After the Spy Seduces Page 4

  Higgins called out again, this time much closer.

  She shoved him as hard as she could, but the man was a mountain of solid muscle and barely moved an inch. Oh, the frustrating devil!

  He grinned lazily at her over his shoulder. “Worried about me, are you, angel?”

  She scowled, more so because her belly fluttered at the flirtatious endearment than at his audacity. Then she shoved him again with all her strength, forcing him to take a step forward. “Will you go already?”

  His grin faded. “All right.” He turned to face her and walked backwards into the shadows, his eyes never leaving hers. “But we’re not finished with this.”

  Oh yes. They very much were.

  In one fluid movement, he mounted his horse and pulled the large gelding in a tight circle as he found his seat in the saddle. He leaned forward, and the gray horse leapt to canter off, disappearing into the fog like a ghost.

  Diana held her breath and listened as the hoof beats faded into the night and silence descended.

  Then she let out a long, trembling sigh. Had tonight really happened? The tavern, the Frenchman, Christopher Carlisle…kisses. Her head swam with it all, in a foggy confusion as dream-like as the white-shrouded night around her.

  Higgins’s approaching footsteps crunched loudly behind her on the gravel.

  There would be time later to sort through it all. Now, she had to deal with more immediate matters.

  Squaring her shoulders, she turned and plastered a bright smile on her face. “Mr. Higgins!”

  “Lassie?” Surprise filled the older man’s voice, and he rested his hunting gun across the crook of his arm. “I thought I heard horses. What on earth are you doing out here at this hour?”

  Kissing London’s biggest scapegrace. “I came out to check on the new foal.” Because he’d saved me, apparently after I attempted to commit treason. “I wanted to make certain that she was nursing properly.” Because my brother has been kidnapped, and I’m the only one who can free him. “And that the stall had enough straw to keep her warm.” Because Carlisle is right, that I am so very much in over my head that I don’t even know how to begin to swim back to shore…

  “Is everythin’ all right?”

  She nodded with resolve. “It will be.”

  “You an’ those horses,” the older man chuckled as he came forward. “Still fascinated with ’em, even after all these years.”

  “I suppose I am.” A twinge of guilt at lying to her closest confidante among the staff pricked at the backs of her knees. But what was this one little lie compared to the grand ones she was keeping? “You know how much I love to ride.”

  “Aye.” His eyes sparkled even in the darkness. “Your thinkin’ of trainin’ the yearling colt yourself, aren’t you?”

  “We’ll win the Derby at Epsom.” She winked. “Just wait and see.”

  He laughed and reached out to chuck her affectionately on the chin.

  He’d done that since the first day they met, when she’d been only eight and the general and Mama had just purchased Idlewild. They’d hired Angus Higgins to run the little estate for them, and a better steward couldn’t have been found. Higgins had understood how difficult it was to be a soldier’s child and a general’s most of all, so he did everything he could to make the farm a happy home for both her and Garret whenever they visited.

  Unfortunately, with wars on the continent and troubles in the far-flung corners of the empire, visits to Idlewild were few and far between until they returned for good three years ago. When they came back to the farm, Higgins was there to welcome them home—including baby Meredith, who had been born en route from India and shown to all their friends and servants by Mama with beaming pride.

  Higgins had been especially kind to Garrett these past few years, as if he realized the weight her brother carried on his shoulders as General Thaddeus “Never Surrender” Morgan’s only son.

  Oh, how she wished she could confide in Higgins about Garret! But she couldn’t. Especially now that Carlisle had set doubts swirling inside her about her brother’s disappearance and suspicions about who might have given information to the French. Of course it wasn’t Higgins. She knew that in her heart. But Higgins talked to the other servants and staff, and she simply couldn’t risk putting Garrett’s life in further danger, certainly not after how badly tonight’s exchange had gone. And not if Carlisle’s intuition was correct, that Garrett’s disappearance had nothing to do with the French. If so, then her brother might very well still be alive and waiting to be rescued.

  “You need to be careful, lassie,” he warned. “Never know who you might run into out here in the darkness an’ fog.”

  She sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? “I’m heading inside right now.”

  “Need me to escort you to the door?”

  Her chest warmed at his thoughtfulness. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Sleep tight, then.”

  “Thank you, Higgins.” Impulsively, she hugged the old steward. “For everything.”

  Then she was gone, hurrying away through the fog and darkness toward the house. By the time she’d reached the unlocked kitchen door, so much roiling guilt and fear and worry tangled in a lump in the pit of her stomach that she feared she might cast up her accounts right there, all over the stone floor.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the wall to take several deep, slow breaths to calm herself, but she knew that the only way to make herself truly feel better was to tell the general about Garrett and her failed attempt to rescue him. The exact thing Carlisle had warned her not to do.

  But what did Christopher Carlisle know about her family, for heaven’s sake? Or how much she owed her brother for all he’d done for her since they left India? Did Carlisle care about anyone or anything except himself? He was nothing more than a scoundrel, content to shiftlessly waste away his allowance on cards, women, and drink, while seeking no sort of gainful living. Even his concern over her brother was only so he could be paid whatever gambling debts Garrett owed him. Had to be. Lately, since Mama died, Garrett had become little more than a scapegrace himself, spending far too many nights in gambling hells and seedy locales of all kinds.

