Page 9 of His Wife, the Spy (His Enterprising Duchess #4)

H e was becoming addicted to making his wife smile.

Jasper spun Annabel under the lights in the ballroom, enjoying the brush of her skirts against his trousers and the way her hand grasped his. Rather than a vine clinging to him and waiting for him to move, she had strength and agility that challenged him to improve his footwork.

“I wasn’t aware that you followed my parliamentary career,” he said. He’d been surprised both by her knowledge and the ring of pride in her voice.

“Don’t most wives?”

He didn’t believe his mother had ever discussed politics with his father. “I don’t know. I’ve never had one before.”

“A wife, or a career?”

“Touché, Annabel.” He looked past her to the other dancers.

When he entered Lords as the Earl of Lambourn he had stayed at his grandfather’s shoulder. For the first few sessions, he’d voted in lockstep with the old man, learning as he went. All it had taken was one argument, one thump of a cane, for Jasper to step out on his own. After that, he’d carried his tenants’ concerns with him and learned to negotiate to meet their expectations.

Now Grandfather was gone. He was the marquess, and on his way to becoming an effective statesman. He had formed alliances with men who wielded their power wisely.

At the beginning, it had been more of a chore than a privilege. Now something thrummed in him every time he entered the chamber. He wanted to make a difference in the country, not just the counties where his property lay.

But he had no idea what that looked like.

“Jasper?”

A shiver of pleasure went down his spine. Annabel never used his name in public. It brought all sorts of private places to his mind, helped along by her breath on his neck and her body under his hands. She was staring up at him, concern written across her face. He’d spent weeks teasing her until she laughed with him. Now she’d teased first, and he’d not lived up to her expectations.

“I’m fine.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Every lady in the ton will race to tell you I have no feelings to hurt.”

He missed a step in their dance and narrowly avoided treading on her foot. He’d kissed her. In the middle of a dance floor. And, given the amused stares from several of his friends, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered. “We must be near Lord Argyll. Every lady in the room has been admiring his legs in his kilt.”

“They’re likely wondering what he’s wearing underneath.” He grinned down at her. “There’s a rumor that Scotsmen wear naught but fresh air.”

She blushed to her hairline. “That would be inconvenient in a waltz.”

Cad that he was, he was considering how convenient it would be in other ways. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

“That you should have a kilt to go with your corset?”

And how many ways he could use a pink cravat. Jasper leaned close to her ear. “Do you have pink roses against your skin, Lady Ramsbury?”

A shiver went down her spine, teasing his fingers and his imagination. Dear God, she smelled like a spring field in the Wiltshire sunshine. How many times had he lain in those fields, staring up at the sky, and let the grass tickle his ears?

Her eyes sparkled wickedly. “Peonies, my lord.”

He should have known. Roses were far too delicate and fragile for her. Peonies, on the other hand, were sweet and hardy, and they worked hard to be upstanding and straight, even if their stems betrayed them.

The waltz ended, and Jasper bowed to Annabel before ushering her from the floor and back to the chair beside Lady Carmichael. The walk helped rein in his thoughts and ease the tightness in his trousers.

Cousin Amelia and her husband Richard were at the table, chatting with Lord and Lady Carmichael. Jasper bent double to kiss her cheek. She returned it and squeezed his shoulder on her way to Annabel.

“Ferrand.” He shook Richard’s hand. “Good to see you in London.”

He liked Amelia’s husband. He had a level head, a keen business sense, and a fortune he’d earned through hard work. He also voted well as Uncle Augustus’s proxy.

“You as well.” Richard looked past Jasper to the ladies. “But be prepared. Amelia’s talked of little else but cornering Annabel for a long talk .”

They returned quicker than expected, both smiling. Amelia returned to Richard’s side like a magnet. “I’m stealing your wife tomorrow, Cousin.”

Annabel’s eyes sparkled brighter than when they’d been on the dance floor. “She’s invited me to tea with her charity circle.”

