My Lord the Spy Read online

  “You don’t sound like you want to help,” Joshua replied, sounding like a spoiled child, but his eyes were watching Charles carefully.

  “I do, my friend, I do!” Charles reassured Joshua before turning to Bernard. “Let’s go over what you need from me.”

  Chapter 4

  Edmund sat in White’s exclusive gentleman’s club on St James’ Street, sipping his brandy and mulling over his conversation with Henry. Edmund was a few years younger than Henry, at twenty-eight to Henry’s thirty-four, but Edmund had experienced enough of life to be on an equal standing with his friend. Most of the time they got on well but, with some of the outrageous things Henry said, Edmund was thankful their outlooks were worlds apart. Away from society Henry was so cold and calculating; his whole focus was on getting the job done, no matter what the cost was to those around him. Edmund was no sentimental fool, but he usually would not walk over people the way Henry did. Everyone was expendable in Henry’s eyes, something that Edmund disagreed with.

  Henry saw everything in black and white; they were out to find who the enemies of King and country were; therefore, any method in achieving that aim was acceptable. Joshua Shambles could turn out to be merely a smuggler and would no longer be of interest to them. Edmund was right; they had to choose the people they focused on. Excise men would be interested in Joshua if he was smuggling goods into the country, but Henry had wanted to find out more about him for a while; Joshua was very good at covering his tracks, which made both men suspicious, although Edmund would always torment Henry that he was too focused on Shambles.

  Edmund pushed his thoughts aside as Charles walked into the room. “Glazebrook?” Edmund asked, putting his empty glass on the ornate side table that was conveniently by his chair.

  Charles paused and turned to Edmund. “Yes.”

  Edmund stood with a smile on his face. “We met last night, but you weren’t in any fit state to remember. I know we haven’t been formally introduced! I’m Chertsey. Would you care to join me in a brandy?”

  The men made their bows to each other. “You have the advantage over me, My Lord,” Charles admitted with a smile. “I remember a little of last night….”

  Edmund chuckled good-naturedly, sitting once more in the large, rich brown leather winged-back chair. He filled the seat, Charles looking slight when seated in the matching furniture opposite Edmund. “You appeared to be a little the worse for wear.”

  “Did you take me home last night?” Charles asked. Puzzled as to why Lord Chertsey would do such a thing.

  “I did,” Edmund acknowledged. “I realise it was presumptuous of me, but we collided when you came out of a room, and you seemed a little unsteady on your feet. It wouldn’t have been good for your reputation to be drawing attention to yourself on your first visit to Mrs Langtree. She can be very particular about her guests.”

  “Oh, I say, that’s awfully good of you,” Charles said, with a slight flush. “It was my first visit but, by Jove, it won’t be my last!”

  “Yes, the ladies attending there are very welcoming,” Edmund acknowledged.

  “They certainly are! I’d no interest in cards when there were other entertainments on offer!” Charles said with feeling.

  Edmund schooled his features into a smile. It was no wonder the boy was being targeted by Joshua Shambles; he was an innocent, even more so than his sister. It seemed every thought that entered his head was blurted out with complete disregard of how his words might sound and whom he was speaking to. “Yes, I bought your friend a drink. He seemed to be on a losing streak.”

  “He was,” Charles admitted, not thinking to question why Lord Chertsey seemed to know an awful lot about himself and his friend even though they had never been introduced. “I don’t understand Shambles sometimes; he rarely wins. I couldn’t be bothered with constantly trying to win back what I’d lost. Although he doesn’t like me saying that to him.”

  “I expect not,” Edmund said, indicating to the footman that they needed their glasses refilled. “Sometimes the chase of a win is where the thrill comes from I suppose.”

  “It must be because he certainly loses more than he wins,” Charles admitted. Charles had no head for spirits and could not hold his drink; however, he had already had quite an amount before reaching White’s, so his open nature was even more exaggerated than normal.

  “He is lucky in your friendship then,” Edmund said. “Are you enjoying the season? You are down with your sister, aren’t you?” Edmund was no fool; constantly asking questions about Joshua could potentially raise alarm, especially if Charles mentioned the conversation to his friend. Charles might be naïve, but Joshua certainly was not.

  “Yes, it’s probably too late for her, but I hope she finds a suitor while she’s here. She should have had a season years ago, but my father’s illness and then the mourning period put paid to that. I feel sorry for her; there are a lot prettier, younger girls on the marriage mart this year. My sister doesn’t even have a huge dowry to help, although to be fair it’s not too bad.”

  Edmund almost laughed out loud at Charles’ comments. With an ally like Charles, his sister would never find a suitor. The thought of the sister not being chased by young men appealed to Edmund, as a possessive feeling had wrapped around his chest at the mention of her finding a suitor; he did not wish any of the fops he knew to experience the kisses that he had.

  “It’s very good of you to bring her, even so,” Edmund said smoothly.

  Charles sighed and then started to speak as if a dam had burst. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But I honestly don’t know what has got into Clara these days. She isn’t the sister I grew up with, believe me! She is nagging, moaning at me every time I wish to do something she disagrees with. Honestly, if I let her have her own way, she would have me in Dorset never showing my face in public!”

