The Fashionable Spy (24 page)

“Of course.” Victoria chuckled. “I believe a little bird ought to tell Lord Temple he needs a widow experienced in household management to take over his problems.”

Julia smiled; then her expression altered to become serious. “I shan’t marry to be some man’s housekeeper, or whatever you call it. I should like to feel a stronger emotion than gratitude or even a mere liking.”

“Shall you see him again?”

Julia’s face cleared and she smiled. “As a matter of fact, I shall. When he returns in a month or so he has some business he wishes to discuss with me.” Her sudden look of dismay was almost comical. “Gracious, you do not suppose he actually intends to ask me to be his household manager, do you?’’

“Never,” Victoria replied, but wondered if his lordship might not have such notions. For Julia’s sake, she hoped he was inclined in a more interesting direction.

A glance at the clock reminded Victoria it was time for her to be on her way before long. She joined Julia in a light repast in the breakfast room, debating the merits of other men they had met, discarding every one of them for the most absurd reasons—like bushy eyebrows, or narrow shoulders, or that dreadful man with the squeaky voice who talked incessantly about turtles.

She still smiled as she left the house, thankful that both she and her sister were still able to laugh at their problems.

Victoria paused before Sir Edward’s elegant town house, then entered, with Sable and her footman beside her, once the butler had answered the brisk rap of the brass knocker.

“Sir Edward will be down directly, miss. Everything is ready for you. Shall I bring a pot of tea, as usual?”

“Thank you.”

She directed the footman to place her things where she wished, then dismissed him. Sable sat down near the chair Sir Edward usually occupied while Victoria worked.

“You are early. Did you sleep well last night?” Sir Edward entered the room with a brisk step. He looked fresh and rested; nothing appeared to have kept him awake for long. He was dressed in a smart blue coat over a white waistcoat and gray pantaloons. His highly polished boots and that quizzing glass he carried declared him to be most fashionable.

Victoria didn’t know where to look when he mentioned last night. “Yes, eventually.” Drat, she had not intended he know that she had been so shaken by that kiss that she had curled into a huddle beneath her covers, thinking, dreaming for a long time before sleep crept over her.

“You are a tantalizing creature, you know.” These provoking words were spoken in an amazingly prosaic manner.

“And I suppose that excuses your actions?” She could not refrain from frowning at the man. Oh, he seemed so sure of himself, so blasted confident.

“Naturally.”

“Odious man,’’ she scolded, reluctantly displaying a half-smile. “You do not know the half of it,” she muttered to herself, forgetting what acute hearing he possessed.

“Are you about finished? The head looks remarkably complete to me.” He sat properly as she had arranged all these days, falling into the chosen pose quite easily.

She examined the sculpture. Like Julia, she wished there was some way she might have undone each night all that had been accomplished during the day. Foolish thought.

“A few minor touches and I can take your head to the foundry.”

“Sounds disagreeable.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.” She fiddled with the slender chain that held her iris pendant. What had it brought her to? Sir Edward now knew she was not a member of the iris group, yet he had never said a word about it. Had he noticed the pendant? She usually concealed it from view, not wishing probing questions. Not in all her travels had there been occasion to need it. She had been too clever for that. Or perhaps not under sufficient suspicion?

She allowed the pendant to fall free, turning to face him. Would he observe it now and comment?

“Pity there was no luck last night.”

“How like you to think it bad luck that the intruder failed to show. You men, so eager for a fight or a war.”

“I gather you think of your brother. I daresay that were my knee to permit, I should be off to serve my country.” He fingered his cane as he spoke. “When I visited Portugal, I could see they need all the good men they can get.”

“To defeat the French? What you do is just as important,” Victoria reminded him. “Do you believe the villain will come?”

“I shall be in your room tonight in the event he does. May I have Sable again? He is a great comfort during the waiting hours.”

Victoria looked at her pet, cozily snuggled up to his hero. With a wry expression she answered, “Of course. The two of you make an admirable pair.”

