Chapter Fifteen

For Tony it had been a frustrating evening. The American lady looked lovelier than ever, and he regretted that he had no chance to speak to her alone. What had Beau’s brother been talking about that made her so perturbed? He had noticed a thread of tension between them. What was that about?

And little Mr. Tisdale seemed determined to claim what he viewed as his “property.” All of this had upstaged his concerns about Sagethorn, but he still intended to speak to Miss Livingstone about the man. He was more curious than ever about what constituted their relationship.

Arriving at Shipley House at eleven o’clock, he was relieved to find the lady waiting for him in the front parlor. They slipped out of the house without being seen by Tisdale or Lady Ogletree.

Offering his arm, he said, “Continuing to feel well?”

“Yes, thank you. I enjoyed the dinner party last night.”

He liked the feeling of her arm through his. She was wearing the new apricot muslin again today, and it was very becoming. They stopped at a crossing, and an eager boy swept the street for them. Tony tossed him a ha’penny.

“I know it must be impossible, but you seemed to be acquainted with Ernest. Had you ever met him before?”

To his surprise her face colored, and she bit her bottom lip. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid that is a question you must ask him.”

“The man has been at sea these three years!”

“An intelligent man like you ought to be able to put the pieces together, then.”

“So you met him at sea. Wait . . . was it his ship upon which you sailed to England?”

“Remember, I told you nothing,” she said.

“But how is that possible? He commands a warship. He wouldn’t carry an American passenger during a war!”

“Maybe you had better have this discussion with him.” Her transparent face looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“All right. I shall. But now I have something else to ask.” She looked up to him with eyes so deep and warm, he nearly forgot what he was going to ask. He cleared his throat and said, “Have you recalled anything further about Mr. Sagethorn?”

“No. He is a strange duck. He claimed to know me, to have read about my fall in the newspaper. He does seem a bit familiar somehow, but I could almost swear I have never met him. Do you think it could be part of my memories that are still lost?”

Her hand trembled on his arm. She pulled it away and clasped her hands together in front of her.

“He frightened you.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Howie should have stopped him before he went into the house. He thought he looked dodgy but assumed the man was there for me and that Reams would turn him away.”

She didn’t comment on the man but said, “May we talk of something else?”

Tony was extremely glad he was having the man followed. He sounded like a dashed rum cove. Was she telling him the truth? What if Beau was right, and he was prevailing upon her to spy?

Impossible!

They had made their way to the gates of Hyde Park, which was fairly deserted at this hour, save for nursemaids with their prams.

“Look here,” he said, his voice unnaturally husky. “I just want you to know that if ever you are in trouble, you can talk to me about it. You can come to me.”

“Why ever would I be in trouble?” Her laugh was forced.

“If that man imposes on you again.”

She was silent at this. A cloud overtook the sun, and Tony began to fear they were in for a shower.

“Does it always rain this much in England?” she asked, peering at the sky from under her bonnet.

“Invariably. That is why it is so green here. It can be a nuisance. I expect we had better find a big tree to stand under.”

He spied a large oak, not unlike the one that used to stand on his property before its demise. As they moved under it, he removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

“I should not like your new frock to get soaked.”

When she looked up into his eyes, he saw that they were full of gratitude and something else he couldn’t read.

“It is really a shame that you are an English aristocrat,” she said, looking away.

“And why is that?” he asked, his heart hammering.

When she looked at him again, she was smiling. “If you were an ordinary American, I would be in danger of falling in love with you.”

The rain started falling around them, but the tree sheltered them well. It was as though they were alone in a private room. He gazed down at her, and her smile faltered, leaving her lips tremulous. Unable to resist the pull of the lady, he drew her into his arms and placed her head down on his chest so he would not be tempted to kiss that mouth.

“You couldn’t fall in love with an English aristocrat?” he asked gently.

“It would be frowned on by my friend President Madison.”

Startled out of the pleasant reverie, he pulled back and looked into her face. “You are a friend to President Madison?”

“And former president Jefferson. I even knew President Washington. My American roots are every bit as meaningful to me as your English ones are to you.”

He moved his hands to her shoulders and gazed directly into her eyes. “You intend to return to America, then?”

“When I am five and twenty, I will come into my property. At that time I will go back.”

Tony had no answer to this sudden revelation. He only knew that his heart was wrapped around this lady’s, and he could no longer maintain a distance. Instead of saying anything, he pulled her to him once more and lowered his lips to hers. For days he had been withholding his feelings for this lady. Now he let them have their rein, and he kissed her with startling passion.

