Page 7 of His Wife, the Spy (His Enterprising Duchess #4)

“Y ou were such a loving child. I cannot understand when, or why, you grew to be so vexing.”

“Don’t shout so, Mum.” Jasper leaned against the back of the chair he’d been occupying for the last half-hour. “You’ll give yourself a megrim.”

“It would serve you right if my head caved in.” The Countess of Lambourn put her fingers to her temples, careful to keep them out of her perfectly arranged hair. “A chaperone , Jasper?”

“Baron Chilworth’s oldest daughter.” It was a wonder that it took less than one Season for Society to forget a family that had been on everyone’s invitation lists. If Chilworth’s speculation had been successful, the ton would have been lining up at his door.

“Who has no dowry and, if rumor is to be believed, may soon have no home.” Mother leaned back against lace pillows that matched her silver-white hair. “They will be an albatross around your neck.”

“You are assuming a great deal.” Not the least of which was that Annabel Pearce would allow her family to be homeless. “She isn’t one to trap a man into marriage.”

“Yet she was in your room. In your arms. And you were half undressed.” She closed her eyes and heaved a weary sigh. “What possessed you? No, wait, don’t answer that.”

“I was hardly undressed.” And he’d been possessed by the perverse need to discomfit Miss Pearce as much as she’d done him when she wheeled on him in his own ballroom. “And she was not in my arms until she tripped. Would you have had me watch a young lady tumble to the floor?”

“Don’t be obtuse. It doesn’t suit you,” Mother snapped. “I can understand dalliances with unhappily married women. I don’t like it, but I’m aware they happen and are generally safer than…alternatives. And you wouldn’t be the first in our family to chase a servant around a bedroom. But this, Jasper. Do you understand the consequences of this gossip?”

He rose from his chair and strode to the fireplace, using his height to feel less like a boy being scolded for stealing sweets. “I did not invite Miss Pearce to my room.” She was there to spy on me . “I did not mistreat her.” Other than searching her person for anything she might have found. “And she left for London with her virtue intact.”

As had young Miss Spencer, who had been the girl waiting for him, Jasper had no doubt. Though whether it was for her own ruin or as a trap for Annabel, Jasper couldn’t tell. Charlotte Bainbridge was a vicious socialite in the making. Heaven help them all when she became Raines’s viscountess, which was likely to happen before the end of the Season.

“Which doesn’t signify after your involvement with that Stratford mess before the holiday.”

Jasper had long kept an eye on Viscount Stratford because he’d believed the man’s predilections would make him ripe for blackmail, and therefore a target for Spencer. However, he’d never suspected the man of murder. “Would you rather the Burnleys lost the chance to grieve their daughter?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” his mother said. “I’d rather you hadn’t escorted a doxy to a party with the prime minister.”

“In the company of two dukes, a viscount, Uncle Augustus’s proxy, and Cousin Amelia,” Jasper reminded her.

“Amelia’s Canadian husband is no more a fit proxy than I am.” Mother rolled her eyes. “And then you testified in court that the…woman had been your guest at Ramsbury. It was in all the papers that you’d taken a trollop to the family estate.”

“She likely wasn’t the first,” Jasper muttered.

Mother tossed the bedclothes aside and stood. “Don’t be insolent.” She pulled on her dressing gown before approaching him. “It was a lucky thing that anyone came to your blasted party, and then you do this .”

Despite her flair for the dramatic and her penchant for taking to bed whenever she was irritated, the Countess of Lambourn was an imposing figure. Taller than most women, with bright blue eyes that reminded Jasper of lightning in a storm, she was whip-lean and far smarter than most men of his acquaintance. “I didn’t do anything, Mum.”

Even as he said it, the recollection of Miss Pearce’s curves twitched his fingers. She’d been warm and soft, though she’d fought with surprising strength. This morning he’d caught himself smiling at the memory as he struggled to get his bruised foot into a stiff boot.

“The ton doesn’t care. It will seize on the gossip and the scandal.” His mother met his gaze, her mouth in a stern line. As a child, Jasper had been terrified of disappointing her. He had to admit that now, in this darkened room where he couldn’t tell her everything, he was still nervous.

“I’ll weather it, Mother. After the next ball, the matrons will seize on a new scandal and a new young miss to terrorize.” He bent to kiss her cheek and frowned when she avoided him.

