Seducing the Spy (7 page)

Dane looked disgruntled. "Olivia is very good with George as well… perhaps a bit too good."

Stanton gazed at them all warily. "Don't. Come. To. Sussex."

Juba tilted her head and beamed him a stunning smile. Though she was most assuredly taken, and not Stanton's type in any respect, her beauty was such that no man could think straight when she focused her considerable charms upon him.

"Now why would we do that?" she purred.

Stanton blinked. The room was becoming warm and it had been a very, very long time since a woman had looked at him at all. The back of his neck began to dampen—

He shot a dark glare Julia's way. "Stop that."

Marcus was a puddle in his chair. "Witness to my daily battle," he gasped between chuckles.

Julia bowed her head briefly. "I defer to the master. You are made of stern stuff, Wyndham. I don't think Lady Alicia has a chance in hell of dividing your attention."

It had been a test. Wyndham would have been angry if he hadn't seen the sense of it. If a renowned beauty like Julia couldn't sway him, what chance had poor, disadvantaged Lady Alicia?

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^
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Later that evening, however, as Stanton undressed for bed, he began to have his doubts.

For the first time in his memory, he was no more astute than the average human, at least where Lady Alicia Lawrence was concerned. For the first time, he had a taste of the awful confusion and morass of doubt that every person about him suffered through on a daily basis, forced to trust blindly or even to mistake real truth for lies, driven to it by their own suspicions.

When he'd been no more than seven, he had watched his father casually accept a ledger from his housekeeper's hand and he had known the nonchalance was a lie. He had continued to watch as his mother greeted his father after arriving home from a shopping trip to London and he had seen that her bright smile and offhand affection for her husband was a lie.

The housekeeper, a statuesque woman named Ilsa, stood between his parents like a fortress wall, her hold on Lord Wyndham complete. It was obvious to Stanton, even at such a young age, yet no one spoke of it. His mother, whether helpless or simply unwilling to combat the woman, spent more and more time away "shopping," although the rumors of her true activities spread to the estate of Wyndham and beyond, while his father fell more and more under
Ilsa's spell.

The handsome, dignified lord, his beautiful young wife, Stanton himself playing the part of the sturdy scion, all living out the roles given them. Meanwhile, beneath that shining façade there lurked hatred and jealousy, obsession and oppression, writhing and growing like the squirming life found beneath a stone.

So young Stanton had observed the lies. He'd seen the way people moved, the way they held themselves, the very manner of their speech, and he had simply known who lied and who did not.

And discovered, of course, that everyone did, in ways that betrayed their very souls to his eyes.

Until now.

The sickening possibility that he might have lost his unique skill caused Stanton to turn to his valet quickly.

"Herbert, I have decided to adopt a goatee."

Herbert, who was well-known for his disdain of facial hair, nodded without a blink. "Very good, my lord. Very dashing."

Lie
. Stanton nearly closed his eyes in relief. "Or perhaps not," he said, to provide good Hamersley with a bit of the same. "Rather too devilish, I would think."

"True, my lord. Too true."

So his mysterious skill still worked, only not on Lady Alicia.

Why her, of all people? What strange skill did she have, that she could hide from him, yet the world had no doubt of her lies? Why did she affect him so?

She was odd, rude, indelicate, reputedly unchaste, and… well, damn it, she was annoying, from her bare feet to her green-as-first-spring eyes!

Bloody hell. Now she had him waxing poetic about her damned eye color!

Yet his two encounters with her had put none of his doubts to rest. She wasn't lovely, but neither was she stupid. Surely a woman as sharply intelligent as that would not put herself in such a position to be caught sleeping with a stable boy?

Perhaps there was more he ought to know about Lady Alicia Lawrence after all.

To Lady Alicia Lawrence,

While I indeed instructed you to purchase new items as needed for our purposes, I fail to see the necessity of charging the cost of an entire year's wardrobe to my accounts.

Sincerely,

Stanton Horne, Lord Wyndham

To Lord Wyndham,

I don't expect you to understand the necessity. You're a man. You have no idea what a woman of Society requires. You undoubtedly believe we all wake up looking like fashion plates every morning. Pay the bills and let me be.

A.

To Lady Alicia Lawrence,

Why the need to buy a carriage? I will be escorting you to any and all necessary events and I already own several, admittedly not as opulent as the one you attempted to order, but I find them sufficient.

Sincerely,

Stanton Horne, Lord Wyndham

Wyndham,

Oh, very well. Then I shall require the exclusive use of one of your carriages for the duration. You might as well send along a driver, if you can manage to pry his pay from your tight fist. I have found a suitable house. Here is the address.

A.

To Lady Alicia,

A house? Are you entirely mad? Why in heaven's name would you need to buy a house? Especially one that is larger and more ostentatious than mine? Why do you need a new address? We will be leaving London in a week.

Wyndham

Wyndham,

I realize that the larger part of the brain of most males resides somewhere other than their skull, but do try to think logically for a moment. No one gossips more than a dressmaker. The fact that you allow me to live in a sewer pit will be all over London
—
and your precious house party
—
before we even arrive
.

A.

To Lady Alicia,

If you insist upon a new residence
—
and only for the duration
!—
then I shall rent you a small, respectable house within the confines of Mayfair. I am confident that will suffice
.

It had better.

Wyndham

Wyndham,

It was worth a try.

A.

To Lady Alicia,

I promised to pay your expenses, but I should be highly displeased if you beggar me in the process.

W.

