The Secret Heart, page 12
Intrigued, for some reason, she glanced once over her shoulder. Then she was at Millie’s chamber. Entering, she found Prince was not there, but the shawl lay on the bed as Millie had told her. Snatching it up, she went next to her own room and put the shawl Millie had given her around her chilly shoulders.
Although she dawdled a little on the stairs as she returned, Torbridge did not emerge to speak to her. She could only enter the drawing room and present Millie with her shawl. By then, tea was being served, and the guests were moving around a little more. Jack Hill came to speak to her, as did a couple of other gentlemen, and Mrs. Bradwell. But Torbridge did not.
She looked around for him when it was time to retire, but once more, he was deep in conversation with friends and did not appear to notice her. There was nothing she could do but follow Millie upstairs, wish her and Sir George good night, and go to her chamber.
The lamp had been lit and the curtains drawn. Lily went to the window, wondering if she would see Torbridge below, waiting for her. There was no sign of him, and it seemed to be raining again, so she let the curtain fall back.
A knock sounded at the door, which made her heart leap. But it was only Prince offering to unlace her gown. When Prince had left, she returned to the window seat and sat there waiting for some time.
Then, with a slightly annoyed sigh, she slid out of her clothes, donned the night rail also given her by Millie, and was about to blow out the lamp when a faint scratch sounded at the door.
She froze, staring at the door, remembering for some reason, that Torbridge had been burgled. He had not seemed to believe it was connected with Hill’s case in particular, but suddenly Lily was not so sure. She looked around wildly for a weapon and spied the washing jug. It was too beautiful to break but…
She was already halfway across the room to it when the door began to open. She sprinted toward the jug, keeping her frantic gaze on the door. She snatched up the jug and froze again.
Lord Torbridge stood there, gazing from her to the jug and back.
Quietly, he closed the door.
Lily set the jug back on the washstand.
“Thank God you didn’t throw it. There would have been a shocking clatter, and we would both have been undone.”
“I wish I had thrown it,” she hissed. “You should have warned when and where.”
He walked toward her, and her stomach twisted with wicked excitement. But he merely snatched up the dressing gown at the foot of the bed and threw it to her.
She flushed, for the nightrail was one of Millie’s and made of very fine lawn that left little to the imagination.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, twisting the dressing gown in suddenly clumsy hands to get it the right way around.
“Don’t apologize,” he said with strange fervor. Impatiently, he closed the distance between them and snatched back the dressing gown, shaking it out and holding it for her to slide her arms into it. His fingers did not quite touch her, but she felt his heat behind her as though she wore nothing. Hastily, she dragged the robe around her and swung back to face him.
He was too close, but she would not step back. She wasn’t sure she could.
A quick frown tugged at his brow. “Are you quite well, Lily?”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “Are you? Did you get your study cleared up?”
His lips twitched. “Yes, I did,” he said gravely.
“What of those men?”
“I thought they were what you meant.”
Laughter caught her unawares. “No, you didn’t. Did they tell you anything useful?”
“I’m not sure.” Surprising her again, he moved away and dropped onto the floor in front of the fire, sitting with his back against the nearest chair. He looked almost like the boys who would come occasionally to the inn in winter, hoping for warmth and cake. “They are only hired bullies, but they had done work for the same man before.”
“What man?” she asked eagerly, going to join him.
“They don’t know his name, of course, but they called him a gentleman.”
She knelt beside him with some excitement. “Not Jack Hill?”
“No, this fellow is dark, not fair. But he could certainly be connected to Hill. I’m assuming he is the means by which messages and money are exchanged.”
“Then Jack does not travel to the ports because this fellow does it for him?”
Torbridge nodded. “I think so.”
“Is he French?” she asked.
“They say not. Assure me they would not work for Frenchmen. But a Frenchman may sound English as easily as an Englishman may sound French.”
“Either way, you need to find this man,” Lily said.
“I do. And I’m hoping Hill will lead me to him. You seem to have his attention, which places you beautifully.”
Somewhere at the back of her mind, she was aware he did not speak with undiluted pleasure, but her mind was still on the previous topic.
“This English gentleman,” she said, frowning, “if that is what he is. Does he then know who you are and what you do? Did he send his ruffians for anything in particular? Were they meant to harm you?”
“I can’t imagine they were instructed to treat me with kid gloves, but I don’t believe they were meant to find me there at all. They chose a time when I was believed to be from home. Unfortunately, I came back early. But you are correct. I have to assume the French now know who I am, or at least what my connections are.”
“It doesn’t seem to upset you as much as it did.”
He met her gaze. “Why, no, it doesn’t. You are a lady of much wisdom.”
“I’m not a lady at all.”
“I don’t think I believe that.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, so returned to the important point. “Did you let them go?”
“Eventually. They’ll be followed.”
“That won’t stop them talking about whatever they found in your house.”
“My dear, they didn’t find anything in my house for the simple reason there was nothing for them to find. I don’t write anything down.”
