“Madame Dubois said we look alike. Do you think if Portia and I were dressed similarly, one could tell us apart from a distance?”
“Would you be standing side by side?” Aunt Eugenia asked.
“No. Portia would be standing in the moonlight,” Lusinda replied with a calculating smile. “If Mr. Ramsden suspects that I’m Nevidimi, he will be disposed of that opinion when he sees me visible in the garden.”
“And where will you be, may I inquire?” Aunt Eugenia asked with a wide smile.
“Why, I’ll be standing in the moonlight as well, at least until I can soak up enough moonbeams to be of assistance to Locke. I’ll make sure Mr. Ramsden sees me on Locke’s arm while I’m full flesh. Then I’ll slip into the garden and let Portia take my place. As long as she stays away from Mr. Ramsden.”
“Do you think that will be a problem?”
“I’ll explain to her that if we can not dispose of this suspicion of Nevidimi, then she will have to move with us to a safe location and leave Mr. Ramsden behind. If she avoids him this one night, she’ll be able to pursue him later.” She looked at her aunt. “It’s totally logical. Why I think even Mr. Locke will approve.”
“I’m not sure Mr. Locke realizes that logic is not Portia’s primary concern.”
WHEN SHE TOLD LOCKE OF HER PLAN, HE LAUGHED heartily. “Brilliant! That should relegate the Nevidimi back to the nursery. I think I may even have a way to sneak Portia into the ball without notice. Let me show you.”
He unrolled the map of the ambassador’s house and gardens that he had secured from Colonel Tavish. “Although the estate is surrounded by hedges, I found a gate, here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “I’ll distract any guard that would be at the post so Portia can slip inside undetected. It’s a bit of a walk from the gate to the house, but we’ll want Portia to stay on the fringes of the crowd. I think it can work.”
They spent the rest of the evening reviewing the house plans to determine the best way to approach the safe, as well as the location of windows that Lusinda could use in an emergency to renew her abilities. “All we need now is a clear sky,” Locke said.
Lusinda felt they needed a bit more than that. It had been several days since she had tried to break into a safe. For the remainder of the week, she spent all her days in Locke’s study practicing her safecracking skills, and all her nights in his bed allowing Locke to teach her the rewards of a delicate touch applied in just the right places. Afterward she would apply her aunt’s healing salves to his old wounds, stroking the thick cream onto his broad back, loving the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. Still, her joy was bittersweet, knowing it would soon come to an end. Her life before Locke had been passable; now, existing without his wit, his knowledge, his acceptance would make for no life at all. From the time she first discovered her phasing abilities, and the fear and hatred it inspired in others, she knew hers was to be an isolated, lonely existence. She had accepted that. But Locke had changed everything. She loved this sense of intimacy and the bond it created. She reveled in the sharing of life with another person. She loved Locke . . .
Somewhere between becoming ensnared in his net and becoming a companion for his bed, she had fallen in love with him. She could no longer deny it. She loved the quirk of his brow, the deep breaths he always took when she was near, the narrowing of his eyes while he unraveled some puzzle. She loved him, even if he didn’t return the sentiment, and she was determined to experience as much as possible with him in the limited time they had available. Because after the ball, it would be over, and she would be gone.
ON THE DAY OF THE BALL, LUSINDA STOOD AT THE window in the study and cast her eyes toward the dismal overcast sky. “I don’t believe we’ll see much of the moon tonight. ”
“It might clear before evening,” James said without so much as a glance outside. “Even if it doesn’t, you’ve grown quite adept at safecracking, my dear. Quite an accomplished little thief, if I do say so myself.” He raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to protest.
His little taunt no longer seemed to bother her. He missed that. He rather enjoyed watching her defend her character even as she denied her occupation. That she accepted his taunts with a mature grace was only one of the changes he had noted since their initial meeting. That event seemed so long ago, yet it was less than a full cycle of the moon.
“I’m not as fast opening the safe as I would be if I had more experience,” she said. “With a house full of people, I may not have the luxury to retry several times.” She gnawed on her lower lip.