Wyndham,

What are you going to do, ruin my reputation? Oh, worry not. I am only doing what is necessary to create your precious illusion. Besides, mistresses are supposed to beggar their paramours. It's practically a law.

P.S. I need jewels.

A.

To Lady Alicia,

You'll buy paste.

W.

Wyndham,

You're not doing your own reputation any good, you know. Every Society lady worth her salt is trained from birth to spot paste ten yards away.

A.

To Lady A.,

I will take care of the jewels. Do not purchase jewels. At all. In any form. Is that understood?

W.

Wyndham,

Yes, milord. Of course, milord. Whatever you say, milord.

However, must you be so stingy with the salaries for my new staff? We need discreet people who value their jobs. Must I think of everything?

A.

To Lady A.,

I will hire your staff. You may choose your own lady's attendant. Do not press me further.

W.

To Lady Alicia Lawrence,

You have not replied to my letter of yesterday. Did you fully understand my instructions?

W.

W,

No jewels. Hire a dresser. Don't press you. Now stop bothering me. You have no idea what a chore all these fittings are. Go take care of some useless male business and let me do my job.

A.

P.S. I do think we ought to run a practice excursion before we attend Lord Cross's house party. Perhaps you have received a suitable invitation?

To Lady A.,

I think not. It is one thing to bring your mistress to a gathering of sophisticated adults. It is quite another to flaunt a woman of bad virtue before the innocent young ladies at Almacks.

W.

W,

"A woman of bad virtue"? Couldn't have put it better myself.

A.

To Lady Alicia Lawrence,

I assume from your lack of correspondence during the past two days that you are busily preparing for our departure. I will arrive at your new residence tomorrow morning to escort you to Lord Cross's house party. The journey will take less than a day.

W.

To Lady Alicia,

Did you receive my earlier notice of our departure tomorrow morning? I received no reply.

W.

W.

I shall be late.

A.

To Lady Alicia,

You shall not.

W.

Stanton folded his admittedly terse note and sealed it absently. He ought not to have written that about the "woman of bad virtue." He had slipped into a strangely informal correspondence with Lady Alicia over the last week and had not been taking careful note of his tone.

Well, there was little he could do about it now, although he would make a point to apologize tomorrow. In fact, it would be an opportunity to model some pretty manners for the woman. Hers could do with improvement.

Herbert tapped at the door of Stanton's study. "My lord, Gunther is here to report."

Oh, dread. What was the maddening creature up to now?

Gunther stepped into the room and bowed. "My lord, you wished to be informed whenever her ladyship made plans without you."

Stanton nodded at Gunther with a wry twist to his lips. "So I did." He'd taken Gunther from his own household and installed him at Lady Alicia's on the off chance the man would be useful. It turned out that he'd been vital to keeping Lady Alicia's excesses in check.

"Her ladyship has arranged to attend the final performance of the opera this evening. She has reserved a very prominent box, where she will be sure to be seen."

Stanton narrowed his eyes and considered his options. Lady Alicia had already proven her complete lack of discretion and decorum. There was no telling what mayhem she might ignite in the torridly dramatic setting of the opera.

"Should I try to talk her ladyship out of her plans?"

Stanton eyed the overeager Gunther sourly. "Thank you, no." Then he smiled slightly. "I haven't been to the opera in years."

If Lady Alicia thought he would turn her loose on an unsuspecting London, she was sadly mistaken. He would meet her there and keep her contained. She would accomplish her goal of putting herself on tawdry display and he would be able to keep an eye on her every move.

And you'll be in public, so you'll be safe.

Stanton dismissed that errant thought. Ridiculous. As if he needed protection from one wayward lady!

Although Alicia had vowed never to care what a man thought of her ever again, she found herself wondering what Lord Wyndham would think if he could see her now.

The gown she'd chosen for the opera was an opulent concoction of midnight-blue winter velvet and gold lace.

"I feel rather like a stage curtain," she muttered as she twisted and turned before the mirror. "From a very disreputable stage."

When she'd ordered the gown, she'd been aiming to cause shock and consternation, and possibly to prompt a few ladies to cover their gentlemen's eyes. The skirts of the gown were designed to cling and sway with her figure's movements, with very little in the way of petticoat beneath. The bodice was boned and padded, secretly of course, to lift and expose every legal inch of skin… and then a bit more.

Seeing the upper half-moon of her own areola peeking above the neckline proved to be too much for even Alicia's determination. She took the length of gold lace which had been intended to be used in her hair and tucked it into her décolletage.

Much better. Still daring and still shocking, for the fine lace was anything but solid, but at least she now felt able to leave her own dressing room.

Garrett, her lady's maid—whom she'd hired in an impulsive attempt to irritate Lord Wyndham, but who had turned out to be invaluable in her quest to be outrageous—entered the room carrying the fur cape he had been brushing out for the evening. He stopped when he saw the lace alteration she'd made. "Coward," he said accusingly.

"I know. I simply couldn't." Alicia spread her arms and turned for his viewing. "Will it do, d'you think?"

He tilted his head and folded his arms, studying her. "Do what, milady? Scorch their eyeballs? Yes. Put you down in history as the most scandalous lady in all of England? Possibly, although you'd really need a royal affair to truly make your mark."

Alicia considered herself in the mirror. A royal affair? "Hmm."

Garret shook his head. "Don't shoot at the moon, my lady. Prinny has got himself a brand-new lady and he won't tire of her for months, by all accounts. Besides, I believe that copious amounts of giggling is required in that position. You don't giggle."

Alicia shrugged and let it go. "True. Although I should probably learn to, don't you think? Don't all mistresses giggle?"