  “Family members can sometimes be a little over zealous when dealing with someone close.”

  “Well, my sister would be at the top of the pile, believe me! I wish she would marry; she could nag her husband and leave me be!”

  “I could help if you like,” Edmund offered, swirling the brandy in its glass and watching Charles. His tone of voice was that of a friend willing to help, of someone who could be trusted.

  “Would you?” Charles asked in surprise. “She might not take too kindly to you. I’ve never had a problem with her being rude to friends before, but she certainly doesn’t like Shambles and makes no secret of it. If you met, she could take you in dislike and would have no compunction in showing her feelings to you. Shambles gets very angry at the way she speaks to him.”

  The little fool, Edmund thought grimly to himself. She hates Shambles and showed it to Charles. That was a guaranteed way to secure the friendship; he was a child, reacting in the way he would against a strict parent. “I shall take the risk.”

  “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Charles said with a shrug.

  “I’m sure she will be a lovely dancing companion and, while she is dancing with me, she can’t be watching you,” Edmund said easily.

  “It would certainly be a start. I sometimes feel her eyes never leave me, although I don’t know why she is so hawk like; Shambles isn’t invited to lots of the parties she attends.”

  “Is he in trade?” Edmund asked innocently.

  “No, just a gentleman fallen on hard times,” Charles said in defence of his friend. In reality he had no idea of Joshua’s background, apart from when Joshua taunted Charles about his upbringing.

  “There are a lot of those around,” Edmund said sympathetically. “Are you attending the Stamford’s ball tonight?”

  “No,” Charles replied and had the good grace to look shamefaced. “I was supposed to be; I’ve sent a reply in the affirmative but, after yet another argument with my sister, I’m refusing to go. I doubt she will go without my escort.”

  “Not to worry! I was going to ask for two dances; that is all. Would you mind if I called on you both tomorr
ow?”

  “That would be smashing. She might even have calmed down by then!” Charles said hopefully.

  *

  Clara had not attended the Stamford’s party the previous evening; she had not been able to face it. Not one for maudlin moods, she really was at a loss as to what to do about Charles. She went through morning visits with little enjoyment. She had not seen or heard from him; she was not even sure he had returned home at all. Something had to happen to improve matters between them, but Clara had no idea what was required.

  She was seated with Milly, both trying to concentrate on needlework, the result being that Clara sighed more than she sewed as her mind mulled over what Charles was doing when they were interrupted by a footman.

  “Miss Baker, the Earl of Chertsey wishes to pay his respects,” the footman said.

  “Lord Chertsey? Has he asked for my brother?” Clara asked.

  “He asked for you both, Miss, but on explaining that my master was not at home, he expressed the desire to see yourself.”

  “I see. Please show him in,” Clara said, laying aside her needlework.

  “Do you know Lord Chertsey?” Milly asked.

  “No,” Clara replied. “It must be through some acquaintance with Charles that he is here, although Charles has never mentioned anything.” Clara was not surprised; Charles told her less and less these days.

  The gentleman was shown into the drawing room. The moment he walked into the room Clara froze; she knew immediately he was the same man who had been her protector two nights ago. She would have recognised his form anywhere; every part of him was imprinted on her mind. She was reminded of his comment about recognising someone’s mannerisms, and she knew exactly what he meant when she faced him. The way he had walked into the room, the way he held himself, she had dreamed about for the last two nights. She flushed; his lips she remembered more than anything else.

  He was dressed to the same exacting standards that he had been at the masked gathering at Mrs Langtree’s. His blue frockcoat was made of the finest mid-blue wool. His silver and pale-blue waistcoat reflected the light. The folds of his white cravat would have made any dandy proud. His hair was curled in the latest style, looking perfectly dishevelled and a little longer than would normally be worn, making Clara long to move it from the back collar of his waistcoat. His breeches fitted snugly; he was obviously a man who partook of many sporting activities from the way his muscles moved as he walked. Gleaming boots finished the outfit to perfection. Here was a man who took pride in his appearance and, from his deportment, he was fully aware of the picture he presented.

  Clara suddenly felt underdressed in her pale green-checked muslin day dress, her hair tied in a braid and wound into a bun for comfort rather than style. She would have been slightly reassured to know her heightened colour and sparkling eyes enhanced her looks. Her poise was elegant and graceful, and the dress, although made for practical use, enhanced her slender figure.

  Edmund looked at Clara with amusement at her perusal of him as he walked into the room. He realised immediately she had recognised him. He had wondered if she would. His bow was given, and he gave her the flowers he was carrying.

  “For you, Miss Baker,” Edmund said with a flourish.

  Clara flushed a deep shade of pink. The flowers were reds and yellows, the colours were unusual in a bouquet and had obviously been chosen as a reminder of the red and gold outfit she had worn on the night they met. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Milly, please let me introduce Lord Chertsey. Lord Chertsey, this is my cousin, Miss Millicent Holland.”

  “My Lord,” Milly curtsied, shooting Clara a puzzled look but refraining from asking anything while in company.

  “Miss Holland,” Edmund bowed.

