away a few steps. Her superb bosom heaving, she merely stared at him for a moment, speechless. Her mouth was a bruised pink bud, her cheeks wildly flushed. Those eyes flashed with a blue flame. One of the straps of her gown slipped down her left shoulder and she ignored it. “That was most unfair. Sir Edward,” she said in a breathy wisp of a voice.

Edward met her gaze evenly, glad he had dared to take this chance, yet in agony that she had stopped him. Hands clenched at his sides, he bowed his head in acknowledgment for her denunciation. “I did warn you that your gown was not meant for you to be ignored.” He paused, flicking a warm look over her. “May I suggest that you find your nanny and go home, young lady? When you are able and willing to play a woman’s game, wear that gown again, and we shall resume this enchanting interlude.” He hoped his words would sting, alert her to the danger of treading where she ought not.

Victoria closed her eyes a moment, as though to gather her strength, then flashed him a look of anger. “When I see you on the morrow we shall forget this happened, sirrah.” Head high, she swept her taffeta cloak about her, replaced her mask, then stalked from the room in silent fury, closing the door behind her with a vehement snap.

Edward watched her depart, rubbing his chin with an absent gesture, willing his desire to subside. He had seen that blue-iris locket again, and it intrigued him more than ever. Why had she appeared here tonight? Could the elegantly beautiful Miss Dancy be spying upon
him?

Chapter 9

“I was never so humiliated in my entire life,” Victoria declared the following morning. She paced back and forth before the fireplace in the morning room while Julia and Elizabeth watched with round, horrified eyes.

“You were foolish beyond permission even to contemplate such action, Vicky,” Julia chided her gently.

“That is a useless reflection at this point in time,” Victoria countered. She contemplated the rug at her feet, where Sable had curled up, yet kept a close watch on his mistress.

“Positively rag-mannered behavior,” Elizabeth added with a lofty pose. “And I thought
I
was the totty-headed one in the family. Time out of mind I have been lectured. I must say, it is a comfort to know you can be foolish as well. At least no one there knew who you were,” she finished, with the air of the very righteous, for once not being censured herself.

“Do you suspect that Mr. Padbury believes I went to the Golden Bird? What, exactly, did he say?” Victoria paused in her perambulations to stare at Julia.

“Merely replied to an oblique question I posed about the haunts of London gentlemen. “I asked where one might go if he did not attend to White’s or Brooks’. Then I queried about someone like Sir Edward, for example. If Lucius thought anything about it, he may have felt we were curious about the gentleman because of your being at his home.”

“I do hope so,” Victoria replied slowly.

“Well, do not put yourself into a stew over it,” Elizabeth advised airily. “I daresay that Sir Edward will have forgotten all about it by this afternoon.”

Victoria and Julia exchanged glances, then both looked at their younger sister with dismay in their eyes.

“Dearest,” Julia explained calmly, “I somehow doubt if Sir Edward has that short a memory, nor do I believe he will forget the scene so easily. That really is a wicked gown that Vicky wore. We can but hope that he is a true gentleman about the entire thing, and allows her to complete his head with no further difficulties.” Julia looked at Victoria, wondering just how far that little scene had progressed. Victoria had been a bit evasive when it came to the actual confrontation. He had kissed her, but Julia knew full well that there were kisses and there were . . . kisses.

“Well,” Elizabeth declared, “you ought to have had more sense that to do anything so addlepated. If I were you, I should put that gown to the back of my closet or . . . you might give it to me?” she concluded with a lopsided grin.

“Have you windmills in your head. Lizzie? Unless you are trying to seduce Lord Leighton,” Victoria said with faint irritation.

At that Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “Never. The man merely teases me to death.”

“I thought him to be very well-mannered the other evening,” Julia said with a frown. “I do hope you have not misjudged him, love.”

“I very much doubt that,” Elizabeth replied crisply. “He is a flirt and a rake, never forget.” Then she turned to Victoria, hands folded and quite businesslike. “I believe you are to bring several of your works to that display of women artists that is to be held this coming week. Was it this morning?”

“Heavens, yes!” Victoria started, then began to move to the door. “The affair with Sir Edward quite drove it from my mind. It is to be madly wonderful, is it not? Paintings by Angelica Kauffmann and that fabulous Marie-Louise Vigée-Lebrun will be displayed. Now,
that
is something to consider, becoming as wealthy as Vigée-Lebrun. I hear she has amassed a fortune.”

“I cannot quite approve of her, leaving her husband and jauntering all over the Continent to paint portraits, dragging her daughter with her. I understand the paintings in the exhibit come from Russia. Fancy working in Russia.”