For Her Spy Only (Entangled Scandalous) (5 page)

“I am not without my resources.”

“What did you say?”

“It was quite evident to me that while the man obviously values money, he has none—”

“You paid him?” she asked.

“Quite handsomely. He should leave you alone and only tend to his duties as the boy’s guardian. Though I doubt he’ll do much of that either, outside of signing any papers required of him.”

After a moment, she realized she’d been staring at him, mouth agape. “Alistair, I did not ask you to pay him.” Then she suppressed a giggle. “I do wonder why I never thought of that myself. Would you allow me to pay you back the funds?”

“I’m tempted as I know all he’s going to do is purchase more clothes.” Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward. “He dresses ridiculously.”

To that she laughed; a full belly laugh.

“But no, I do not require you to pay me in return.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “Have you given more consideration to my offer this afternoon?”

“The affair,” she said, plainly knowing that attempting to feign stupidity would not work with Alistair. “I do not think it is a good idea.”

“That is not an answer.”

“No, it isn’t.” She set down her spoon. “Is this why you invited me to dinner tonight? To seduce me into an affair?”

“I don’t believe seduction is required. We both want each other. There is no need to play games. It is as simple as this food.” He motioned to the plate before him. “We are hungry, therefore we have food.”

Winifred laughed. Alistair certainly had a unique perspective on things. “Tell me what you have done with yourself these last several years.”

He eyed her for a while, saying nothing, before he said, “Working mostly. Keeping to myself.”

“Staying in the country tucked away in your castle?”

“I prefer the quiet of the countryside to the noise of London. There are too many people here.” He’d said the latter with so much unpleasantness, it was as if he was commenting on the number of spiders.

She couldn’t argue with his sentiment, though. While she didn’t find people as tedious as he did, she had found London’s population increase as of late to be somewhat overwhelming. Shopping excursions had become a chore with the crowded sidewalks. London was positively bursting with people.

They finished their dinner and he led her into a parlor off of the dining room. He took a seat on the settee. “Sit with me.”

She did as he suggested, but left space between them. As it was, she was already far too tempted to indulge in the affair he’d proposed. When she’d been at his castle, they’d spoken briefly of his work for the Crown. He’d told her only that he deciphered codes, nothing specific. “Have you worked on anything of interest?”

“My work is always of interest, or else why would I do it?”

“What is it that makes it so compelling?”

“I enjoy the puzzles.” He slid across the settee, bringing them closer. “You are presenting quite the puzzle at the moment.”

“How so?”

He toyed with one of the curls at the nape of her neck. The light touch was as intoxicating as if he’d caressed her. “You want me and I obviously desire you as well, yet you’re being rather illogical about the situation.”

“I suspect it’s quite fascinating, the work you do,” she said, ignoring his last statement. “Are there many codes for you to decipher?”

Perhaps she wouldn’t engage his proposition because she knew she had no legitimate argument to stand on. Perhaps it was because she was too nervous. She simply didn’t want to be swept away. She didn’t want wild, raging, out of control passion that would leave her cold and empty when he inevitably left her.

Yes, she wanted him. Wanted his heat without getting burned. Wanted his body without losing her heart.

She sucked in a long, deep breath, trying to still the nerves in her hands, trying to squelch her desire. She should leave. She should stand and walk away from him.

He ran a fingertip down the back of her neck. His finger was hot, searing her sensitive skin. Then she felt his lips touch the back of her neck. The moist pressure of his mouth against the delicate skin just below her ear. The tender nip of his teeth.

She shivered. No nerves this time. Just pleasure. Her eyes closed and she leaned into him. Heat swirled through her, the desire pooling in the folds of her femininity. His mouth was at her ear, murmuring to her—how her beauty had only grown with time and how he’d never forgotten the taste of her kiss. The tone of his voice, deep and seductive, rumbled through her. Oh, how she’d missed his voice.

Wistful longing thrummed through her, reminding her of how she’d missed him, all of him, and how difficult it had been to let her heart forget. With more strength than she knew she possessed, she put her hands on him and gently pushed.

“I can’t do this.”

Chapter Five

Two days later, they stood in the map room and Alistair paced from the table to the cabinet. Winifred watched him carefully. His movements were always precise, but today they were sharp, agitated.

“D
o you know where the other maps are?” he asked.

“I might.”

He braced his hands on the table and set his eyes on her. “Winifred, do not play games with me.”

