CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Philip was on his way up the stairs when he met Miss Mayson and Mr. Ratley coming down. Her smile was rigid.
“Mr. Merrick. Are you well?” Mr. Ratley asked.
“Oh, someone spilled brandy on my coat. I’m going up to change.”
“My valet is a wonder at removing stains, if you need his assistance.”
“Thank you. I shall let you know.”
He did not allow himself to even look at Miss Mayson.
He continued up as they went down.
He went back to Lady Blackstone’s room, but this time the door was locked. Ratley must have locked it. He hurried to his own room, changed his coat, even though he’d lied about the spill, and went back downstairs.
Miss Mayson and Mr. Ratley were dancing, smiling at each other and drawing the gazes of several people. Philip’s stomach churned to see the way she looked at her fiancé. Of course, she was only pretending. He knew it, but it brought back the memory of her leaning into Mr. Ratley and kissing him.
Philip’s stomach sank at the thought of her kissing the man in order to help him escape. He had to get those papers before Mr. Ratley took advantage of her, for it was surely only a matter of time before the man wanted more than just a kiss in a corridor.
Philip asked a young lady to dance and wondered if she had any idea that she was dancing amongst the top leaders of a dangerous and capable group of revolutionaries. But she could speak only about the most inane things—the latest fashions, men’s neckcloths, women’s gowns, and whether it was more socially fashionable to curtsy or shake hands. He was so bored he had to stifle a yawn. As soon as it was polite to do so, he excused himself.
Philip asked another young lady to dance, then another and another. He danced every dance that Mr. Ratley and Miss Mayson did. Meanwhile, Lady Blackstone seemed to have been absent for more than an hour. Was she out somewhere hiding the dead body from her garden?
Lady Blackstone finally reappeared to host the supper, during which Philip flirted with every young lady who came near him, and soon he had three of them around him, each trying to get in more words with him than the other two. Meanwhile, Miss Mayson stayed by her fiancé’s side, talking and smiling.
Would Mr. Ratley and Lady Blackstone convince Miss Mayson that their cause was noble? That the violence and upheaval they would wreak would be justified? Seeing her now with Mr. Ratley, he could believe it was possible. Or was she as nauseated at the thought of kissing Ratley as Philip had been to see her do it?
He wished this night would end.
Felicity’s thoughts were focused on the key in Mr. Ratley’s pocket. Unfortunately, he was not much of a drinker, not enough for her to hope he would drink until his senses were dulled so that she could take the key from his pocket without his being aware. But if she could get that key . . .
She wanted this to end, to get out of this house, out of this engagement, and out of this revolutionary plot. She was not bold and courageous like her friends Julia and Leorah. She was nervous and emotional, and yet, she did not think she was doing too badly at pretending.
Perhaps if she could get Mr. Ratley to walk her to her door she could get close enough to him to steal the key.
Her stomach twisted at how she was manipulating this man, deceiving him with kisses when she had no intention of marrying him. But was it justified if she was doing it to save people’s lives?
By the time the guests began to leave, Felicity’s eyelids were heavy and so were her feet. But she was aware that she had led Mr. Ratley to believe that she enjoyed kissing him. Extricating herself from him might prove a challenge. She needed her wits about her.
When Lady Blackstone was saying good night to the last of the guests, Mr. Ratley looked down at her rather meaningfully. “Shall I walk you to your door?”
“Oh yes, I am so very tired. And poor Auntie. Sometimes she does not sleep well at all. I hope she is not worried that I stayed up so late.”
She held on to his arm as they made their way up the stairs.
When Felicity and Mr. Ratley arrived at her door, he brought her around to face him.
“I hope you enjoyed the ball.”
“Of course. I danced with you all night.” She smiled and let him draw her close, meanwhile keeping her hand at the level of his pocket. She buried her face in his chest, as if she thought he merely wanted to embrace her. But wouldn’t he feel her hand inside his pocket?
She could not avoid it. She lifted her face and let him kiss her while she fished into his pocket, caught hold of the key, and drew it out. Clutching it in her fist, she ended the kiss and quickly turned the knob on her door.
“Good night, Mr.—that is, Oliver.”
He did not try to detain her, only looked slightly disappointed as she closed the door behind her, gripping the key so tightly it dug into her palm.