He inhaled deeply; her unique moonflower fragrance seemed particularly potent today, perhaps a function of her anxiety about tonight. He was learning more and more about her and filed each nugget of information away. Already he knew what made her scream with delight, and what made her beg for more. He smiled to himself thinking about how last night’s activities had lasted long into the dawn. Lusinda had demonstrated an insatiable hunger for their lovemaking, especially so last night. Perhaps she was compiling a list about him, all his unique likes and tastes. He smiled. Who was he to question the research? He glanced her way. What a cunning little spy.
“Relax, Sinda,” he said, stepping behind her at the window and wrapping his arms around her slender waist. “I’ve been watching you at the practice safe. The guards will never suspect you are an accomplished burglar. After I create a diversion, you’ll have sufficient time to pick the lock, take the envelope, and leave safely.”
And you must leave safely.
He didn’t say the words, but they never left his consciousness. Above all, Lusinda must leave safely. He had brought her into this situation without much concern about the effect on her life. Now that he knew her as no other man on earth knew her, he’d be damned if he let anything happen to her. As if to show her the effectiveness of a diversion, he kissed her sweet neck just below the earlobe, then slowly worked his way down toward her shoulder. With each kiss, he offered a silent plea, “Be safe.”
“But what if there’s insufficient moonlight for me to phase?” she said, seemingly unaffected by his actions, although he did note that she tilted her head, offering more skin for him to nibble. He turned her around to face him, and enjoyed the sensation of her arms sliding up to his shoulders.
“We’ll manage. To tell the truth, I’m not thrilled with the idea of you dashing about naked in that crowd, anyway. I consider these lush curves and this tantalizing skin to be for my purview only.”
“Have you forgotten that I’ll be invisible?” She laughed. “No one can see my curves, as you call them, if I’m invisible. Of course, if I fail to phase, I’ll be fully dressed, and again, no one will be able to see what they should not.”
“Well . . . be sure of it, then,” he said with a mock frown. Though his insecurities about someone accidentally discovering Lusinda ran deeper than he pretended. Even the most innocent contact held danger and the possibility of an intimacy that he wasn’t inclined to share.
Of more immediate concern, however, was Lusinda’s sister, Portia, who seemed particularly obsessed with confronting Ramsden. Such a situation would destroy their entire illusion, alert the ambassador as to an attack on his safe, and endanger Lusinda. He frowned, far too much responsibility for a besotted debutante.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the entire female Havershaw household arrived at Kensington House. Lusinda thought it would be easier if the ladies could dress for the ball together so as to ensure their similar appearance, but they certainly set the quiet nature of the household to shambles.
“Why did you choose this color? It looks horrid on me.” Portia pouted the instant she spotted her sister.
Aunt Eugenia patted her hand. “Now dear, it does not look horrid. Besides I’ve explained—”
“Yes, I understand the reason I’m going to the ball, or should I say the garden. Lusinda won’t allow me to get close to the dancing. It’s not fair.”
“But it is necessary,” Lusinda interceded. “There will be many, many balls in your future, Portia. This one, however, I need for you to sacrifice for me.”
“For the whole family,” Eugenia added. “We’re safe only if Lusinda’s talents are undetected.”
“Lusinda, Lusinda . . .” Portia chanted in singsong. “It’s always about Lusinda. It seems to me that it’s only her safety that is at risk. Why would the rest of us suffer if her talents are discovered? Mr. Locke knows what she can do and we haven’t suffered. In fact, we’ve prospered.”
Lusinda was about to protest that she had suffered, she had suffered separation from her family, but in hindsight, perhaps she had not suffered all that much. Locke had certainly provided experiences she’d never thought she’d have. It still stung, though, to have her absence regarded as prosperity.
“That’s due to Mr. Locke’s kind character,” Eugenia said. “If he were another sort of man, that wouldn’t be the case.
Besides, young lady, your time will come. One day you will wish for the support of the whole family in keeping your secret. ”
“My secret? I don’t have a secret.”
Lusinda exchanged a glance with Eugenia. “Perhaps we should take advantage of the light repast in the dining room. It’ll be some time before we can sample the dainties at the ball.”