“You may, but your sisters will not.” She put a finger in his chest. “Jane and Johanna have been insulated from your affairs, but it is their first Season. They need to be invited to the best parties to find good matches.”

Jasper’s throat tightened. He’d promised his father he’d ensure Jane and Jo’s happiness. “They’re sisters to a viscount, and they have substantial dowries. They’ll be invited to everything.”

“They are sisters to a viscount who drags a baron’s daughter into his chambers.”

“She was a chaperone just a few moments ago,” he quipped. He regretted it the moment Mother arched her eyebrow.

“Then you’re the man who will seduce young ladies’ companions before proposing to them and then chase the servants once you’re married. Or you’ll bed your sister’s friends at their parties.”

“I’m not marrying to stop malicious gossip. Not even for the girls.” This time he did kiss her cheek. She smelled of rosewater. “Not even for you, Mum.”

“Jasper.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior when the ton is looking.” He left her and walked toward the door. “That’s all I’ll promise.”

Once he was alone in the hallway, Jasper drew a deep breath. He’d been prepared to have a title, to have a voice in Parliament, and to manage estates. No one had prepared him for managing his family.

From adolescence, he’d learned which women were safe for dalliances and which brothels to avoid. Nothing had prepared him for a wide-eyed brunette in gray standing in front of his bed, who was angrier at him than she was worried about getting caught doing whatever she was doing before he arrived.

“Lord Ramsbury?”

“Yes, Charles?” Jasper managed a smile for the family butler who kept his mother’s house running like a well-wound clock, no matter the time of day or the events taking place under the roof.

“Miss Allen is in the downstairs drawing room.”

He hadn’t seen Fiona since Mrs. Linden had shuffled her into a coach the morning after the incident with Annabel. After a week of being lectured by Kit about his safety and scolded by his mother about his choices, the thought of a friendly face made him smile. “Thank you.”

The downstairs drawing room was at the front of the house, done in the same wood tones as the other rooms. White satin drapes reflected the light through the windows during the day and candlelight at night, softening the masculine edges and making the room seem larger.

Fiona was at the front window, staring out at the street.

“By God, I’m glad to see you.” His smile faded as she turned a stern glare his way. “What?”

“You’ve talked me into doing a lot of foolish things in our lives, but you’ve never asked me to be cruel.”

“Not you, too.” Jasper pushed his hand back through his hair. “Fiona, you don’t understand.”

“I understand that you encouraged me to make friends with Annabel. You let me believe you might be interested in her, so I would share what she said.” Her eyes flashed as she advanced on him. “And then you used that information to torment her and make her a target for every harpy you invited to your house because you thought it would be fun to watch them scheme and connive for the hell of it.”

Jasper’s back hit the wall by the door, and Fiona got closer—and louder.

“And if that wasn’t enough, you’ve created a scandal and left her to deal with it alone.”

“I didn’t create a scandal,” Jasper said. “She was the one in my room. Without an invitation, by the way.”

“So you got half undressed and carried her into the hallway in front of a crowd.”

“I took off my coat, and she walked out of my room on her own two feet.” Stormed out was more like it. “She even trod on mine on the way out.”

“I see,” Fiona said in the deadly, quiet voice Jasper had learned to dread. “So that justifies your leaving her to deal with this on her own?”

“Deal with what? She’s not without protection—”

“Jasper, she’s not a companion because she likes taking entitled brats to parties. You know her family’s circumstances, and you know what will happen to her when Spencer dismisses her.”

If she hadn’t found anything to report to Spencer, he likely would dismiss her. It would serve her right for throwing her lot in with a scoundrel and going up against a wiser opponent.

“Jasper, you do know what happens to female servants who are judged to be lacking in virtue, don’t you?”

“She isn’t a servant, she’s a—”

“She’ll never be a lady again, never be a companion again. She might be a governess, but every man in the house will consider her fair game.” Fiona put her finger to his chest. “You will walk away from this unscathed, but Annabel’s life will never be the same. Ever.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I thought you were better than this, Rabbit.”

Winning was only fun if the fight was fair, if the combatants were equally matched. Spencer was a fair target. Annabel was not. Just as Fiona, eager to prove herself part of the ton , hadn’t been.