  That would all change, though, as soon as Garrett took the position at the Inns of Court that he’d been waiting for. It broke the general’s heart to know that his son hadn’t been able to thrive in the army, that he’d not been able to capitalize on any of the other opportunities that had been available to him. But Garrett liked the law, argued well, and would do a grand job of it in London, she knew. Perhaps someday he might even take the silks and become a King’s Counsel. Then, the general would have to admit that he was proud of Garrett. He would have to.

  But none of that would come to pass if he didn’t return safely.

  With a burst of steely resolve, she shoved herself away from the wall and slipped quickly through the dark house. She hurried up the stairs toward the first floor study where her father liked to spend his evenings, surrounded by his papers and books, warmed as much by a glass of fine cognac as by the fire.

  And that was where she found him, slumped down in his favorite leather chair, a book lying open across his lap, and his chin resting on his chest.

  She paused in the doorway. Even in his sleep, the general possessed the dignity and stateliness of a man of his rank and grand accomplishments. A soldier who had dedicated his life to the army, he’d been thwarted from being named field marshal only because his family wasn’t connected to the aristocracy, and by the time Prinny had handed out the rank to several worthless royals and aristocrats, there had been none left for the true heroes like her father. A true hero he was, too, saving countless men’s lives at Toulouse and Vittoria and playing a pivotal role in the Waterloo campaign. When the wars with Boney and America were finally over, he’d gone on to save lives in India.

  “They don’t make men like you anymore, do they, general?” she whispered. Men so dedicated to Crown and country that they were will
ing to sacrifice everything for a greater cause and for no gain of their own. Men who were willing to be sent wherever His Majesty needed them. Men who knew that war was never glorious, and that gallantry in the midst of battle was a damn lie.

  Her throat tightened with emotion. A man willing to protect his family at all costs, even at the price of his own career.

  That was why she loved him, and why it tore at her heart to know that he and Garrett were always at odds.

  Dread pierced her, so hard that she winced. How could she tell him that his only son was in danger and that she’d failed to bring him home? That she’d unwittingly attempted to commit treason tonight herself in a futile attempt to save him?

  Papa had sacrificed so much for her. How would he ever be able to forgive her for that?

  The general stirred in his sleep, waking himself with a loud snore. He glanced around, as if sensing that he wasn’t alone. He saw her lingering in the doorway, blinked hard for a moment to clear the fog of sleep, and smiled.

  “Diana.” His expression faded into confusion. “Why are you dressed like that?” He squinted at the mantel clock. “At this hour?”

  “I was checking on the new foal in the stables.” The same lie she’d given Higgins, followed by the same pang of guilt. “I didn’t want to dirty my dress, so I put on Garrett’s old clothes.”

  “Just like you to fuss over those horses.” He closed the book and set it onto the round side table at his elbow. “I wish I could convince you to be as interested in soirees and outings.”

  With a wry smile, she approached him. “Ah, but horses are so much better at intelligent conversation than all those society dandies, far better at dancing, and never spill punch on my dress.”

  He grimaced. “They never ask to court you, you mean.”

  “That, too. Find me a husband whom I can put out to pasture when I’m tired of him, and then I might consider it.” At her father’s exaggerated look of exasperation, she squatted down beside the chair and rocked back onto the heels of her boots, more than happy to change the direction of this conversation. “Why are you still up? You should have gone to bed hours ago.”

  “I spent the evening going over the last of the preparations for the party next week.” He gestured an irritated hand at a stack of papers on his desk and exhaled a long sigh. “Your mother always did the planning for these things. All I had to do was stand at the front door and greet the guests.”

  “Before slinking off to join the men for port and cigars for the rest of the night,” she reminded with a chastising purse of her lips.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, if this party is too much of a strain for you, we can always cancel it.” How much she wished he would do just that!

  “We’re on the offensive, sergeant.” He emphasized his old nickname for her with a wag of his finger. “It’s the perfect opportunity to remind everyone that you’re still a highly eligible young lady.” His lifted a bushy brow. “And that you’re receptive to being courted again.”

  She bit back a long-suffering sigh. Since Mama died, the general’s primary mission had become steering her successfully into matrimony. Diana knew it was because he worried about her and wanted her to find someone who would take care of her. Yet it grated.

  “But if I find a husband, then who will be here to take care of you?” She softened her teasing with a pat to his arm. “It would only be you and Major Paxton, pouring over your memoir pages and locking yourselves away from society.”

  “Not if you marry the major.”

  Oh no. Diana fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Not this again.

  Major Reginald Paxton had served as her father’s aide-de-camp since the end of the wars with Boney, and since the general’s retirement, the man had been spending hours helping with the general’s memoirs. More often than not, though, she’d caught the two men wasting time sharing stories over glasses of cognac and cigars rather than organizing her father’s writing.

