To Wed a Scandalous Spy (12 page)

"Why not?"

"Because I'm thinking it. Not saying it. Not expressing it in any way."

"Humph. That's what you think."

Nathaniel put on his very worst lordly scowl. "Willa, you do
not
know what I am thinking."

"Nathaniel, it is quite all right. It is not as though I am going to tell anyone what a great marshmallow sweet you are. You go on being all aristocratic and brooding to everyone else. I won't ruin it for you."

"I. Am. Not. A. Marshmallow."

"Of course not, darling. Not a bit of it." Her voice was soothing, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're Mad, Bad Nate, the scariest—by the way, darling, what is it that you do now?"

Oh yes, dear lady, did I forget to mention? I'm a spy
. Then again, perhaps not. "I'm doing it."

She looked confused. Good.

"Which one, traveling or trying to get rid of me?"

"Both."

"Oh, Nathaniel, you can't get rid of me yet."

"Yes, I can. Once I finish my business and we're properly wed, I shall escort you back to Derryton."

Willa sighed. He was so adamant. She supposed she ought to do as he—

For shame
, she scolded herself. Was she to let him go without a battle? She had taken an uncommon fancy to this man.

She would keep him.

"No."

"No, what?" Nathaniel frowned.

"No, this plan does not appeal to me. I want a real husband, and children, and a real home."

"This is not a possibility, Willa."

"You are my husband. It is your duty to give me this."

"I do not want a wife."

"Well, you should have thought of that before you married me."

Nathaniel opened his mouth and blinked.

She was—

She made him—

"Rrrrrr!" Leaping to his feet, Nathaniel strode away from the fire. Shoving his hands through his hair, he fought for patience.

She was just a woman. An unworldly country miss, with more brain than she had any need for and less sense. Why was she so frustrating?

Willa smiled fondly at her Nathaniel. He was such a darling when he was tearing his hair out. Gone was his aristocratic cool; gone was his ominous control. Only the real Nathaniel remained.

She watched him flexing his hands, open and shut, spread and fist. Silly man. As if she could ever be in danger from him. He was so noble, such a slave to his gentlemanly impulses. He fought it, he tried to deny it, tried to put on a hardened front, but it shone from his every action.

"There's no need to make such heavy weather about it, Nathaniel. Most everyone gets married and has children."

Nathaniel only shook his head. There was no point in arguing this with her. When they arrived in London, she would find out soon enough. By tomorrow, Willa would discover just what the world knew about Nathaniel Stonewell, Lord Treason. Then she would go gratefully on her own back to Derryton.

The harsh thoughts were somehow soothing. He should never forget who he was and the price he must pay for duty. Funny, alluring country wife notwithstanding, he was an outcast, despised by all who knew him. The shell of that reality had become, if not comfortable, then at least accustomed, in the last months, and he wasn't about to toss that hard-won sense of peace away.

«
^
»

The town of Wakefield was a lively place of commerce and activity. Willa seemed fascinated by the bustle going on around her. "Wait until you get into London proper," warned Nathaniel. "This will seem like Derryton on Sunday afternoon."

He'd not intended to stop here, for it was unlikely that he'd be able to find anyone who'd noticed Foster among all the travelers going to and from London. It wasn't until Willa pulled her mare to a complete stop before a sign that read "Weldon's Books" that Nathaniel realized that, will-he, nill-he, Miss Willa Trent was planning to visit her very first real bookshop.

There seemed no help for it. Better here, where he was not as well known, than in Mayfair. And it would be nice to do something for Willa. Nathaniel halted the gelding and dismounted. Taking the mare's reins, he handed Willa down. As was usual in every town he had ever seen, there were a number of boys lurking about, looking equally hard for trouble or coin.

Motioning a likely lad over with a nod, Nathaniel bent to look him in the eye. "You seem an honest man. What is your name?"

"Lem, sir."

He was very dirty, but only in a daily sort of way. Young Lem no doubt had a mother who made him scrub with vigor each night before she filled his belly with warm food and his life with affection.

Lucky lad.

