How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy Read online

  And there it was—the depressing confirmation that Will had never loved her in the way she had loved him.

  “I must say, though, that I did think about that kiss many times over the years,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “I’m exceedingly fond of that memory, Evie.”

  Now it was her turn to stare incredulously at him. “Then why did you never say anything to me? Or even write, for God’s sake?”

  The roguish glint faded from his eyes. “The short answer? I was terrified of hurting you.”

  She poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “Too late.”

  His mouth twisted into a wry, almost sad smile before he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “I was a complete idiot, and I owe you a thousand abject apologies. But I’m afraid we must drop this particular topic for now, since we’re about to have company.”

  Evie had been so riveted by this momentous revision of history that she’d failed to notice the sound of cantering horses. She twisted in her seat and saw Michael and Gilbride approaching the back of the curricle.

  “Oh,” she said, disconcerted. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, I suppose.”

  Liar.

  He shook his head, muttering something like stubborn woman under his breath. While she cast about in her head for an appropriate change in topic, he took the matter out of her hands.

  “As I said, we’ll drop this particular discussion. For now.” Then his slight scowl smoothed into an easy, practiced smile. “So, my dear, tell me about this charity of yours. I must admit to being intrigued.”

  Chapter Eight

  Will never minded propping up a column in a ballroom, not if there were enough pretty girls to watch on the dance floor. Tonight, however, there was only one girl at the Duchess of Campforth’s ball who captured his interest, and that was Evie, making her way through another set with her annoyingly persistent partner, Michael Beaumont.

  He couldn’t blame Beaumont in the least since Evie was looking amazingly pretty tonight, even though the cut of her dress was modest compared to most other women there. Pale green folds of soft fabric clung to her curves, lovingly outlining her magnificent bosom and lush bottom. Her hair gleamed like a polished guinea, pulled into a simple knot on the top of her head and then allowed to cascade in streams of gold down the back of her neck. Her bow-shaped mouth curved up in an unconsciously sensual smile that had Will imagining things he had no business thinking about. Even her spectacles didn’t detract from the beauty that most men were too stupid to see.

  That so many were blind to her loveliness was partly Eden’s fault, although the twins would be aghast to even voice something they would see as the ultimate disloyalty. But there was no denying that Eden’s vivacious personality and teasing wit tended to cast Evie into the shade. The fact that Eden had no qualms about displaying her abundant physical assets in one stunning dress after another made the difference even more startling. Whereas Evie usually hid behind spectacles and modestly cut, almost matronly clothing, her twin flaunted her charms and thoroughly enjoyed the attention she so easily attracted. Most men identified Eden as markedly prettier, even though the twins were truly two peas from one pod.

  Will, however, had never shared that opinion, not even when Evie was a shy, gawky girl. Her twin might sparkle and flash but Evie quietly glowed, lit from within by a generous and loving nature. If other men couldn’t see past her shy demeanor to her true worth, they were only to be pitied.

  Beaumont, however, clearly did see past it. He was smitten with Evie, as his possessive manner both on and off the dance floor amply demonstrated. Watching the couple for the last hour or so, Will had grown increasingly irritated by Beaumont’s open displays of affection. Every time the man’s hands strayed close to Evie’s rump, or his arm casually brushed the side of her bosom, it was all Will could do not to bound onto the parquet dance floor, spin him around, and lay him flat on his back with a solid uppercut to the jaw.

  He sighed, repressing the impulse to bash his head against the marble of the column. His overblown reaction didn’t just stem from a desire to protect his old friend. Ever since that outing to the abbey ruins, when Evie’s lush form had been plastered against him during that ill-conceived carriage ride, Will had been acutely aware of why he’d walked away from her all those years ago. She posed an incalculable temptation to his self-control, and giving in to that siren call would be a disaster for both of them.

