Good heavens, Caroline was beyond sore, and she was certain she’d never smelled so poorly in all of her days. Twenty-two hours to York and another two and a half to Driffield, and an additional half-hour in the back of a sheep cart to Saddleworth Hall. In the distance, the dark stone Elizabethan manor was a beacon of safety and civilization and perhaps the most welcome site she had ever seen.

“Not very friendly at the ‘all,” the farmer said as he pulled his cart to a stop. “Can’t imagine they’ll be ‘appy as a pig in muck to see ya.”

“Aye, my brother says the marquess is a right old bastard,” Marc agreed with a nod, having assumed a rather strong Yorkshire accent as soon as they arrived in Driffield. “But I’ve got mouths to feed. I ‘ave to see if they ‘ave somethin’ for me.”

“Can understand that,” the farmer said. “If they throw ya out on yan arse, ‘ead into the village. Talk to ‘ornby at the Swan and Rose. Might ‘ave somethin’ to tide ya over.”

Marc thanked the sheep farmer for his hospitality and tried to pay the man a few coins for his troubles, but the farmer wouldn’t hear of it as Marc had ‘mouths to feed’. Then he urged his cart and old bay down the lane, leaving Marc, Caroline, Rachel, and Emma to walk the short distance to the Saddleworth gates.

“Funny,” Rachel muttered under her breath. “I’ve heard the same thing about the marquess.”

“Rachel!” Caroline’s mouth fell open in shock, but Marc seemed to bite back a smile. At least he wasn’t offended. Still, she and Rachel were going to have a long conversation about her general demeanor once they were settled at the Hall.

Not even a moment later, a hulking gate keeper hurried with great purpose from his post toward them. But as he got closer, his stride slowed just a bit and a smile spread across his face. “We didn’t expect ya, milord.”

“I didn’t send word,” Marc replied, having dropped his adopted accent altogether and sounding much more like himself. “Take the lady’s valise, Barrow. We’ve had a long journey of it.”

“Oh, aye, of course.” The gate keeper quickly took Caroline’s valise and reached for Marc’s as well. “’er ladyship will be so pleased to see ya.”

But Marc shook his head, keeping his luggage in his grasp. “I can manage,” he told his servant.

And then the five of them ambled through the foreboding iron and stone gate and down the path to Saddleworth Hall. Exhaustion had long since seeped into their bones. Emma and Rachel said very little and Caroline even less as they made their way toward the manor house.

The lands of Saddleworth were lovely, the quiet wood that they traveled through and then the picturesque gardens that they came upon. But once they finally reached the Hall’s grand entrance, Caroline wasn’t certain if she’d ever been so happy to be anywhere in her life.

As they reached the door, it opened and a middle-aged butler stood just inside the threshold. He seemed young for a butler, honestly, and his dark eyes rounded in surprise when they landed on Marc. “Milord!” He stepped aside for them to enter the manor house.

“Robson,” Marc began, “Lady Staveley and her daughters will be staying with us. Please have her ladyship set up in the marchioness’ chambers and her daughters near Lady Callista.”

“Of course, milord.” The butler reached his hand out for Marc’s valise, which he handed over without hesitation.

“I’m sure her ladyship would like a bath drawn and for her daughters as well.”

“I’ll see that it’s done.”

“Perfect,” Marc said as he started down the corridor alone. “And please send for my daughter. I would like to see her.”

Caroline watched him go and was a little surprised that he hadn’t said anything to her before he departed for parts unknown. But perhaps he was just as tired as she was.

* * *

Marc sank into the over-stuffed leather chair behind the desk in his study and took his first breath of relief since before they’d fled London. It was good to be home. Good not to have to look over his shoulder at any given moment. Good to drop his usual façade and just be himself, or it would be once he peeled off the ratty clothes he’d worn for over a day.

Of course, he’d have to find some way to explain all of this to Callista. He had no idea at all how his daughter would take this sudden invasion of her space, an invasion that might not end any time soon.

