Once an Innocent (8 page)

Lord Gray’s light brows drew together quizzically, and he laughed, a golden, boyish sound. “I should think not, sir. My sire’s been dead these last five years.” He nudged his neighbor, Mr. Elton, and laughed again. That gentleman gave Lord Gray a sidelong glance from close-set eyes and moved his chair slightly away.

Jordan caught a shadow of motion out of the corner of his eye. He felt a twist of alarm until the shadow broke away from the wall and materialized into the tall, lanky form of Solomon Perry. He’d divested himself of boots, Jordan saw, and now crept up in stocking feet behind Percival Young, who had quietly taken in the others’ conversation from the far end of the table. Perry winked at Jordan and held a finger to his lips. From behind his back, he produced a long goose feather and tickled Young’s ear.

Percy swatted as though shooing a fly; his wrist flicked effeminately. The man was delicate boned and skirted close to pretty, with his milky complexion, reddish hair, and petulant lips. All too often, Jordan had seen such males draw the undeserved contempt of their peers.

Mr. Perry grazed the feather against Percy’s ear again. The gentleman brushed it away, visibly annoyed.

Percy Young was newly betrothed. Whether his impending marriage went with or against his natural inclinations was of no import to Jordan. He didn’t waste time thinking about what people did in their own beds. However, the subject mattered a great deal to other men, who acted out — as though they were somehow threatened — against males who didn’t fit their idea of how a man ought to look and act.

Solomon once more touched Mr. Young’s ear. “Stop it,” Jordan snapped.

At the same instant — before Jordan had finished uttering those two brief words — Percival Young was on his feet with a pistol aimed at Perry’s chest. It was the quickest draw Jordan had ever witnessed.

“Percy, Percy!” Solomon held his hands wide, the offending feather pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “It was just a bit of fun. Where’s your sense of humor, man?”

Percival’s eyes narrowed. “In my line of work, men who creep behind my back don’t get the chance to do it again.” He was a slip of a man next to the towering Solomon Perry, but there was no doubt as to who dominated.

Solomon licked his lips and laughed nervously. “Lord Freese, there’s a loose cannon on deck.”

“Stand down, Mr. Young,” Jordan ordered. Slowly, Percy lowered his weapon. Jordan’s eyes flicked to the taller man. “Mr. Perry, if you pull a childish prank again, I won’t stop Young from dealing with you as he sees fit. Sit. Now.”

With a sulky air, Solomon pulled out a chair and folded himself into it.

A serving girl appeared, carrying a large, round tray loosely at her side. She hovered expectantly near the door, awaiting requests for more refreshments. The Foreign Office agents exchanged peevish glances with one another. Solomon Perry pouted at the table, and Mr. Elton exhaled a sigh of long suffering. When none of Jordan’s men said anything, the girl darted out.

“I suppose this meeting is effectively over,” Jordan snapped. His back and legs ached from two long days spent riding, and he longed to be free of these
children
Castlereagh had saddled him with. Six boys sulking at their father, another four to meet them at home, and ten females to entertain, too.

“In that case,” Lord Gray said lightly, “how about an excursion to the cave I mentioned? My wife would enjoy the outing.” He passed his smile around the table, blithely ignoring the dour mood that had descended upon the party.

Jordan shook his head once. “No. We’ve work to do.”

Lord Gray’s brows closed in a frown, his young skin folding as crisply as fresh linen. “Come now, Freese, have a heart. My lady and I have only been married a few weeks. Surely you wouldn’t disappoint a new bride. Wouldn’t it be all right if — ”

The flat of Jordan’s hand slapped against the table. “No,” he said in a steely tone between clenched teeth, “it would
not
be all right.” He leaned over the table until his nose was mere inches from Lord Gray’s.

The young man swallowed. His lips went white around the edges, but he held his ground. “My lord, you just said the meeting is over.”

“I spoke in haste,” Jordan retorted. He stood up and crossed to the window, which overlooked the inn’s stable yard. A coachman in dusty livery argued animatedly with one of the stable boys. Despite the driver’s theatrical gesticulations, the boy shook his head, refusing to capitulate to the older man.

Abruptly, Jordan turned and swept a fierce scowl over his six men, these supposed agents of the British government, none of whom, if it were up to him, he would allow to wipe a baby’s bottom, much less entrust with European peace and security.