  Will knew that Evie still harbored feelings for him. She might think she wanted to marry Beaumont, but he knew otherwise. Her emotions were evident in her soft, shimmering gaze when she looked at him and in the slight tremor of her voice whenever they spoke of days gone by. Will had quickly realized that Evie was on the verge of marrying a man she didn’t love, and that his appearance on the scene had raised sudden complications. The way she’d been avoiding him for the last several days confirmed that theory.

  If only she knew how complicated the situation truly was. While, technically, he was only spying on Beaumont, Evie’s relationship with the man and her involvement at St. Margaret’s also put her under the glass. And if she ever discovered the truth, Will knew she would never forgive him.

  But there was no avoiding it, because that was why both he and Alec were here tonight—to sniff out Beaumont’s friends and potential allies. Some among the wealthy and powerful always sought profit from chaos, and might be willing to provide Beaumont with funds to support his cause. That Beaumont was strident in that cause was no longer in doubt, as they’d easily discovered by shadowing him the past week. The young man wrote and published inflammatory pamphlets about Catholic emancipation and attended intellectual salons where the topics of conversation skated close to treason. While Beaumont’s passionate outpourings might simply reflect an earnest and rather naïve worldview, he could easily be involved in something far more sinister.

  A sardonic voice broke into his unpleasant reverie.

  “Good Lord, you look ready to rip out the young pup’s throat, and I have a notion it’s not because of his politics.”

  Will pushed away from the column, scowling at the smirk on Alec’s face. “It’s about time you showed up. I’ve been trailing around after Beaumont and his friends for the last hour, trying not to look like a lunatic. The last time I dodged behind a potted palm our hostess looked ready to have me carted off to Bedlam.” He was joking, of course, since his skills at discreet surveillance were as good as they’d ever been—despite the distractions Evie posed.

  Alec, resplendent in his regimentals, cast a quick glance around them.

  “No one is listening,” Will said dryly. “You know I haven’t lost my touch.”

  His cousin shrugged. “Can’t be too careful, not with the cannonball this bloody assignment is turning out to be.” His gaze fixed on Beaumont and Evie, just coming off the dance floor on the other side of the massive ballroom. “I spent some time with Beaumont last week. While you were capering about with Miss Evelyn, I was practically paying court to the fellow. God only knows what he must think of me.”

  “That you’re an ardent philanthropist, no doubt. And, by the way, I was hardly capering with Evie. Except for that day in the ruins, she’s treated me like I’m a leper, bells and all.”

  Alec folded his arms across his chest and smiled, conveying the appearance of a man engaged in casual conversation. He liked to give the impression that he was a genial and not very bright giant, but Will knew he had his eye on Beaumont, Evie, and probably twenty other people in the room at the same time. “I noticed that. What did you do to rattle the poor girl?”

  “I’m not sure,” Will said with a casual shrug. It was a lie, but Alec didn’t need the gory details. “I suppose she hasn’t yet forgiven me for abandoning her, as she put it.”

  “And yet you two seemed quite chummy in the carriage.”

  “I know it’s difficult, but try not to be an idiot,” Will replied in a tone of false sympathy.

  Alec’s laughing gray eyes flashed back at hi
m. “Someone is certainly in a foul mood. You know what you need?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “A visit to a cozy little brothel. It’s been much too long since you’ve had a good shagging.”

  “I think not, but feel free to carry on without me.”

  His cousin let out a soft hoot. “That’s what I thought. You’re still keen on the girl, aren’t you?”

  Will narrowed his eyes in warning. “I suggest we stick to business. We haven’t had much chance to speak the last few days, since you’ve been busy with other things.”

  Before answering, Alec took the time to give a pair of pretty girls strolling by a flourishing bow. They both giggled, flirting behind their fans, before gliding away.

  “I’m sorry, old son,” Alec finally said in a vague manner. “What were we talking about?”

  “Never mind.” Will knew Alec had been dealing with matters relating to his grandfather’s estate in Scotland, a topic his cousin was never keen to discuss. “Let’s get back to Beaumont. What do you think of him?”

