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The Husband Mission (The Spy Matchmaker Book 1) by Regina Scott (12)

Alex was not enjoying the ball in the slightest. He could see Lord Hastings, Trevithan, and Laughton casually circulating and knew exactly what they were about. They were attempting to get to the bottom of this rumor, and they suspected the culprit was at the ball. Instead of flitting about like a blasted gadfly, he should be helping. But after Lord Hastings’ refusal, he wasn’t sure how welcome his assistance might be.

Even worse, however, was the way all the gentlemen were ogling Katherine. He knew one kiss did not tie her to him for life, particularly when he had gone out of his way to pretend the kiss had not affected him. Truth be told, he’d thought of it more than once the last few days. He had thought her beauty underappreciated, but now that the male half of the ton had opened its eyes, he found himself wishing the fellows would find other pastimes. It was one thing to discover a rare beauty; it was quite another to watch the population drool over it. He should be pleased, but he had to stop himself from rushing to her side and beating her admirers off with a stick. She must have noticed him glaring for she found new ways to encourage the fellows and add to his torment.

He was ready to march up to the chit and demand his turn in the dance when he found her stepsister at his side during an intermission. Miss Templeman was lovely in a gown of soft blue that matched her expressive eyes, and he thought again that her cousin would likely lose his fortune soon.

She dropped a graceful curtsey. “Good evening, my lord. I trust you are enjoying the ball.”

“Enjoyment,” he replied, “is the least of my emotions, Miss Templeman.”

She obviously took his statement as a positive one, for she nodded. “I noticed, however, that you do not dance.”

She sounded wistful. He managed a polite smile. “But you do. You haven’t sat out a single set.”

She blushed. “Indeed, I have not. And I find myself a bit overheated. I thought perhaps a walk on the terrace would be refreshing. Might I request your company, my lord?”

His company? Walks along moonlit terraces were reserved for lovers. Was she trying to manipulate him into compromising her?

“Did your stepsister put you up to this?” he demanded.

She paled. “Katherine? Why would you think this has anything to do with her?”

“Your reaction betrays you. You may tell Miss Collins that I have had quite enough of her interference in my life. No, wait. I think it would give me greater satisfaction to tell her myself.”

She caught the arm of his evening black as he started past. “Oh, please, Lord Borin. Do not confront Katherine. This was entirely my idea, I promise you. I am being terribly bold, I know, but I must speak with you alone. I thought this would be the best way to achieve that. But I haven’t Katherine’s flare for subterfuge, worse luck.” Her lower lip trembled, and he could see tears pooling in her eyes. “Please won’t you let me explain myself?”

What gentleman could resist such a plea? Even if he had not been a gentleman, he could not have ignored his curiosity. He tucked her arm in his. “Very well, Miss Templeman. But I cannot take much more of this intrigue.”

“I promise to tell you all,” she replied. Together, they moved to the edge of the room and slipped out onto the terrace that overlooked the gardens.

The Willstencraft house on the edge of Mayfair was one of the largest in London. It boasted three wings, with three floors each, and a full formal garden behind a high stone wall. The terrace ran the length of the center wing, with a set of central stairs leading down onto moonlit paths. Already several couples had succumbed to its quiet temptation, moving among the flowers, heads together. Alex refused to make himself an easy target. He led the girl a little ways along the balustrade where they could be easily seen by anyone coming out of the house or looking up from the garden. He kept himself just close enough to converse but not close enough to appear to be in contact with her. Well?” he asked.

She hesitated. “This is more difficult than I thought. How does Katherine manage so well?”

“Your stepsister is a remarkable woman,” he replied, struggling to be patient. “Determined and brave. I would encourage you to find a similar courage. If our absence is noticed, your reputation could be damaged.”

“My reputation is not the issue. What is far more important to me is my stepsister’s happiness.”

He frowned. “Is something endangering that?”

“Most assuredly. Me.”

“You?”

“Oh, not on purpose,” she hurried to assure him. “I would never do anything to hurt Katherine. She has been my friend, my advisor, my comforter. I always thought I would do anything for her. The Bible says in Deuteronomy to be strong and of good courage, but I find my courage lacking when Katherine needs me most.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “So, she did put you up to this.”