He lifted his friend’s finger from his chest and kissed her hand before pulling her into an embrace. “I’ll see what I can do.”

*

Annabel stood in the center of her father’s London library and refused to fidget under Spencer’s unrelenting scrutiny.

“Two weeks, and you found nothing?” he asked.

“Nothing.” The lie surprised her, both by how easy it was and that she did it at all. The contents of the box under Jasper’s bed were suspicious enough to give Spencer a direction for his investigation, and to prove she had completed her assignment. To set her free.

Though freedom was less appealing than it had been two weeks ago.

“I never should have sent you.” Spencer prowled the space behind the desk, from bookcase to bookcase and back again.

“Given Elizabeth’s behavior, you definitely should have sent me.” He should have kept her at home.

“Yet you’re the one who was found in his room.” He glared at her. “In his arms.”

“Again. Elizabeth was foolish enough to accept an inappropriate dare—”

“So you say.”

“So it was,” she said through gritted teeth. “Were it not for me, your daughter would be ruined and forced to marry a man who considers her an annoying child.”

“Elizabeth says your inappropriate interest in Ramsbury goaded every young woman to misbehave.”

“You told me to learn everything about him.” It was more difficult to keep her voice level than it had been to lie. “I had to talk to him to do that.”

Spencer put his hands flat on the desk. “And in doing so, you fell victim to his charms.”

The only thing she’d fallen victim to was this scheme, and possibly one concocted by Charlotte Bainbridge. “I took advantage of your daughter’s foolishness and searched his room.”

Dearest Jasper … What sort of spy started a letter like that? Cardiff, Spain, London. Missions. What sort of spy was that open about their plans?

“And you found nothing?”

“I found ancient account books and love letters from his mistress.” Annabel blinked. “Nothing useful.”

“I see.” Spencer began pacing again, slower this time. “And now, thanks to his behavior while you were in his room, you are no longer free to move in his circles, even on the periphery.”

Annabel fought the urge to drop into the chair behind her. She’d explained away Jasper’s actions as rash and provocative, and she’d been terrified that he’d see through her bravado and realize what she was doing. She’d never considered that his behavior was purposeful, that he’d ruined her reputation simply to thwart her efforts.

“Unless you marry him.”

This time, she did drop into the chair with an unladylike bounce. “What?”

“Lady Lambourn has a reputation for propriety, especially given her family’s history.”

History? “I’ve heard nothing scandalous of the Chitester family.” Annabel felt the need to defend Amelia, who had remained a true friend despite all that occurred. “And Baron Kilverstone is—”

Spencer waved her protest aside. “She will insist Ramsbury offer for you to save the family from scandal. He will do it, gambling that you’ll refuse.”

“He would be right.” She wouldn’t marry Jasper Warren even if he really had compromised her.

A traitorous warmth spread over her chilled skin. It had happened all week whenever she thought of that night in his room, the way he’d handled her.

“And you would be wrong.” Spencer sat in her father’s chair. “He will not be able to hide everything, all the time, if you are under his roof.”

Neither would she. “And when he discovers the truth?”

“You would not be the first, or last, Society couple to live separate lives.” Spencer’s eyes were wildly bright. “And at least you would not worry for money or a home.”

As though Jasper would provide an allowance to any wife who had defrauded him. Not that she would be that wife. This scheme was insane. “No, Mr. Spencer. I won’t do it.”

“I thought as much.” He heaved a great sigh. “Your father had hopes that I could appeal to your more practical nature, but I told him you were far too wise to consider such a scheme. I told him I was sure you already planned to continue on your chosen path despite the gossip and your lack of references.”

Annabel had known her failure would doom her future chances. The scandal would follow her through London, if not through all of England.

“I told him you’d likely considered traveling to Scotland, perhaps Ireland.” He steepled his fingers together and peered at her over the peak. “Maybe even the Continent. Your French is excellent, and they are more lenient in Paris than they are in London.”

She’d been considering the same thing. Perhaps the French, or even the Italians, would pay well for a tutor to teach English, and English manners, to daughters in search of titles. She could send her earnings home to combine with funds gleaned from rents and sales. She wouldn’t have to be gone long. In a few years, Ramsbury would be married and the ton would have found another scandal.