“I always find it wise to yield to the worthier opponent.” Jasper’s tease was only a half measure. He knew from personal experience that his young cousin was formidable.

Richard’s crooked smile and raised eyebrow gave him a moment’s pause, however. Apparently tea meant whiskey in some way.

“What exactly—”

“Lord Ramsbury, Lady Ramsbury?” Garret Spaulding joined their circle. “May I congratulate you on your wedding.”

Jasper took the young man’s hand and then his measure. His gaze was direct and sincere, his grasp strong. “Thank you, Spaulding.”

“May I have the next dance with the bride?”

When Annabel nodded, Jasper swallowed his pride and watched her go. He’d had to marry Annabel to dance with her. All Spaulding had to was ask.

Pull yourself together, man. He’s being kind, and she’s doing her job—and having fun while doing it. You need to do yours.

“Into the breach, Cousin.” He kissed Amelia’s cheek. “Thank you for inviting her to join you.”

“You say that now.” Richard chuckled as they shook hands.

Amelia discreetly punched her husband in the arm and led him away, laughing. “As though you mind.”

Jasper watched them go, sharing their laughter alone. He’d need to warn his wife about his cousin’s odd, and lucrative, pastime before tomorrow.

For now, he focused on the row of young ladies on the far side of the ballroom, watching the party pass them by. Society required that he make sure as many as possible had a pleasant memory from the evening.

“Jasper?” The feminine squeal was accompanied by thin, long fingers on his arm and a cloud of perfume. “Have you grown bored of married life already? I was telling Grace just this afternoon over tea that I didn’t expect home and hearth to hold your interest long.”

Gwendolyn Harris, Viscountess Granville, had long enjoyed being the most beautiful lady in the ton . She used her husband’s money to bolster that impression, though it wasn’t for his benefit. Tonight her red silk dress was trimmed with a cloud of lace that kept her respectable until she and one of her many partners were on the dance floor or outside in the garden.

“It’s lovely to see you, Gwennie.” Jasper lifted her almost boneless hand to his lips. He knew better than to consider her weak, especially given the brittleness of her smile, which made her clinging to him that much more annoying. He curved his lips into a smile. “But I hope you didn’t wager on my happiness.”

“I wouldn’t be so gauche as to revel in your unfortunate circumstances,” Gwen said as she smirked at the ladies flanking her.

The hell she wouldn’t. She’d screamed the house down when he called off their affair. It was difficult to sleep with a woman if you admired her husband.

“Not unfortunate at all. Lady Ramsbury and I have been enjoying life in London a great deal.” He stepped back and bowed to the lady and her companions. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Are you going to leave me on the edge of the dance floor awaiting a partner?”

A young man stood just behind her, staring at Jasper with raised eyebrows. Jasper nodded to him as he increased the distance between himself and Gwen. “I believe you have a more eager gentleman in the wings, Lady Granville.”

Annabel was still on the floor, this time with the Duke of Chippenham, and she looked far from pleased about it. The man had a reputation for drinking heavily and a love of cigars.

Just as Jasper reached the row of ferns and the young ladies guarded by their chaperones, a commotion drew all eyes to the dancers. He turned just in time to see Annabel march from her partner, leaving him to limp from the floor alone.

She kept moving, leaving the room with Lady Carmichael hurrying behind. All Jasper could do was stand and watch. “Spaulding should have known better than to hand her over to Chippenham.”

“And you should know better than to think he had a choice,” Lord Carmichael said as he walked away. “I’ll get you a drink. We may be here awhile.”

They were on their second round when Lady Carmichael returned, her eyes flashing lightning. “She’ll be down in a moment, once she’s calm.”

“What happened?” Jasper asked. It had to be something the duke had done. Annabel was far too proper to leave the floor in the middle of a dance.

The lady glared across the room. “He made her an offer that a lady should never hear, much less repeat.”