Despite their conversation, she was as eager as he was, her mouth responsive, kissing him back as earnestly as he was kissing her. Warmth and an odd familiarity surged through him. It was as though he had known her before, as though they had kissed before.

“You cannot go back,” he whispered between kisses. “I have never known anyone who suited me so well or whom I desired so fully.”

She eased away. “I am sorry. I have wanted to kiss you for so long. But I shouldn’t have yielded. I don’t belong here in England any more than you belong in America.”

“It is a problem, then,” he said and kissed her again. He could not hold back, and again she did not resist.

Eventually, she said, “It has stopped raining, my lord.” She snuggled her face into his waistcoat. He didn’t want to let her go.

Propriety nudged him finally, and, moving out from under the tree, he looked around. Fortunately this part of the park was deserted. She shrugged off his coat and handed it to him.

No sooner had she done so than they spotted a footman in the Wellingham livery hustling toward them. “My lord, you have an urgent message from Wellingham House. Your immediate presence is required.”

Puzzled, Tony endeavored with difficulty to move beyond his amorous mood. He took the note from the footman.

 

Wellingham House

Strangeways,

Discovered this morning that my library has been burgled. Will explain when you come. Discretion advised.

W.

 

Tony folded the note and stuck it inside his jacket pocket. His mind whirled. Stealing government secrets was a hanging offense. Was it Sagethorn? Or Virginia?

His heart dropped, and his hands were cold with dread.

“What is it?” his companion asked, her voice alarmed.

“Bad news, I’m afraid. I must be off. My good man, will you be so good as to see Miss Livingstone back to her aunt’s?”

“I’m sorry,” said Virginia softly. “I hope all will be well.”

He felt her trying to engage his eyes, but he avoided her look, leaving her standing on the paving stones staring after him.

* * *

“We are looking at someone skilled who opened the window and climbed in here sometime in the early hours of the morning,” Beau said. “They knew exactly which window to choose and made off with my entire leather portfolio of notes from the Foreign Office.”

Tony looked around the library. The large mahogany desk had clearly been disturbed, and the window in question was still open, a breeze blowing papers all over the floor. “How serious is the breach?” he asked, dread filling him like a noxious gas.

His friend looked at him. “Last night was by way of a trap. I suspected Miss Livingstone would find a way to get into my library and make off with my papers. I filled my folio with information that is a year old. It won’t do anyone any good at all.”

Tony put a hand to his forehead, trying to stifle his anger toward his friend. “You are too fast off the mark with your conclusions. There is an element here you are unaware of.”

“Come now, man. You can’t think to protect her!”

“There is a far better suspect. An American named Sagethorn. I have been having a runner follow him.” Tony explained what he knew about the down-at-the-heels American.

“You are blind!” exclaimed Beau with heat. “Obviously the man recruited your Miss Livingstone.”

“Do me the favor of waiting to take any action until I have been in touch with my Mr. Sandby, the runner following Sagethorn. He is a far more likely candidate, believe me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Tony left Wellingham House and went home, hopeful that there was a message awaiting him from the runner. Unfortunately there was nothing. He hailed a cab and set off for Bow Street.

There was another runner at the desk, this one tall and cadaverous. He looked like he hadn’t had a meal in months.

“I’m Viscount Strangeways,” he said. “I have engaged Mr. Sandby to do some shadowing for me. Has he been in contact with the office? I have heard nothing from him.”

“Haven’t seen Sandby for days. I just finished some work, and today is my first day back,” the man said.

Tony pulled out his card and set it on the desk. “Please have him contact me immediately when you hear from him.”

Restless and unable to decide what to do, Tony went back home to luncheon.

* * *

In spite of the vastly unsettling state of his emotions, which had descended from unspeakable joy to mind-numbing dread, it was good to find his mother feeling more the thing. As they dined on a vegetable-and-chicken cassoulet, she remarked, “You look rather fraught, dear. Is it the news?”

Tony looked up quickly. How could she have heard anything? “What news is that?”

“Surely you read it in The Morning Post. It is the greatest scandal of the Season thus far. Miss Longhurst has cried off her engagement to the Earl of Sutton.”

His primary reaction to this news was annoyance.

So she really did it. What does she expect of me now?

This was certainly a complication he didn’t need at the moment. He needed to clear Virginia of Beau’s suspicions. It seemed that everything was hedging up his way—Sagethorn, Beau, even President Madison. And now he expected a call from an angered Lord Sutton.

“Dear?” his mother prompted.

