Compromising the Marquess Read online

  “You’ve made a laughingstock of us all. I shan’t be able to visit the Hall again.”

  Since, as far as Leah was aware, she had only been invited there once since her friend had moved away, she failed to see why her aunt was in such a dudgeon. “I didn’t think you approved of the marquess, aunt, so why should being deprived of his society concern you so much?”

  “Stupid girl, you understand nothing! If one only associated with people one approved of, one would have very few engagements.”

  “Look, I don’t mean to—”

  “Lord Denby could only be interested in you for one possible reason.” Aunt Augusta shuddered. “It’s too sordid for words.”

  Leah’s temper was rising and she struggled to maintain a façade of impeccable calm. “I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you.”

  “Oh, you understand me perfectly well, just as I start to understand you. Well, it won’t serve. You will not have anything more to do with him, young lady, do I make myself clear? Your uncle is too softhearted for his own good. He took you both in, against my specific advice I might add, and this is how you repay him. Well,” she said, shaking a finger at Leah, “if one more word of inappropriate behaviour reaches my ears, then you will be out of here before the day is out.”

  “I have not—”

  “I’ve told Lady Bentley that it’s all an unfortunate misunderstanding and she need not worry about you embarrassing her daughter when she’s on the brink of becoming betrothed. Her ladyship was kind enough to overlook your disgusting want of propriety and has invited Sir Percy and me to dine next week.”

  Aunt Augusta was unable to keep the pride from her voice, causing Leah and Beth to share a glance. So that’s what this visit was really about. Leah’s conduct had forced Lady Bentley to recognize their aunt when previously she had barely noticed her. As the widow of an earl full of her own self-importance, a mere baronet’s wife wasn’t the sort of person she would usually consort with.

  “It has never been my intention to embarrass anyone,” Leah said in a placating tone.

  “Make sure it stays that way. If you wish to remain living here, keep away from Lord Denby and leave the coast clear for Miss Bentley.” Aunt Augusta gathered up her reticule and made for the door. “Don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

  The girls returned to their seats, neither speaking. Leah was furious. With Lady Bentley for being so determined and with herself for writing that damned article. She’d placed their living arrangements in jeopardy by playing a reckless game with Lord Denby that had gone dangerously awry. When would she ever learn?

  She was unsettled by her aunt’s diatribe, more disturbed still by the speed with which news of her behaviour had spread through the village. She didn’t much care for her own sake but Beth, she now realised, would be tainted by association.

  Only the loud ticking of the long clock disturbed the silence as Leah continued to fume. Then, quite without warning, Beth burst into unladylike guffaws of laughter. It was the last reaction Leah had expected.

  “What is it, darling? What do you find so diverting?”

  “She really is—” Beth paused to mop her eyes. “I didn’t realise that her pretentiousness ran quite so deep.”

  “Yes, well—”

  Beth curled up with laughter again and Leah, seeing the funny side of it, joined in. They laughed until they cried, caught one another’s eye and laughed some more.

  * * *

  Disguised as Leon, Leah made her way to the Boar just as the sun was setting, determined not to prejudge Lord Denby’s motives for harbouring a Frenchman. Or to dwell upon that damned kiss. She touched her lips and then repeatedly ran her tongue across them. They still felt bruised. Desire trickled through her at this physical reminder of his crushing passion. If he could put that much feeling into an act that was precisely that—a ploy to deceive others and which meant absolutely nothing to him—then she envied the lady who eventually won his heart.

  Lord Denby was evidently a man of extremes. His anger was as violent as his male appetites and he’d woken in her—albeit unintentionally—a deep hunger to experiment. Leah, through her reading, knew a great deal about the finer details of relationships between the opposite genders. Up until this point theory had always been enough for her, but she now nursed a raging desire to experience them for herself. Even though she planned to discontinue her tarnished career as a gossipmonger, she couldn’t as easily turn off her curious nature. Having decided against marriage was no impediment to furthering her experience. If anything it was an advantage. There was only one gentleman of her acquaintance who agitated in her the desire to know more. She was on her way to meet him now and he most certainly wouldn’t consider her a suitable candidate for matrimony.

  The question was, would he be prepared to accommodate her request? More to the point, how ought she to go about enticing him?

  Her mental perambulations brought her to the Boar. There was less activity there this evening, making it harder for her to blend in with the crowd that customarily spilled outside its doors. Her arrival was observed by more than one patron. She felt uneasy, wishing now that she’d at least brought Pickle with her. She’d hardly reached the now-familiar stretch of ground behind the tavern before the marquess materialised, dressed as casually as he had been on the previous evening.

  “Come,” he said, not wasting time with words.

  He took her arm and led her to the small inlet where the wherry had beached yesterday. She wondered if they would again go to The Celandine but he turned her towards the lee of the cliff face instead. A blanket had been laid on the shingle and he invited her to sit. It was now almost full dark but one small lantern, set on a rock, illuminated the scene.

  Light danced across his lordship’s features, which appeared tense, almost as though he was conducting some sort of inner battle with himself. He hadn’t once looked at her and she wondered if he was having second thoughts about confiding in her. Well, it was too late for that. If he imagined he could fob her off with vague explanations and half-truths, he clearly didn’t comprehend the extent of her dogged determination.