“I want you — every one of you — to think about why we are here and what we’re about. Spend a moment of introspection and consider your loyalties.”

John Bates raised a skeptical brow. Jordan restrained the urge to wipe the smirk off the man’s face. Instead, he circled the table at a slow, stalking pace. “An acquaintance of ours has given us a task,” he said tersely. “It is our job to fulfill that task. Period.” His eyes narrowed on Lord Gray. “It is not our job to take the ladies to outings at caves.” A stony glare for Solomon Perry. “Nor is it our job to torment one another with idiotic pranks.” Mr. Perry ducked his head, abashed. “My loyalty lies with king and country, gentlemen. What say you?”

“King and country.” Percy Young lifted his tankard.

John Bates’s tankard joined Percy’s. “To king and country.”

A muttered chorus echoed the sentiment. Lord Gray lifted his drink reluctantly and only after his lips pinched together while he seemed to weigh the merit of continuing the quarrel.

Jordan lifted his own glass. “To king and country.” After the men had all joined in the toast, the tension in the air eased somewhat. Jordan returned to his seat and lifted a quill to resume the discussion of the upcoming operation. But before he could, a sharp rapping sounded from downstairs, followed by an irate, female voice. Only a few words were intelligible.

“ … not my concern … mean to say …
ladies
, no less!”

A smile tugged Jordan’s lips. “Don’t move,” he told his men. He went down the stairs, turning so his broad shoulders could pass through the narrow space.

In the common room, he saw just what he’d expected. Lady Janine Lockwood was in high dudgeon, giving the innkeeper what for. She punctuated her tirade with an occasional strike of her parasol handle against the polished expanse of countertop separating her from the harangued landlord. “ — Don’t think you quite comprehend who my nephew is, you imbecilic nitwit!”
Thwack!

Naomi stood to the side, watching her aunt’s diatribe with an expression of horror and mortification. Her face was stained pink all the way from the bit of neck visible above her melon traveling costume to where her forehead vanished beneath the brim of her fashionable bonnet.

In spite of her obvious discomfiture, Jordan once again thought her utterly enchanting. He put a hand on the wall to halt himself; the strength of this newfound attraction to Naomi unnerved him. She hadn’t spotted him yet, and he greedily took advantage of being unnoticed to drink her in.

“My — my lady,” the innkeeper ventured, “I most certainly do know who your esteemed nephew is. It is most regrettable that I do not have a room available to offer you and your niece, but I am filled to capacity with — ”

“A traveling party,” Janine snapped. “So you said already, you redundant oaf.”

Naomi winced at this last exclamation from her older relative. “Auntie, please,” she murmured. Placing a hand on her aunt’s elbow, Naomi attempted to draw her toward the door. “There will be another inn soon enough. There’s still plenty of daylight to travel by.”

Lady Janine ignored her niece’s gentle persuasions. “What is the world coming to?” She gestured widely with the parasol; the innkeeper ducked behind the counter to avoid being clubbed. “When two ladies of quality are refused accommodation, society must surely be in sad decline. Sir, I would remind you of the fate that befalls all great civilizations when mannerly behavior goes by the wayside. If I may recall your notice to Babylon … ”

Naomi’s shook her head. Suddenly, her gaze landed on him; her eyes widened.

When their eyes met, something stirred in Jordan. Two somethings, to be precise. Neither the physical awakening nor the more immaterial sensation in his chest were welcome at the moment. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he approached, looking away from Naomi only when Lady Janine drew his attention.

“Lord Freese!” the woman exclaimed. “A most welcome sight you are.”

He carved a bow. “May I be of service, my lady?”

Lady Janine thrust her parasol handle menacingly toward the harried innkeeper. “
This
man,” she said with a scowl, “tells me he has no room available for myself and Lady Naomi.
This
man says all the chambers are spoken for. In all my years, I have never yet seen a truly full inn. Surely there is a cupboard or loft into which he could shuffle some menfolk to make way for two ladies, but he will not do so!”

The innkeeper turned a pained expression on Jordan. “My lord, I told her that your party — ”

“You did no such thing!” Lady Janine scolded. To Jordan, “He never once mentioned your name, Freese. Had I known it was your party ensconced within these unworthy walls, I would have asked for you straightaway.”

