When a Lady Deceives (Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service) (18 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Jennie deposited a brimming stein before a man who reminded her of a walrus. He raised the glass to his broad mouth, his thick handlebar mustache dabbing the amber liquid. She averted her gaze, stifling the laugh that played on her lips.

A prickle of warning teased the fine hair at her nape. She spared a fleeting glance over her shoulder and braced herself for Matthew’s approach.

“Good evening, Jennie.” Taking hold of her elbow in a manner the most respectable gentleman might have used to escort a lady, Matthew led her through the crowd. “It seems we need to continue our discussion.”

“The
discussion
to which you refer is pointless.”

The hard line of his mouth didn’t soften. “I told you to stay away.”

“You have no right to manhandle me.”

An unexpected glimmer of amusement softened his eyes. “Damned if you’re not as hardheaded as me.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I want to get you out of this crowd.”

“Are you afraid someone will come to my rescue?”

“You don’t need to be rescued.” His mouth brushed her ear so lightly she might have imagined it. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Not from me.”

The scent of his shaving soap mingled with every breath. Maintaining her composure became infinitely more of a challenge when he was so close. And he knew it, damn his arrogant soul.

“Very well, but don’t make the mistake of counting this as a surrender.”

“The surrender will come later.”

His seductive prediction unleashed delicious ripples all the way to her toes. He led her up the stairs to his office. What insanity possessed him, leading her away in full view of every sot in the tavern? No doubt if she listened closely enough, she’d hear the tongues already begin to wag.

Memories of the last time she’d entered this room kindled heat low in her belly. But she was prepared now. If Matthew thought he’d bend her to his will by inflaming her desire, he’d be sadly disappointed. This time, she’d keep her thoughts focused and rational. Their dialogue would be sensible. Civilized.

She didn’t have long to ponder her thoughts. Matthew ushered her inside and closed the door. Backing her to the wall, he pressed a finger over her lips.

“Trust me, Jennie.”

“I’d be more inclined to trust a rabid wolf,” she whispered.

His mouth crooked into a smile. “I’m wounded.”

Crossing the room to the sideboard, Matthew poured whiskey into a crystal tumbler and downed it. A hint of wickedness curved his full mouth. Jennie tasted a heady blend of anticipation and apprehension.

She knotted her arms as if that would shield her. “We’ve certainly stirred a bit of scandal.”

He shrugged. “Every man in the tavern thinks he knows
exactly
why I wanted you up here. But they’d be wrong.”

“Would they now? Precisely what do you think to accomplish with this indiscretion?”

He regarded her for a long moment. “The usual. Seduction. Pleasure.”

Jennie’s mouth went dry. “You should not be so bold.”

“There’s one more thing.” His lips curved in a smile Lucifer himself might have deemed wicked. “Why in blazes are you here?”

Giving a little shrug, she met his piercing gaze. “Was I to take words you uttered in a fit of pique as a dismissal?”

“I thought I’d made myself clear, but any confusion can be rectified. Consider yourself sacked.”

The man was set on getting her away from the Lancaster. Away from Harwick. Away from him. Did he think to save her neck? Or his own? Well, she would not slink away. She knew the risks of being under Colton’s—and Harwick’s—watchful eyes. She’d find other sources for her investigation, but fetching ale at the tavern brought the very brutes she most suspected within arm’s length night after night. She could not simply walk away. He’d have to force her out.

She mustered an indignant
huff
. “Do you truly believe I’m a spy of some sort? Exactly what is it I seek? Intelligence on some ale-swilling lecher’s preference for heavily rouged brunettes? Or perhaps the latest gossip about that American actor and the
gentleman
whose company he prefers over buxom blondes?”

“I doubt you concern yourself over such trivial matters. I suspect I’m the pawn you intend to bleed for information.”

“Such a taste for intrigue. I’ve far better things to do than indulge your penchant for suspicion.” She turned to the door. “If I am to be sacked, you’d best see about soliciting a replacement. We have a full house tonight. My services are most definitely required.”