  Leah seated herself on the uncomfortable pebbles and cast him an expectant glance. Lord Denby perched on the edge of a boulder, still looking everywhere except at her, and was quiet in a way that seemed to suck the atmosphere from the air.

  “I promise not to tell,” she said, trying for a flippant tone, unsure if she’d succeeded when he finally turned to look at her and grimaced.

  “I should never have taken you to the damned boat,” he said.

  “But you did.” She tilted her chin, concerned by the worry lines she could now detect etched in his forehead. “Is it so very bad?” she asked quietly.

  He clearly didn’t consider that the question required an answer. Instead he sucked in a deep breath and, glancing once again at his boat swaying serenely at anchor, started to talk.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Mrs. Wilkinson can usually be relied upon to spread inaccurate rumours,” he said with a mirthless grin. “In the case of my war record, she didn’t disappoint.”

  “Let me guess,” Leah said softly. “You served your country with distinction.”

  He inclined his head. “I like to think so.”

  “And yet you deliberately led Mrs. Wilkinson to believe otherwise.” The lips he had so enjoyed kissing just that morning turned up at the corners. “Why would that be?”

  He lifted his shoulders, pausing to select exactly the right words. “My work was of a delicate and secret nature. Many lives depended upon my discretion. There’s only so much I can tell you, even now. Emotions still run high, people who followed their consciences and risked their lives for their beliefs aren’t safe.” He drew in a long breath. “The Celandine’s qualities came into their own during the war. We slipped in and out of France all the time, ostensibly smuggling but in reality helping the government to keep their spy network intact and informed.”

  She opene
d her remarkable eyes very wide. “You were a spy?”

  “More a spymaster. We transported people into sensitive areas, brought back reports of enemy manoeuvres, that sort of thing.”

  “Dangerous work.”

  He dismissed that suggestion with a casual shrug. “But essential.”

  “I would imagine so, but it hardly explains the presence of a young Frenchman on your boat.”

  “Not all Frenchmen were supportive of Napoleon’s mad tactics.”

  She considered his words for a moment before responding. “And presumably not all English backed our cause.”

  “Quite.” Hal’s eyes lingered on her features, bright and inquisitive in the flickering lantern light. In spite of all he knew about her, in spite of the problems she’d caused with Lady Bentley, he somehow knew he could trust her and decided to tell her the absolute truth. “The young man you saw is Jean-Philippe Ramon, son of the Comte de Boulogne. The comte was one of Napoleon’s most trusted advisors.”

  “Oh!”

  “Jean-Philippe is just seventeen.”

  “Go on,” she said when he paused again.

  “The comte was the French ambassador to his majesty’s court at St. James’s, until war broke out and he was recalled. At first a staunch Napoleonic supporter, he gradually began to question his leader’s objectives and came to the conclusion that he was putting personal ambition ahead of his country’s best interests.” Hal threw his head back and closed his eyes. “Certain factions within our government were still secretly in communication with the comte, and when they learned of his dissatisfaction he was persuaded to work for us. He supplied us with invaluable information that probably shortened the duration of the war and saved many lives from being needlessly sacrificed.”

  “Then he had great courage. I can imagine the struggles he must have had with his conscience.”

  “He was an honourable man and I was privileged to call him friend.”

  “Why is his son hiding on your boat?”

  “Because his father was murdered a month ago.” Hal ground his teeth. “Sliced through with a sword like a side of beef.”

  “French patriots presumably discovered what he had done.”

  “No, it wasn’t the French who killed him.” Hal held her gaze. “It was an Englishman.”

  Leah gasped. “How can you possibly know that?”

  “Because Jean-Philippe was in the house at the time. He heard a commotion and raised the alarm. He was just in time to see the man who did it before he fled.”

  Leah raised a hand to her mouth. “That’s terrible.”

  “He’s lucky to be alive. The assassin knew he’d been seen and tried to come back for Jean-Philippe. Fortunately I was already on my way to France in response to a summons from the comte. I discovered what had happened but Jean-Philippe was long gone. I had arranged with his father that if he was ever in trouble he should wait for me in a small house on the outskirts of Paris. I went there, just in case, and found Jean-Philippe had had the presence of mind to go there and wait for me. He was with the other man you saw on the boat. His name is Marcel Martell and he is Jean-Philippe’s tutor.”

  “Does Jean-Philippe know the identity of the killer?”

  “No, that’s the problem. He’d seen him with his father once before and knew he was English because he heard them talking in that language, and because of his clothing. He will be able to recognise him if he sees him again, obviously.”

  “And so you must try to ensure that he sees him, without putting him in danger.”

  “Yes.” Hal sighed. “That’s about it.”

  Leah frowned. “Why would an Englishman kill someone who supported our cause?”

  Hal flashed a brief, humourless smile. “You’ve gone straight to the heart of the matter.” He drew a deep breath. “Jean-Philippe’s father was one of our most prized assets in France and only a very few people knew he was working for us.”

  “So whoever killed him must have been one of the select few who knew his true identity.” She wrinkled her brow. “But why kill him when the hostilities had come to an end?”