Jordan pressed a hand to his chest. “My sincere apologies for taking up so many beds. Of course, we’ll rearrange to make way for you and Lady Naomi.”

Janine gave him a satisfied smile.

Jordan addressed the innkeeper. “I’ll take the floor in Mr. Elton and Mr. Perry’s room, and the ladies can have mine.”

“My lord!” Naomi exclaimed. “You must not discommode yourself on our account.”

Jordan smiled lightly, pleased by a soft inhale and parting of her lips.

Her gaze did something soft and ticklish to the inside of his throat. “I haven’t,” he said. “It’s no trouble at all.”

With all parties appeased, the innkeeper bustled off. Lady Janine stepped back outside to issue instructions to their servants, and Naomi made to follow.

“Naomi.”

She turned. Pink touched the apples of her cheeks. Jordan slowly closed the distance between them, unwilling to part ways with her just yet. “It’s an unexpected pleasure to have you and Lady Janine stop at the very inn in which our party is already gathering.”

“Unexpected, perhaps, but not altogether surprising.” She tilted her head. “We
are
traveling to the same destination, my lord.”

Their mutual destination … Lintern Abbey. Jordan didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it, even. “So we are,” he answered.

Soft afternoon light filtered through the sheer, white curtains, illuminating Naomi from behind. Loose tendrils glowed with pale reddish-gold translucency. He’d never before examined her eyes closely enough to see it, but the irises began blue around the edges, then transitioned to green near the pupils. In her left eye, a delicate ray of golden brown fanned upward from the center, like sunrise bursting over the horizon.

“My lord?” Her brow lifted quizzically.

Jordan snapped shut the jaw he hadn’t realized he’d allowed to go slack. “Lady Naomi,” he blurted, “would you be so kind as to wait here a moment?”

She nodded.

He bounded back up the stairs to the taproom. Six bored faces looked up at his entrance. “Oh, good, you’re still here,” he said.

“Where else would we be?” drawled Mr. Bates. “You ordered us to stay put.”

“So I did,” Jordan quipped. “Gentlemen, I’ve reconsidered the matter and believe a group outing to the cave Lord Gray mentioned sounds like just the thing. Gather up your ladies, and we’ll set out in half an hour.”

Lord Gray grumbled and flung his hands out in an exasperated gesture. “Are you always so indecisive, Freese? It would be best to know right off if we can’t rely upon you for steady guidance.”

Jordan sniffed. “This is to be a party, is it not? I thought the matter over and decided it would be good to begin the charade now. Besides,” he said with a quick grin, “far be it from me to disappoint a new bride.”

He left his men to hustle themselves and their female companions into a state of readiness while he hurried back to the common room. Naomi had taken a seat in the bay window overlooking the village’s bustling high street.

“Our little party is making an excursion to a nearby cave,” he announced.

She raised her face, and he suddenly found himself in unfamiliar waters, grasping for words like a tongue-tied boy. “I was hoping … That is … Would you like to come, too? And Lady Janine, of course. There’s an underground pool, I’ve heard, filled with blind fish.”

Her eyes lit from within. Jordan could see the suggestion intrigued her. Then the lights went dim, and her face fell. “Thank you for your kind invitation, my lord,” she said coolly, “but I’m afraid I must decline. We’ve had two hard days of traveling, and I could use some rest.”

Jordan stiffened. He could see plain as day she was not fatigued. She was brushing him aside.

And he didn’t like it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said in the same cool tone. Jordan bowed as she swept past him to the stairs leading to the guestrooms.

He couldn’t help but stare at her hips swaying gently from side to side as she moved with the easy grace he’d come to recognize as her hallmark. “Snow Angel,” he muttered under his breath. Beautiful but cold. Maybe there was something to the rumors, after all.

• • •

Midnight had come and gone. Jordan sat with his notes spread before him. Plans, tactics, stratagems … all drawn up for Lintern Abbey. It still seemed inconceivable that a sleepy, boring estate had suddenly become the epicenter of international intrigue. He and several men had returned to the taproom a couple hours ago to hammer out more details. Unfortunately, they’d no longer had exclusive use of the room; a stranger had sat ensconced at a table in the corner. His back faced them, and he hunched over his mug with the air of a man who wished to be left alone. Jordan couldn’t risk speaking of their plans, for fear of being overheard.