For Her Spy Only (Entangled Scandalous) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Th
e following day, Al
istair was waiting for her in her study just as she assumed he would be. The man was nothing if not prompt. Not to mention persistent. She’d already received notice from Mr. Bellford that he’d be by to meet her son tomorrow at three. She was relieved and thrilled that the man had finally agreed to meet with Oliver. But she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t also equally annoyed. She had sent the man no fewer than ten requests and all it had taken was one from Alistair. But that was the way things were with men.

Though he did not require her assistance with the maps, she’d already decided she would stay with him while he worked. It would ensure he stayed away from Oliver and perhaps clue her into what he was working on. She couldn’t deny her own curiosity.

She walked past the looking glass in the second floor corridor, then backed up to stand before it. She took a look at herself, then rolled her eyes at her frivolity and walked away. It mattered not what she looked like. This was a business agreement and nothing more. Besides, she knew she looked differently than she had six years ago. Her body was fuller from having Oliver, and some of the extra weight still clung to her curves. She had changed in other ways since becoming a mother. She was no longer that impulsive, carefree girl Alistair had rescued. In many ways, he knew her as no one else ever had, not simply because she’d given him her body, but because she had been free with him in a way she’d never been with anyone else.

She caught herself before she patted her hair, then she stepped into Reggie’s former study.

“Alistair,” she said. Why was it that the room felt twice as large when she had to cross it in front of him? The back of her neck warmed as if she could feel his eyes on her. But it would do no good to allow him to see his affect on her.

“Now then, do you know precisely which maps you need?” she asked once she stood behind Reggie’s old desk.

“All of them,” he said, his voice deep and sensual, which was ridiculous because nothing he had said was in the least bit sensual.

“All of them? I’m certain you can be more specific.”

“I need to see them to know precisely which ones I need. They are named, no?”

He was bound and determined to be difficult about the matter. But he’d done her a substantial favor and secured a tutor she’d been trying to contact for the better part of a year. She would have to grant him some concessions. “Yes, they are named. Very well, come this way.”

“To where, precisely?”

“The map room, of course.”

“Of course,” he said drolly.

He silently followed her down the corridor to the back of the house. Reggie’s map room had two windows, but they were always shrouded with draperies so that the maps would not fade in the sunlight. Winifred lit the lanterns and soft, gold light illuminated the room.

She still came in here on occasion, when she was missing her sweet husband, the man who had loved her and had been satisfied that she had not loved him in return. He’d been a true friend to her and she would miss him always.

For the most part, though, this room had gone untouched since Reggie had died, nearly fourteen months before. A long mahogany table stretched across one side of the room and several maps lay unrolled and held down with various glass bobs. The rest of the maps resided in a cabinet Reggie had commissioned many years before.

“We can use this table,” she said.

“We?” he asked, brows raised.

“Yes, I shall be assisting you.”

“I don’t require assistance.”

“Perhaps not, but you require me for access to these maps.” She gave him a deliberately sweet smile, which he seemed totally immune to.

It was the one thing that perplexed her most about Alistair. How could he evoke such emotions from her yet seem to feel none of his own? It was a mystery…he was a mystery.

He stepped over to the table and glanced at the maps.

“The rest are here?” he asked, indicating the cabinet behind him.

“Yes.”

He said nothing more, but merely sat and withdrew a small bound book from the inside of his coat. He opened it and read silently. Then he looked back at the maps. “No, no, and no.” He walked over to peruse the maps in the cabinet.

She watched his methodical movements. He’d unroll a map, glance over it, and either make a note in a second notebook or return the map to its previous place.

He seemed to not be bothered by her presence, nor did he attempt to include her in his work. After an hour, he set down his quill and met her gaze.

“I should like to have an affair with you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her heart thundered in her ears.

“We are well suited in the bedroom, if you recall. And we are both unattached now. You certainly have no need to be concerned of your reputation. Not that you ever were. It is logical.”