“No, no, you mistake me! But you are right that Katherine hopes we will wed.”

“Miss Templeman,” he said as gently as he could, “I have told your stepsister and now I tell you—I am not interested in courting.”

“Courting at all, or simply courting me?”

She was regarding him fixedly, and he felt his color rising. “That is none of your affair.”

“But it is!” she insisted. “I must know. Katherine so has her heart set on it.”

“Katherine will have to resign herself to disappointment. Let me return you to your admirers.”

“No, wait, please.” Tears were falling. He could see darker dots sprinkling the bosom of her gown. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her with a sigh. She dabbed at her eyes, sniffing.

“I am sorry, my lord, but this is so important to me.”

“I understand. Miss Collins has explained to me about your cousin and your father’s fortune.”

Her eyes were luminous. “She did?”

“Yes.” Despite himself, he felt his righteous anger failing. She was a taking little thing. “I am very sorry for your situation, Miss Templeman. And I understand Miss Collins thinks I am the perfect candidate.”

“Oh, but you are,” she agreed fervently.

He smiled. “Thank you, my dear. But I am assured you will find some other fellow equally impressive.”

“Never,” she swore, sniffing again. “You are absolutely ideal.”

“You honor me,” he demurred.

“Not at all. What woman would refuse a gentleman so handsome, so charming. You are intelligent, well liked, well established.”

“Your regard is flattering, Miss Templeman, but I fear I must stand by my principles. I cannot marry you.”

“Marry me?” She stopped sniffing to stare at him. “Why would I wish to marry you, Lord Borin?”

He blinked. “Pardon me. I could have sworn you just said as much.”

She shook her head. “I certainly did not. I promise you I have no interest in having you court me. I wish you to court my stepsister. It is apparent to me that Katherine is quite smitten with you.”

He grinned, then immediately sobered. Now why did his heart leap at the idea? He had called Katherine a remarkable woman. Did it therefore follow that he was intrigued enough to court her? Or that she truly wished it?

“I am uncertain how you reached that conclusion,” he said carefully, “or that it is valid. However, supposing that it is, I do not see how that changes matters. I am not in the petticoat line, Miss Templeman. I have other matters to attend to at the moment.”

She sighed, a sound as dejected as the slump of her shoulders. “Then nothing I can say will encourage you to continue your attentions to my stepsister?”

“Nothing I can think of at the moment.” He paused as she sniffed again. “But as much as you have been circulating among the ton, perhaps you can help me with my task. Tell me, Miss Templeman, what do you know of these rumors about a spy among the Haut Ton?”

“A spy?” Her eyes widened in her tear-streaked face. “Someone is spying? Do you suspect Katherine?”

He started. In truth, he had not truly considered a woman the target of the foreign agent simply because few were admitted to the War Office. But husbands spoke to wives and men to their mistresses. Why not a woman? And if he had to pick a woman with a heart for intrigue, he could think of no one finer than Katherine Collins.

Yet, as quickly as he seized on the idea, he dropped it. She could not be the spy. For one thing, he did not think she knew enough of the right people to gain access to information, and for another, he could not see her betraying her country. She might need money, but somehow he knew she would not trade military secrets to earn it.

“No, Miss Templeman,” he answered her, “I cannot suspect your stepsister. And your response tells me you know nothing as well. Do not let the matter concern you. The War Office is well aware of the matter. I am certain the villain will be caught.”

“A shame Katherine could not help you,” she replied with a smile. She wiped away the last of her tears and held out the sodden handkerchief.

“I agree,” he replied, gingerly accepting it from her and managing to stuff it into his coat pocket. “Miss Collins is endlessly resourceful. She would make an excellent addition to the Secret Service. Now let us return before anyone notices our absence.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. I have never done this, slipped away with a gentleman. Perhaps I should go in first and you should follow later?”

He smiled at her attempt at intrigue. “A wise precaution. Try to enjoy the rest of the ball, my dear. Your stepsister seems to have more than her share of admirers. Perhaps one of them will prove worthy.”

