Michael spent that night on the floor of their chamber again, and consequently passed much of the following day dozing in the carriage. His dreams were jumbled and vague, but at one point he swore he felt a soft body cuddle up against his and smelled the fragrance of lilies in the air. The next thing he was aware of was Joanna’s voice calling him back to the land of the conscious.
“We’ve arrived.”
When Michael straightened in his seat and looked out of the window, he got an eyeful of summer sun sinking slowly toward the horizon. Rubbing his eyes and trying the other side of the carriage, he saw what could only be described as the largest red brick mansion in Ireland.
“What is this place?”
A footman opened the door and let down the stairs, standing by as Michael climbed out and handed Joanna down. “This way please.”
Joanna slid her arm through Michael’s as they followed the footman to the main entrance of the house. “Glanmire House. It belongs to the Earl of Hartland, who is one of the invitees.”
“A building like this could house the entire population of Hell.”
“And yet, for the next few days it will house only eleven secret informants and the servants employed here.”
“And Sir Arthur,” a male voice added as they stepped into the entryway. “I’m Hartland,” he said, extending his hand.
Michael shook it. “Michael Devlin. And this is my wife, Joanna.”
Hartland’s gaze swung to Joanna. “Wait, you’re married? I thought you were a widow.”
“A widow?” Michael echoed. “You told him I was dead?”
She answered in a voice that might have been discussing a dinner menu. “It’s a way to hide my identity. I don’t use your name or mine, so few people know who I really am or who is close to me.”
“I can see the sense in that,” Michael admitted.
But Hartland was laughing and rubbing his hands together. “It’s going to be fun introducing you tonight. My housekeeper, Mrs. McKenney, will show you to your chambers where you can refresh yourselves. We’re having our after dinner port in the library if you’d like to join us.”
“We will.” Joanna answered before Michael could, taking his arm once again and leading him toward the staircase where the housekeeper waited. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned in and said, “He’s a good sort, but it’s best not to engage him too much when he’s like that.”
“Like what?”
“Gleeful.”
“The library introductions are not going to go well, are they?”
She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “They will be fine. By the time we get down there, Hartland will have already told everyone about our marital status. They’ll be curious about you, but once they realize that you have skills to offer the group they won’t even remember that you have a wife.”
Mrs. McKenney stopped at one chamber, opening the door and smiling brightly at Michael. “This is yours, Mr. Devlin. Your trunk is just there, and the bell pull is here. If you should require anything at all during your stay, just give it a tug.”
Then she was leading Joanna away down the hallway, and Michael was left alone for the first time in three days. It was an odd feeling—though he’d lived by himself for five years he’d begun to get used to having Joanna with him again, talking to him, touching him. He’d fallen asleep the past two nights listening to the sound of her soft breathing, the rustle of the sheets when she was restless.
On the other hand, he wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor anymore.
A knock sounded at the door and Joanna slipped in with a fresh gown draped over one arm. “Can you help me undress one more time? I need to give that letter to Sir Arthur.”
“Even the maids here aren’t to be trusted, eh?” he smiled, reaching for the row of buttons down her back.
“With the weapons, maybe.”
“But not the correspondence.” He worked in silence for a moment. “Who helped you dress in the first place? You were wearing your fine clothes when I met you at the carriage the first day we traveled.”
“Cara Campbell. Lucky she was there, or you would have been dressing me in the stable before we departed.”
There was an image he didn’t need in his mind just before meeting a roomful of strangers. But instead of shoving it away, he tried turning the tables on her. “That would have been different. I don’t think we ever got amorous in a stable.”
Her shoulders rose a fraction as she sucked in a quick breath. “Well, there was that time in Kildare...”
“Our honeymoon? That was a meadow, not a stable.”
“But there were horses nearby.”
He laughed and began work on her stays. “Yes, there were. You said the piebald one was staring at us.”
“I’m a spy—I like being unnoticed.”
The letter slid out and he handed it to her, lacing her back up with a twinge of regret. Reminiscing about their tryst in the meadow had set his blood pounding in his ears...and other places. But there was work to be done this night, and he’d need a clear head for it. Nor did he want to entangle himself with this woman until they’d had a chance to sort through everything that happened between them. Joanna had said that her disappearance was forced, but what exactly did that mean?