The only other option was to stay here and watch her family sell their lives piece by piece because, in her attempt to help, she’d only made things worse.

“Your earnings could keep the collectors at bay as long as all his debts are held by different agencies.” Spencer’s lips shaped into a cruel smile. “But if one agency, one person, bought all his markers, and then called them in…”

Annabel’s heart stopped. If all Father’s debts were called in at once, they’d be forced to sell everything quickly at a bargain. They’d never have enough, and Father would end up in prison anyway. Mother and the girls would be beside him.

She knew better than to ask if Spencer had them. He didn’t talk just to hear himself.

Quick steps in the hallway, punctuated by a cane to form a triplet, signaled Father’s approach.

“You will marry Ramsbury and get me the information I need, or your family will be carted through Mayfair on their way to prison,” Spencer whispered.

Her father bustled in. “Ramsbury has sent word that he will call within the hour.”

“See, Miss Pearce? I told you he would behave like a gentleman eventually.” Spencer’s jolly announcement sounded very much like a threat. “I’ll wait across the hall in case his courage fails.”

Once they were alone, her father took the seat facing her. He covered her fingers with his. “Annie, dearest. I want you to know that your mother and I believe your explanation of events. You have always been a good, kind young lady with a stout moral compass and an eye toward protecting those in your care.”

Who had looked through a man’s room and read his mail . “Thank you, Father.” She met his eyes and smiled as much as she could. “I am sorry it has come to this.”

“It could be worse. He is a handsome lout who has a kind reputation, and he votes well.” A smile curved through his ruddy cheeks. “He’s also richer than Croesus.”

Which meant he didn’t need a wealthy bride. Aren’t I lucky? “Father—”

“Annie. This is the first bit of luck we’ve had in the past year. The ton won’t dare overlook your sisters when you are a marchioness.”

While Annabel understood the positive outcome for Rachel and Rebecca, it was also fair to consider the possibilities for her father. Lord Ramsbury would not want to see his father-in-law in debtor’s prison. If he bought Father’s debts from Spencer, the lout’s threat would disappear.

Which meant Spencer wouldn’t sell them.

“And if I build on that luck, we could right our ship by the end of the year.” His eyes gleamed. “An acquaintance has approached me about a coal mine.”

He would never learn. “Let’s take one step at a time.” She stood and walked to the window, only to turn away when she began searching the street for Lord Ramsbury’s carriage. “We assume he wishes to propose. He might have a more unsavory proposition.”

He might be bringing a magistrate to arrest her for spying on him in his own home.

Father cleared his throat and refused to meet her eyes. “Even an unsavory proposal would be a relief. You would still have a roof and likely servants of your own. You will have an allowance—a generous one that you could share with your family.”

A family who wouldn’t be able to acknowledge her on the street and still have her sisters be respectable. Tears stung her eyes. “Father!”

He used his cane to help him to his feet, then came to her and kissed her cheek. “There are worse things, Annabel. Just think about it before you toss him out on his ear.”

She turned away to look out at the weak sunshine that heralded a London spring afternoon. Father’s triplet step faded as he crossed the hall to the receiving room where Spencer waited like a greedy specter in the graveyard of her hopes.

Annabel put her head in her hand. She should have simply pushed Elizabeth from the room and followed her down the hall. If she’d never stayed to search for that dratted earring, she never would have looked under the bed. She wouldn’t have seen the box, wouldn’t have read the letter. None of this would have happened.

The earring hadn’t even been in there. Elizabeth had found it in their room, on the floor just over the threshold.

Annabel’s life lay before her in two paths. Stay true to herself and spend the rest of her days in service, if she was lucky. She’d have a roof and a chance to make an honest living. If she was lucky, she might find love with a footman or valet. Maybe a shopkeeper. Or she could marry for the sake of her family and live in a cold, gilded cage. She’d never have to worry, but she’d never have love.

She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her tears, again and again. It should be an easy choice.

“Miss Pearce?”

She spun to face the door. Jasper stood there, tall and handsome. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him arrive. His maroon and blue striped waistcoat was the perfect companion to his blue wool coat. The color was the same shade as his eyes had been that night in the firelight. “I don’t wish to marry you,” she said.

He blinked for a moment before a wry smile twisted his lips. “Then that is something we have in common.”

