A Husband's Wicked Ways (30 page)

Aurelia jumped up at once, only too glad for the opportunity to get away from such proximity to Don
Antonio. “No, of course not. Give Nell my love, and tell her I’ll see her this afternoon. I’ll fetch Franny myself.”

“Of course.” Alex kissed her on both cheeks, turned, and bowed to the Spaniard, who remained seated on the sofa. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Don Antonio. Shall I see you at White’s perhaps?”

“Lord Lessingham has been good enough to put my name up at White’s and Watier’s,” Don Antonio said with a thin smile. “I daresay we shall meet at the tables. I look forward to it, Prince Prokov.”

Greville said, “Let me walk you to the door, Prokov.” He moved ahead, opened the drawing room door, and ushered his guest into the hall, closing the door firmly behind them.

“Thank you.” Alex glanced back at the closed door. “I didn’t get the impression that Aurelia cared over much for Vasquez.”

Greville’s dark gray eyes showed a glimmer of amusement. “Really? I understood from her that she finds him pleasant company.” His lips quirked in a half smile. “Of course, you’ve known her rather longer than I.”

“But perhaps not as well,” Alex returned, holding Greville’s gaze.

“No. Perhaps not. Aurelia and I understand each other very well.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Alex gave a brief nod and offered his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope to return it in Cavendish Square soon.”

“I look forward to it. And I look forward to meeting your wife.” They both smiled the correct smiles as the pleasantries were pronounced and hands were shaken.

Greville opened the front door and held it wide. Alex stepped through it. Then he turned. “Aurelia is very precious to her friends, Falconer.”

“She is also very precious to her husband, Prokov.” Greville gave him a benign smile that was returned in kind, then stepped back and closed the door.

He had known Frederick’s widow would have friends, but he hadn’t expected the friendships to be quite so intense and protective. And he had certainly failed to anticipate that they would extend to the husbands of her friends, which, in the circumstances, given these particular men, could be either extremely annoying or very useful. He’d have to come to a decision on which way the dice fell on that one sooner rather than later.

He stood in the hall, gazing thoughtfully at the closed drawing room door. Then he turned and made his way to the library. He would leave Aurelia to her work with the Spaniard. She could come to no harm in her own drawing room, with Lyra at her side. And Greville had no intention of going anywhere out of the house until Don Antonio Vasquez had departed.

Maybe she would get a clue to his plans, maybe something would be said that would give Greville an inkling about the trap Vasquez was going to spring. If all else failed, if Aurelia became close to the Spaniard,
she would be able to set the trap that would give Greville his chance to eliminate El Demonio once and for all.

In the drawing room, Aurelia refilled her guest’s glass and offered him a honey cake. “I did so enjoy Countess Lessingham’s soiree.” She popped a cake into her own mouth with a little moue of pleasure. “And I do so adore sweetmeats.”

“The ladies do in general,” he said, taking a savory tartlet for himself.

“Oh, yes, a sweet tooth is our besetting sin,” she tittered.

“I’m sure you have others,” he said with a suggestive twitch of his eyebrow.

Aurelia dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin. “I daresay, sir. Are you free of them?”

He shook his head. “No, alas. I have many.”

“Dare I ask what they are?” She leaned into him a little.

He put his hand on her knee. “I fear they’re too many to list.” He increased the pressure of his hand for a moment, then withdrew it. “But I love to ride in the park, Lady Falconer. Could I persuade you to join me one afternoon?”

“How lovely, yes, I should be delighted, Don Antonio.” Aurelia tried to disguise her relief that he had moved a little away from her. She had never been good
at flirting, it always made her want to laugh at the most inconvenient moments, but for some reason Don Antonio frightened her to her marrow, and this game was so deadly serious that she had not the slightest urge to laugh.

He rose to his feet. “Shall we say tomorrow afternoon, then? I will call for you at five o’clock.”

“I look forward to it, sir.” She rose and led the way to the door, Lyra padding quietly beside her. “Let me show you out. Our butler is very old and his substitute is very young, as I daresay you noticed. Sometimes it’s easier to do things for oneself.”

“It would be considered very strange in my country, but when in Rome, as they say.” He laughed lightly.

“Indeed,” she agreed, opening the door for him and giving him her hand.