His hands rested easily on her shoulders, effortlessly stilling her. “You’re not much of an actress. But that’s not a problem for you. Your beauty would disarm most men. They believe what they want to believe. The problem is, Jennie, I’ve seen the truth in your eyes.”

“This is all quite preposterous.” Even as she uttered the protest, the force of his gaze stirred the urge for flight. She needed to leave. She needed to be away from this man whose nearness stirred her carefully guarded heart. She’d kept a cool head for so very long. But now, Matthew Colton shattered her fragile defenses.

He was on to her secrets, the deceptions that had become her stock in trade. He’d seen through her. Even those emotions she tried so desperately to disguise.

His fingertips grazed her cheek, his thumb settling against the throbbing pulse point just beneath her ear. “When I touch you, your lips part. Your eyes widen. So slightly, most men wouldn’t notice.” He leaned closer. His warm breath grazed her ear, stirring a tremor of vivid awareness. “You can’t deny your body’s response. Not when my skin brushes yours. Not when I’m kissing you. And especially, not when you try to deceive me. I know you too well, Jennie.”

Defiant, she hiked her chin. “Do you also believe my heart palpitates every time you come near? If I were a spy, how very odd that I would react to my quarry in such a ridiculous manner.”

“The fluttering of your heart doesn’t concern me. The truth is another story. How did you come up with the name Danvers? I’ll find out, in time, though it would be easier for both of us if you told me.”

“Since it is of interest to you, my father’s name was Danvers. John Danvers, a country physician of middling success.”

He slowly shook his head. “Your lips just thinned. Another lie, Jennie?”

“I see no point continuing this conversation. If you’re waiting for me to confess to some absurd bit of duplicity, I expect you’ll be disappointed.”

“That intoxicated lout who stumbled through here was certainly convinced of your identity. The blighter claimed to know your brother. From Oxford, no less.”

“Which drunk might that have been?” She turned the tables, inching closer. “By all means, let’s take the ramblings of a man deep in his cups as sworn testimony. Lawrence Bond also thought I had a lookalike. Harwick’s mistress, I presume. Of course, the man reeks of spirits, but that is of no consequence to you. It seems every drunk sees a familiar face in place of my features. A long-lost love. A woman who cast him aside. For a few of the more troubled ones, I remind them of their mums. Perhaps if you imbibe a bit more, I will remind you of someone.”

He caught her wrists and dragged her to his lean, hard length. “Good God, Jennie, you don’t have to try so hard. I don’t believe a blasted word out of your pretty mouth. But I do believe this.”

Matthew pressed a kiss to her mouth, exquisitely soft and all the more torturous for its gentleness. He parted her lips, demanding a response, his tenderness far more devastating than any attempt at coercion.

Sparks of desire flared into a blaze. Jennie squeezed her eyes shut, determined she would not allow her body’s traitorous hunger to undermine her will. If only she could convince herself to break away.

His hands slid to cradle her bottom as his delectable mouth swept a caress over the column of her throat. She drank him in, savoring the subtle aroma of bay rum and soap.

“This is most unfair,” she murmured.

“I know.” His air of wicked assurance infuriated her even as it thrilled her.

She felt the even throb of his heart against her breasts. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He merely held her in the circle of his arms.

She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling wildly, insanely safe in his embrace. If only she could allow herself to savor the feeling beyond this moment in time. But trust was a luxury she didn’t possess.

Still, perhaps she might use the truth to throw him off the scent. “You’re right, you know.” The words tumbled out. “About this…about how I feel when you’re near me.”

His hand moved to the curve of her back. His arousal pressed against her belly, hard, demanding. The essence of a vigorous male in his prime filled her senses, and the reality flooded her.

She wanted him.

Without promises. Without vows. Without seductive lies.

A wicked vision took up residence in her thoughts. Lying naked on crisp, cool sheets. Accepting his length. Claiming him just as surely as he would claim her.

Have I taken leave of my senses?

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” His low growl set her aflame.

He could take her then. On the settee. Skirts hiked around her waist. She’d refuse him nothing.

Nothing except the truth.

“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth.

He pulled in a ragged breath. “Bloody shame it doesn’t make any difference.”