“Papa!” As though his thoughts of her had conjured Callie up, she raced into his study and threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here. But why—”

He squeezed her tight and kissed her cheek. “On my life, you get prettier every time I see you.”

“Papa!” she laughed as she pushed away from him. “You are silly.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so,” he told her and cupped the side of her face. She was such a precious child. “How are the French lessons?”

“Tu m'es manqué, Papa.” She grinned at him.

He couldn’t help but smile in return. “I missed you too, love.” Though she did need to work on her accent. He’d have to have yet another conversation with her governess about that. “Sit down for a minute, Callie, I have something to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” The smile slid from her face as she rounded his desk to drop into one of the twin chairs on the other side.

“I will be at Saddleworth for the foreseeable future.”

“You’re not going back to London?” She beamed; her light eyes that were the exact duplicate of his twinkled happily.

He shook his head. “And I’ve…well, I’ve brought someone with me. A few someones actually, and I’m hoping—”

“Who?” Her brow crinkled just so.

The only woman who’d ever made him feel alive, but he didn’t know how to say that to her. “Lady Staveley. Caroline,” he amended. “She is…she’s a particular friend of mine—“

“A friend?”

Much more than a friend, but saying as much to his daughter…well, he couldn’t just blurt that out, could he? There had to be a better way than that. “Yes,” he said as that better way had still not come to mind. “And I do hope you’ll like her.”

Callie nodded, but she did look confused. And Marc couldn’t blame her. He’d brought a few people to Saddleworth before, for various reasons, but even then he’d been ever vigilant that they never learn how devoted he was to his daughter, how very much she meant to him. Keeping her safe from his enemies had always been his top priority. As long as everyone, friends and foes alike, thought he had nothing but disdain for her, the safer she would be.

“There is no reason not to be yourself,” he told her. “We do not have to pretend with her or with her daughters.”

“Daughters?” Callie blinked at him.

Marc nodded. “Emma who is your age and Rachel who is older.”

“They’re here as well?”

He nodded again. “Aye, and they’ll be here for some time. So please do make them feel welcome.” Even Rachel, he supposed.

“All right, Papa,” she said, though she bit her lip somewhat nervously.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he continued. “They’re nice girls.” Well, Emma was, at least. “And I thought you might enjoy spending time with someone new for a change.”

“But you said new people can be dangerous.”

On more than one occasion he had stressed that very thing. How else was he to keep her safe and ever vigilant? “And they can be,” he agreed. “But I’ve known Caroline for many years. I promise you, she is not dangerous.” Only to his heart and peace of mind, but neither of those issues were Callie’s concern. “We have nothing to fear from them, love.”

“All right.” She nodded again.

“Now, what are you and Miss Gleadhill working on today?”

“Geography,” she told him.

“And more French?” he asked, raising his brow.

“Oui, Papa,” she laughed. “French as well, but not until after lunch.”

“Good,” he replied. “You never know when it might come in handy. Now run along. You can meet Caroline and her daughters at lunch, all right?”

She nodded; her long inky locks shimmered against the morning light that spilled into his study. Callie pushed out of her chair, navigated his desk once more, and threw her arms around his neck again. “I’m so glad you’re staying, Papa.”

And, honestly, so was he.

* * *

That was probably the most heavenly bath Caroline had ever enjoyed. After feeling sticky and grimy for more hours than she cared to remember, being able to scrub the travel dirt and sheep odors from her skin was such a relief. She only wished she had something to wear.

In London, Caroline had packed one change of clothes each for the girls, but there hadn’t been any room left in the valise for her things. So she’d wrapped herself in one of Marc’s robes, which was so large it was almost comical. It billowed at her feet, and if she didn’t clutch the top together, the whole thing would fall quite off her shoulders.