He kissed it, murmured, “Until tomorrow, my lady.”

“Tomorrow.” She managed to wait until he was halfway down the steps to the street before she closed the door. Then she shuddered, feeling as if a slug had crawled down her back leaving a slimy trail. She wondered for an instant if she was out of her depth, then put the doubt from her. Greville was her protector. She had nothing to fear.

Lyra pushed her nose into her hand and Aurelia tugged her ears gently.

She had nothing to fear.

H
ARRY
B
ONHAM WAS AT
home when Alex arrived at Mount Street. He came out of the library at the familiar voice in the hall.

“Prokov, we were expecting to see you any day.” Harry greeted him with genuine pleasure. “How are Livia and the baby?”

“Doing well…
very
well, in fact.” Alex shook Harry’s hand vigorously. “I’ll be escorting them to town in two weeks in plenty of time for Cornelia’s ball.”

“Cornelia’s not at home at present, some charity-visiting as I understand it. She’ll be so cross to have missed you, but come into the library.” He led the way into his bookroom. “Sit down.” Harry gestured to a deep leather armchair beside the grate where a small fire burned. “Sherry?”

“Please.” Alex sat down. “I’ve just come from South Audley Street.”

“Ah.” Harry handed him a glass, then took the oppo
site chair with his own glass. “Did you meet Falconer?”

“Yes, he came in while I was visiting with Aurelia. She’s looking well.”

Harry nodded. “Marriage seems to suit her.” He sipped his sherry. “Let’s not beat about the bush, Prokov. What were your impressions of the colonel?”

Alex didn’t answer directly, asking instead, “Have you ever worked with him?”

Harry shook his head. “Different fields. I tend to be deskbound as you know. Falconer is a field agent. One of the best ever according to my chief…and believe me that’s high praise coming from that quarter.”

“Is he working now?” Alex asked directly.

Harry shrugged. “I believe so, but he won’t confirm it and neither will Simon Grant. But I was asked to ease him back into London society if he needed it. A couple of invitations, a few introductions, that kind of thing. But he really didn’t need my help. It took all of a week and the man had established himself comfortably. And then, of course, he married Aurelia, which opened a whole other circle for him.”

Alex nodded, regarding Harry shrewdly. “How did that happen?”

“No one is entirely sure. Apparently they met in Bristol while Aurelia was at the bedside of some ailing relative. They took to each other, decided marriage would suit both of them, and got on with it.”

“A marriage of convenience, do you think?”

“No, not at all. According to Cornelia, it’s a marriage of wild, impetuous passion. So much so that they eloped overnight, almost as soon as the engagement was made public. And I’ve never seen anything to disagree with such an interpretation. Aurelia seems happy, and she’s certainly happy to have her own establishment in town.” Harry sipped his sherry again. “Did you not think she seemed happy?”

“Certainly. Rather more than that, in fact.” Alex held up his sherry glass to the light, tilting it to catch the amber glow in the liquid. “There was a Spaniard there, a Don Antonio Vasquez. Mean anything to you?”

Harry shook his head. “Émigrés from the courts of Europe are in plentiful supply these days as Bonaparte knocks kings off their thrones with depressing regularity.” Harry looked shrewdly at his visitor. “Why don’t you come clean, Alex, and tell me what you’re getting at?”

“It was just a feeling.” Alex crossed one booted leg over the other. The tassels on his highly polished Hessians swished against the leather as he swung his foot idly. “A sense if you like that Aurelia and Falconer were working in concert. Something to do with the Spaniard.”

“I haven’t met the Spaniard, so I can’t speak to that,” Harry said thoughtfully. “But I, too, have had a sense once in a while that in public there’s something more going on than a simple marital outing. Certain looks they exchanged, and certain mannerisms and gestures that seemed new to Aurelia.”

“Exactly. I had the same impression this morning. But could the man actually be using Aurelia, Harry? It beggars belief.”

“Does it?” Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “I doubt he’s using her without her consent. And Aurelia is hardly a naïf. She won’t be doing anything she doesn’t want to do. Or at least, that’s Cornelia’s firm conviction, and she knows Aurelia better than anyone, apart from Livia.”

“So you’ve discussed this with Cornelia?”