If he’d plunged her into the murky cold of the Thames, she would not have been more stunned. She stared up at him, mute with shock and anger and a bone-deep despair.

He made no move to release her. “You need to leave this place. Now. Before it’s too late for either of us.”

Swallowing hard against the bitter lump in her throat, she managed a frosty tone. “In that case, I suggest you remove your hands from my bum.”

His hands stayed planted on her bottom. A tempting half smile played on his lips. “I want you, Jennie.” He lowered his gaze for a heartbeat before meeting her eyes. Raw notes of regret tempered his passion-roughened voice. “But not here. Not now.”

“Nobility doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not being noble. I’m selfish as hell. Every time I think of what could happen to you, it’s like a knife to the gut. I need to know you’re safe. Far away from here. And waiting for me.”

Waiting for me.

His words seemed yet another temptation. In another place, another time, she might well have waited for this man to return to her every night, welcoming him into her arms, sharing his bed, embracing a passion unlike any she’d ever known. And perhaps, he’d wait for her as well. He’d want her, just as she was. He wouldn’t try to rein her in, imprisoning her in a staid existence. Ah, the very notion seemed as fanciful as the childhood wishes she’d made upon falling stars. It seemed a lifetime since she’d shuttered her heart against the wanting, against the longing. Pity a man she should not trust…should not desire…had stirred the embers of that heartfelt yearning to flame.

She’d allowed herself to become vulnerable to Matthew. A passionate interlude was one thing. But entertaining the notion of more…well, that was simply not acceptable. She’d shore up her defenses now, while she still had the chance.

Jennie pulled in a long breath and released it. “Wait for you? I think not. Your arrogance knows no bounds. If you send me away from the Lancaster, I assure you that will not be the case.”

“I’m prepared to take that chance. I’d take a bullet before I’d let them hurt you.” His mouth hardened, even as his words set off a flutter in her stomach. “But the more you stick that pretty nose of yours into Harwick’s affairs, the more difficult it will be to protect you.”

She steeled her spine, meeting his gaze. “Protect me? I’ve no need of any defense you might offer.”

“You and I both know that’s not the case.” His hands fell to his sides. Silence hovered between them for the span of several heartbeats. Finally, he reached out to touch her, drawing a fingertip along the curve of her jaw, a slow, achingly gentle caress, as though he savored the contact. “I will see you home. You are not to return to the Lancaster.”

She swallowed against the searing lump in her throat. The concern—the fear—in his eyes was very real and, she sensed, not for him. But for her.

“This is all quite preposterous,” she said, quieter now, as if she might convince herself that his wariness was unfounded. “And what of Harwick? Have you considered that the man might question why you’ve banished me?”

Matthew nodded. “That’s the only thing that’s kept me from sending you on your way. Until now. The risk has become too great. I’ll deal with him. It’s not your concern.”

“Not my concern? I am afraid I must disagree.”

“Listen to me, Jennie.” Matthew’s tone was quiet and steady, yet roughhewn with emotion. He caught her hands in his. “Do not return to this place. Whatever quest you’re on, it’s not worth this sacrifice.”

…

Matthew’s carriage waited on the street outside the Lancaster. His driver shot Jennie a randy glance beneath his grizzled lids. “Ah, the pretty miss again.” Bertram opened the carriage door and escorted Jennie inside. She settled against the plush upholstery, fanning her skirts over the bench. A slight, throbbing pain pulsed between her brows. Massaging the spot with her fingertips, she watched as the driver turned to Matthew, took his instructions, and plodded out of sight.

Matthew joined her inside the coach. Stretching out his long legs, he turned to her. “Daggers in your eyes, eh?”

“So, I’m to believe you’re protecting me? Stripping me of my livelihood. I suppose you believe I’ll be grateful.”

His gaze fixed on her buffed leather shoes. “The next time you masquerade as a woman of meager means, remember to wear boots as well-worn as your clothing.”

She clamped her jaw shut. No man had ever taken notice of her shoes.

Except Matthew.

They rode without speaking through the dreary London streets. The brief passage of time seemed a misery. The carriage stopped at the doorstep to Mrs. O’Brien’s. Matthew escorted her to the door.