“I wish I knew quite how you meant that remark. There are times when I feel as though you are not too pleased with me.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm. What a blessing he didn’t know that she was fascinated with him to the point of foolish adoration. “Nonsense. You are merely imagining things, sir.” With that comment she turned to completing the sculpture.

She worked silently for a time, refusing to dwell on the hopes for her future. At last, after a few final deft touches, she stood back, comparing Sir Edward with the likeness she had created. Quite good, if she did say so. She knew she was the toughest judge of her talent, believing that there was always room for improvement. “Done.”

While Victoria turned to place her tools and all her other impedimenta into the small carryall she had brought with her. Sir Edward strolled over to view the sculpture.

“You feel this captures the true me, then?”

“Yes,” she answered uneasily. “At least, as I see you. Every artist has a different vision of a subject.” She could feel his dark eyes upon her, assessing her as he often seemed to do.

“Interesting.” Edward studied the head Victoria had done. Was that really how she saw him, that impossibly handsome fellow with the noble nose, imposing forehead, and sensual mouth? Egad, it seemed an idealized, highly romantic creation. Certainly better than the image he viewed in the looking glass every morning when he arose. He turned slightly to give her a speculative look.

She picked up her jonquil pelisse, then gazed at him with questioning eyes as he removed the garment from her hands. “Sir?”

“I would say—just a guess, you understand—that you care for me, if that sculpture is how you view me.”

Victoria looked utterly mortified. “Nonsense,” she sputtered. “That is your imagination. Although I am pleased that you like the representation, for I’d not wish you to detest it,” she added.

“You deny an attraction for me?” He drew closer.

Victoria backed toward the open doorway. One hand clutched her iris pendant; the other reached for her pelisse.

“We must talk,” he said, deciding he had best alter his approach. He had no desire to frighten her into flight.

Victoria stopped her retreat at his soothing voice. She said in a cautious voice, “Yes? An arrangement for the night?”

He grasped at the proffered straw. “Indeed.” Egad, but this was becoming a bit sticky. He wished he knew how she felt regarding him. If he proposed, and upset her with his speech, he could destroy the fragile thread that bound them. Yet he wondered if it might not be the best thing to do. If only he knew. He did not want her to think he would propose out of duty, but how to convince her?

“Might I suggest that we attend a party, or perhaps the theater this evening, all together? Let everyone, particularly the villain, see that we have no worries.”

“I cannot speak for my sisters, for Julia was sadly out of curl, and Elizabeth was not in plump current either.”

“But you would go with me?” He hoped he did not sound like a green lad begging a favor from a lady he admired.

“I shall.”

She was foolish beyond permission to go with him to wherever it was. It would be far more sensible for her to remain at home, or better yet, go only with her sisters and avoid all the gentlemen they cherished too much. Yet, even her pride could not prevent her from grasping a chance to enjoy his company while she could. What a blessing he did not possess that bit of information.

So that evening found her dressed in a sea-green crepe gown with a vandyked border around the hem. Dainty sleeves that fell in points revealed more of her arms than they concealed, and the neckline dipped low. She wore a double strand of pearls around her neck and hoops of pearls in her ears. On her head she had wound a clever concoction of pearls and twisted satin in and about her hair.

Evenson beamed an approving smile on his lady when she gracefully descended the stairs. At the foot, she paused, then asked, “Is either of my sisters about, Evenson? ‘‘

“They retired to the workroom just a bit ago, miss.”

Feeling enormously elegant in her dainty Roman sandals of the very latest design, Victoria whisked herself down the hall. She peeked around the door, then smiled with hope. Her sisters argued as they frequently did.

“I say we should.”

“Should what?” Victoria demanded nicely.

“Skip the lace caps, at least until we are very old and decrepit,” Elizabeth pertly said in reply.

“I shouldn’t worry about that at this point. Who knows, someone special may come along to steal your heart, and before you know it, you will be married with a baby in your arms. I wish you both were going with me this evening.”

“Are you worried? I should think you would not come to harm with Sir Edward to protect you,” Julia said wistfully.

“It is rather nice to have a gentleman who is strong and protective, is it not?” Elizabeth added, her eyes staring off into space.