“I see.” Jasper stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll wait for her at the stairs.” He’d replaced Chippenham in Gwendolyn Harris’s bed. It was a fair wager than Chippenham wanted some of his own back.

“You can’t throttle a duke in public, Ramsbury.”

He nodded to Carmichael. “Given his limp, I believe Annabel defended herself quite well.”

He couldn’t understand, much less explain, the need to ensure she was well or, if not, to whisk her away without the stares and gossip that dogged them both.

There were many things he’d expected from their marriage. The most obvious was that there were more people in the house. New maids, his sisters-in-law, his wife at the breakfast table. The creak in the floor as she moved through her adjoining suite. He’d even expected the locked door.

He hadn’t reckoned with being comforted by it. If Annabel had been willing to share his bed from the first night, he would have suspected her protestations to be a fraud. Worse, he’d have wondered how far she would be willing to go to gain the information Spencer had sent her to learn.

Jasper gave up waiting and began climbing the stairs toward the ladies’ retiring room. He hadn’t expected the compulsion to tell her every detail of his day, as though it would prove to her that he was not visiting whichever mistress he was rumored to have. He found himself smiling as he listened to her guide the younger girls through their lessons or when she asked his mother for advice.

At the top of the stairs, he looked for the best place to hide, certain she would be there. A flash of blue caught his eye, and the pearls in her hair caught the candlelight.

The same light bounced from Reginald Spencer’s almost-bald head.

“What do you mean you’ve found nothing?” Spencer bit out in a whisper. “My man in Cardiff says Yarwood was there just last week with so many coins it was a wonder he could walk.”

“Between fittings, social calls with Lady Lambourn, and learning how to run the household, I am not in a position to lurk outside doors and listen at keyholes,” Annabel replied with just as much venom.

Despite the circumstances, Jasper was proud of her for holding her own. Still, he slipped into the shadows and approached on quiet feet.

She drew a deep breath. “If you would care to know, there is a speculation scheme afoot to cheat foolish gentlemen by—”

“Unless the gentleman is Ramsbury, I care nothing for ton gossip.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Have you fallen for your husband’s appeal as well as his pocketbook?”

Jasper tightened his fingers into a fist. Annabel’s wardrobe bills had been meager in comparison with Mother’s and the girls’—and they already had updated closets. Her frugality spoke of some sort of loyalty.

Didn’t it?

She snapped her closed fan against her skirts. “How dare you ask that when you are well aware of why and how I came to be in this position.” Even from his hiding place, Jasper could see her knuckles whiten. “If I am a poor and useless wife, he will not trust me. If Jas—Lord Ramsbury has no faith in me, I will not find the answers you seek.”

Spencer pulled his tailcoat straight. “So long as you remember the stakes should you fail.”

“As though I could forget them.”

He walked around her but stopped at her shoulder. “Find me my answers, Lady Ramsbury.”

“I will find the truth.” Annabel’s spine was straight, and the tilt of her head reminded Jasper of the night she’d scolded him at his own dance.

Her bravery lasted until Spencer left the hallway, then she sagged against the wall and put her head in her hand.

Were Kit here, he would insist on storming from the shadows and demanding answers. It likely wouldn’t take much to make Annabel confess. Jasper would know what Spencer wanted. From there, it would be easy to guess the man’s scheme. The marriage could be quietly annulled with the flourish of a pen.

He stepped from the shadows. “There you are.”

She turned on him, her deep brown eyes wide and sparkling too brightly. “I’m sorry.”

It would be so easy…

“Chippenham is a sheep’s arse. Always has been. I’m certain you’re not the first lady to leave him stranded at a ball.” The quirk of her lips gave him permission to smile as he offered his arm. “Shall we go home?”

*

For the second time in a few short hours, the Ramsbury carriage loomed before Annabel like a prison cart.

Foolish girl. You dreaded a dance and gossip. And now fate has dropped you in a much worse dilemma.