He finished with her laces and helped her with the new gown, then allowed her to choose a clean waistcoat and breeches for him. When they were both ready, he offered her his arm.
“Shall we?”
“Let’s go.”
The library at Glanmire House was a vast room, the walls covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a large fireplace with logs and kindling ready to light, and various pieces of furniture made from walnut wood and leather scattered about the space. There were close to a dozen men clustered about the room in twos and threes, some talking in low voices, some with more animation.
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Devlin.” The Earl of Hartland disengaged himself from his group and came to greet them, shooting Joanna a sardonic smile and placing a slight emphasis on her surname.
“My lord,” she answered, dipping a curtsy with her eyes cast down in a show of demureness Michael suspected she didn’t feel.
He managed his own bow. “Lord Hartland.”
“Just Hartland is fine. Or Hart if you’re feeling friendly.” To Joanna he said, “Hoskins has something he needed to speak with you about. If you’d like to go see what he wants, I can introduce your husband around.”
Joanna looked at Michael with raised brows and he answered with a tiny nod. He may not have had the training in social graces that Hartland had, but he could hold his own in a less formal gathering like this.
“May I present to you Mr. Laurence Fortescue of Oxford, Mr. Hugh Bannerman of Devonshire, and Lord Adam St. Peters of Kent. Gentlemen, this is Mr. Michael Devlin of Dublin.” As handshakes were exchanged, Hartland continued, “You might also know him as the Demon of Dublin’s Hell.”
Michael fought the urge to both roll his eyes and hit the earl. Few people in the world knew that Michael was the Demon, and he’d wanted to keep it that way. But these men were supposed to be trustworthy, and it was clear by the smirk on his face that Hartland was doing his level best to shock his guests.
“I didn’t know Dublin had a Hell,” St. Peters commented. “Nice.”
“Not really,” Michael replied. “But it’s home.”
“Wolfgang of the Seven Seas and the Marquis of Thorston, or should I say Thunder,” Hartland continued, gesturing as he approached a pair of gentlemen glowering at each other a few feet away, “Meet Michael Devlin of Dublin. Also known as the Demon...and Mrs. Perkins’s husband.”
“She’s married?” Wolfgang growled, echoing Hartland’s own earlier words.
“She is,” Michael told him with more force than he’d meant to use. Wolfgang of the Seven Seas? What was that all about?
“All right then.”
Hartland moved to the last group without even checking to see if Michael was with him. “Lord Adam Bateman of Berkshire, Mr. Colin Hoskins of Kent, this is Michael Devlin of Hell.”
Bateman arched a single brow. “Hell?”
“It’s a area of Dublin,” Michael clarified.
“Not a good one, then,” Hoskins said with a laugh.
“That’s why I’m there,” Michael replied. “To make it better.”
Another gentleman joined the group, offering first a bow then his hand to Michael. “Captain Grant Alexander.”
Michael took his hand and shook it. “Michael Devlin.”
“Ah, Joanna’s Michael. She mentioned you when she delivered my letter.”
Michael struggled to keep his mouth from falling open. “She did?”
“She was excited to be going home to her husband. I didn’t realize you’d also been invited here. I’m pleased you could join us.”
She’d been excited to come home? Michael wondered if that was the word Joanna had actually used, or if it was Alexander’s interpretation. She’d never lived in the rooms he occupied now, but perhaps it was the notion of love and partnership that constituted home for her.
It certainly had for him.
~~~
After everyone had retired to their chambers for the night, Michael stole quietly down the hallway and knocked on Joanna’s door. Though why he was sneaking around he wasn’t sure—Hartland had indeed made sure the entire assemblage knew she was his wife.
A soft, “Who is it?” answered his knock.
“Michael.”
The door opened a moment later and she motioned him to come inside. “I was going to have one of the maids help me tonight...”
“Help you? Oh, with your clothes. That’s not actually why I’m here.”
“It isn’t?”
Michael thought she sounded disappointed. Had she been looking forward to reenacting the meadow scene? “I was hoping you’d go over the guest list with me, and tell me a little more about each man here.”
“I can do that.” She motioned toward a sofa positioned at the foot of the bed. “Shall we sit?”
He seated himself beside her after she was settled. “They all know about my role in The Liberties, but I realized that I know little about any of them outside of their names.”