Despite her declaration, her heart still sank. She stopped it in mid-fall. There was nothing wrong with a life of honest work. “Thank you for coming to—”

He stepped into the room and strode toward her. “Perhaps we could find other things on which we agree.”

Annabel forced herself not to run. “We both enjoy riding, I believe.” She motioned to a chair in front of the hearth and took the opposite one.

“And books,” he said as he sat. “We dislike dancing.”

Her toes and fingers stung as the heat penetrated her chilled skin. “And bad music.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.”

They both quieted as her family’s one remaining maid delivered a tea tray. Once she left, Annabel reached for the teapot. “Cream and sugar?”

“Neither, please.” Jasper took the cup she offered.

She fixed her tea and sat back in the chair. “I am sorry I was in your room.”

“And I am sorry I was an arse about it.” He relaxed in his chair. “I also apologize for my behavior while you were a guest in my home. My only excuse is that I enjoy tweaking Society’s collective nose, and that I’m frequently thoughtless about it.”

“Thank you.” She lifted the tea to her lips, anticipating the simple comfort of routine things. Oddly enough, Jasper—with his swearing, easy nature, and blunt honesty—was a unique kind of tonic.

“We should marry, Miss Pearce.”

Her cup clattered into the saucer, sloshing tea onto her fingers. He looked the same as he had five minutes ago, but in that time, he had lost his wits. “I beg your pardon, Lord Ramsbury, but are you foxed?”

“I never begin drinking before noon, especially not at my mother’s house.” He held her gaze. “My behavior has left you with few viable options for your future.”

“It wasn’t just your behavior, and I don’t believe our penance should be a life sentence in a loveless marriage.”

He put his teacup back on the table and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Since I inherited my title, my mother has prodded me to choose a wife based on anything but love. I’ve avoided proposing because every candidate has, quite frankly, bored me senseless. You do not.”

Annabel kept a tight grip on her cup but didn’t dare drink it. “You know my circumstances.”

“I don’t need a rich wife,” he said. “I need a suitable wife.”

She was far from suitable in ways he would never understand. The primary one being that she’d been spying on him, for pity’s sake. “You need an heir.”

He shrugged. “Not right away.” His grin hitched up on one side. “I’m willing to wait and see if we grow more compatible.”

The flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with the fire. “And if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll come to an agreement.” His gaze was steady. “Annabel, I believe we will both benefit from marrying, and I think we will find we have many more things in common. Marriages have been built on weaker foundations.”

She finally sipped her tea to wet her throat. “I have two sisters who will need a Season, not necessarily this one, but next.”

“They can come out with mine this year, and the year after if necessary. We’ll see they’re matched to decent young men.” He paused for a moment, his eyes twinkling. “I’d like your help with that. You are quite the tiger as a chaperone, and the girls are chafing against Mother’s decrees.”

“Thank you. I’d be happy to help, though my sisters may not listen to me. ” She blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. “I’d like your word that you won’t pay my father’s debts.”

He nodded but frowned. “Why?”

“He won’t learn his lesson,” she whispered as she stared into the fire. “He’s chased schemes for years, and you’ll be throwing good money after bad.” She met his gaze. “Seasons aren’t cheap, and I won’t take advantage of your generosity.”

“Thank you. But your mother shouldn’t suffer. She’ll have an allowance my solicitor will manage for her. She’ll have enough to keep her in London if she chooses.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Forgive me, but you’ll need a wardrobe. My mother’s dressmaker should be willing to fit you quickly.”

Although it stung her pride and her conscience, she would have to look like a marchioness, and she couldn’t afford that on her own. “I’ll be ready.”

“No gray, please. You have enough of that.”

It was her turn to chuckle. “Agreed.” It was easy to do. She hated gray. “One more thing.”

He waited, eyebrows arched.

It was difficult to think, much less say. “I am aware you have at least one mistress.” She put a hand up to stop his interruption. “I’m not asking you to give them up. I’m just asking that you be discreet. The ton will gossip enough as it is.”

He offered his hand. “Is that a yes, then, Annabel?”

She slid her fingers into his large, warm palm. “Yes, Lord Ramsbury.”

“Jasper.” His breath was hot on her skin as he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

“As you wish.” Annabel’s heart thudded against her ribs. “Jasper.”