How long had Jasper been in the hallway? How much had he overheard? And why, oh why, hadn’t she told Reginald Spencer to go jump in the narrowest part of the Thames?

The footman held the door. At least the ride home would be short.

“Take us through the park please, Larrabee,” Jasper called to their coachman as he followed her inside.

A detour through Hyde Park would add at least half an hour to their evening. Dread and fear mixed in Annabel’s stomach, sending a chill through her limbs.

It didn’t matter that the carriage was lit by small oil lamps and a hot brick lay wrapped near her feet. Jasper sat on the opposite bench, on the other end, so he could peer out through the curtain at the passing houses. He put his free arm around his waist and shifted in his place. Annabel thought she saw a shiver.

“There is enough heat from this brick for the both of us,” she whispered, fearful of his reaction. It was one thing to leave all the heat for her. It was another, dreadful, thing if he didn’t want to be close to her.

He regarded her for a long moment before moving to face her. He stretched his long legs forward and crossed his feet at the ankles with a sigh. “Thank you, Annabel.”

The lamplight gilded his hair and the planes of his face. The shadows and sharpness should have been frightening, especially with his uncharacteristic silence. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the dance, or maybe the heat from the brick, but Annabel wasn’t afraid of him.

What bothered her most was not having the answers he’d want. She didn’t know what Spencer had found, or his aims. Her husband would be another in the line of people she was disappointing.

“You don’t have to wait for an invitation to be warm, Jasper.”

His stare was a tangible thing, and his smile flashed in the dark. “My mother taught me it was a gentleman’s duty to be uncomfortable.”

She disagreed with Lady Lambourn on that point. “I see. What did she say about remembering staff names?” His comical glance made her chuckle. “Your driver’s name is Lawrence, not Larrabee.”

“Ah.” He unpinned his cravat and slid his finger into the knot. “Kit hired him, so I…didn’t pay much attention.”

“Did he also hire Stapleton?” If she remembered correctly, Jasper had gotten the butler’s name wrong several times during the house party.

He nodded. “After my grandfather’s death, his younger staff left without notice. The remaining, older, ones were…not suited for the activity of a more active house.”

The younger staff had likely preferred the activity, and better pay, found in London. “What happened to the older ones?”

“The ones who wished to remain in service moved to Lambourn Manor—Mother likes quiet in the country—or to my uncles’ country properties. The cook joined Cousin Amelia’s household. The ones who wished to retire in Wiltshire were given tenancies on the estate.”

Somehow, she hadn’t expected him to do anything less. “None of them came to the London house?”

“I prefer to be surrounded by familiar faces.”

“And loyal ones.” The moment the words came out of her mouth, Annabel wanted to dive from the carriage. She had given him the perfect opening to question her.

“Loyalty is underrated in Society. Wouldn’t you agree, Annabel?”

Annabel met his stare and evened her breathing. It was important, for more than one reason, that he believed her. “I would, Jasper.”

She’d left Wiltshire more than half convinced that he was a decent man. A rake, perhaps, but not a traitor. Nothing since their wedding had provided evidence to the contrary. He had kept to his end of their odd contract. Her sisters had been launched into Society and had introductions to the ton ’s most respectable matrons. Their post was full of invitations to the best balls, and they had renewed acquaintances that had fallen away with the family’s misfortune.

Though Annabel wished they would make other friends, she could not fault her husband for her sisters’ choices.

The noise from the city faded as they entered Hyde Park. The curtains swung, giving glimpses of paths lit by gaslights. The trees, their limbs fuzzy with spring leaves, loomed overhead, reaching into the fog that was rolling in from the river.

Annabel chafed her gloved hands against her arms, imagining being cast out into that fog with nothing but an impractical dress and dancing slippers.

Without warning, Jasper swung to her side of the carriage, close enough to touch her. Annabel scrambled into the corner, panicked that he’d read her thoughts and decided to do that.

His fine blond brows knitted together over blue eyes that reminded her of the spring birds that flitted from branch to branch in her garden at home. “You’ve had a difficult night, I think.”