  Despite the major’s attentions, she wasn’t at all interested in letting him court her and turned him down gently at every opportunity. Of which there had been many. The man was quite candid about his interest in her. Lately, that interest had become downright stubborn, accepting neither subtle hints nor outright rebukes, and she’d become incredibly uncomfortable around him. Thankfully, Garrett had cut off the man’s entreaties at every chance, saving her from having to be bluntly rude to the major and upsetting Papa.

  Oh, the major seemed like a good man, devoted to her father and to England, with a lauded army career and a no-nonsense bearing that did his uniform proud. But Diana had no intention of marrying him.

  “I am not interested in Major Paxton,” she countered firmly. “Nor anyone else in uniform.”

  Her father bristled. “What’s wrong with a man in uniform?”

  For her, what was right? A man in His Majesty’s service had little say over his life or where he would be posted, especially an ambitious officer with promise. She couldn’t bear the thought of being sent to the other side of the empire, where she might be away from her family for years, unable to help Garrett find his way, watch Meri grow up, or help the general as he aged. Or worse, if her soldier husband was killed...

  She pulled in a deep breath, knowing first-hand how terrible a life connected to the military could be. But those trials they’d endured in India seemed to have happened so long ago now, were never spoken of once they were back in England— She couldn’t blame her father for forgetting, even if her own heart still bled.

  Not wanting to wound him with an answer, she placed a kiss to his forehead. “Leave all the party plans to me.” She hid her purposeful dodge of his question with a long-suffering sigh at the frustrating truth that army officers made for poor party planners. “I’ll take care of everything.”

  “You always do.”

  That innocent comment cut her. Because she hadn’t, not tonight. She hadn’t been able to rescue Garrett from his kidnappers. If he’d been kidnapped at all. The more she thought about what Carlisle had told her, the more doubts began to plague her.

  “Robert Carlisle and his wife will most likely be in attendance at the party,” Papa said quietly.

  “I know.”

  Given the Duke of Trent’s influence on the War Department and King’s Cabinet, of course invitations had been extended to the entire Carlisle family, including his brother Robert and Robert’s new wife. But the general needn’t have worried about any lingering awkwardness between the two of them. They’d made the right decision in mutually breaking off their courtship.

  Besides, Robert wasn’t the Carlisle who bothered her now.

  She asked as casually as possible, “His cousin Christopher… What do you think of him?”

  He frowned, puzzled. “But you know him.”

  “Only in passing.” Only enough to avoid him. Until tonight, when she’d lost her mind and fallen for the charms and good looks that he relied upon to make his way through the world. “What do you think of him? He is a Carlisle, after all.”

  The general’s brow softened with a low chuckle. “That he’s most likely the best of the lot of them.”

  She blinked. “Christopher Carlisle?”

  His eyes shined as he shook his head. “The most unlikely officer ever commissioned into the British army, I’ll grant you. Always did as ordered in the end, but in the most unconventional ways imaginable. If he’d stayed in uniform, he would have been destined for generalship.”

  Her chest sank. This wasn’t at all what she wanted to hear. She’d wanted to know without doubt that he truly was the idle scoundrel that gossip made him out to be, so she’d have good reason to never be tempted to kiss him again.

  “Or handed over to the enemy by his own soldiers,” the general continued. “When he served under me, it was still a toss-up.”

  She twisted her mouth in silent chastisement. The general was bamming her. But her initial suspicions of Carlisle as nothing more than a scapegrace simply had
to be correct, no matter what glimpse of goodness she’d seen in him tonight that made her lose her mind. “Why did he leave the army? Surely a second son would have thrived there, unless…” Unless he’d done something absolutely disgraceful. Oh, she prayed that he had!

  The general paused, as if contemplating what to tell her. But then he simply shrugged. “The wars were ending, his father had fallen ill, his brother took a diplomatic position… Lots of reasons. But it was a good decision in the end.” He grinned with ironic amusement. “England’s all the better for it.”

  He expected her to smile at his enigmatic quip, so she did. But inside, her stomach twisted so tightly with disappointment that she sucked in a mouthful of air to tamp it down before it overwhelmed her.

  “Nothing passed by him unnoticed, no opportunity he didn’t exploit.”

  That she believed. She leaned forward, clinging by her fingertips to a last scrap of hope. “So he’s just as bad as everyone claims, then?” Seducer of widows and wives, relentless cardsharp and gambler, lazy and unambitious…

  “Not at all.”

  Drat it.

  “He’s better than most second sons, I’d wager. But don’t believe the stories about him wanting to become a vicar.”

  No. She had firsthand knowledge of that. A man of the cloth? Ha! For heaven’s sake, he’d made her toes curl with one kiss. God only knew what he could have done to her if Higgins hadn’t interrupted them. And it wouldn’t have been leading her in Bible study.

  “Keen as a knife, that one,” the general muttered with a private chuckle, half to himself. “Even in managing his rakehell reputation.”

  She sank back on her boot heels, frowning. What did he mean by that? Something about the way he said that made suspicion prickle at the base of her spine. More lay behind what the general knew about Christopher Carlisle than he was telling.

  Her chest deflated. “So there’s no reason for me to avoid him?”

  His gaze darted to hers. “I did not say that.” He tapped a finger against his chair arm to punctuate his point. “Best keep your distance. As you said, he is a Carlisle, after all.”