Chapter Five

As Lady Elana closed the parlor door behind her, Reade felt that he’d stepped into one of the romantic novels currently popular amongst the ladies. He grimaced. All this dramatic tale needed was a hero to sweep in and save the heroine. Although, he doubted that Lady Buchman needed to be saved by anyone, much less him. If anything, he needed to be saved from her.

Still, her clear displeasure when Lady Elana had said, ‘Two lovers such as yourselves will be in want of privacy. No one will be surprised to discover the two of you in out-of-the-way places,” was such a contrast to her bold search of his person that he wondered which she was: succubus or angel.

After the door clicked shut, Lady Buchman said, “I cannot fathom why they need us to investigate Mr. Russell.”

She’d said ‘us,’ but Reade felt certain she referred to him. 

He smiled. “Lady Elana made herself quite clear. They suspect him of stealing the Honors.”

“I understand that.” She gave an impatient wave of her hand. “But they must have agents better suited than us.”

There was that word ‘us’ again.

“You need not worry, my lady. I promise not to get in your way. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I will obey.”

That same sultry look reappeared, then vanished, and she said in a business-like tone, “Keep your eyes open.”

Was she making light of him? “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you are in charge of this mission,” he drawled. “I would never have thought of that.”

Her brow furrowed, then she narrowed her eyes. “Sarcasm is unbecoming.”

He shrugged. “I am no more sarcastic than you are condescending.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it and released a breath. “I have no idea what instructions to give you. I have never before worked with a partner.”

He suspected the truth was more along the lines that she really had no idea what to do with him. Again, a stark contrast to her earlier, when she clearly knew exactly what to do with him. When she’d searched him for cards, he’d half expected her to slip a hand down his pants in search of hidden aces. He thanked God she hadn’t gone that far. He wouldn’t have been able to control the erection that fought to be freed the moment she slipped her finger into the front pocket of his waistcoat.

“Lady Elana gave us very little to go on,” she said. “But we will have the two weeks of the house party to search the castle.”

Reade frowned. “Surely, it would be too dangerous for him to hide the Honors in his own home?”

“I’ve seen stranger things,” she replied with a grimness that made him both want to know what she’d seen and not want to know.

He wasn’t made for espionage, but then, he wondered just how many people really were. According to Sir Stirling, Lady Buchman was a skilled spy. That, however, didn’t mean she was meant for such a life. The last two weeks, since his launch into society, had mentally fatigued him. He couldn’t imagine years of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. But whether for love of country or love of family, one did what one had to do.

By his estimation, he would be playing his private role for the better part of the year. If, that was, his brother didn’t succumb to his need to gamble and mortgage their ancestral home even more. Strange, how Robert couldn’t walk away from a gambling table and Reade had to be forced to play. Fate had been cruel, in that Reade was a far better player than his brother.

“You can leave the investigating to me,” Lady Buchman said. “Just be your usual self.”

The doorknob jiggled.

Lady Buchman’s head snapped in the direction of the door. “Bloody hell,” she muttered.

The knob turned.

Reade shoved off his chair and dropped onto the couch beside Abigail. He dragged her onto his lap.

“What in the—” She broke off as the door opened.

Young Lord Evers and his fiancée stopped short in the doorway and stared.

Lord Evers’ eyes flicked from Abigail to Reade and he flushed. “Forgive the intrusion.”

Lady Christina remained silent, eyes wide as saucers.

Lord Evers hesitated, then said, “Please do not tell anyone we were here.”

“Our presence here isn’t what it looks like,” Lady Christina blurted.

“It looks like Lord Evers intended to take advantage of an innocent young woman,” Reade said.

Lord Evers stiffened. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Lady Christina and I are engaged.”

“Then I suggest you not endanger your fiancée’s reputation by escorting her to private parts of the mansion alone.” Reade glimpsed the startled look Lady Buchman gave him.

“You have endangered Lady Buchman’s reputation,” Lady Christina said. “She’s even sitting on your lap.”

“Lady Buchman is a mature widow,” he replied.

“Mature?” Abigail said.

Leave it to a woman to balk at being called mature, but to care nothing for her reputation.

“Even a rake like you should respect women,” Lady Christina said.

Abigail started to push off his lap, but he held tight. “Sit still, my dear,” he said.

Alarm flashed on Evers’ face. “I must insist you release the lady, sir.”

“Really?” Reade said. “Why would I do that?”