“I…” The squeak in that one word had her clearing her throat to try again. “I had a much better time than I anticipated, until Chippenham.”

The fun had leached from the evening when she saw Jasper talking with Gwendolyn Harris, but she’d never admit it. Her part of their bargain was that she’d not interfere in his dalliances. Though she did wonder if he knew Gwennie was a viper in curls.

“George and I have competed over any number of things since Eton. The last was the…attention of a certain lady.”

“And you won.” No woman would choose Chippenham over Jasper. It would also help explain the duke’s vulgar suggestion.

He nodded. “Though it wasn’t much of a prize.”

But he’d still claimed it.

“And I no longer hold it.” He took her hand in his and coaxed her closer. “It is important to me for you know that.”

“Thank you.” Her tongue was coated with the bitter taste of a confession she didn’t dare make. Though her fear of retaliation faded a little more each day, she refused to lay her sins, and her father’s debts, at her husband’s feet. It was too much to ask of anyone.

“Would you tell me what he said?” He lowered his head to meet her gaze. “It might be embarrassing, but it will better than my wondering for weeks.”

She wanted to ask why he’d spend an extra minute wondering about her, but she expected it had to do with Society’s expectations and the respect she was due. He’d already reprimanded Rachel for calling her Annie—a name Annabel hated because it made her sound like a scullery maid.

She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “He complimented me on the necklace but said if I was willing to ruin myself for stones that size, perhaps I would be interested in his, since they were larger.”

Jasper’s laugh had a bitter, hard sound to it, like hail against a window.

“I see.” His hold on her tightened. “I expected better from Chippenham, which I will explain to him when—”

“If you fight the ton for every insult, we’ll never be invited anywhere respectable again.” It touched her that he would be concerned over her feelings, but there were more practical considerations, such as the effect of their behavior on their sisters. “We expected this, though not quite so blatant.”

Truthfully, she suspected Chippenham was foxed and wouldn’t remember the conversation tomorrow. Though his foot would likely be swollen. Her heel still throbbed. Dancing slippers were not made for self-protection.

“That’s why you stomped on his foot, then? To protect your honor?” He dipped his head to meet her eyes again, and his lopsided smile made her heart stutter. “Because that is a husband’s duty, Annabel.”

It would be so easy to get accustomed to him, to the feelings he stirred in her, to the life that would be possible with him. However, once he learned her purpose in his household, it would all disappear. All she could hope was that her sisters were married and that he’d keep an annulment quiet for the sake of his family.

“But who protects you?” Annabel asked. “He stood there and implied that you took advantage of me in your home, while I was there as less than a guest and entirely dependent upon you. I will not have that.” She kept her eyes on his. “If that is not a wife’s duty, then it should be.”

“Thank you.” He raised her knuckles to his lips, and his breath skimmed her skin. “I shall do my best to avoid the duke at the club tomorrow. Which reminds me, your father sent a letter asking me to meet with him tomorrow, but he wants it to be us alone. Is there something I should know?”

Her father wanted money. He wouldn’t ask for it outright, but he would call it a loan and promise to repay it once his luck had changed, which it was certain to do this time. “Before we married, he mentioned speculating on a mine.” Annabel found it easier to talk in the shadows with Jasper’s warm, strong hand in hers. He had negotiated their marriage with her alone. Perhaps he would listen to her again. “Tonight in the retiring room, I heard a young lady, Miss Thorn, I believe, discuss how her chosen beau was not her family’s choice because of his lack of fortune, but that was about to change because he was about to make his fortune in coal.”

“It has been the talk of White’s,” Jasper said. “Why does this scheme bother you?”

“Would you offer an interest to a spendthrift baron and a young man with no fortune? Especially when there are rumors of renewed unrest amongst the Welsh miners?”

Her husband shook his head, staring at her like she’d sprouted another eye. “How do you know that?”