“Well, Mr. Fortescue, Captain Alexander, and Major Bannerman are in the army, though in Fortescue’s case that’s rather sensitive information. They aren’t in the same unit, nor do I think they’ve ever crossed paths before now. Wolfgang and Mr. Hoskins are commoners—Hoskins is an archery master, and Wolf is...well, Wolf is a pirate. When he’s not at sea he spends most of his time skulking around places of ill repute.”
Michael turned to look at her, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. “Why on earth was this Wolf asked to be a part of a secret intelligence-gathering group, then? And why does he have no other name than ‘Wolfgang’?”
“His name is a long story, but he’s proved—repeatedly—that he can be trusted. And besides, he visits places no one else here has ever been to.”
“That makes sense. It was the reason I was invited, too, wasn’t it? Because I go places no one else goes.”
“It was.”
Her arm brushed his as she reached out to smooth a wrinkle from her skirts he didn’t see. “It was why each one of you was invited. There are ten of you gentlemen and me—while our interests and locations may overlap in some cases, we each have a unique quality or two that makes us valuable to Sir Arthur and the struggle against Napoleon’s agents.”
“What’s Hartland’s unique quality?”
“Other than his money? He’s actually rather brilliant at designing and building things.”
“What kind of things?”
Joanna slipped her arm through Michael’s and took his hand, resting her head against his shoulder. “Whatever he wants.”
Michael closed his eyes and he savored his wife’s touch. “That’s a handy sort of man to have around.”
“So are you.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” She lifted her head a moment to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Will you stay with me tonight? I’ll sleep on the floor or here on the sofa, and you can have the bed. I just feel odd about spending the night in separate rooms.”
“I don’t know, Joanna...”
“Everyone knows we’re married, so there won’t be a scandal.”
He pulled away from her to look her in the eyes. “Since when do you care what other people think?”
“I don’t,” she answered without hesitation. “I only meant that there wouldn’t be any repercussions. One can’t ruin one’s own wife.”
“That is true,” he grinned, stroking a fingertip over her cheek. Then he glanced back at the big bed behind them. “I suspect we could both sleep comfortably there. Even with my need to spread out.”
“That’s one benefit of having Hartland host,” she told him with a smile. “Well appointed accommodations. I suppose that means you may help me undress after all.”
“How well do you know his lordship?” Michael asked, rising from the sofa and shrugging off his tailcoat.
She rose along with him, taking his coat to drape it over the arm of the sofa and reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat. “I was in contact with him more than the others, making arrangements for our stay, so perhaps there’s a little more familiarity there. Why?”
“I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”
She pushed the waistcoat off his shoulders and down his arms, turning him around to remove it from his body. “He’s a rake. He looks at every female that way.”
“He shouldn’t. And you aren’t every female.”
He heard a light laugh. “Are you jealous, Michael?”
They traded positions, and he went to work on the buttons running down the back of her gown. “No, it isn’t jealousy. It’s protectiveness, I think. Though I’m not sure if I even should feel protective of you.”
“Because we were apart for so long?”
“And because you can take care of yourself. I always knew that, but it wasn’t until I saw you interrogating a man you’d wrestled to the ground that I knew it.”
She stepped out of her gown and laid it atop his coat on the sofa. “It’s easier to have faith in something you see with your own eyes.”
“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”
They were both silent for a time while he dealt with the laces of her stays. But when she’d removed the garment, she turned to him. “Did you believe that I would come back to you?”
“No. But I always hoped you would.”
She took his hands in hers and kissed each one in turn. “And now that I have?”
“We still have a lot to discuss. But I am thankful that you’re safe and unharmed.” He adjusted his grip on her fingers and gave them a little squeeze. “Were you ever worried about me? That you’d come back to Ireland and find me gone...or dead?”
“Every day. There was no way I could obtain information about you without putting you in danger, and that drove me nearly to distraction. I’d lie awake at night and imagine all sorts of scenarios, none of them ending in our happy reunion.”
Michael allowed his heart to overrule his head for once and slid his arms around Joanna, pulling her close. “I wouldn’t say our initial reunion was happy, but we’ve managed sufficiently these past few days. We’re both whole and uninjured, too.”
She rested her cheek against his shoulder, cinching her arms about his waist. “I am glad I no longer have to take either of those pronouncements on faith.”
He kissed the top of her head, the gesture borne of genuine affection this time rather than the need to convince a criminal. “So am I.”