"Well, Lem, can you do me the great favor of looking after our mounts for an hour? Find them some water and a bit of shade for a rest?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

After shaking the boy's hand with manful dignity, Nathaniel straightened and beckoned to Willa.

As they approached the shop, Willa looked back to see the boy walking soldier straight between the mounts. She turned back to Nathaniel.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

Make people want to please you
, she thought, but only shook her head.

He grinned at her. "What will you be buying, Willa?"

Slowly, she smiled, and her eyes gleamed with acquisitive desire. "How much may I spend?"

"Ah, you are human after all." Nathaniel laughed and directed her to the bookshop door. "I'll be along in a bit to pay for it. Find something new to read. Something without
vinegar
in the title."

The bookshop's distinctive aroma greeted Willa as she entered. Books had such a lovely papery smell. That combined with the shopkeeper's pipe smoke struck up longing in Willa for her father and reading with him in the evenings.

The shopkeeper had kind, curious eyes. He approached her immediately.

"And what would you be seeking on this lovely day, miss?"

Willa looked about her. There were stacks and shelves and piles of books in the tiny shop. The plenty stunned her ability to choose.

"I don't know."

"Well, we have a large collection. Perhaps a history?"

Willa considered, then shook her head. Histories required a bit of time to delve into, being on the dry side usually.

"A novel, perhaps?" He pulled one from a stack with hardly a glance. "This one is very popular. Poor governess falls in love with her employer. Most uplifting, I'm sure."

Novels were terribly entertaining, it was true, although at the moment Willa felt rather as if she were living a novel of her own. She shook her head again.

"Do you have something…" She hesitated, not really sure what she was looking for.

"Yes?" His eyes were absolutely glittering with anticipation.

"Perhaps an instruction on…"

The man bobbed impatiently on his toes, hands clasped behind his back.

"… marriage?"

"Do you wish a book on marriage contract law? Rather heavy reading for a child your age."

Torn between indignation and amusement, Willa shook her head once more. "No, sir. I am to be married and…"

"Yes, I saw you and your young man riding in. He looks well, although not as well as the last time I saw him. Bless me, I've forgotten his name. Pardon my memory, miss. It is not what it once was."

"My husband is Nathaniel Stonewell."

He shook his head. "Oh no. That doesn't sound quite right."

Willa blinked at him. "I assure you, it is entirely correct."

"Of course. You must know, mustn't you? Well, my congratulations on your happy nuptials. A blissful union, I hope?"

Suddenly Willa knew precisely what was required. "Well… do you have any references on…" Oh, what could she call it? "On the act?"

He blinked. "The act of wedding?"

"No." Willa gave him a sunny smile. "The marital act."

The little man was scandalized. "Oh no! No, no,
no
!"

He blushed and stuttered until Willa was forced to make apologies and say that she had merely been jesting.

Eventually, she left the store without the novel about the governess, no wiser on the subject of the marriage act than she had been when she had entered.

She didn't see the man standing in the shadows who followed her with his gaze, watched her walk back to the horses, and then entered the bookshop with dark purpose in his eyes.

Nathaniel whiled away a few minutes in a dry goods shop while he waited for Willa. He purchased a bag of boiled sweets to reward young Lem but then ran out of things to occupy him. He looked around him. Sacks of flour stood in piles; barrels of corn and lamp oil hugged the corners. He had no use for any of it.

He left the merchant and walked slowly down the cobbled street. He could buy out the bookshop, but there would be no way to carry it all. Reardon had more than enough books and Reardon House in Mayfair a respectable library of its own.

Then a glimmer caught his eye. Sapphire silk and cream lace gleamed through a shadowy windowed storefront. It was a lady's gown, as fine as anything he had ever seen his mother or Daphne wear.

For the first time, Nathaniel bothered to picture Willa in the drawing rooms of Reardon House. With her simple country muslin and her sturdy scuffed shoes Willa would be a mite underdressed.

Besides, wouldn't she look fine in blue?

He entered the shop to the tinkle of a small silver bell that hung on the door. A harried-looking woman came out from behind a curtain, then stopped short when she saw him.

Her eyes went wide and for a moment he thought she must recognize him. Then he realized it was only the natural dismay of finding a dusty, road-soiled man in her pristine establishment.