  Alec shook his head. “The man’s a living saint, as far as I can tell, and he’s entirely devoted to his blasted charity. He nattered on about it for hours and certainly didn’t seem reluctant to share information. I thought I might have to shoot myself to escape the endless parade of detail.”

  “It stands to reason since Beaumont is so devoted to helping the Irish poor. And why not plan sedition at the same time? The charity could be a good cover.”

  Alec nodded, frowning slightly. “True, but he struck me as full of honest enthusiasm more than anything else.”

  “Did he bring up the issue of conditions in Ireland, or Catholic emancipation?”

  “Only in passing. He was more concerned with extracting money from me for the Hibernian Benevolent Association— the charity connected to St. Margaret’s Parish. He said they stand in need of new patrons.”

  Will once more propped his shoulders against the pillar, giving his friend an evil grin. “And was he successful in his efforts?” When Alec glared at him, he laughed. “You’re such a soft touch.”

  His cousin was generous to a fault, always emptying his pockets to beggars, crossing boys, downtrodden prostitutes, and anyone else who needed help.

  “I thought it would help me get through the front door,” Alec answered defensively. “If I’m a patron I have a damn good reason to visit the place.”

  “Well done. I persuaded Evie to show me around St. Margaret’s, too. I intend to make arrangements for that visit as soon as I can get her to speak to me.”

  Alec’s only reply was a distracted grunt. Will followed his cousin’s gaze to a shallow window alcove framed with blue velvet drapes, where Evie and Beaumont chatted with Eden and a trio of her ever-present swains.

  He flicked an interested glance at Alec. “What do you think of Evie’s sister? You spent time with her last week, too.”

  “Only because I had to run interference to keep her away from you and Miss Whitney,” Alec said in a disgruntled tone.

  “Yes, and I thank you for your help. Eden didn’t seem all that keen on your company.”

  Alec let out a grudging laugh. “She thinks I’m a complete bore, what with me prosing on about charities and whatnot.”

  “Not to mention your loyal son of the Highlands routine. That seemed to put her off too.”

  “Pity. She’s a bonny lass and that’s a fact. But at this point I suspect she’d rather shave her head than hold another conversation with me. My little act apparently worked too well.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “The sacrifices I make for Crown and country.”

  “Poor you,” Will said. “But despite your trepidation, I think it best we spend some time visiting with the ladies and Mr. Beaumont. It will afford you the opportunity to find out just how much Eden dislikes you.”

  “Won’t that be a lark,” Alec replied sardonically.

  An unexpected touch on Will’s shoulder had him spinning around, instinctively starting to assume a defensive stance. When he saw who stood behind him, he winced.

  “Stand down, Wolf, you’re not in the Peninsula,” Aden St. George said, trying not to laugh. “The only danger you face in this ballroom is from matchmaking mammas or rich widows on the prowl.”

  Will shot a glance at Alec, relieved to see he also regarded their newly arrived companion with a slightly embarrassed demeanor. He obviously hadn’t noticed Aden sneaking up on them, either, though Aden was almost as tall and brawny as Alec.

  Aden St. George had been one of England’s most talented and lethal spies in the long war against the French, and the man chosen to be Dominic Hunter’s replacement as Head of Section. He was also their cousin, and a by-blow of the Prince Regent himself.

  Will shook Aden’s hand. “I suggest you not sneak up on me again, or you might find yourself with an injury in a most unwelcome part of your anatomy.”

  Aden laughed. “My wife would have something to say about that. You cross her at your peril, I assure you.”

  Alec clapped Aden hard on the back, managing to jolt their big-framed cousin slightly forward. “We heard you’d gotten yourself leg-shackled. To the sister of the Earl of Blake, was it not?”

  Aden’s grin was so sheepishly happy it made Will blink. His cousin had always been a grim, quiet man who avoided personal relationships. Apparently, the new Mrs. St. George had effected quite a change.

  “Yes, Lady Vivien Shaw and I were married last fall. You’ll have to stop by our town house in Cadogan Square and make her acquaintance.”