“En passant. If Falconer’s working undercover as we suspect, then it’s not for us to probe, or even speculate. I’ve hinted several times, but he always freezes me off with a polite but utterly impermeable smile, and just a faint hint of menace.”

Alex nodded grimly. “I noticed. So what do we do?”

“Nothing, of course.” Harry refilled their glasses. “If Aurelia’s working with him, then he’ll have trained her himself and he wouldn’t use her if he thought she wasn’t up to it. I’ll also lay odds he’s safeguarding her with that wolfhound.”

“We could at least make certain he knows Aurelia’s friends are looking out for her.”

Harry laughed a little. “Oh, I believe he’s all too aware of that, Alex. I’ve even offered my own services somewhat obliquely. Politely declined, I might add, but he knows the offer stands.”

“Then I suppose that must be—”

Alex broke off as the door flew open and Cornelia came in, the skirts of her russet riding habit whirling
around her with the energy of her step. “Alex, Hector said you were here.” She came forward hands outstretched in welcome.

He embraced her warmly, then sneezed as the black plume of her hat tickled his nose.

She laughed and unpinned the hat, tossing it onto the console table by the door. “How’s Liv? Tell me all the news.”

“You can read it in her own words.” Alex gave her a fat packet similar to the one he’d given Aurelia, then produced the miniature of his son. Cornelia laughed when Alex told them that the twins had seen both Livia and himself in the baby’s portrait.

“Come to dinner tonight,” Cornelia said as Alex prepared to take his leave. “I’ll make sure Ellie and Greville come, too.”

Alex thanked her and promised to be there, then he said casually, “So, you approve of Aurelia’s husband?”

“Of course,” Cornelia said simply. “Aurelia does, so of course I do.” She frowned at him. “Did Liv tell you to ask me directly?”

“Yes,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “She said she couldn’t be certain from your letters. They seemed a little ambiguous, but that if I asked a straight question, then you would give me a straight answer.”

“And so I have. But I will admit that he’s a little difficult to know. I think he keeps his real self well hidden. However, Ellie seems to understand him, and that’s all that really matters.” Cornelia gave him a half smile. “We
didn’t really know you all that well for a long time, Alex, but we followed Liv’s lead.”

He acknowledged the hit with a faint smile and a nod. “Until this evening then.”

When Don Antonio left her, Aurelia went in search of her husband. She found him in the library as she expected.

“Our friend has left,” Greville said as she came in. “I heard the front door.”

“Yes, thank goodness.” She crossed her arms over her breast, clasping her elbows. “He makes my flesh creep, Greville.”

“I’m not surprised.” He got up and came over to her. “Not to put too fine a point upon it, he’s a deeply unpleasant man.” Greville tilted her chin and looked closely into her eyes. “He frightens you.” It was a plain statement.

“A little.”

“It’s good that he does.” Greville ran a thumb over her mouth, his eyes grave. “It means you won’t take any chances. And, trust me, my dear, you cannot afford to drop your guard with Vasquez for one moment.”

Aurelia shivered a little. “It’s his eyes. There’s nothing there, nothing behind them.”

“He works in espionage. It’s the nature of the beast,” Greville said as if it was an obvious point. “Did you make any arrangements to meet?”

He didn’t appear to connect that statement with
himself, Aurelia reflected, wondering whether to point it out. Instead, she answered his question. “Yes, tomorrow afternoon. To ride in the park.”

He frowned. “Your new coachman will accompany you. He’ll keep a discreet distance, but he won’t let you out of his sight.”

“There’ll be plenty of people around.”

“Nevertheless,” he said quietly, turning to the decanters on the sideboard.

Aurelia felt a little nugget of warm reassurance. “What do you want me to get out of him?”

“What we’ve discussed. Get him to talk…about the people he associates with, both English and Spanish. I need to find out what he’s up to. If he’s setting up a network, we need to know whom he’s recruiting, and if he’s interested in any particular individual, I need to find that out. So I want you to draw him in…ensure that he’s a frequent visitor here, find out who his friends are, whom he’s cultivating. Establish a flirtatious friendship with him, and we’ll see where it leads.”

His back was to her and she didn’t see the grimace that crossed his countenance. The last thing he wanted to imagine, let alone encourage, was Aurelia flirting with Vasquez. But the closer she became to the man, the easier it would be for her partner to find a way in to set his own trap for the assassin before the assassin sprang his.

