Page 32 of A Lady’s Handbook of Espionage

The other men eyed him with curiosity. Callahan could practically hear the thoughts churning. Who was this brash American? How deep were his pockets? And most importantly, could they fleece him at cards?

Callahan let none of his unease show. “Gentlemen,” he nodded to the assembled company. “A pleasure. I trust you’ll go easy on a simple Yank like myself at the tables?”

As cards were dealt and banter flowed, Callahan kept a surreptitious eye on Harrington. He bided his time, laughing at jests, commiserating over the follies of women and youth as he waited for Harrington’s tongue to loosen enough.

Then, a flash of blonde hair snagged his attention. His gaze cut over, his breath stuttering to a halt.

Isabel.

Gone were the fine silks she donned as Lydia Ashford. In their place, she wore the gauzy garment of the Veil’s courtesans. Her blonde curls tumbled loose and messy over her bare shoulders.

She looked ready to be fucked.

For a dizzying moment, Callahan forgot how to breathe. Forgot his own name. Forgot everything except the visceral punch of pure want that seized him.

This was what madness felt like. Chains of duty, logic, morality – it all shattered. Left nothing but greedy, grasping hunger. It reared up inside him, demanding he go to her, tear that dress off, and stake his claim.

Men would see her.

Men would see her messy, tumbled hair.

Men other than him would want to have her.

He watched as she leaned close to another woman – a brunette. They whispered together, heads inclined. Then they both glanced over. Straight at Harrington.

She wouldn’t dare—

But apparently, she would. The two women linked arms and walked over.

“Well, now,” Harrington purred with interest. “To what do we owe the honour of such fine company?”

The brunette draped herself over the viscount’s chair. “Forgive the intrusion, gentlemen, but Emerald and I couldn’t help noticing how lonely you all looked.”

Emerald.

Brilliant. Another alias for the collection.

Isabel, meanwhile, had circled to Callahan’s side of the table. He avoided looking at her, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

Please , he found himself thinking. Please, for the love of all that’s holy, walk away.

But fortune had evidently decided to well and truly fuck him tonight because the next thing he knew, Isabel had perched herself on his lap, positioned so that her face was hidden from the table at large.

Callahan went still at the feel of her. Her weight settled across his thighs, dressed like sin incarnate.

Like all his filthiest fantasies come to life, except for the part where they were surrounded by a bunch of inbred toffs and he couldn’t actually do anything about the growing problem in his trousers.

She looped her arms around Callahan’s neck. “Hello there, handsome. Fancy meeting you here.”

“What the fu—” Callahan began, but Isabel slapped a palm over his mouth.

“Relax,” she whispered, her voice pitched for his ears alone. “I coached Lily on what to ask. Just follow my lead. I’m here to help.”

Help. Right.

Because having her plastered against him like a human blanket was absolutely fucking helpful.

He pried her hand off. “I thought I told you to stay behind and let me handle this.”

“Yes, I seem to recall you saying something to that effect. Right before I nodded and agreed and proceeded to ignore you. I was bored.”

“ Bored? ”

She smiled. “And maybe I missed you.”

Missed—

She ground down with a roll of her hips. Callahan hissed, fingers sinking into her waist. “Behave. Or I swear on all that’s holy, I’ll bend you over this card table in front of everyone and spank that pert arse.”

Isabel’s grin widened. “Promise?”

“Well, aren’t you lucky, Ashford,” one of the other men – Callahan thought his name might be Fitzwilliam or Farnsworth or some other ridiculous appellation – said with a leer. “Quite the armful you’ve got there. What would Mrs Ashford think?”

Callahan glared up at Isabel. “I reckon Mrs Ashford understands that I’m a man of insatiable appetites. Must be my natural charm and magnetism.”

Isabel grinned.

And then she was moving against him in a slow grind that had him seeing stars. Callahan bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, fighting to keep still. To let her set the pace, even as every instinct screamed to grab hold and thrust up against her.

But that wasn’t the game. Not here and now. So he let her ride him in a maddening tease.

Meanwhile, the brunette – Lily, Isabel had called her – had perched herself on Harrington’s knee. She toyed with the lapel of his jacket, batting her eyelashes. “Tell me, my lord. Is it true what they say about men of science? That your minds are always working?”

“Quite true,” the viscount said. “The life of an intellectual is one of constant grappling with life’s mysteries and the boundaries of propriety.”

Lily widened her eyes. “Propriety? However do you mean?” She leaned closer, the pale swells of her breasts threatening to spill free of her dress. “Surely a great man like yourself wouldn’t shrink from advancement?”

Harrington’s gaze was glued to her décolletage. “Depends on the advancement.”

As Lily worked her magic on Harrington, Isabel continued her performance for the benefit of the other men at the table.

“You’re so tense, darling,” she purred. “Why don’t you relax? Let me take care of you.”

Callahan’s hands came up to grip her hips, partly to keep her from falling and partly to keep himself from doing something stupid, like grinding her against his erect cock.