  If Clara had felt overwhelmed by her protector when he was masked, she felt even more in awe now. He was the most handsome man she had ever met. His chestnut hair was curled to perfection, his features were elegant, his eyes a rich brown with surprisingly long lashes for a man. She had noticed his eyes when he was masked, but set in such a handsome face, they seemed to shine at her. His lips ̶ the same lips that had kissed her until her legs had been weak ̶ turned up in a smile that seemed to acknowledge that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “Cousin, would you be kind enough to obtain a vase for the flowers and order tea for his Lordship?” Clara asked, maintaining her composure.

  “Of course.” Milly left the room, leaving the door open.

  Clara knew she would have only a few moments, so she was determined to make every word count. “Thank you for returning my brother to me two nights ago, My Lord, but pray, why have you visited today?” It was impertinent to be so forthright, but Clara did not have the luxury of time to waste words.

  Edmund smiled; he had wondered how she would react to his appearance, and she had not let him down. “No niceties, Miss Baker?” he asked with a drawl.

  “I have one opportunity before I’m forced to mutter inane nothings; I thought it was important to come straight to the point,” Clara replied directly.

  “I was curious to see how you both were,” Edmund responded. “I had the pleasure of making your brother’s acquaintance yesterday and informed him I would be paying my respects to you both today. He is a pleasant boy.” He was doing what Henry had suggested, but he was not going to give the chit false hope by letting her think he was seeking her out; he was not about to play the besotted lover when the result could be marriage. He would do much for King and country, but that did not include getting leg-shackled. That went above and beyond duty.

  “I’m fine, no adverse effects to my foolish escapade,” Clara responded with a rueful smile, returning to her chair. She was not going to give any sign she had been kept awake by memories of his kisses.

  “Good,” Edmund responded, sitting at Clara’s request. “And your brother?”

  “Charles is a completely different matter,” Clara replied with a sigh. “A perfect example is before us; even though you say he had knowledge that you would be visiting, he is missing once more. It is so typically Charles.”

  No further communication was possible due to Milly’s return. Edmund changed the subject, and they spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the usual topics of conversation that made up morning visits. Edmund rose after drinking more tea than he liked and made his bow.

  “If you are attending the Thurston’s ball tonight, I would be honoured if you would keep the first two dances for me,” Edmund said to Clara.

  “We are if my brother still wishes to,” Clara said, not actually knowing if they would attend after Charles had refused to go to the Stamford’s ball.

  “If you would be so kind as to tell him I will be in attendance and will look forward to sharing a drink or two with him, I’m convinced he will be there,” Edmund said with surety.

  “In that case I will save the first two for you. You obviously are more confident about my brother’s reliability than I am,” Clara said with feeling. Her words were inappropriate for so new an acquaintance, but their shared experience made it feel as if they were a lot more familiar than would appear to anyone else.

  Edmund smiled at Clara, enjoying seeing the curiosity on her face. “Don’t fret, Miss Baker; we were all young once, you know,” he said, bowing once more to her curtsey before leaving the room.

  Clara sat down once the door had closed behind her and picked up the sewing she had cast aside as soon as their visitor had been announced.

  “Are you going to explain why an Earl, who has obviously met you previously but not while you’ve been in my company has brought you flowers today, or am I supposed to guess about this new acquaintance?” Milly asked trying to sound prim.

  Clara’s eyes flew to her relative, and she blushed. “Is there any point in my trying to make up a tale?” she asked woefully.

  “No, not at this time,” Milly responded. “But I think you’d better explain yourself; my thoughts are running all over the place!”

&nbs
p; Clara told Milly about the masquerade and being saved by Edmund. She left out the part about being thoroughly kissed; Milly was open-minded, but Clara did not think it prudent to acknowledge just how wanton she had actually been.

  Milly sat quietly for a few moments when Clara had stopped talking. “Are you completely disgusted with me?” Clara asked, hating the silence even though she knew Milly was not one for speaking rashly or without consideration.

  “No, but it was a great risk,” Milly finally said.

  “I know,” Clara acknowledged. “I didn’t see any alternative, but I admit to my heart sinking when his Lordship said that he could easily tell who was behind the masks. I’d hoped it wasn’t true but as soon as he walked into this room I knew he was my saviour.”

  “Strange that he should be there but not taking part in what a den of iniquity has to offer, or was he intent on ungentleman-like behaviour when he approached you?” Milly mused.

  “No!” Clara flushed. “He actually rescued me from someone else. I did wonder why he was there and queried that during our conversation, but I’m sure he was in the carriage when Charles was brought home.” Clara could not express the relief she had felt to think that he had not indulged in the pleasures offered in a place like that, trying to push away the jealous thoughts.

  “I wonder why he was in attendance then. It doesn’t sound the type of evening one would enter into unless one had mischief in mind,” Milly said, her mind as curious as her cousin’s had been.

  “I’ve no idea and, when I asked, he said I shouldn’t ask such questions,” Clara admitted.

  “And now he’s visiting us, wanting to secure dances with you.”

  “Is that such an odd request?” Clara asked teasingly.

  Milly smiled. “You know I think you are one of the best that society has to offer, so don’t go all missish on me! It just seems odd that’s all.”