She closed her mouth. “But other people must report to you. You must surely send messages…”
“Reports are read and passed on or destroyed immediately. The same with messages.”
“You really are secretive, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I knew the day would come when this would happen.”
“Then they don’t know about me?”
“I thought about that. They wouldn’t have been able to see you that night, and they would hardly be in a position to recognize your voice. Was that why you were trying to throw the water jug at me?”
“It crossed my mind,” she said with dignity.
He took her hand. “I’m sorry. I should not be putting you in such a position. I will never let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not afraid,” she insisted.
He smiled and gazed down at her hand for a moment. His thumb caressed her fingers, sparking little tingles of delight. Abruptly, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing, he released her.
“Hill,” he said hastily. “Do you think he trusts you?”
“I think he likes me. And he told me he likes gambling, that he has a few debts. Oh, and when he is on leave, as now, he takes urgent documents away with him to work on. He has done so this week.”
Torbridge nodded. “Did he say where he works on these things? Which room?”
“No, but I can probably find out.”
“Not unless the subject comes up. It would be an odd thing to ask him, but it will be easy enough to find out.”
“Yes, but… How can you be sure any of these documents will have information he’s compelled to pass on? He cannot send them everything that crosses his desk.”
“I am sure.”
Something in his tone made her peer into his eyes. “I should have known. You’ve planted a document for him to find.”
“A false document,” he admitted reluctantly. “Just in case we fail, and it gets through to Paris. Lily, does he give you any sense of unhappiness with his lot? Even of sympathy for the French cause? Anything that might explain these betrayals?”
Lily shook her head. “Not really. Though as we said, he does gamble and tends to lose a great deal. You must know that already. And it strikes me that Pennington, with this place to maintain, will not be happy to keep paying his debts. I suppose that is a motive but…”
“But what?”
“I still don’t see him as a traitor.”
Torbridge looked into the dying embers of the fire. “You like him?”
She considered. “A little, yes. More than his brother, at any rate.” Thoughts of Pennington brought Millie to mind, and she frowned. “May I ask you something about Millie?”
“You would probably be better asking Millie.”
“I did. She told me about losing her baby. She grieves for him still.”
“I know.”
“Did the doctors give any reason, any sign that she could not have more children?”
“No, I don’t believe so. Though the birth may have damaged her. She was very ill afterward. Masterton feared he had lost them both. And, certainly, there have been no more pregnancies.”
There was a good reason for this lack, but it was not Lily’s secret to tell. She stuck to her point. “But the doctors never forbade it? Never said it could not happen?”
“Not that I ever heard. Lily, what are you about?”
“Nothing. I do not like the distance between Millie and Sir George. It makes them both unhappy. You know that.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But it’s a rule of mine never to interfere between a man and his wife.” He considered. “Unless it’s a matter of life and death. In any other situation, one is liable only to make matters worse. In any case, I have thought them closer in recent…”
He broke off, staring at her. A smile flickered over his face. “I knew it was you rather than the Hart.”
“I think buildings and the people who live in them soak each other up. Except your house,” she added and then bit her lip, for she hadn’t meant to say that.
“My parents’ house,” he corrected. “I own a small hunting lodge in Leicestershire.” He rose to his feet. “I should go. I’ll come again tomorrow night if we need to talk privately. Or we can talk during the day. There will be plenty of opportunity, I imagine.”
She jumped up and followed him, even caught his arm when it seemed he would rush off. “My lord.”
He turned at once. “Cousin.”
She searched his face. “Have I offended you?”
“How could you have?”
“I implied your family home was cold and inhuman.”
“You should come to Hayleigh.”
“You have no home,” she said, making the discovery at last.
“Who needs a home?” he retorted, “When one has the Hart Inn to visit?”
“You do.”
“Nonsense,” Torbridge said firmly as if to prove it, he swooped and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Good night, Lily.”
“Good night,” she whispered and, before he could move away, she daringly kissed him back.
With a low groan, he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her mouth beneath his. Pressed close to his body, she felt every hard, thrilling inch of him. She kissed him back, welcoming his tongue with her own. Sighing with pleasure, she threw her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the moment.
As did he, and when their lips parted for the sake of breathing, he kissed her again almost immediately. His body moved, caressing hers. His hand stroked her hair, brushing out the pins and winding the tresses around his hand.
This was bliss, what she had waited her whole life for…
He tore his mouth free, pressing his rough cheek to hers. “I have to stop kissing you,” he said shakily.
“Why?” she demanded. “Because I am not of your class, your world?”
His uneven breath rushed out. “On the contrary, you seem to be a very large part of my world, and damnably at home there.”
“Damnably?” she repeated, stricken.
He groaned. “Pay no attention to my ramblings. I should not be doing this. I should not be hurting us like this.”
She gazed up at him, at his hot and clouded eyes, at the texture of his firm, sensual lips. “Do I look hurt? You don’t.”