Mrs. Dawson, the housekeeper, had taken Caroline’s clothes and promised to get the smell of sheep washed away, promptly. But it would still be some time before her things would be ready to wear again.

“No, I don’t like it.” Came Marc’s voice from somewhere behind her.

Heavens! He nearly scared her to death. She spun on her heel to find him leaning against the doorjamb to the dressing room that led to his chambers from hers, that wolfish look in his light eyes.

“You don’t like what?” she asked.

He frowned a bit and gestured to her entire person. “Can’t even make out the outline of your breasts in that. You’ll have to wear something else.”

She rolled her eyes. Ridiculous man. “Yes, well, until my clothes are washed and pressed, you’ll have to live with this.”

His frown deepened a bit. “You have nothing else to wear? What did you pack?”

“There was no room after making sure the girls had clothes.”

“Selfless.” He shook his head and sauntered into her chambers. “You, my love—” he slid his arms around her waist “—would make a horrible operative. Do you know that?”

She probably would, especially if she had to go around lying to everyone she knew all the time. She still had no idea how he kept it all straight in his head. “You said to only bring a small valise so we wouldn’t stick out.”

“I did,” he agreed. “Foolish me. You stick out wherever you are. Like a beacon of goodness and happiness wherever you go. Definitely not operative material.”

Oh, she did love him.

“I’m certain Miss Gleadhill has something you can wear until we figure out what to do about your wardrobe.”

“Miss Gleadhill?”

“Callista’s governess,” he explained. “I suppose she could even send out for some new dresses in the village without raising suspicions.”

Which begged the question… “Marc, how did that farmer not know you?” She shook her head. “You come here every several weeks? Wouldn’t he have seen you at some point? Or the hostlers at the coaching inn? Or—”

“I always stop further away at Garton-on-the-Wolds, rent a horse there, and ride the rest of the way. They think I’m a traveling salesman. But that ruse wouldn’t have worked for four of us. It was better to come all the way to Driffield and make our way to the Hall under the guise of looking for employment.”

“No one in the village knows who you are?”

“Only by reputation,” he replied.

“Isn’t that very…isolating?” she asked. After all, she didn’t know everyone in Staveley, but she knew most of them and would be surprised if anyone back home in Westmorland wouldn’t know her by sight.

“It’s very safe.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and brushed his lips across hers. “And that is what I’m concerned about.” Then he pushed back slightly from her and wrinkled his nose. “You smell different.”

Oh no! Did she still smell like a sheep cart? She took a step away from him, completely horrified. “On my word, I scrubbed and scrubbed. Do I still smell awful?”

An amused expression flashed in his eyes. “I didn’t say you smelled awful. Just not like yourself. Miss Gleadhill will have to send out for some lilac soap while she’s ordering new dresses.”

Was that all? Caroline breathed out a relieved breath of air. “Honestly, Marc, your courtship skills are sorely out of practice.”

He laughed lightly. “Yes, well, they’ve never been in practice, love, as I’ve never courted anyone before. So you’ll have to grant me some leeway.”

“Your courtship skills have never been in practice?” she echoed. What a ridiculous thing to say. “You were married once.”

Marc agreed with an incline of his head. “Aye. My father courted her father’s empire. And her father courted my father’s title. They both found themselves quite in love.”

She laughed at his description. Even so, he was hardly the only lord in England to have had his marriage arranged, or even the only lord in England who had married for money. From the grand look of things at Saddleworth, his late-wife’s fortune had not gone to waste. If the marquessate had ever been destitute, it appeared far from it now. But regardless of his courtship or lack thereof with Carys Pugh, Marc had been betrothed previously to his ill-fated marriage. That Miss Burke for whom things hadn’t ended well.

“What is that look?” He frowned at her, like he could almost read her mind.

Caroline shrugged slightly and lifted the edges of his robe so she could make her way to the four-poster just a few feet away. “Well, there was another girl you were betrothed to, before you married Miss Pugh.”