The young man blinked in surprise. “A gentleman does not force a lady to sit on his lap.”

Reade looked at Abigail. “Am I forcing you to sit on my lap, my lady?”

Her eyes narrowed infinitesimally, but she smiled so sweetly that he almost believed she meant it when she said, “Only because we are making the young gentleman and lady uncomfortable, sir.”

Reade smoothed back a lock of her dark hair. “I daresay any young couple who themselves are engaged in a private assignation are not made uncomfortable by finding another couple doing the same.”

“Do you need help, my lady?” Evers asked.

She looked at him and smiled gently. “You are most kind, sir, but no. I know you understand what it’s like to be caught up in the throes of passion.”

The lad’s cheeks reddened again, and Reade suspected the young man had yet to truly understand passion.

“If you are certain,” he persisted.

“I promise you, I am quite certain,” she replied.

He bowed. “As you wish, ma’am.” He looked at Reade. “Sir.” With that, they retreated.

When the door closed, Abigail shoved off Reade’s lap. She glanced at the door, waited three heartbeats, then said, “For heaven’s sake, why did you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked. “I did many things.”

She waved her hand. “That—you pulling me—” She blew out a frustrated breath. “All of it.”

He shrugged. “You did instruct me to be my usual self.”

* * *

At the knock on her bedroom door, Abigail rolled over in bed, facing away from the door, and pulled the pillow over her head. Whatever the hour, it was too early to rise.

“Up with you,” cried a female voice.

Abigail snapped awake. She had to be dreaming. Fanny would never arrive early enough in the morning to wake her. The bed dipped to one side as Fanny sat and dragged the blankets from Abigail’s shoulder. Cool air washed over her bare skin. 

“For God’s sake, Fanny,” Abigail said, her head still beneath the pillow, “what are you doing here at this ungodly hour?”

“Ungodly hour? It’s eleven thirty.”

Eleven thirty? She’d never slept that late in her life. Guilt tugged. She had never before drunk a full bottle of champagne after returning home from a party, either. Worse, her head didn’t ache. How accustomed to champagne had she become that a bottle of champagne didn’t give her a headache?

“Was that gentleman you were dancing with last night really Lord Reade?” Fanny demanded.

Abigail pushed the pillow off her head. “What did you say?”

“Everyone is all agog. You minx. You didn’t tell me that you’d snagged the attention of Inverness’ newest—and most handsome—bachelor. Perhaps he is also the most sought-after bachelor now, as well. Mr. Douglas is very handsome, but your Lord Reade is certainly a contender.”

“He isn’t my Lord Reade,” she shot back.

But he really was, wasn’t he? At least until she located the Scottish crown jewels. Why had The Raven partnered her with Lord Reade? Although he’d done quite well when the young couple happened upon them in the parlor, he wasn’t a trained spy. Warmth rippled through her at the memory or his muscular thighs beneath her bottom. The man felt as if he were made of steel.

“Wait a moment.” Abigail sat upright. “You were at Lady Tate’s party last night? Why did I not see you?”

Fanny’s eyes twinkled. “Because you disappeared with Lord Reade into a private hallway.”

Abigail groaned. No doubt, everyone already assumed she and Lord Reade were lovers. Just as Elana had wanted. In truth, however, Abigail had believed she could locate the Honors without Lord Reade’s help—and without all of Inverness thinking she had fallen prey to his charms. Why the devil did the idea bother her so much?

“I should have known you wouldn’t waste any time finding the most handsome man in Inverness. Perhaps all of Scotland—except for my Charles, of course.” She giggled. “But Lord Reade is certainly a close second. So, tell me, is he a good kisser?”

“Fanny,” Abigail remonstrated. “Really, you act like a fifteen-year-old girl.”

Her friend shrugged. “I’m allowed. In another six months I’ll be an old married woman with children. I’ll have no excuse to act like a school girl once I have my own child.”

“What did you say?” Abigail demanded.

Fanny grinned.

“Nae? Really?” Abigail cried. “You’re going to be a mother?”

Fanny nodded vigorously and Abigail pulled her into a hug. “I had no idea.” Abigail pulled back. ‘When—how—” then added, “never mind, I know how,” when Fanny opened her mouth to, no doubt, explain just how she became pregnant. “What I mean is, I had no idea you—” She broke off.

