“She’s here?” Cathy said, setting down her glass.
“Didn’t I just say so?”
“Let us go and have a look at her,” Cathy said, rising.
“There can be no harm in looking,” Costain said, and rose reluctantly. “But don’t call attention to yourself, Gordon. The spying business demands discretion.”
Gordon laid his finger aside his nose. “Mum’s the word,” he said. “Sorry I can’t introduce you to her. I have not managed to scrape an acquaintance, though I have spoken to her. She dropped a card—the ace of spades—and I picked it up for her. She said, 'Thank you.' She did forget herself and let out a few words of French to her partner.
N’est-ce pas, I
think it was.”
“Everyone says that!” Cathy laughed.
“Yes, but she said it with an accent,” he pointed out.
“Perhaps my working with her husband will hasten the acquaintance along,” Costain said. “Leave it to me.”
When they reached the refreshment parlor, Gordon pointed out the Incomparable. Mrs. Leonard was as he had described: a dashing brunette of a certain age, rouged, and highly adorned in jewelry. At her throat she wore a large rope of pearls, while a clutch of diamond brooches held a trio of feathers decorating her coiffure.
Costain stared, and could hardly believe that dull old Harold Leonard was married to this dasher. If he was not quite old enough to be her father, he was not far from it. There was one seat vacant at her left side.
“I shall ask Lady Martin to seat me beside her,” he said. “There are a couple of empty seats across the table. Why don’t you take your sister there, Gordon?”
“Yes, by Jove. It is time for fork work. That roast beef is making my mouth water. Come along, Cathy.”
Cathy gave her deserting escort a rebukeful look. “I hope you enjoy your supper, Lord Costain,” she said, and left with a toss of her curls.
Conversation was not always audible across the table, for there was a loud buzz of talk and laughter, but Cathy overheard snatches of talk. She heard Costain introduce himself, and exclaim in well-simulated surprise that Mrs. Leonard was the wife of his colleague. “You are so young!” he said in admiring accents, then laughed that laugh of engaging diffidence with which she was familiar. “That was gauche of me,” he continued. “One would think Mr. Leonard were Methuselah.”
Mrs. Leonard flapped her long lashes at him. “You are forgiven, Lord Costain. I hear that sort of thing constantly. It is true there is a discrepancy in our ages, but I try to play the matron. Hence the feathers in my coiffure,” she added coquettishly.
“But they are charming, Madame.
Très soignés.”
How well he simulated compliments. Just so had he smiled at her while they waltzed. A Mr. Hargrave on Cathy’s left side engaged her in conversation. When she could harken to her eavesdropping again, she observed that Costain was sliding the occasional French phrase into his conversation.
“No, but it is early days yet.
Entre nous,
I am not eager to spend the holiday
en famille.
What will you be doing for Christmas, Mrs. Leonard?”
She must have asked him what he would do for Christmas. Her reply was in English only. “I should like to get Leonard away to the country for a week. Alas, no invitation has been forthcoming thus far. It is fourpence to a groat he would not go in any case. He is a demon for work, and I could not leave town without him.”
“We at the Horse Guards are well aware of his work habits. He puts us all to the blush. But even God, you know, rested on the seventh day of his labors.”
Cathy felt a poke at her elbow and turned to Gordon. “Is he trying to pump her for news or to seduce her?” Gordon hissed.
“Probably both,” Cathy replied with an air of amused indifference.
Gordon’s interest perked up at this lenient speech. “Daresay a spy has to resort to such methods. By Jove, I shall bear this lesson in mind.”
“Don’t you dare try anything with her, Gordie. She is much too old and too wicked for you.”
After the supper, Gordon disappeared and Costain brought Mrs. Leonard to introduce to Cathy.
“Miss Lyman is an old friend of my family’s,” he said to Mrs. Leonard. “Cathy, I would like you to meet Mrs. Leonard. Her husband and I are colleagues.”
The ladies exchanged a smiling curtsy. “Was that darling boy beside you your brother, Miss Lyman?” Mrs. Leonard asked.
“Yes. Do you have any family, ma’am?” Cathy inquired, to remind Costain of the lady’s married status.