“It sounds simple.” Aurelia sat on the window seat, tugging gently on Lyra’s ears. “I just wish I didn’t find him so distasteful.”

“It’s a good thing that you do, although it will make your task harder.” He turned back to face her. “He’s considered one of the best agents in Spain.” He gave her a fleeting smile. “Which means we take him very, very seriously. You mustn’t let your guard slip for one minute.”

Why did she have the feeling that Greville wasn’t telling her everything?

Of course, she told herself, he never did tell her everything, and he was quite open about it. Information was shared only if he felt she needed to know something, and she understood that. But this felt a little different, almost as if he was being evasive. And while he’d refused to answer her questions on occasion, he had never evaded them.

Greville caught her uncertainty; it was an almost palpable current in the air between them. He came over to her, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. “Do you have any plans for the next hour that you can’t put off?”

She looked up at him and saw the gleam of desire awaken in the dark eyes. And her body stirred in response. “No,” she said, touching her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. “Unless you have something we have to do.”

“I think I do,” he murmured, drawing her tightly against him, kissing her mouth at first gently, then with increasing pressure, his tongue darting between her lips as his hands gripped her bottom, pressing her hard against him.

Aurelia closed her eyes on the red mist of arousal,
aware now only of the scent of his skin, the slightly rough texture of his chin and cheeks, the power of his body that seemed to engulf her, swallow her whole in his embrace.

He lifted her off the floor, holding her against him as he moved backwards to the door. For a second he set her on her feet, his mouth still dancing with hers, and reached behind him to turn the key. At the sound of the lock engaging, he raised his head and gazed down at her, his eyes filled with hungry passion.

“I have never had a woman who could fill me with such an intemperate need,” he murmured, one hand roughly unpinning her hair, the other still gripping her backside, pressing her to his loins. He lifted her against him again, moving backwards to the chaise beneath the window. He sat down, settling her astride his hips.

She half rose from his lap to yank up her skirt and petticoat, fumbling with the laces of her drawers as he unfastened his britches, then she lowered herself slowly onto the hard, erect shaft of pulsing flesh. She sank down, her thighs against his, feeling him buried deep within her, and bent to take his mouth with her own, glorying in the sensation of controlling the kiss, and the rhythm and speed of their movements.

Greville rested his head against the back of the chaise and followed her lead. She rose and fell upon him, never releasing his mouth as she drew his penis high inside her, then slowly released her grip, before taking him in again. Then she sat back on his thighs, her hands behind
her, balancing herself on his knees, as she lifted herself slightly and moved her sex around the very tip of his flesh in a tantalizing circle, until he moaned and pulled her down hard against him.

Aurelia laughed with the sheer joy of it. She played him like a violin, as he had so often done for her, bringing him closer and closer to the climactic notes, then easing down gently. She didn’t know why she was glorying in this sense of control, but somewhere in the back of her head lurked the knowledge that she was in control in this partnership all too infrequently.

And then he raised his hips sharply, driving up inside her, and she was lost in sensation, riding him to her own climax. He held her hips, moving with her, watching her face, loving her as with a triumphant groan of completion she fell forward, her head resting on his shoulder, and his own orgasm pumped deep within her.

Greville held her against him as the world stopped spinning. But it didn’t quite stop spinning for him. He
loved
this woman. He had never allowed himself to acknowledge anything more than a deep liking and respect. But for a moment then he had felt she completed him. That without her, he was half-finished.

Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer was rarely alarmed, and when he was, it was by something he could see and deal with. This strange, amorphous feeling was not visible, and he knew no techniques to defeat it.

He opened his eyes and she raised her head from his
shoulder. “That was good,” she said with a little sigh of satisfaction.

He held her head between his palms, running his fingers through the cascade of ringlets. “Oh, it was a lot more than that, my dear,” he murmured. “I would have described it as transcendent.”

Aurelia smiled as he drew her head down so that their mouths engaged once more. “So would I,” she whispered against his lips.

He held the kiss for a long time, relishing in the sensation of her sweetness, in his own presence, soft and now undemanding, still within her. Slowly his sense of being rudderless faded and he came back to himself. And to the realization that on this occasion he had neglected the one precaution he had always taken to prevent conception.