  Alec raised his dark eyebrows in pointed mockery. “You mean she lets you go out without an escort? Why the devil would she trust a crafty bugger like you to roam around town on his own?”

  “The appropriate question is why would I let her roam around on her own,” Aden replied. “She’s more likely than me to get into trouble. But Vivien is now in the family way, and not feeling up to an evening in an overheated ballroom.”

  After the appropriate congratulations were exchanged, with Alec again pounding Aden on the back, Will cocked an enquiring eyebrow. “We’re happy to see you, but why are you here tonight? Swanning around a ton ballroom is hardly your style.”

  “Only duty could force me to endure such a grim task,” Aden replied. “The Duke of York, however, thought this would be a good opportunity for us to meet without drawing undue attention. He’s waiting for us in the duchess’s study, so we can have a private conversation before he comes upstairs to the ball.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Alec muttered, grimacing.

  Will agreed with the sentiment, since they had yet garnered little useful information to report. He’d met with Dominic yesterday to communicate their progress and apprise him of their plans to visit St. Margaret’s as soon as possible, but Will’s father clearly wanted to hear about their progress—or lack thereof—directly.

  Aden gave a wordless shrug that perfectly conveyed his sympathy. None of the cousins had particularly comfortable relationships with their sires, and reporting to one of them made it that much trickier.

  “Give it a few minutes,” Aden said, “then join us in the study.” He slipped away into the crowd, moving discreetly for a man his size.

  “The bonny lassies will have to wait, I suppose,” Alec said in a morose voice.

  “We can only hope they’ll refrain from planning any additional conspiracies in our absence.” Will watched Evie as she shared a laugh with her sister. It was impossible to believe that she was involved in anything nefarious.

  He and Alec strolled to the wide doorway leading from the ballroom to the upstairs landing of the mansion. Several people called out greetings or tried to engage them in conversation—in Alec’s case, mostly women—but they made their excuses until they found themselves out in the hall.

  A liveried footman waited for them at the top of the stairs. “This way, if you please,” he said with a bow.

  He preceded them down the stairs and toward the back o
f the house, ushering them to a door where Aden waited for them. Their cousin led them in.

  The study was a handsome, oak-paneled room with bow windows that faced out into the duchess’ famous rose garden. At this time of night, the windows only reflected the light from several branches of candles, a few lamps on reading tables, and the wavering image of the man sitting in a leather club chair in front of the fireplace, drinking a brandy.

  “Good evening, sir,” William said to his father.

  The three cousins bowed to the duke.

  “St. George, have a seat.” York waved a vague hand at the chair next to him. “I’d tell you lads to fetch yourselves a brandy, but there’s no point shilly-shallying down here. The fewer who know we’re meeting, the better.”

  “Yes, sir,” Will took the chaise opposite his father. Alec, who obviously preferred standing, moved behind the chaise to take up a position behind Will. Whether to cover his back or hide behind him remained an open question.

  His father launched into it without fanfare. “I understand from Dominic that you’ve made very little progress.” His thick brows pulled into a beetling scowl. “I trust neither of you needs me to point out the urgency of the situation.”

  If Will had been standing, he would have been forced to repress the impulse to shuffle his feet. A slight noise behind him suggested that Alec was doing just that.

  As for Aden, the bastard lifted a mocking eyebrow but kept his mouth shut.

  “No, sir, you don’t,” Will said. “And although Alasdair and I hoped to be further along in our investigation, we’ve made some progress.”

  The duke looked regally down his long nose. “Are you suggesting that Dominic mischaracterized your report?”

  Will managed to hold in a weary sigh—barely. “Not at all, sir.”

  “Then it is I who misunderstand?” His father’s eyebrows would have disappeared into his hair, if he still had any.

  “Indeed no, and I would never suggest such a thing, Your Highness,” Will said, throttling back his frustration. There was no denying his father was a resourceful and accomplished commander, but like many men in power, he was often impatient and quick to judgment.