“Alas, I am not so fortunate, but I have a darling little pug who is all in all to me. I call her May, for she came to me on May Day. She is a Taurus, like myself. An earth sign. So kind and gentle, unless attacked, of course. Then she becomes quite vicious. She dotes on the arts, especially music. We have that in common. Are you interested in the horoscope?” She looked with bright interest to her listeners. Both disclaimed any knowledge of this art.
“Most fascinating,” she said. “I live by the stars. They told me of May’s fondness for music. When my little doggie is out of sorts, I play the pianoforte for her. She especially enjoys the new waltz.”
Cathy hardly knew how to reply to such a foolish outburst. “I have a kitten,” she said.
“I had one, but May was jealous. I had to give her away.” Mrs. Leonard then turned to Costain to inquire for his sign. Upon learning that he was born in October, she smiled in satisfaction. “I thought as much! A Leo. A natural leader,” she said, and continued with various compliments.
She did not inquire for Miss Lyman’s birth sign. When the music resumed, Mrs. Leonard sighed forlornly and said, “I daresay it is back to the card parlor for me. You youngsters run along and enjoy the dance.”
Costain took the hint and asked her if she would stand up with him. “I really should not dance when poor Leonard is ill, but perhaps just once,” she said. “I hope it is true what I have read, that people admire us for our virtues, but like us for our faults. I am deep dyed in faults.”
Naturally Lord Costain took objection to this wholesale self-condemnation. “I find that hard—no, impossible—to believe. Your husband speaks most highly of your forbearance.”
By some invisible sign Costain summoned a friend to take Cathy off his hands, and he disappeared with Mrs. Leonard. At the dance’s end he returned to Cathy without his partner. Cathy was unaccountably furious with his satisfied smile and asked in a stiff voice if he would mind taking her home now, as she had a slight headache.
“You can always return if you dislike leaving early,” she added with a glance across the room at the lady he would be returning to.
“I’ve gone as far as decency allows on first acquaintance,” he replied, not pretending to misunderstand her.
“I wager you have.”
He made his adieu to the hostess and called for the carriage at once. Gordon decided to remain at the assembly to try for a dance with Miss Stanfield.
“Do you really have a headache, or only a fit of pique?” Costain asked as they drove home.
“Am I not entitled to a headache after being slighted in public?” she asked. “Do you think no one noticed my escort deserted me at dinner, and made me look a fool?”
“We went to the assembly to see what we could discover. Mrs. Leonard was the best lead we came across.”
“I wonder if Mr. Burack was not a better lead,” she replied.
“I see him every day. If we had remained behind, we could have seen whether he stood up with Mrs. Leonard. That would have been interesting. It is odd he did not approach her all evening. He has been at the Guards longer than I. He must have met her before now. Their not exchanging so much as a glance looks suspicious.”
“You must ask her about Burack when you call on her,” Cathy said, wearing a face of determined disinterest.
“It will be better to let Gordon continue his watch. I wonder—perhaps we should sic him on to Burack instead. It is pretty clear Mrs. Leonard is no spy.”
What was clear to Cathy was that Lord Costain was easily duped by a pretty flirt.
“I suggest you take a bone for May when you call on Mrs. Leonard, Lord Costain,” she said with a knowing look. “I fear the way to that lady’s heart is through her pug.”
“You read me like a book, ma’am. I shall ask Cook to save me a steak bone.”
They proceeded in silence for a few blocks. The only sound in the carriage was the echo of the hooves and wheels coming through the windows.
As they turned in at King Charles Street, Cathy said, “Did you discover where Mrs. Leonard gets her money? That was an expensive-looking cluster of diamonds she was wearing.”
“One can hardly ask such an intimate question on first acquaintance.”
“Perhaps when you get to know her better ...”
The carriage drew up in front of the house and stopped. “I shall take you in,” he said. “Don’t be concerned if you see my carriage waiting outside. I want a word with Gordon. He said he would not be long.”
“Very well.”
He escorted her to the door. Before opening it, he said, “I don’t know what tomorrow may bring. Can you leave the evening open in case something comes up?”
Leaving an evening open was never any problem for Cathy, but she did not precisely say so. “We often have an evening at home during the dull winter months. I believe tomorrow evening is free.”
She thought Costain would smile and at least pretend to be pleased, but he was frowning at the door knocker. “You wouldn’t happen to have a book on astrology in that study?”