  “I don’t actually know the answer to that, but I can guess.”

  “The killer was doing the reverse,” Leah said slowly. “Feeding information to the French.”

  “Precisely. Jean-Philippe’s father had sent a message to the Admiralty shortly before his death, asking for a meeting. He said he had information that was too sensitive to set down on paper, which was why I was on my way to see him in person.”

  Leah looked off into the distance, as though seeking inspiration. “He knew the identity of the English traitor and so had to be silenced.”

  “Yes, that’s what we—the Lord of the Admiralty and I—suppose. It can only be one of four men and we aim to draw the culprit into a trap. I’ve put out word that Jean-Philippe is under my protection for that precise purpose.”

  “Which is why the Hall is so well guarded?”

  “Yes, and also why I won’t install Jean-Philippe there. I won’t place Flick in the immediate line of danger. Besides, keeping him on the ship with my small and loyal crew to guard him is a much safer option. The staff at the Hall is loyal too, but word would still somehow leak. With such a large establishment, it’s inevitable.” He shook his head. “It’s better this way.”

  “Especially if the Boar is a disreputable establishment, no longer frequented by local ladies because no respectable female would be seen dead in there,” Leah said with a smile that, even in the flickering lantern light, affected him profoundly.

  “Exactly. I had the landlord lower the price of ale for local seamen who served during the war as a token of my thanks. Word spread through the district quickly, of course, ensuring a steady flow of not especially reputation individuals to the locality.” Hal laughed. “Most of them probably never served a single day for king and country, but that’s no matter. They’re making themselves useful to me now.”

  “You expect agents working for the killer to infiltrate the Boar?”

  “Yes, it’s no secret that my brothers and I are in and out of that establishment all the time. In their place I would set someone to follow one of us, hoping to be led to Jean-Philippe.”

  “That hasn’t happened yet?”

  “No, no one has tried it. We’d know if they had because we’re constantly on our guard.” He expelled a long, frustrated breath. “I was so sure it would work.”

  “It’s a clever plan,” she said, nipping at her lower lip with her teeth, an unconscious habit of hers that he rather enjoyed observing. Expect he’d prefer to be the one doing the nipping—and not just at her lip. “They can’t get to The Celandine because your crew would see a strange wherry approaching long before they reached the ship. And if they follow you or your brothers, presumably you have a plan in place to capture them and discover who they work for.”

  “Yes, much good it’s done me. All this time and nothing. Even Jean-Philippe is starting to think that he overreacted and is in no actual danger.”

  “I won’t ask you to tell me the names of the men you suspect, but at least tell me this much. Are they gentlemen?”

  “Yes, they’re all titled. I had thought of inviting them here, but only as a last resort. For one thing, it might arouse their suspicions.”

  She picked up a handful of shingle and allowed it to slip through her fingers, clearly mulling her plan over before she shared it with him. “You persuaded sailors to come to the Boar with promises of cheap ale, did you not?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely, but that was different. And I don’t want to expose Flick to the society of possible traitors.”

  “Yes, I can quite understand that. I was about to suggest...”

  He focused his gaze on her profile. “What devilment do you have in mind this time?”

  “That you throw a celebratory ball at the Hall to honour the gentlemen who fought for our side, but perhaps it wouldn’t—”

  “No, you have something there.” Ha
l sat up a little straighter, staring intently at her. “It would be the most natural thing in the world to invite the suspects to such an event. They probably won’t question such a patriotic gesture but, even if they do, I’m willing to wager they won’t forgo such a prime opportunity to get close to me. And it would be a lot easier to ensure Flick’s safety in such a situation. But it will take some planning and I don’t have time on my side.”

  “Balls can be planned very quickly if one has the will, money and manpower to make it happen.” She tilted her head and smiled at him. “I believe you have all three, and I will help Flick to bring it about, if you like.”

  He did like, very much indeed. “Thank you. She will doubtless appreciate your support.”

  The idea was taking hold. He and his brothers had decided against any social interaction with the suspects a few weeks previously but the situation had changed, Jean-Philippe was becoming restless, and so chances needed to be taken.

  “You ought to have one room, or perhaps several rooms on the nursery floor, locked and heavily guarded. Whoever is here looking for Jean-Philippe will snoop around the house when the ball is in full swing and they’re least likely to be detected, and find that guarded door. I certainly would,” she added with an impish smile.

  “I daresay, but if I take up your idea then you must promise me not to venture from the safety of the ballroom.”

  She widened her eyes. “Why would I do that?”

  He chuckled. “Because you can’t help yourself. Even if what you say is true, that you no longer intend to write for Mr. Morris’s rag, you still have an untamed side to your character, thirsty for adventure.”

  Hal very much hoped that Leah intended to end her association with Morris. Aware that financial expedience might cause her to have a change of heart, he’d despatched a note to a man he trusted, asking him to look into Morris’s background as a matter of urgency. Something about that man didn’t ring true—and that wasn’t only because of the trouble he caused with his scandal sheet. Hal couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow cheated Leah. Out of what, he couldn’t have said, but he’d long since learned to trust his instincts.