Chapter Fourteen – To Discover a Spy
Frowning, Tristan watched as the woman he had been observing all night mumbled a few words as she brushed by his friend, leaving him standing on the dance floor, before she walked up to Lady Adelaide, greeting her like an old acquaintance.
“What happened?” Tristan asked as Derek returned to his side.
His friend shrugged. “The dance ended.”
Rolling his eyes, Tristan forced his gaze from her to look at his friend. “I’m aware of that. Why did she rush off?”
Again, Derek shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
Tristan groaned, exasperated with his friend. If he wanted to, Derek could be the most observant man he’d ever met. “Can you guess?” Tristan snapped, frowning at the confused look on Lady Adelaide’s face.
“She appeared rather distracted,” Derek finally said, his own eyes returning to the woman he had been watching all night. “At some point, her muscles seemed to tense as though she’d just discovered something alarming.”
“Something alarming?” Tristan mumbled, watching the way she positioned herself between Lady Adelaide and Lord Arlton as though trying to shield the young woman from the old man’s advances. Did they know each other?
Continuing to watch her, Tristan could not help but wonder what it was that she whispered to Lady Adelaide. However, from the rather scandalised look on Lord Arlton’s face, it must have been something rather indecent. Who was this woman? He wondered, surprised when Lady Adelaide suddenly took her leave and hurried out of the ballroom.
Forcing himself to remain where he was, Tristan observed as the woman who had held his attention all night exchanged a few more words with Lord Arlton before retreating into a deserted corner of the ballroom. There, half-hidden behind a large potted plant, signs of exhaustion came to her body as her trembling hands adjusted the mask covering the upper half of her face. He wondered: What had just happened? What had she done? And why?
The more he watched her, the more confused he became regarding her character. At first, she had seemed so open and honest, but now, there seemed to be secrets hidden below the surface of her smiles. If only he knew what kind of secrets! Had she merely assisted a friend? For Tristan could not believe that a charming, young woman like Lady Adelaide would be interested in being wooed by Lord Arlton? Had there been a serious attachment on the part of the gentleman? Had he meant to propose until she−for lack of knowing her name−had interfered?
Tristan shook his head. If only he knew!
He had to know!
Somehow, he had to find out!
His heart skipped a beat when he saw her slink to the back of the room and then vanish through a side door. Without thought, his legs began to move, and he went after her, finding his way across the crowded ballroom, his eyes fixed on the closed door. Where was she going?
When the door finally closed behind him, muffling the sounds of the ballroom, Tristan strained his ears to listen as he silently proceeded down the corridor, his eyes glancing left and right, hoping to catch sight of her.
Fearing that he had lost her, Tristan began to open doors left and right, carefully peering inside. In the library, he caught sight of Lady Adelaide, a book in her hands as she sat on one of the large armchairs under the tall window, her eyes distant as she stared straight at him…without seeing him. Quickly, Tristan retreated, the frown on his face deepening. What was going on here?
A little farther down the corridor, Tristan pulled open yet another door, only to come face to face with the woman who had been haunting his thoughts from the moment he’d first seen her.
Slightly bent over the earl’s heavy desk, she was rummaging through its drawers, taking out papers, and after flipping through them, placed them on the desktop, a hint of disappointment on her face.
Watching her, Tristan shook his head, unexpected amusement curling up his lips. “Are you a spy then?” he asked, and her head jerked up. “Foreign or domestic?”
Staring at him, she swallowed, then closed her eyes momentarily before meeting his gaze. “Did you follow me?” she asked, humour in her voice, and Tristan once more felt reminded of their earlier conversation. “For it seems a bit far-fetched that you would merely happen upon me here otherwise. Would you not agree?”
Stepping forward, Tristan held her gaze. “I do agree. However, that does not explain what you’re doing here.” Stopping a few feet in front of her, he met her eyes, once more feeling himself respond. What was it about her that drew him in so?
“I might ask you the same thing.” With a smirk on her face, she stepped toward him, her eyes travelling over his face freely, not clouded by concern or suspicion at all.
“I already admitted that I followed you, did I not?”
“That you did; however, you failed to specify why.”
Taking yet another step closer, Tristan smiled at her though his eyes remained serious. “I thought that was fairly obvious.”
At his words, a deep smile curled up the corners of her mouth, and for a moment, she dropped her gaze as though contemplating how to proceed. Then she met his eyes again. “I suppose it is,” she whispered before a meaningful silence settled over the room.
Tristan drew in a deep breath, afraid to shatter this moment. Although he couldn’t have described it in words, he knew that something had happened between them. Something small, almost insignificant, and yet, life-altering.
Holding her unwavering gaze, he stepped even closer, and for a moment, they breathed in the same air, the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine tickling his nose. “You have not yet answered my question,” he insisted lightly, feeling an almost desperate need to continue their conversation.
“I suppose not,” she whispered before setting down the stack of papers she was still holding in her hands. Swallowing, she met his eyes, and the left corner of her mouth twitched before she said, “I must have gotten lost for I believed this was the library.”
A wide grin came to Tristan’s face. “You lie!” he accused, then laughed, shaking his head.
Returning his smile, she rolled her eyes−at herself or at him−he could not say. “It happens on occasion,” she finally admitted. “Would you hold it against me?”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he contemplated her question. “I must admit I hadn’t pegged you for a liar, not after what you’ve told me.”
“Was it truly a lie though?” she asked then, a daring gleam coming to her blue eyes.
Tristan frowned. “Considering that you did not speak the truth, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, if I know in advance that you will recognise my lie for what it is, is it then truly a lie? Or rather a complicated way of telling the truth?” Holding his gaze, she waited, a calculating sparkle in her blue depths.
Feeling as though he was being tested, Tristan laughed, intrigued by her line of thinking. “Are you a philosopher then?”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“Neither are you,” Tristan insisted as his heart danced in his chest with such enjoyment as he had not felt in a long time.
“Have we reached an impasse then?” she asked, the look on her face speaking of equal delight with their teasing remarks. “Any suggestions?”
“You could tell me your name,” Tristan said, finally remembering that he had yet to unravel her identity.
Expecting a myriad of reactions, Tristan was surprised when her gaze abruptly dropped from his, and she took a step back, their connection slipping through his fingers.
“It’s a masked ball,” she pointed out, retreating behind the desk, putting additional space between them. “Isn’t it the purpose of a masked ball to hide one’s identity?”
Tristan frowned. For the first time since they’d met, she seemed uncomfortable, even wary as though he represented a threat. “Is something wrong?” he couldn’t help but asked, racking his mind for a way to put her at ease without unsettling her further.
As her eyes slid over the room, careful not to meet his, she trailed her hand along the outer edge of the earl’s desk. “Maybe we should return to the ball.”
His heart picked up speed, and Tristan stepped around the desk, blocking her way, determined not to let her get away. “Will you not tell me what’s bothering you? Did I say something to offend you?”
Drawing in a deep breath, she lifted her head and met his questioning gaze. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, a wistful smile curling up the corners of her mouth. “I’m sorry, but I must go.”
Again, Tristan stepped forward, holding out an arm to keep her from stepping past him. “Please stay.”