“I was trying to become a mother?” Fanny finished for her. “It’s rather a natural consequence when a woman is married to the handsomest man in all of Inverness. Yes, I am sorry, but upon consideration, I must say that Charles is just a little bit more handsome than your Lord Reade. A woman is allowed to think her husband is the handsomest man in all of Scotland.”  

“Indeed, she is,” Abigail agreed. “And Lord Reade is not my Lord Reade.”

Fanny’s brows rose. “Then why were you caught sitting on his lap?”

“Those gossips,” she cried.

Fanny clapped her hands in delight. “Then it is true.”

Abigail started to deny it, then stopped. She’d never involved anyone in her missions and couldn’t begin now. “Sitting on a gentleman’s lap does not denote ownership of that gentleman,” she said.

“But it can,” Fanny said. “And you must admit, he really is quite handsome.”

She didn’t have to admit anything. “Did you say he is the most sought-after bachelor in Inverness?” Abigail said. “I had not heard of the man until last night.”

Fanny laughed. “Yet you ended up sitting on his lap.”

Abigail silently cursed. Word really did travel fast.

“Aye, well, as you said, he is handsome.”

“I knew it,” Fanny cried. “Now” –her eyes twinkled with merriment— “tell me everything.”

* * *

Reade looked up from the accounts book when his brother entered his small study.

“You’re up bright and early this morning.” His brother crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite his desk.

“There’s nothing unusual about that,” Reade replied.

“A man who returns home at two in the morning after a party doesn’t usually rise at six in the morning,” Robert said.

Reade shrugged. “I have a strong constitution.”

Robert’s face clouded.

Reade quickly added, “You know what I mean, Robert. I have always been an early riser. Even when we were young and caroused into the wee hours of the morning, I never slept past seven.” He gave his brother a fond smile. “Despite the fact I had many a headache from drinking too much, I was too stubborn to stay in bed when it would have served me better to do so.”

Robert’s expression remained gloomy. “You were wiser than I in many things, Reade. Perhaps if I had practiced that sort of discipline as a lad we wouldn’t have creditors snapping at our heels.”

Reade opened the top desk drawer and retrieved the envelope with last night’s winnings. He set it on the desk in front of his brother. “We are a little less in debt.”

Robert stared at the envelope for a long moment, then shook his head. “I cannot keep taking your money.”

“You can and will,” Reade said, “if you want Ella and Corey to have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. Besides,” he added when Robert opened his mouth to reply, “we agreed, Talsworth Castle and Ashington Hall must not fall into the hands of creditors. The homes are your children’s inheritance and our family history.”

“Aye, but ‘tis not right that you have to pay for my mistakes.”

“I would say ye have paid your share.”

Reade had seen the personal hell his brother had gone through as a result of his gambling. Ella had threatened to take their son to her father’s and never return. Through sheer force of will, Robert purged the house of all liquor—liquor invariably led to gambling—and had thrown himself into working alongside his tenants, farming and ranching.

Robert’s eyes locked with his. “I haven’t come close to paying as much for my wrongs as you have.”

“You have a great deal more to lose than I, Robert. I have no family to consider.”

“But you could have.”

“I doubt that,” he replied. “Fenella isn’t interested in a permanent connection with me.”

“That is only because of me.”

Reade grunted. “Nae. It is because she is not a woman of substance.”

“She is a fool,” Robert murmured.

Reade lifted a brow. “You don’t usually wax so sentimental, Brother.”

His brother picked up the envelope, opened it and peered inside. He looked back at Reade. “How much is here?”

Reade shrugged. “I didn’t count it.”

Robert waited.

Reade sighed. “A little over two thousand pounds.”

His brother blinked. “By God, that’s a king’s ransom.”

“It will help, then?”

Robert nodded at the accounts book that lay open on his desk. “You know better than anyone that it will.” He stared at the money.

“If it makes you feel any better, most of that money belonged to other people,” Reade said.

Robert frowned, then some of the old humor lit his eyes. “How much did you win?”

“Eighteen hundred pounds.”

“By God, how do you do it?”

Reade shrugged. “To be quite honest, most of the men I play with are very bad players with more money to lose than sense.”

“You cannae win that much money without making enemies.”

Reade thought of Mr. Taggart accusing him of cheating. “As I said, they have more money than sense. The winnings were modest shares from different men. I didn’t win enough from any one person to put any of them out.”

“It’s by far the largest sum, yet.”

That, Reade thought, had more to do with Sir Stirling than anything else.