“I read it in the newspaper.” Annabel sighed. She was tired of having men think she was odd for reading. “Whoever is involved is using greed and desperation to dig yet another, likely useless, hole in Wales.”

“Someone should look to the slate they shift for the holes,” Jasper said. “If he was trying for a stake in a slate pile, I’d be tempted.”

“Slate would be wise. If you could produce shingles inexpensively, they would be a prime building material. But buy your own stake.” It was Annabel’s turn to search out his gaze, to make sure he understood her. “My father will never be happy with a small profit or a modest success, and he will not repay you.” They had lost just as many friends from his empty promises as they had from poverty itself.

“You are the most unusual woman I have ever met,” Jasper whispered as he drew closer.

His lips touched her forehead before his breath fanned her eyelids, coaxing them to close. He kept one hand in a gentle prison while he cradled her jaw with the other. All the while his lips traced the length of her nose to reach her mouth. The warmth of his kiss shaped her lips until they were clinging to his, which gave her a chance to feel his smile.

Jasper’s thumb swept from her ear to her chin and back at a seductive pace that warmed her tongue until it was heavy in her mouth and opening for him was a relief. He licked his way into her mouth, stealing her breath and replacing it with his own. The touch of his tongue was a shock, and he allowed her a moment of withdrawal before he pursued her again, teasing hers to dance.

His deep, shuddering groan heated her through until she was panting against the stays of her corset and the fabric was touching her where she wanted his hands to be.

The carriage rocked to a stop, and the cold evening rushed through the open door. “Your lordsh—Oh, I’m…I’m…so-sorry.”

Jasper rested his forehead against hers, and his harsh breath fanned her skin. “It’s fine… Frederick?” He whispered the footman’s name and, when Annabel nodded, repeated it louder. “Give us a moment, please.”

Once they were alone, he kissed her softly before moving away. His eyes were glassy, and his lips were wet, but otherwise he was untouched as he stepped from the coach and reached back for her.

His hand left hers only to curve against her back as they climbed the shallow steps to the front door. Annabel’s heart pounded in time with her feet.

Stapleton opened the door and offered an envelope to Jasper. “This was left for you, your lordship.”

Jasper frowned as he took it, and the expression remained, possibly darkened, as he read the letter inside. When he raised his eyes, they were a deep blue that hinted at secrets and shadows. “I have to go out.” He kissed her fingers, but her gloves put the first sliver of distance between them. “Don’t wait up.”

Annabel felt the loss of him keenly, but she wasn’t going to cling to him on the threshold. “Please be safe.”

His smile was as brief as his nod as he reversed direction, leaving her standing in the doorway. She watched until the carriage rocked around the bend crowded with trees and rosebushes.

Her lips still tasted of him as she entered the hall. Stapleton shoved the lock home, and the sound echoed through the quiet house as she climbed the stairs.

Barnes was waiting just inside her door. The maid urged her to the dressing table and removed the rubies before unfastening the dress. “Tell me everything, your ladyship.”

Annabel stared into the mirror as she recited the events of the evening. She left out smashing the Duke of Chippenham’s foot. She also didn’t mention the kiss in the coach.

As Barnes undressed her and combed her hair, Annabel considered that kiss and the note that had sent Jasper back out into the night. He hadn’t seemed reluctant to leave her, so perhaps she’d done something wrong. The kiss had been wonderful for her, even better than she’d imagined, but it didn’t necessarily follow that he felt the same. He had kissed many more women with more experience.

She slipped between the sheets and lay back on a mountain of pillows as Barnes pulled the sheets tight.

The other consideration was that the note was not from a lover but from a traitor to the Crown hoping to meet in the shadows to discuss a plot or provide information.

“Goodnight, my lady,” Barnes called as she carried the candles from the room and shut the door.

The firelight danced on the canopy overhead. Jasper’s rooms were quiet. The door between them remained locked.

“Please, God,” Annabel whispered, “let him be with a mistress.”