The next day, Felicity rose earlier than she thought it would be likely for Lady Blackstone to be up. She tried not to look suspicious as she prowled around downstairs, praying she would see Lady Blackstone leave her room. She was rather surprised not to see Mr. Merrick anywhere, but that was a good thing. She didn’t want to be tempted to tell him she had the key. Then he might insist on using it to go in Lady Blackstone’s room, and Felicity wanted to do it herself. She could get the papers, copy them, and be able to hand them over to Mr. Merrick to get them safely to the officials in the Home Office. Then this whole thing would be over. She could escape, somehow, to her home in London and have her father break her engagement with Mr. Ratley, who would then be arrested and . . .
Mr. Ratley might be hanged for his involvement in this plot. And Lady Blackstone as well. But of course they would be hanged. They were plotting high treason, planning to murder Members of Parliament and even the royal family.
She could not be missish about Mr. Ratley. Besides, she had only to do what was right. She was not responsible for the final outcome. Mr. Ratley and Lady Blackstone had only themselves to blame for whatever trouble they found themselves in.
Still, a pain stabbed her chest at the thought of Mr. Ratley being hanged. After all, she had planned to marry him and love him for the rest of her life. She’d had tender feelings in her heart when she told him yes, and pity and compassion lurked there still. She would not escape pain for her poor decision to form an attachment to Mr. Ratley.
Someone was coming down the stairs. Felicity waited in the empty sitting room, her hands shaking as she silently prayed for calm.
As the steps came closer, she casually exited the room and pretended surprise as the person turned out to be Lady Blackstone herself.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Felicity. You are up early. I would have thought you’d still be sleeping.”
“I’m not a late sleeper. I like to get dressed early. Are you going somewhere?”
Lady Blackstone was dressed for riding.
“I like my solitary rides in the morning.” She smiled, but it was a tight smile.
“I am not much of a rider, but I hope you have a good ride.”
Lady Blackstone thanked her and went out through the back door toward the stable.
Felicity’s heart pounded hard against her chest as she started up the stairs. At the top, she turned toward Lady Blackstone’s door.
“Felicity?”
She spun around and pressed a hand to her heart and swallowed. “Mr. Ratley. You are up early.” He’d nearly caught her! What if he’d followed her and seen her using the key she’d stolen from him to unlock Lady Blackstone’s door?
How foolish of her to try to do everything herself. She should have informed Mr. Merrick that she had the key. She was not a spy. She would get herself and Mr. Merrick killed.
He walked to her and put his arms around her. “How is my darling this morning? Did you sleep well?”
She avoided his lips by turning her head when she embraced him. “I did, I thank you. Did you?”
“Yes. But where were you going just now?” He pulled away and gazed into her face.
“I—I thought I heard something, Lady Blackstone’s voice, but I suppose I was wrong.”
“Good morning.”
Felicity pulled out of Mr. Ratley’s embrace as Mr. Merrick’s voice came from down the corridor.
“Mr. Merrick,” Mr. Ratley greeted. “You are also an early riser, I see.”
“I don’t like to sleep my day away.”
“I was just about to ask Miss Mayson to take a walk in the garden with me.”
“I would not intrude on you. I was on my way to practice billiards.”
“The sky is very lovely,” Felicity hastened to say. “I hope you will take the time, later, to enjoy the mild weather and pretty clouds.”
“Thank you, I shall,” Mr. Merrick said. He met Mr. Ratley’s eye. “Enjoy your walk.”
Felicity accompanied Mr. Ratley out into the garden, trying to attend to what he was saying about the ball the night before. Once they were outside, she was glad the sky was indeed lovely—she had said the first thing about the sky that came to her mind. Equal portions of blue sky and white clouds mingled, a milder-than-usual day.
Soon Mr. Ratley had led her to the back of the garden to a hidden spot between a wall and a very tall hedge and seated her on a bench and sat beside her. He pulled her close and started to kiss her.
Felicity pushed him away. “I’m not comfortable with so much kissing before our wedding.” She was looking down when she said it, then up at him through her lashes. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
He sighed. “I do not know what to think. Sometimes you are eager to kiss me. What is the meaning behind your disposition—hot one moment and cold the next?” He gave her a disapproving scowl.
“You would not want to marry a woman of loose morals.” She gave him a half smile, hoping he would see the humor in the situation. But her insides were trembling, and she might become desperate enough to scream for help, or even fight him, if he tried to kiss her again. She just couldn’t bear his lips on hers, not right now.
