It Takes a Spy...: A Secrets and Seduction book (4 page)

“It is a skill I have cultivated,” LeCompte replied, with a one-shouldered shrug.

“And you’ve chosen to practice that skill by observing me with my dance partners?” Cecilia asked in a chilly tone.

“Do you believe that others haven't noticed as well? That would be most foolish. It isn’t every day that London hosts an auction such as the one your father has planned. It’s only natural for everyone to be curious about your family.”

Curious about Father turning his title over to his nephew and moving to France was more like it. Cecilia considered LeCompte’s words and then surreptitiously peered around the room. A number of people suddenly glanced away, avoiding her gaze. LeCompte was right. People
were
watching.

M LeCompte lifted his hands, splaying his fingers. “It’s nothing untoward, I assure you. I simply like to observe people—to understand them better.”

To observe people, or to spy on them? There was a fine line between the two.

“I believe we understand each other,” Devin said. Something in his tone made Cecilia believe that he’d read the undercurrent in LeCompte’s comments as well…

Be circumspect. Be watchful.

“Perfectly,” LeCompte said with a slight tip of his head. “This has been most illuminating.”

The strains of the waltz began. “If you’ll excuse us,” Devin said, “I believe this is our dance.” He moved forward, guiding her toward the dance floor.

When Cecilia glanced back, she saw LeCompte disappearing through the doors leading into the gardens.

CHAPTER TWO

Devin pulled Cecilia into his arms, and they glided onto the dance floor. As they spun around in a waltz, he was able to scan the room. Many people were watching them.

Cecilia pressed her body against his. Was she cold? Nervous? He adjusted his hand on her waist and created enough space between them to satisfy propriety’s strictures. Sometimes Cecilia didn’t think about the consequences of her actions, but with so many eyes upon them, it was essential for them to remain circumspect.

Her hands were chilled from her walk outside, and he wondered if it was a consequence of the odd mesh-style gloves she’d chosen to wear. Her hair was slightly disordered, and the tendril he’d tucked behind her ear now curled against her temple again.

As always, Cecilia had a unique flair about her, and as always, Devin found it both engaging and disconcerting. For years, he’d obeyed life’s rules and done everything expected of him. But Cecilia never conformed. She blazed her own path in life. And that’s what had drawn him to her, even as a child. It was also what worried him now.

Those gloves both bothered him and intrigued him. They matched the unusual cream-colored cotton lace that decorated the low-cut bodice of her gown. That must have been why she’d chosen to wear them. Her gown suddenly put him in mind of a bouquet of vibrant pink roses, especially with that necklace of glimmering rubies she wore. The necklace was entirely unsuitable for an unmarried woman, but her father had probably asked her to wear it tonight. He’d always been a canny man, and showing off a priceless necklace on such a beautiful woman was bound to make someone desperate to possess it. If Devin didn’t already know what a hellion Cecilia could be, this feminine dress might fool him into thinking she was one of those sweet, tractable women.

Tractable was definitely
not
a word he’d ever use to describe Cecilia.

Why did thinking about her willfulness right now make him long to slide his hand up her spine and skim his fingers along her bare skin where her dress dipped low in the back? What was it about Cecilia that sometimes made him want to goad her, simply to see how she’d react? Was it because he loved to see that fire in her eyes? Especially when it turned like quicksilver from ire to laughter?

But he wouldn’t caress her that way. At least, not right now. With so many people watching them, it would be an outrageous idea.

But soon. He promised himself…soon. The wedding was only a month away.

Devin inhaled deeply, held his breath for a moment, and then released it slowly. He needed to master his reaction to her. He never came close to losing his self-control except when he was with Cecilia. At all other times, he was able to exercise restraint.

She brought this out in him. He’d asked her to marry him because she was the missing piece that made him whole. But sometimes he wondered if he reacted to her so strongly simply because she was his polar opposite. And although magnetism had proven that opposites attracted, he wondered if joining their lives together was the wisest course of action. What if they reacted like oil and fire? What if they burned each other away and left nothing behind but ashes?

But what else could he do? A future without her in it was unimaginable.

“Only one more month…” The words were out of Devin’s mouth before he realized he was going to say them.

“…and we’ll be married?” Cecilia finished, guessing at the rest of his sentence. She tilted her head back and focused her eyes on his. Those eyes that were made up of so many shades of brown that it would take forever to describe them. “We will, won’t we?” She furrowed her brow. “There are times when I can hardly believe it will happen. Part of me feels that something is wrong. That we aren’t supposed to be together.”

A cold fear gripped him. Had he inadvertently infected her with his own doubts just now?

“I’m worried about these comportment lessons you want me to take. I thought you wanted me as I am. So why would you want to change me?” Her voice trembled at the end, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He wanted to touch her chin and coax her into looking at him, but he wouldn’t. Not now. Instead, he’d use his words, as a trained barrister should. Because if he could manage to explain it to her, perhaps he would understand it himself.

“You are perfect. You always have been. Your fire and playfulness are what have always drawn me to you, and I wouldn’t have you any other way. But I also worry for you. I’ve seen how judgmental some of the barristers’ wives can be. I’m afraid you’ll be judged even more harshly now that your father is leaving the country and turning his title and lands over to his heir.”

She pressed her lips together but still wouldn’t look at him. When she spoke, her voice barely reached his ears. “Would you rather call it off?”

“Never,” he said, pulling her closer, despite the onlookers. “The comportment lessons are only to help you when you find yourself being treated badly by one of those women. You’ve led a blessed life. People love you and accept you, and you’ve never been confronted with others who treat you badly due to envy or malicious intent. I don’t want them to catch you unaware. I want you to learn how to respond to them with grace and aplomb. I think comportment lessons would be a tremendous help.”