And then his light blue eyes seemed to assess her rather seriously. “Miss Burke.”

Caroline nodded. “I have heard of her,” she said as she settled on the edge of the bed and tucked her legs up underneath her.

“No.” He laughed slightly as he stalked toward her. “You had heard that after she jilted me, I flew into a rage, kidnapped her, and ruined her in the process.”

Well, that was what she’d heard, but Caroline didn’t want to even acknowledge the truth of that with a nod. Even if she couldn’t fathom the Marc she knew doing something so horrific, she knew that he had done so. Everyone who’d been in London at the time knew what he’d done. So she simply met his gaze head on instead. “Why did you do such a thing?”

He stood right before her and said very evenly as he softly brushed his fingers against her cheek, “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Caroline.”

A jolt of heat washed over her, but Caroline pushed the sensation away. What did he mean by that? Was he denying that he’d kidnapped Miss Burke? She remembered quite well when he’d done so. Tales of that horrible incident had circulated all through Town and had terrified her whenever she heard his name back during her first Season. “Are you saying you didn’t do so?”

“What do you think?” he asked, sliding her to the middle of the bed so he could join her.

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine you doing anything like that, but…”

“But?” he urged, resting his jaw on his elbow as he faced her.

“Well, what did you do?” she countered. After all, he said he always told her the truth, didn’t he? What was the truth about Miss Burke?

“Well, I didn’t court her, that’s for certain.” His wolfish grin was firmly in place.

He truly could try the patience of a saint. “Marc,” she complained.

Of course, that only made his smile widen. “Alice was an operative, Caroline. From a family of operatives, really.” And then his smile disappeared. “Though how her father thought it the thing to do to involve his daughters in such games escapes me. The very last thing I would ever do is push Callie into service for King and Country.”

Caroline couldn’t imagine doing anything like that either. “A family of operatives.”

He shrugged. “Well, his sons gained military honors, but his daughters…”

When he said nothing else, Caroline prodded, “His daughters?”

“Ended up serving their country on their backs. Hardly the life any man should want for his daughter.” He shook his head. “Alice was beautiful. Smart girl. Deserved better than her lot in life.”

An operative. Caroline would have never suspected that. “So you met her in some…spy meeting?” she guessed.

“We never had spy meetings. We weren’t in some sort of club.” He shook his head as though the idea was ridiculous. The twinkle in his eyes, however, softened that rebuke a bit. “We were working on a mission together. It benefitted the mission for us to be betrothed, and so we were.” He heaved a sigh. “The mission came to an end, and since only a woman can call off a betrothal…”

“She jilted you.”

He nodded. “But the mission wasn’t truly over. I found that out when part of the group we infiltrated, the group we thought we’d broken up, ended up abducting her.” He blew out a breath as though he was remembering something awful. “Anyway, I found her, broken as she was, rescued her from that awful place, and delivered her to the fellow she really did love, one who could take her away from the life her father had subjected her to. They live a very quiet life in Norfolk, last I heard.”

Goodness! That was what had happened? “You’ve been painted a villain for nearly two decades.”

“Upstanding fellows have a more difficult time being accepted into the dens of devils.” Marc shrugged. “My reputation served me well for many years.”

Caroline leaned back against the pillows and let out a breath. “I feel like I don’t even know you at all.”

He slid her beneath him and tugged a stray curl behind her ear. “Do you know I love you?”

She did know that. She believed it in every part of her. So Caroline nodded.

“Do you know that I would never let any harm come to you?”

She nodded again, biting her lower lip, which made his gaze settle on her mouth and her core to pulse with need. “So what else do you wish to know, love?”

Everything. She wanted to know every single thing there was to know about Marcus Gray. But what she said was, “I suppose I’d most like to know what it’s like to be made love to in Saddleworth Hall.”

He flashed her a grin. “I am your most humble servant,” he whispered against her lips before capturing them with his.