“But you know we will be married very soon. Why do you object to a simple kiss when no one is looking?”
“I am impulsive sometimes, but someone might come along and see us. And you have not spoken to my father yet, so my reputation is at stake.”
“But you have already agreed to marry me. This is carrying modesty to an extreme. Do you not think so?”
“Darling.” She took his hand in hers. “Please grant me this tiny request. You may kiss me once or twice a day. Is that not enough? As you said, we shall be married soon, and then it shall not matter. We shall not be obliged to sneak out to the garden to kiss each other then.”
He sighed again. “I will honor your request. But it is very hard. A great hardship.” He looked at her as a parent might as they scolded a small child.
“Thank you, my dear. You are extremely forbearing.”
“I flatter myself I am.” He gave her another scolding half smile.
Being meek and afraid of his temper was probably not the best tactic. She should have straightened her spine, raised her chin, and asserted in an insulted tone that she was not married to him yet and he was not to kiss her at all. Too late for that now.
“Let us walk a bit.” She took his arm, and they wandered through the garden.
“Did you hear what the Parker twins said to me?” Mr. Ratley smiled and then proceeded to tell her about some flattering statement made about his approachable manners at the ball the night before. Someone else had complimented how well looking the two of them were together, and yet another guest had praised their dancing.
It was the sort of flattery commonly spoken at such parties, but Mr. Ratley seemed to think the guests had truly thought him and Felicity exceptionally gifted.
“Forgive me, Oliver, but I believe the sun is giving me a headache. I should probably go inside.”
“Of course. Come.” He led her inside and walked her up to her room.
“What will you do the rest of the day?” Felicity hoped he would not be wandering the corridors while she went to her rendezvous with Mr. Merrick.
“I think I will go and see Lady Blackstone’s falcons. She is quite a good falconer.”
“I hope you enjoy yourself. I may go and find myself a book to read after I’ve lain down for a few minutes.”
They were standing at her door. He leaned toward her, but stopped short of kissing her. He straightened. “Am I permitted to kiss you here?”
“Only on the cheek.” She smiled and offered her cheek.
He frowned, then kissed her on the cheek. She quickly went inside her room.
Aunt Agnes was breaking her fast by the window.
“Auntie, are you well?”
“Yes, but I have been wondering when we might go back to London.”
“Soon. I hope. But I do not know exactly when.” Felicity walked to her bed and lay across it.
How many times had she lied to Mr. Ratley today alone? She was not a spy. Would guilt overtake her and cause her to make a mistake? God, forgive me for the lies. I know liars have their place in the lake of fire. Was there justification based on motive and situation? She couldn’t recall reading anything in the Bible about such a thing. Although . . . God often commanded the Israelites to kill during wars with other nations. If killing was permissible in wartime, wouldn’t lying be also?
She waited until she felt Mr. Ratley must be safely outside the house. She could go and try to get into Lady Blackstone’s room with the key, but her hands shook at the mere thought. What if Lady Blackstone came back from her ride and caught her?
If she were as bold and fearless as Lady Withinghall, she would take the risk, but she decided it was best to go and meet with Mr. Merrick, as he would be waiting for her in the library closet. Besides, she was bound to make a mistake sooner or later, and a mistake could cost her life as well as Mr. Merrick’s. No, as she had decided earlier, she would give him the key.
“Auntie, I’ll be back soon. Do you need anything?”
“You might pick out another book for me, if you are going near the library.”
“Of course. I will.”
Felicity hurried down the stairs, then reminded herself not to look suspicious and slowed her pace. She entered the library, picked a book from one of the shelves, and went inside the closet door. Mr. Merrick stood waiting for her in the tiny room.
He had brought two small stools into the room. He indicated one with his hand. “Would you like to sit?”
“Thank you.” She perched on the small stool and handed him the key that, embarrassingly, had become damp from her sweaty palm.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the key to Lady Blackstone’s room. I took it from Mr. Ratley’s pocket.”
He stared at the key, then at her, from his perch on the stool. He was only two feet in front of her, and the closet was quite dim, having no windows and being lit by only one candle.
“Very well done, Miss Mayson. Truly, you are a great spy.”