She glared at him in return. “I am not playing games. And I should remind you, there is no need to talk to me in such a way. I realize that people indulge your abrasiveness because of your title, but I will not stand for it.”

He nodded. “You’re right. My apologies.”

“I said I
think
I know where they are, but I cannot be certain.”

“Explain.”

She exhaled slowly. “A few years before Reggie died, he had an apprentice. A young man to whom he was teaching all of his methods and whatnot.”

“I know what an apprentice is.”

“Yes, well, Reggie and Timothy had a falling out, as it were, and Reggie terminated their association. Shortly after Reggie died, several of the maps that he and Timothy had worked on together went missing. I’ve always suspected Timothy took them, but figured if he needed them that badly, he should simply keep them.”

“Do you know where we can find this Timothy?” Alistair asked.

“I have an address for him.”

“I shall go and see him straightaway. I must have those maps.”

“I doubt he will help you,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“He’s a peculiar sort, has ill feelings toward the aristocracy. I believe he was raised by his uncle, an earl, and then when he became of age, he was sent away to make his own way in the world.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“I simply think he will be reluctant to speak with you.” She wasn’t even certain that she wanted to see him again. The last time she’d seen Timothy, he’d made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

“I will make him comply.”

“What are you going to do, barge in there and shoot him if he doesn’t agree to hand over the maps?”

“If I have to. This is business for the King.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gracious, there is no need for dramatics. Timothy will help me. He has a soft spot where I’m concerned.” She frowned. “Or he did at the time. But I do not wish to see him. Can we not simply send him a message?”

“No. Why do you not want to see him?”

“I am the reason Reggie dismissed him.”

“You had an affair with him?”

“Of course not.” She swatted him on the arm. “But he attempted to seduce me. On more than one occasion, he became too friendly with his hands.” She searched Alistair’s face. “Honestly, do you think I would enter an affair with just any man? Your perception of me is so flattering.”

“I think most highly of you.” His tone held no hint of jesting. “Certainly you must know that by now.”

She nodded, but found she had no words to respond.

“A message will not work, but I shall accompany you and I will make certain this Timothy understands that you belong to me.”

His words thundered through her heart and for the briefest of moments, she wished they were true. Wished that he had barged back into her life and demanded, not that they have an affair, but rather that she marry him. “How will you do that?”

“Tell him you are my betrothed.”

Betrothed
. Not wife. For Alistair, it was nothing but a charade.

…

A
listair had insisted on seeing Timothy that very day, and Winifred had done her best to look the part of fiancée to the illustrious Marquess of Coventry. She’d donned her prettiest dress and had Polly do up her hair nicely. Alistair had suggested they appear as if they were on their way to a soiree or dinner party to solidify their story of being romantically connected.

She took one last glance at the mirror and walked out of her bedchamber.

She had not conceded to his request for an affair.
Yet
. That word kept flitting through her mind as if the acquiescence was inevitable. She certainly was in a position in her life where she could have an affair. She was a widow, but she was also a mother, and that should count for more than anything. Especially more than her own baser desires.

She had to keep her focus on Oliver. Now that he had the right tutor, he would be able to flourish. When her parents had died, they’d left her a rather large sum of monies and since then, she’d invested wisely and the monies had grown. When the time came, she’d be able to pay for Oliver to attend whatever school he desired.

But first Oliver had to start talking. She could barely contain her excitement that her son was finally working with Mr. Bellford. He’d come so highly recommended, especially with boys that had difficulties. And she needed someone who wouldn’t give up on her son and believe him a simpleton simply because he never spoke. He was quite gifted, she’d ascertained, and she needed someone else to believe that, to see Oliver for who he was and help him to become a successful man.

He was so very like his father. She’d known that the moment they had placed him in her arms. He’d been born with a shock of brown hair and as he’d grown, his eyes had darkened to the same lovely green as Alistair’s. One look and she was certain that Alistair would know the boy’s lineage. Which was why it was so very important that they never meet.

Downstairs, Alistair waited for her in the corridor. He looked ridiculously dashing in buckskin breeches and black tailcoat. The flash of white at his throat with his expertly tied cravat highlighted his dark good looks.

“Alistair, I daresay, you are positively dashing this evening.”

He gave her a rare grin and held his arm out to her. “You are beautiful as usual.”