She frowned and felt the weight of her brow as it furrowed above her eyes. “I don’t believe logic plays a part in matters of the heart.”

“I am not speaking of the heart. Merely of a carnal relationship. As we had before, as you once suggested.”

He tossed her own words back at her and she winced.

“I know you still feel desire toward me. I felt that in your kiss yesterday.”

Winifred stared openly at him. He was quite serious, she knew that. Alistair was not one for jests. In fact, she wasn’t altogether certain he had a sense of humor. She ignored her body’s reaction to his shocking request. She wanted him, and the mere glance of his eyes lingering at her cleavage had her breathing short. The desire was there, and of course Alistair knew. He’d always been able to see that in her.

Finally, he nodded. “You obviously need time to consider.”

“Alistair, we cannot have an affair.”

“Of course we can. If we can pretend to be betrothed, we can have an affair.”

“It is not that simple.”

“It is actually quite simple.” He gathered his materials and stood. “I believe you know where I reside. We shall dine tonight at eight.”

That was the extent of his invitation. If she wanted something more romantic, she would never get it from him. “I shall see you out,” she said.

“I know my way out. Until tonight, Winifred.”

Did he mean to start an affair with her tonight? At his townhome? After they dined on pheasant and boiled potatoes? Gracious, having Alistair back in her life had most assuredly complicated things rather quickly.

…

Al
istair had meant to propose the affair with more finesse, but he never had been good at those sorts of things. Hell, when he and Sarah had gotten betrothed, he’d simply looked at her and said, “Our parents said we’re a good match.” And he’d left it at that. Of course their parents had been the only reason they’d married in the first place.

Now Winifred was coming to dinner. If he were a gentleman, he’d propose marriage and not a carnal affair. But he wasn’t good at marriage and he knew he could never provide the things Winifred would need. He’d never been good with people, and he suspected he’d be even worse with children, so he couldn’t offer her a new life. But he could offer her pleasure.

He found he not only craved physical touch, but
her
physical touch. An affair was the perfect solution. But that would not solve her problem with her son’s guardian. For that, Alistair would need to pay the man a visit.

Doing so should eliminate the man’s interest in Winifred. She’d assured Alistair that this guardian was only after money, and she had no interest in pursuing a relationship with him. If she didn’t want the man and he’d expressed no interest in her son outside the financials, then it was time the man was convinced his attentions were required elsewhere.

As his carriage rolled to a stop outside of Reginald Mirren’s cousin’s home, Alistair planned what he’d tell the man. He was inclined to merely threaten him, but perhaps he would start with logic and see where that led him.

He rapped on the door with his cane and waited. Several minutes later a wizened housekeeper came to the door. She looked up at him, and her thin, white brows rose. “Yes?”

“I need to see Mr. Mirren.” He handed her his calling card.

Her eyes widened. “Come in, my lord.” She led him to a tiny parlor at the front of the house. The furniture was faded but well kept. She left him, and not a minute later, his host entered the room.

“My lord,” Virgil said with an exaggerated bow. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Alistair realized instantly that what little money this bloke had, he spent entirely on clothing. His embroidered green coat hung perfectly over the man’s purple and green striped breeches. If all it would take was money…

“We have a friend in common,” Alistair said.

“Indeed? Who is it?” Virgil took a seat, but looked so ill at ease, he appeared as if he’d jump up from his chair at any moment.

“Mrs. Winifred Mirren, your cousin’s late wife.”

“Ah, sweet Winnie. She’s a delight, is she not?”

“She is to marry me. I shall see to it that you are paid handsomely for staying out of her and her son’s life. Should they require your assistance, I’m certain Winifred”—he emphasized her full Christian name—“would know how to reach you.”

“I was not aware that Winifred had another suitor.” Virgil’s features pinched. “How handsomely?”

“We can start with three thousand pounds, and if I am pleased with your absence, then perhaps you shall see more.” Alistair stood to his full height and tapped his cane on the wood floor. “But I will not hesitate to return here should the situation arise.”