She gave him a watery smile and hurried back to the door to the house.

He stood on the terrace, thinking. Would it really be such a hardship to court Miss Collins? She interested him more than any woman he’d met. The feelings he had for her could very well blossom into love. But was it fair to enter into any courtship when a part of him still hoped to join Lord Hastings’ forces? He couldn’t see his sprite being happy with the half-truths he’d be allowed to tell her. More likely she’d want to be part of the game. And he didn’t think he could play the game knowing his wife was exposed to danger. Best to simply stick to his course.

If he could stick to it. When he thought about it, the more disgusted he grew by how easily he was distracted. First the intriguing Miss Collins, then her stepsister, and now the prospect of marriage. If he had any sense, he would return to the ball and demand that Hastings let him join their pursuit.

He moved toward the door, only to have it open in his face. Lord Templeman glared at him.

“I hope you won’t make me call you out over my cousin, Borin,” he growled.

Alex merely eyed him. “What a singularly stupid suggestion, Templeman. What would possess you to attempt suicide when you could wait a few more weeks and have the fortune with no trouble?”

“Ha!” Templeman crowded forward, forcing Alex back. “Then you are after the money!”

“I could care less about Miss Templeman’s fortune, or lack thereof,” Alex informed him. “You have no reason to accost me. Take yourself off.”

“Not until I am certain you have no interest in my cousin.”

“What do you all want from me?” Alex demanded. “Shall I post an ad in The Times? ‘Lord Borin tenderly regrets that he has absolutely no interest in courting the fair Miss Templeman.’ There are far more likely candidates in the ballroom. Go insult one of them.”

“But you are the only one she took to the terrace.” He smirked, making his unpleasant face even more so. “I saw her return, Borin. She’d been crying.”

“Which any reasonable man would see as a sign that I had diminished myself in her affections.” He moved to pass the rudesby, but Templeman caught his arm.

“Or dallied with her affections,” he challenged. “Are you the type of man to offer for a girl you’ve compromised?”

“No, I’m the type to slit her encroaching relative’s throat. Now take your hands off me.”

Some of his anger must have shown in his face, for Templeman dropped his hold. His eyes narrowed craftily. “I could make it worth your while to walk away.”

Alex stared at him, stomach roiling. Katherine had not overstated the case when she made him out to be a villain. Templeman must have taken his disgusted silence as interest, for his little eyes widened in obvious glee.

“Yes, indeed, my lord, I can help you in any number of ways. I have connections, here and abroad. Do you like French champagne? The blockade will not stop my agents. Do you prefer Spanish gold? I have a chest. Arabian horses? I know where they are foaled. Tell me what you want, and I will get it for you.”

“You have nothing to offer me,” Alex replied, yanking himself free. The very idea of taking anything from the fellow made his skin crawl. He started to go, then paused. French champagne? Spanish gold? Arabian horses? Could Templeman be connected to the foreign agent? He stared at the porcine face, where even now a fine sweat was beading. Surely even foreign agents had higher standards for their operatives.

“You thought of something,” Templeman accused as if he could see inside Alex’s head. “Say the word, my lord. Your desires are but music to my ears.”

Alex blinked. “Music? Of course.”

Templeman moved closer. “Yes?”

How very perfect. He could do one last good deed for Katherine, to show her and her stepsister he bore them no ill will. “There is one thing you can do for me,” he told Templeman. “Grant this request, and I promise you I will never offer for your cousin.”

Templeman eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“You have something that belongs to Miss Collins. Return her harp and any materials that go with it, and I will cease my suit of Miss Templeman.”

He frowned. “The harp? Why should you care whether Miss Collins has her harp?”

“That should not concern you. My price is a small one. Would you prefer I make it larger?”

He held up his hands. “No, no. The harp it shall be. Do I have your word as a gentleman then?” He stuck out his hand.

Alex eyed the meaty fingers but refused to take them. Templeman slowly withdrew his hand.

“My word as a gentleman,” Alex said solemnly. “When I have seen the harp returned, I will stop courting Miss Templeman. But not one second sooner.”