Cecilia finally looked at him, eyes wide with astonishment. “Are you really so unaware of my life that you think I’ve never faced envy or resentment? Devin, I have a sister! If nothing else, I’ve faced her barbs since she was old enough to sling them.”

He shook his head. “That isn’t what I mean. I know you argue, but…”

“Don’t interrupt. As for people loving me, well…yes, my parents do, but that’s where it ends. How can you imagine that people haven’t already made veiled insults about my father’s integrity and patriotism to me?”

“They have?”

She gave him a level stare. “They have. And I’ve learned to smile, bite my tongue, and win them over to my way of thinking, all without insulting them in return.”

“I wish you could manage that trick with my parents,” he mumbled, gently squeezing her hand. From the way her back stiffened, he realized he’d only made things worse, so he tried again. “We’re engaged. You’re promised to me. Trust me, nothing could ever stop me from marrying you.”

“Trust you?” She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “I don’t trust anyone who says ‘trust me.’ Aren’t you the boy who put frogs in my teapot when Evangeline and I were having a tea party at Sir Timton’s lawn party?”

The knot in Devin’s stomach eased at her bantering words. “Your memory is faulty,” he said, using a teasing tone that mimicked hers. “It was his daughter’s
birthday
party. And if you’ll put your mind to it, you’ll recall that you said you planned to kiss one hundred frogs in order to find your prince. I was simply trying to help you on your quest.”

The childhood fantasy had suited her. She’d always looked like a princess to him, with her pale hair framing her face like a shimmering crown of gold. Even though her hair was darker now, when he looked at her, he could still catch a glimpse of that child.

His princess burst out laughing. “I’d forgotten about that plan. How did you even know about it?”

“It was common knowledge.” He recalled his half-thought-out plan to appear when she’d kissed her one hundredth frog. Well, perhaps it had been more of a daydream. She’d kiss her last frog and then look up to find Devin waiting for her. The daydream ended there. After all, he’d been five years her senior.

Of course, he’d been more whimsical back then. At least, he’d tried to be. Being around Cecilia seemed to have that effect on him. She leached the rigidity from him, making him feel unconstrained and free to be himself.

Even now he was amazed at the way fate had thrown them together. Would he have even met her if she hadn’t lived so close to him? Would he have fallen in love so irrevocably? He
knew
Miss Cecilia Paring. He knew her deep down to the tips of her toes and the corners of her soul. He’d seen her splashing in the rain puddles after a storm until her dress was soaked all the way through. He’d seen her caring for an abandoned baby bird, allowing it to perch on her shoulder all day, leaving white droppings on her dress. He’d even seen her slamming her hand against the piano keyboard with frustration when she couldn’t move her fingers fast enough to master a new piece.

“Did you ever make it all the way to one hundred frogs?” he asked. He would have missed it, since he’d left not long after that party to attend Oxford.

She didn’t respond for a moment, and he began to think she wouldn’t, until she finally said, “Of course I did. I found my prince, didn’t I?”

He instinctively tightened his grip on her hand. “You certainly found a barrister. I’m glad you see me as your prince.”

“And we’ll live happily ever after. Won’t we?” She sounded wistful.

His stomach tightened. “Of course.” That niggling doubt that had plagued him for the past year returned. What if he crushed her free spirit? What if the rigors of being a barrister’s wife were too onerous? He couldn’t bear it if she were to lose that vibrant spark. But he also couldn’t bear to let her go. She could adapt, couldn’t she? She had to. She would.

The waltz ended. Cecilia was warm in his arms now, no longer chilled from her walk outside, and it took a moment for him to release her and pull away.

He glanced around the emptying dance floor and noticed they were still being watched. Now that the music had stopped, Devin realized that the sense of unrest LeCompte had sown in him had grown. Cecilia glanced around uneasily as well.

Something wasn’t right tonight, but what was it?

He escorted Cecilia off the dance floor and back to her family. It was too bad the breeze blowing through London was so strong. It would be nice to open the doors to cool off the room, but the gusts would probably blow out the lights. A storm was coming.

He detected a faint hint of color in Lady Babbage’s cheeks, which was unusual. It must be from the heat. The false look of good health made a vast improvement to her normally pale complexion. Over the past few years, she’d undergone a dramatic transformation. The curves that had formerly softened her features were gone, and her slim, willowy frame bordered on being gaunt. She was fortunate that her disease left her looking ethereal rather than sickly.

Cecilia and Evangeline had inherited their mother’s bone structure. They all had heart-shaped faces and full lips. But where Cecilia and her mother both had medium-brown hair that curled into wisps around their faces, Evangeline’s lighter hair was long and straight.

He glanced down at Cecilia and was again tempted to smooth her hair back into place. When she’d walked outside earlier, a gust of wind must have tugged the strand loose from what had once been a tidy bun. But even as he controlled his urge to touch her soft hair, she lowered herself into the chair next to her mother, who immediately reached out and tucked away the errant strand.

Devin preferred things to be neat and organized, and seeing Cecilia’s coiffure restored to order had a soothing effect upon him. But even so, he couldn’t entirely relax. Something wasn’t right tonight, and until he identified it, he’d remain tense.

Perhaps Cecilia’s intuition was rubbing off on him. He wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or a bad one.

Earlier in the evening, he’d had the sense that Cecilia was the target of an undue amount of attention, but it wasn’t until LeCompte made his not-so-casual comment that Devin had finally realized why.

It was the auction.

Even so, he sensed something more sinister lurking behind the crowd’s façade of gaiety.

But what?

And why?