“Don’t I? But I am hurting so very much…” His mouth came down on hers once more, and she kissed him with every passion she had, as though she was fighting for him. Perhaps she was.
He let her go abruptly. “Good night, Lily.” And in a flurry of air and the silently closing door, he was gone.
Chapter Twelve
Lily slipped out into the garden before breakfast, called by the blessedly fresh scents and sounds of the countryside. There might not have been wailing seagulls here, and the air lacked the salty tang of the sea, but still, it reminded her of home.
Inevitably, Lord Torbridge was on her mind as she strolled alone among the formal gardens. Something was happening between them. Something was changing. The feeling warmed and excited her. Though she had no idea where it would lead, she could not prevent the hope surging within her. Hope of what was a different matter. Any closer relationship between them was still not possible.
Yes, it is. She had been brought up to recognize that marriage to a good man, be he ever so poor, was infinitely preferable to an irregular liaison with a wealthy gentleman. The latter might be handsome and charming and shower a girl with gifts. But he would ultimately abandon her.
She wished Torbridge was merely the owner of Underton, Mr. Bunton’s farm.
But then, he would not have been Torbridge.
Determinedly, she pushed aside all thought of the future, all fantasy. For now, the present was wonderful, growing closer to him, knowing him better with each passing day. She would hold onto that and do her best to complete the tasks he asked of her. What would be, would be.
Children’s distant laughter interrupted her reverie. Intrigued, she followed the sounds until she discovered two children of about eight or nine years old, playing a game of tag with a toddling infant who looked very like the Barham’s eldest. The children were watched indulgently by a pair of nurses, one of whom was definitely the Barham nurse she had seen yesterday.
Both women curtseyed to her and wished her good morning while the Honorable Jenny Barham swerved away from her quarries to investigate the newcomer.
She grinned at Lily. “Cuz.”
Lily smiled back. “Cousin Lily, that’s right! And who are your friends?”
“Mr. Peter and Miss Harriet Hill,” the previously unknown nurse said with pride. “Lord Pennington’s children, you know.”
“Goodness!” Lily gazed at the children, even more indignant with their father for his pursuit of Lily. “I didn’t even know he was married.”
“Widowed,” the nurse whispered.
Something pulled at her mind, only to vanish out of reach as Ella and Lord Torbridge appeared around a nearby hedge and greeted her cheerfully.
Lily’s stomach dived as she vividly remembered Torbridge’s good night. But he wore his amiable, veiled face and merely smiled vaguely at her.
“Good morning, Cousin Lily! Breakfast is calling,” he said and scooped up his niece, who squealed with delight. The other children stood, watching quietly, although they smiled when Lily waved to them. Two more children neglected by parents and brought up by servants. She wondered if Torbridge or his siblings noticed, or if they merely accepted this was how things were done.
*
After breakfast, the morning’s entertainment was a ride through the woods. Lily accompanied Millie. To her annoyance, Sir George did not, but Torbridge was there, giving far too much attention, in Lily’s view, to a rather charming widow.
Lord Pennington, who led the expedition, was both amusing and knowledgeable, and Lily had hopes that he had taken Torbridge’s words at the musical soiree to heart. He had been merely polite to Millie the previous evening, and there had been no flirting that Lily had seen. But then, Millie had been occupied with her own emotional problems, and Sir George had been there to support her. Now, Pennington still played the perfect gentleman, and Lily felt relaxed enough to at least appreciate the woodland scenery and the sunlight dappling between the trees.
Jack Hill rode beside Lily for much of the way, although he did not monopolize her, and other young gentlemen seemed to find her company pleasant. Cynically, she wondered how pleasant they would find her if they didn’t imagine Lord Torbridge would give her a dowry. Jack Hill himself was hardly indifferent to the incentive.
“And so, do you allow yourself liberty again this afternoon?” Lily asked him as they returned to the Pennington Place stables. “Or will you be dutiful?”
“Dutiful,” Jack said ruefully. “At least for a couple of hours. And once that is done, I should have tomorrow to myself before the ball. Are you looking forward to it?”
“Immensely,” she assured him.
“Remember, I have asked for two waltzes!”
“But I have only granted you one.”
He laughed and dismounted, letting the waiting stable lad take the reins from him while he turned to help Lily. He helped her down with a light, respectful hold, but as he moved aside, she saw his brother performing the same service for Millie.
Perhaps it would not have been noticeable to anyone less watchful for intimacy between them, but it was clear to Lily that that he held Millie too tightly, that he let her slip to the ground too slowly, and that his fingers splayed upward from her waist, sliding over her breast as she landed on the ground. Millie’s indignant glare was equally clear, and she spun away from him at once, hurrying back toward the house alone.
So much for the perfect gentleman. And he saw that he had overplayed his hand, for he started after her at once, with only a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t observed too closely. As usual, he did not even see Lily, who moved quickly, staggering into his path with an exclamation and clutching at her ankle.