"I'm here to purchase something," he assured her.

She nodded and came forward warily. "What might I show you, sir?"

He gestured toward the blue dress, which hung on a figure by the window. "I'll buy that one."

"Yes, sir. That will be two pound sixpence." She flipped open an appointment book on the counter. "When would your wife like to come for a fitting?"

"No need," Nathaniel said. "I'll simply take it—"

His glance at the dress included a view of the window and of the street. Outside the shop stood the Blowers, man and wife, who had spoken out most virulently against Nathaniel when the thrice-damned cartoon had been made public. Now it seemed they were on their way into the shop.

Damn
. He turned back to the shopkeeper. "The dress. Now." He threw three quid on the counter and turned to face the door just as it tinkled once more.

The woman blinked at him, then gasped, reaching one hand as if to pull her husband back. The man, a burly fellow with more money than political astuteness, began to color with insult when he recognized Nathaniel.

"You!" He pulled away from his wife's restraint and stalked to Nathaniel. "You're going back to London, aren't you?"

Nathaniel lifted a brow. "I am."

The man scowled fiercely. "You've no right to stain the very air there. If you had any taste, you would take your bloody self off to hide in the country!"

Nathaniel folded his arms and leaned one hip onto the counter. "But I would miss you so."

The fellow, who truly had no imagination whatsoever, could only huff wordlessly.

The shopkeeper was busy stripping the figure of the silk gown while watching them all out of the corner of her eye. Nathaniel didn't bother listening to what else the fellow said, blustering idiot that he was, but only counted the seconds until the shopkeeper pressed the paper-wrapped parcel into his hand.

He took it and strode from the shop with a curt bow to Mr. Blowhard's wife, ignoring the shopkeeper's outstretched hand that held his change.

He wasn't fast enough. Mr. Blowhard came barreling out of the shop behind him. "How dare you offend my wife with your presence, you traitor!" The man's bellow was absolutely bullish. His words echoed down the cobbled street. "Lord Treason! Traitor!"

Up ahead, Nathaniel could see where Willa stood with Lem and the mounts. As he drew closer, walking fast, he could see the alarm growing in her wide blue eyes. "Mount up," he urged when he came close enough. He dug into his pocket for Lem's sweets, but the boy was backing away, his gaze going behind Nathaniel.

"You? You're that Lord Treason bloke?" The little boy had betrayal in his eyes. It made Nathaniel feel sick to his stomach, guilty even when he had done nothing to be guilty for. Lem looked at his offering with disdain. "I don't want nothin' from the likes of you!"

Nathaniel dropped the bag in the mud. "Of course you don't." He reached for Blunt's saddle and mounted swiftly. Turning the gelding, he looked behind him at the gathering crowd.

"I think it is time to leave," he said tightly.

"Yes, Nathaniel." Willa sounded frightened.

"Simply ride through them, wildflower. They'll move out of our way."

Blunt and the mare stepped forward as one, walking slowly but inexorably through the gathered townsfolk. Words and glares were thrown at them, but one by one the people of Wakefield stepped back from the progress of the horses. Then, when Nathaniel and Willa were in the thick of the crowd—

Splat
! A handful of mud landed on the mare's white rump, startling the horse and leaving a black smear across the white hide and Willa's skirts.

"Ride!" Nathaniel urged, but the crowd pressed too closely now. The mare began to dance and rear. Nathaniel feared Willa would fall into the angry crowd. He grabbed the mare's reins.

A blob of mud struck him square in the back. Nathaniel turned to see pure hatred glaring from the eyes of little Lem. "Traitor!" the boy hissed.

That's when the mud began to fly in earnest. Black grime spattered them from all directions. Willa ducked and cried out in disgust and fear. Nathaniel clenched his jaw, swept Willa off the panicking mare with one arm to sit before him on Blunt, and kicked the giant gelding into a run, crowd or no crowd.

Blunt neighed and reared and the crowd fell back. Nathaniel kept one arm around Willa and one fist wrapped around the reins of the nearly wild mare and rode with his thighs clamped tight.