“You’ll be sampling the dainties,” Portia groused. “I’ll be hoping the flowers are edible.”
“Before we do that, dear, I wonder if that manservant of Mr. Locke’s could assist in moving the parcels remaining in the carriage up to our rooms?”
“I’ll have Fenwick see to it.” Locke frowned. “I’m not certain about Pickering’s whereabouts.” He raised a questioning brow to Lusinda, but she knew even less about Pickering’s location than he did. Since the night of the Farthington affair, he seemed to avoid her presence, a circumstance she rather appreciated.
After they ate, they retired upstairs to rest a bit before beginning the final preparations for the ball. Poor Aunt Eugenia had to do double duty attending to their needs and fixing the girls’ hair so they would look identical. To soften the differences in their hair colors they both wore similar fashionable hair accessories made from the lace and trim of the dress. Lusinda was ready first. She pulled on her long white gloves and headed for the stairs.
Her foot had barely touched the trend of the top step when Locke appeared at the bottom of the staircase. Her breath caught in her throat, he was so incredibly handsome in black tails and intricately tied white silk cravat.
“Damnation, Lusinda. I thought I was to create the diversion. You’re so beautiful, every head will turn your way the moment you enter the manor.”
Her cheeks warmed and she continued down the staircase. She accepted Locke’s offered hand at the bottom of the steps. He frowned.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to see the sides of her skirt. “Is something unhooked?”
“I think you’ve left half of your gown upstairs.” He pointed at the puffy gathering of her overskirt that accentuated her backside. “Isn’t some of that material meant to cover your shoulders and . . . other parts?”
“It’s the latest style, silly.” She smiled, enjoying his discomfort. “The low neckline is the height of fashion.”
“I’m not sure ‘height’ is the proper word to describe that dress,” he mumbled, with a quick look askance. “If you do find yourself beginning to phase, at least you won’t have to remove much clothing.”
She playfully tapped his arm with her fan. “Actually, I’m a bit concerned as to what to do with this gown if I begin to phase. It’s not the sort of garment one leaves discarded beneath a tree.”
“Let’s review the manor plans one more time,” he said, leading the way to the study. “I’m sure we can find something. ”
They both bent over the prints to study the squares and rectangles that delineated the shapes of the various buildings. The tips of her breasts threatened to spill out of the confines of her dress, as she bent lower over the desk. As long as Locke was the only witness, she wouldn’t mind, she thought with a wicked exhilaration. She imagined his hand reaching down inside the bodice to cup her breast and lift it out for his pleasure—and hers. Already a heat generated by the anticipation spread across her chest.
He stood slightly behind her, his familiar scent teasing her senses. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck tingled with the possibility that his focus was directed there and not at the paper before them.
“There’s a gardener’s shed here,” he said, tapping his finger on the paper. “As long as the gardener is absent, it may prove useful.”
She couldn’t answer. His hand rested idly on her back, his fingers stroking her bare flesh right above the top of her dress. His warm breath swirled around her, setting her nerve endings on edge. She stood to face him.
“D . . . Do you suppose we might manage a dance?” She tried to sound casual, though she yearned for a positive reply. “It would look suspicious if we didn’t share at least one dance, would it not?”
“Indeed.” His eyes crinkled. “Very suspicious.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, she heard a bit of longing in his voice as well. Her heart expanded, full of the love she felt for him. His head started to descend toward hers for a kiss, but she placed a finger on his lips to stop him.
“James . . . I think I should tell you something.” She couldn’t keep her feelings for him secret any longer. He should know that someone loved him. Even if he couldn’t return the affection, he should know.
“Hmm . . . ?” he replied, his eyes warming with interest beneath half-shuttered lids.
Her knees turned to jelly, though she wasn’t sure whether it resulted from James’s seductive smile, or the words she wanted to share. “I wanted you to know that I . . . I love—”
“I’m ready!” Portia announced from the hallway. They both turned to see her beaming face, though Lusinda took a deep breath of relief laced with remorse. She’d been spared an anticipated chilly reaction, but the need to tell him still burned inside. Still, it would have to wait for a better time, perhaps after the mission.