He assisted her into the carriage and they sat quietly next to one another while the rig rolled down the street. Warmth from his leg permeated the space between them, and she crossed her ankles to keep her legs tightly together. There was no need to act the wanton.

“If this man does not have the maps, have you any notion as to who else might have stolen them?” he asked.

“No, Timothy is the only man who would want them.”

“That, I doubt.”

“They’re old maps. Unless we’re talking a collector, there’s no reason for someone to steal them.”

“Someone has obviously seen them, or else they would not have been able to use them for the code I am working on. Are you acquainted with Lord Comfry?”

He had not told her as much, but she’d assumed he was working on something of the sort. She knew he worked for the Crown, did secretive assignments, and focused his talents on deciphering hidden messages and codes. But who could have possibly used Reggie’s maps for such a thing? “I can’t say that I’ve heard that name.”

“Did Mirren ever have any other apprentices?”

“No, not in the time that we were together.”

His frown deepened.

“Do you suspect Timothy of anything…inappropriate?” she asked.

“I couldn’t say. And that’s not my task. Once the code is broken, the others will decide what happens next.”

He was so confident. Not
if
he broke the code, but once he’d done so. “Have you ever found a code you could not decipher?”

“No.”

And I always get what I want.
He didn’t say it, but the words seemed to linger in the tiny confines of the carriage. She would be in his bed, in other words.

The carriage stopped outside a small boardinghouse. They walked up to the front door and an elderly lady opened it.

“What?” she asked sharply.

“We’re looking for Mr. Timothy Drake. Tell him that Winifred Mirren is here to see him.”

“Tell him yourself. Third door from the left, upstairs.” The woman moved out of their way, then closed the door behind them.

The staircase creaked and moaned as they ascended.

“Allow me,” Winifred said. She knocked on the third door and Alistair lingered off to the side.

When the door opened, Timothy grinned at the sight of her. “Finally changed your mind?” He reached out to grab her hand. “I knew you felt it, too, the pull between us. Oh, Winifred, I’m glad you—”

Alistair put his hand on her shoulder and stepped into view, and Timothy stopped talking.

Timothy looked up at the imposing man behind her. He swallowed visibly.

“May we come in?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” Timothy said.

It was a small room with three chairs, all different, sitting near the fireplace. A writing desk that had obviously seen better days stood in the corner.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“The maps, Timothy, where are they?”

He backed away, shrugging. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The ones you stole from the house right after Reggie died. I know you took them.”

Alistair said nothing, merely cleared his throat. It was enough of a threat for the boy to nod.

“I needed the money.”

“You sold them?” Alistair asked.

“I had to. I had nothing.”

“Who? Who has them?” Alistair asked.

“Lord Riverton, for his private library,” Timothy said.

Winifred turned to Alistair. “Do you know him?”

Alistair nodded.

“Thank you for your time, Timothy.” Winifred came to her feet.

“If we find you’re lying to us, we’ll be back, and next time I shall not be so kind,” Alistair said. Then he smacked the boy on the back of his head. “Stop stealing from people. If you need funds, find employment.”

She doubted that Alistair’s threat would make much difference to Timothy. He was one of those who would always look for the easy way to do things, regardless of the legality or outcome.

Alistair gave an address to their driver and then assisted Winifred into the rig. Once they were back in the carriage, she asked, “Where are we going now?”

“Lord Riverton’s.”

“Now? We cannot simply show up whenever the mood strikes us. One must be invited.” Alistair might be a marquess, but his social etiquette was lacking.

“Nonsense. He owns a private library and has a standing invitation to people to visit it. He loves showing off his treasures. And as I’ve said before—”

“Yes, this is work for his majesty,” she provided. “It sounds as if you know Lord Riverton quite well.”

Alistair’s shoulders shifted in what she assumed was a shrug. “We went to school together.”

They were quiet for several moments and she realized she’d be going out to a member of the ton’s residence. Quite different from a boardinghouse in Southwark. She hadn’t exactly been welcomed into society since Theodore had left her at the church. “Perhaps I should wait in the carriage,” she said.

“No, I need you to come in with me, so he is not suspicious. The widow of the man who made his maps, he’ll believe you want to see them,” Alistair said.

“I suppose that does seem logical.”

“You shall still masquerade as my betrothed.” With that he pulled her to him and lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was potent and passionate. Her lips parted and she welcomed him. Her arms slid around his neck and she leaned into him. Her body knew precisely what to do with Alistair—it was her mind that kept getting in the way.