“I shouldn’t think so. It is all foolishness, you know.”
“I know, but I seem to remember someone telling me I was a Libra. Mrs. Leonard said I was a Leo.”
“You mean she is shamming it? Why would she boast of expertise in such an idiotic thing as astrology if it is not true?”
“Perhaps because it is an idiotic thing. It half convinced me the lady is a fool. That and her near adoration of a dog.”
Cathy bit her lip. “You mean she wants us to think she is a ninnyhammer—and that suggests she is as sly as a fox. I shall ask Rodney about astrology. He knows everything. Everything perfectly useless, I mean.”
“You were angry with me for flirting with her, but it was all in the way of business, you know,” he said with a teasing smile.
“I was not angry because of that! I just felt ridiculous when you went hounding off to sit with her at dinner and foisted me onto Gordon in front of everyone. A lady has her pride, you must know.”
He lifted a lazy eyebrow. “So has a gentleman, Miss Lyman. You might at least pretend to a proper fit of pique.”
“I think you mean jealousy, milord.”
“If you insist on calling a spade a spade.”
“I do, and I insist on calling embarrassment by its proper name, not jealousy.”
“When a gentleman embarrasses a lady, he must be in error, and I apologize. I shan’t do it again.”
“That is quite all right. I realize business comes before pleasure.”
“Good. Then you do realize it would have given me more pleasure to have been your supper partner. I was never much good at paying insincere compliments. It wearies me.”
“Then why do you bother?” she snipped.
“Because Mrs. Leonard expected them.”
“Oh, Mrs. Leonard!”
“Good Lord! You didn’t think I was merely flattering
you.
Really, Miss Lyman, I thought we had a better understanding than that.”
As their understanding was that they went out together in the way of business, and he had no romantical interest in her, she hardly knew how to reply.
After a moment she said, “He does have a book on astrology. Uncle Rodney, I mean. I remember noticing it on the shelves. It is a horrid cheap book with a red cover, all painted with little symbols. Rams and goats and things. I shall check it this very instant. Only think, if she is shamming it, Lord Costain, then—”
She came to a frowning pause. “Then what? How could she possibly have access to any state secrets? Mr. Leonard would not be allowed to take documents from the office, surely? He would have to copy them at work, and that means he is working with her.”
“Or someone at the office is. You have not forgotten Mr. Burack, who tried to pump you for news, and so carefully avoided the lady all evening? There are other gentlemen as well. I only mention Mr. Burack, as you know him.”
“It will be best for Gordon to continue watching Mrs. Leonard. If you are not a Leo, I mean,” she added, and laughed that so important a matter should hang by such a slender thread.
“You must let me know my sign tomorrow. I shall drop by in the afternoon, if I may? Say about four, just in time for tea.”
“Mama will like that,” she said unthinkingly.
Costain was a little surprised that Miss Lyman did not show greater pleasure. But then, he had gone out of his way to let her know there was nothing serious between them, so he had to pretend to approve her lack of enthusiasm.
He opened the door and she went in with a casual wave, “I don’t have to bother with the formality of assuring you I had a delightful evening, do I?”
“Certainly not, ma’am. That is one of the few perquisites of our position. We need not pretend to nonexistent pleasure. In the interest of dispassionate truth, however, I should like to say that
I
enjoyed myself.”
“Tell Mrs. Leonard,” she said, and closed the door with a quizzing smile, while Costain frowned in dissatisfaction.
That was not what he meant! That was not his meaning at all. He enjoyed Miss Lyman’s company. It was unusual to be with a young lady who was not constantly throwing her bonnet at him. She was peeved that he had deserted her for dinner in front of the crowd, and who could blame her? It was a farouche thing for him to have done. Any other lady would have been in the boughs for hours.
Miss Lyman merely told him he had made her feel awkward, and that was an end of it. When he tried to flirt a little to make up for the lapse, she paid not the slightest heed. She was thinking of the case all the while, as he ought to have been doing himself.
Mrs. Leonard ... Was that a lead worth following? If she was wangling state secrets from someone, he doubted very much it was her husband. Mr. Burack was more like it. And if she was using an affair with him to discover secrets, might she not be interested in another channel into the Horse Guards as well?