“Indeed,” Julia murmured, exchanging a look with Victoria.

Seeing that it was hopeless to persuade her sisters to join her, Victoria returned to the entry in time to greet Sir Edward when he entered.

She was vastly pleased with his reaction this time. He seemed properly impressed with her appearance in the sea-foam crepe. She hoped he did not suspect she desired to impress him. “I trust I shall pass for whatever you have in mind?’’ she said hesitantly, not fishing for a compliment, but hoping he might give a hint as to where they were to go.

“I feel sure that the Duchess of Rutland will be awed, my dear.” He bowed low over her hand, then escorted her to his town coach, seeing to it she was comfortable before they took off.

“We fly high this evening.” Victoria was reasonably comfortable with the upper regions of society, not but what she did not qualify for such a position. Her antecedents were impeccable. However, she had become accustomed to the slightly less rarefied atmosphere at Lady Tichbourne’s conversaziones. She found she enjoyed the discussions there on interesting topics far more than the usual gossip found at balls.

“Not really, the invitation sat on my desk, and I thought it useful. Anyone who is anyone will be there, and we shall be much in evidence. Leighton has promised to keep an eye on the house while we are gone. Your sisters will be quite safe.”

Victoria recalled what Lizzie had said about how nice it was to be with someone who was protective. How true.

The ball was utterly fantastic. The decor was incredibly lovely, all in peach and cream, in the best of taste. Victoria bent to sniff one of the peach roses, inhaling sharply. “How lovely.”

“I’m pleased you like roses, my dear,” murmured Sir Edward. “I do as well. Pay attention, now; look about you with discerning eyes.”

Faintly annoyed with him, Victoria glanced about as he guided her through the throng of people. “I see the usual people. Even Mr. Padbury is here this evening. I wonder if he has his drizzling box along with him.’’ At Sir Edward’s raised eyebrows, she explained, “It is a lovely tortoiseshell thing and has interesting little spools upon which to wind the gold and silver thread.”

“Ignore the man, for I think him somewhat a mushroom. Concentrate on the others. Smile as though you haven’t a worry in your head. In fact, it might be an interesting idea if you were to look at me as though you cared for me. It would cause talk. Could you manage that?”

“Why? Do you fear someone has dug about and discovered the windmill episode?”

“Rather.” He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small packet. “Look at this, then smile at me as though you adored me. It will require acting, I know, but try.”

“It
is
challenging. I shall give it my best.” His eyes teased her as she met his gaze. Bestowing a brilliant smile on him that made him positively blink, she then turned to the packet. Inside was a small drawing ... of a windmill.

She continued to smile, saying through clenched teeth. “That hardly means what I think it might, does it?”

“I am afraid so, my dear,” he said, drawing her closer to him. “I very much fear that we had best announce our engagement if we wish to thwart the blackmailer, or whatever he wants.”

“I thought he wanted a cipher, or the list, or whatever we had at the point he learned about the papers.” Victoria was all at sea. Things were not going quite as she anticipated this evening.

“Smile,” he commanded as he bowed to Lady Chatterton.

Victoria gave Lady Chatterton a supercilious look, then smiled on a young girl who was obviously in her come-out and looked frightened to death.

“What was all that about?”

“Later.” Victoria smiled until she thought her muscles would freeze permanently into position. She listened as Sir Edward dropped broad hints to all and sundry that the charming lady at his side would soon be his bride.

Victoria seethed with frustration as she realized that she would have to retire from society far sooner than she had expected, for the breaking of this “engagement” would be more than a nine days’ wonder.

“I believe we can leave now. If there is a soul at this ball who does not know about our impending marriage, he is not worth the effort.” Sir Edward began to lead her toward the door.

“We shall dance once first, I believe,” insisted Victoria. “I do not contemplate going into enforced retirement without a final waltz.” Ignoring his quizzical look, she turned to the dance floor with mixed emotions.

They whirled about the room, graceful, ever revolving in the new and rather scandalous dance. Victoria stored up the feel of his arms about her, his closeness. He bent his head so as to appear to be whispering sweet nothings to her.