“Three thousand pounds, that is quite generous.” He stood and eagerly pumped Alistair’s hand in an entirely too friendly handshake. “I can see now that you will be able to care for Winifred and her son in a way that I cannot. Obviously she is better suited with you.”
Well suited
. That’s what everyone had said about him and Sarah. But their union had been a disaster. Alistair forced the thought from his mind and instructed Virgil that the monies would be delivered by the end of the week. He could only imagine what audacious clothing the man would purchase with that much coin in his pocket.

Informing Winifred that she need not concern herself with Virgil any longer should aid in Alistair’s campaign to seduce her back into his bed.

…

Winifred knew that if she did not accept Alistair’s invite to accompany him for dinner, he would merely continue pestering her until she did. Oliver had already gone to bed, and Winifred had left Polly to care for him should he wake up.

So she sat in the carriage outside of his illustrious townhome in the center of Mayfair on Charles Street. There had been a time shortly after their brief affair that she’d fancied herself in love with Alistair. He was so different from any man she’d ever known, and though she didn’t always understand it, she was drawn to him.

And now he’d proposed another affair. She couldn’t deny that she was tempted to accept. The thought of being in his arms again made a very compelling argument. But considering she’d nearly had her heart broken the last time, she wasn’t certain it was worth it. Not only that, but there was Oliver to consider.

Alistair had never wanted children, and he’d made that perfectly clear when they’d had their affair at his castle.

A knock sounded on the carriage door. She started at the sound, but opened it and found a footman standing there.

“His lordship would like to know if you’re planning on coming inside.”

She should have known he’d be watching. “Yes, of course.” She allowed the man to help her down and lead her up the stairs to the front door.

“He said you should wait in the parlor.”

When Alistair did not enter the room immediately, Winifred strolled to the bookshelf to read the titles of his books. His townhome, much like his castle, was opulent without being ostentatious.

“You are beautiful.” Alistair’s words came from directly behind her. He stated the compliment as if it were a fact, rather than merely his opinion.

How had she not heard him approach, felt his nearness? She turned to find his intense green eyes upon her. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think you understand how beautiful.”

“You’re not normally one for flattery, Alistair.”

“Merely curious. You could have married anyone, yet you were jilted once and then ended up married to an aged mapmaker.”

His words stung, though she knew he didn’t mean them to be hurtful. “Do you have a particular question, or are you only interested in questioning my decisions?”

“Why Mirren?”

She shrugged. “He asked.”

“So you would have agreed to anyone’s request of your hand?”

“Of course not.” The situation hadn’t been simple at all. Reggie had known she’d found herself with child and he’d saved her and her son, given them both a name and no one had been the wiser. She certainly couldn’t tell Alistair that.

He nodded. “Are you hungry?”

Thankful the uncomfortable conversation had ended, she smiled. “I suppose I am.”

Besides, it was far better to have a table between them than this empty space. Too much temptation to give in to his earlier request.

He held his arm out to her and she took it, his gloved hand resting on hers in the crook of his elbow as he led her into the dining room. The table was ridiculously large for simply the two of them, but was a beautiful carved mahogany. The places were set next to one another, Alistair’s at the head and hers to his right.

“What are we having? It smells delicious.”

“I haven’t a notion. I leave the meals up to the cook’s choices. I shall eat whatever is prepared.” He looked up at her after taking his seat. “Are you a choosy eater?”

“Not normally. I’m certain whatever it is will be delightful.”

A footman served their first dish and the steaming, aromatic parsnip soup caused her stomach to grumble. She waited for Alistair to pick up his spoon before doing so herself and took a small spoonful.

“I spoke with your son’s guardian today. I don’t believe he’ll be bothering you about marriage again,” he said.

Her breath caught. The thought of Alistair telling that vile man that she was to marry the marquess instead—well, it was liberating. “You saw Virgil? How did you find him?”