A giggle suddenly escaped her throat. She pressed a hand to her lips and shook her head. If he only knew how afraid she had been, how her hands had hardly stopped shaking.
But his bright-blue eyes continued to gaze at her. “Truly, I am very impressed.”
She had to blink away tears. “Don’t be. If I were not so afraid, I might have stolen the papers by now. Lady Blackstone went riding this morning, and Mr. Ratley said he was going to look in on her falcons, but I was too afraid Lady Blackstone would return while I was in her room. I am not a spy, Mr. Merrick.”
She took a deep breath to try and force back the threatening tears.
“Well, I do appreciate what you had to do to get the key, Miss Mayson.”
She shook her head again. “I had to let him kiss me. I hated myself for doing it.” The words made the tears come back. One slipped from her eye, and she wiped it with her fingers.
Mr. Merrick quickly pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.
“I am pretending to be his fiancée—I am his fiancée. But I have no intention of marrying him.” She wiped her eyes and nose. “I am not that kind of girl. I have never kissed a man before, Mr. Merrick, and I do not even like it.” A tiny sob escaped her.
“Miss Mayson, you don’t have to tell me—”
“And I have lied to him over and over. I don’t lie, Mr. Merrick. I never lie.”
Why was she telling him all this? What must he think of her? She had to stop.
She covered her face with his handkerchief and forced herself to think only about breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. But it was no use. She couldn’t stop her thoughts.
“You must believe me. I had no idea they were revolutionaries when they invited me here or I never would have come. I thought Mr. Ratley truly loved me. But now the thought of marrying him makes me feel sick. Kissing him is repulsive, but I know I am doing it not only to save my own life and that of my aunt but to save my country. Still, I wish it was over.” She pressed the handkerchief to her face again to catch the tears that fell.
“Please do not cry, Miss Mayson.”
She felt his warm hand on her shoulder, just resting there, comforting.
“You don’t know how grateful I am that you distracted Mr. Ratley when I was in Lady Blackstone’s room. If not for you, I might have been killed, and all might have been lost. You are a hero, Miss Mayson.”
She tried to sniff discreetly and wipe her nose. She didn’t want to blow into his handkerchief. How mortifying.
“How you must scorn me for crying.” She did her best to wipe her face and clear her throat, determined not to cry any more. “I am not fearless like you.”
“Not at all. I think you are much braver than any woman I know.”
She let out a short laugh at that.
“Truly, most women—even most men I know—would not have agreed to help spy on such dangerous people. And I am not fearless, only motivated. Truthfully, I don’t enjoy lying and pretending either. I thought I wanted to be a spy, that it would be exciting, but . . . You will think me foolish and immature.”
She looked up, forgetting about how red and puffy her face must appear. “I won’t. Tell me.”
“I wanted to prove to my brothers that I could do something they had never done. You see, I am the youngest, and my older brothers always did everything before I was able to—they climbed the highest trees while I fell and broke my leg. They went hunting with Father while I was left at home. My oldest brother will inherit my father’s estate, and my next oldest brother is a rector, while my third brother is an officer in the army. I thought I could impress them if I did something important.”
He half frowned, half smiled at himself. His eyes held such a vulnerable light.
“You see? I am not so brave. I began only to impress my brothers. But now . . . I am serving England and the Crown.”
“Yes, of course. You are doing something very noble and good. Your brothers would be impressed. Will be impressed.”
His shoulders were wide and seemed to fill the tiny room. But it was the vulnerable, self-deprecating expression in his eyes and on his face that made him even more appealing. Truly, she wondered how different it might be to kiss Mr. Merrick’s lips than Mr. Ratley’s. She wished she could find out.
Felicity ducked her head, unable to look Mr. Merrick in the eye. How could she think such a thing? All this kissing and duplicity was addling her mind.
“I wish I had tried to get the papers earlier, after Mr. Ratley left.”
“No, you did the right thing. It is best to be cautious, especially now that we have this.” He held up the key. “When we get out of here and get back to London, I shall make sure Lord Sidmouth knows what you’ve done, stealing this key and helping to find those papers, memorizing information. Your help has been very valuable.”
“That is kind of you to say.”
“It is the truth.”
The longer she stayed in this room with him, the more she realized how improper it was. But propriety seemed the least of her worries. England, as she knew it, could cease to exist if she and Mr. Merrick did not succeed in stopping Lady Blackstone.