“Sweetheart,” he growled, low enough that only she could hear, “if you don’t stop squirming, things are going to get uncomfortable fast.”

Isabel’s only response was to nip at his earlobe, drawing a strangled sound from his throat. The little hellcat was enjoying this far too much.

“I’ve heard such terrible rumours of brilliant men like yourself being led astray,” Lily was saying. “Tempted into paths of darkness in the name of progress. But I’m sure you wouldn’t fall prey, would you?”

“Of course not. But I’ve been corresponding with a colleague who . . .” Harrington trailed off, shaking his head. “But I shouldn’t speak of such things. It’s not proper conversation.”

Lily pouted. “But now you’ve piqued my curiosity. I promise I can keep a secret.” She leaned in, whispering something in Harrington’s ear that made his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush.

Callahan strained to hear, but Isabel chose that moment to nip his jaw. “Having fun?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Nothing I love more than having my fake wife grinding on my lap while I try to eavesdrop on a scientis— Jesus Christ .”

Isabel had placed her hand right on his cock. He gripped her waist, fingers digging in.

“Behave,” he hissed.

She had the audacity to smirk at him. “Make me.”

Before Callahan could formulate a scathing response, Harrington’s voice rose, drawing his attention back.

“. . . asked me questions about a combination of chemicals that I find deeply concerning,” he was saying, his words slightly slurred. Lily had been plying him with whiskey, and it seemed to have the desired effect. “If my suspicions are correct, the potential applications could be dangerous.”

Lily gasped, her eyes wide. “How dreadful! But surely you wouldn’t allow such dangerous research to continue?”

“I’ve voiced my concerns, of course. But he’s—” Harrington made a noise. “Never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to hear me prattle on when we could be doing something much more interesting.”

“We should go,” Callahan muttered. “Before he sobers up enough to recognise you. He’s sounding reluctant to continue.”

He stood, lifting Isabel with him. She kept her face turned away from Harrington, burying it in Callahan’s neck as if overcome with passion. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” he said with a rakish grin. “Duty calls.”

But as they moved to leave, Harrington’s hand shot out, grabbing a generous handful of Isabel’s backside. She stiffened, a small sound of surprise escaping her.

“Now, now, Ashford,” the man slurred, glassy-eyed with drink and lust. “No need for selfishness. Surely you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

A chorus of agreement from the other men. Scarlet bled into the edges of Callahan’s vision.

But Isabel pivoted, hiding her face behind a fall of hair, and stroked a finger down Harrington’s cheek. “You naughty boy. I’m flattered. Truly. Alas, my hands are quite full.”

“I’ll occupy you,” Lily cooed to Harrington. “Perhaps we could find a private spot?”

Before the bastard could reply, Callahan swept Isabel up and strode for the nearest empty room. He shouldered the door open, slamming it behind them.

The moment they were alone, he set her down and rounded on her. “What in the nine hells was that?”

One arched brow. Utterly unruffled. “That was called improvising. You’re welcome, by the by.”

He raked fingers through his hair. “You could have been recognised! Hell, you nearly were! If he’d gotten a clear look at your face—”

She scoffed. “Please. Half the men out there couldn’t see past my tits if they tried.

Including you.” She smoothed her skirts.

“Besides. We have a better idea of what Harrington was so hostile to Ramsgate about. Dangerous science, ethical violations. He might have been working on a chemical weapon for Favreau and sought the expertise of a colleague to perfect his work.”

“Ethical violations? That’s what you took from that?”

“Among other things. What part of me doing my job are you struggling with? Is this because you heard precisely nothing out there? Is that it? You’re too easily distracted, Agent.”

Callahan’s control snapped. In two swift strides, he had her pinned to the wall. “It was a little difficult for me to concentrate with you grinding on my cock, Isabel.”

Her eyes flashed. “Is it that I was grinding on you or that I was doing it where other men could see, and you’re a selfish, greedy fake husband who wants me all to yourself?”

Rational thought vanished, and he crushed his mouth to hers. She met him with equal ferocity, hands twisting in his hair to drag him closer.

He lost himself in the slick friction of her mouth, her tongue stroking his.

His hands slid down to her thighs, shoving at the fabric until he found skin.

A growl rumbled up from his chest as he hitched her leg over his hip, fitting their bodies together.

The hard ridge of his cock nestled against her core, only a few thin layers between them.

She tipped her head back with a moan as his fingers traced higher, skating over smooth thighs. Up and up until he reached the slit in her undergarments. A choked whimper caught in her throat. He needed to touch her, taste her, take her apart until she shattered—

A shrill scream cleaved the air.

Isabel froze. “What in damnation?”

Callahan’s lust-drugged mind struggled to parse what had just happened.

Another cry, panicked. Coming from down the hall.

He pushed away from Isabel and seized her hand, hauling her out of the room. They burst into the chamber at the end of the passage to find Lily still screaming, and—

Harrington.

The viscount lay on the floor in a pool of blood.