“Just wait. I foresee that I shall be blamed for this by Sutton. He has already threatened to call me out for less.”

His mother lost her color. “We can’t have you fighting that blackguard. Take yourself off to White’s,” she pleaded. “He is not a member, is he?”

“No. He got blackballed, as a matter of fact. Some funny doings at Newmarket last year.”

“Then off you go. I shall inform the servants that you have been called away.”

“No. I’m no coward. The devil of it is—excuse me, Mother—I have other things on my plate just now and cannot deal with this drama.”

His mother’s brow showed even greater concern. “What is wrong, dear?”

The pressure inside him had built to such an extent that he knew he needed to tell someone. “Beau believes Miss Livingstone to be an American spy. His office was burgled of important papers last night.”

Lady Strangeways’s eyes grew round. “Oh, no! That cannot be!”

“I do not think so either. There is a villain in the piece, but I can’t get my hands on him just yet.”

Daniels, the butler, entered the dining room.

“My lord, I am so sorry to interrupt your luncheon, but a Miss Longhurst has called and wishes to speak with you urgently. I told her you are at luncheon, but she asked me to inform you nevertheless. She is in the red saloon.”

Cursing inwardly, he excused himself to his mother and went off to encounter his former love. How like her to insist that he be called away from luncheon!

She awaited him in the saloon, looking lovelier than ever in a pale-pink creation, her blonde hair half up and half down in ringlets that sat on her bare shoulder.

“Tony, dearest!” She ran to him and threw herself against his chest, encircling his neck with her arms. “I did it. I cried off my engagement.”

Supremely uncomfortable, he pulled her arms from around his neck and took a step back. “I am glad that you are not going to marry the man,” he said. “I have always held him in dislike.”

She smiled and gazed up into his eyes with barely controlled eagerness. “My parents are banishing me to the country. I would be so happy if you could call on me at Woolston Glen, Tony. I should so like to mend my bridges with you.”

Sighing, he sought for inner calm. He went to the mantel and stretched his arm across it, the other hand in his pocket. “I am terribly sorry, Pam, but my feelings for you are not what they once were. How could they be when you didn’t even have the good grace to inform me of your engagement to Sutton before I read it in the paper?”

“That wounded you terribly,” she said and bit her full lower lip. “I do not blame you one bit.”

He had ceased to care if she was even telling the truth. The scales had fallen from his eyes where Miss Pamela Longhurst was concerned.

“I am afraid it is too late for us,” he said. “I have moved forward with my life. My feelings have settled elsewhere.”

Her eyes hardened. “The ill-dressed colonial. How could you?”

“I am sorry, Pam, but I do not need to explain my feelings to you. I am sorry your parents have banished you, but I have no doubt that you will soon form another connection, if not this Season, then the next.”

“But I was everything to you! How could you change so completely in such a short period of time?”

His patience with her self-consequence hit its limit. “Others’ feelings mean nothing to you. Once I realized that, there was no going back. Now, if you would be good enough to leave me to my luncheon, I would appreciate it.”

Her eyes were so round and her face so red, he thought she was going to combust. “And I thought Sutton was a boor!” she exclaimed. Raising her chin, she glided out of the room.

Tony waited until he heard the front door shut and then went back to his mother. Luncheon had been cleared away, and his mother was taking some fruit.

“I suppose she expected you to take up where you left off?” she asked.

“Of course.” He paced the room, his boots loud on the floor. “Women like that should come with a warning label.”

“Miss Livingstone is nothing like Pamela,” she said. “I think you must pay her a call and warn her about Beau’s suspicions.”

Emotions warred within him. What exactly had their kisses meant? She had said she couldn’t marry an Englishman, but though he had known her only a short while, he thought her feelings for him to be strong and genuine. She was obviously torn. As was he.

“What would you do, Mama, if you fell in love with an American while visiting America? What if it meant you must give up your country? Would your love of England win out?”

She finished paring a peach, her eyes thoughtful. “You are speaking of Miss Livingstone, of course.”

“She counts President Madison among her friends!”

“I see her difficulty. But you are my son, and your virtues are continually before me. Were I her, I should choose you. On the condition that visits to America could be made. After this wretched war, of course.”

His paces quickened. “This is such a tangle. What am I to do about Beau? I think he may have her arrested!”

“Go to her, Tony. Warn her.”

He socked his right hand into his left palm. “I shall. If a little man in a red waistcoat with a sleepy eye and an atrocious accent should call, bid him wait and send a message to me at Shipley House, if you please. He is on the tail of the man I think to be the real villain.”