To Wed a Scandalous Spy (37 page)

Perhaps if she could combine the two sensations…

He was very large, but if she dropped her jaw just so, and fed him into her mouth slowly…

Nathaniel couldn't stand it. She was performing something he had only dreamed of her doing in his darkest fantasies. The fact that she was willing to was humbling, and he would be sure to ponder that someday when he had some blood left in his brain.

At the moment, all he could feel was the hot suction of her mouth and the wicked action of her tongue. Devastating. She sucked him as deeply as she could, then released him slowly while flicking her tongue along the underside of him.

He shouldn't let it go much further, for he was fast approaching the brink. Still, just for a moment more…

Then he knew it must stop, and he let go of his grip on the chair to lift her away from him—

And her hands came down on top of his, pinning them to his side, and she sucked on him forcefully.

And it was too late.

With a helpless groan, he exploded into her mouth. She made a small sound of surprise but did not pull away. Instead, she wrapped her lips tightly around him and allowed him to release inside her mouth. He was so sensitized that he could feel it when she swallowed.

Then, when he was spent and shaking, she raised her head, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and grinned.

"Turnabout is fair play."

Oh, dear God, how he loved this woman.

Standing in the hall upstairs, Ren turned back into his room, away from the loving race that had just passed him by without notice.

She was so clearly Reardon's. Her mad love for the man hurt Ren, but he couldn't figure out why.

All he knew was that he didn't want to stay here, watching her heart fall further and further in love. He leaned against his closed door and rubbed his chest with one hand. "Heal, damn it," he ordered.

Whether he was talking to his lungs or to his heart he truly couldn't bear to say.

Nathaniel Stonewell, Lord Reardon, was in love.

And he was going to tell her so, as soon as he caught his breath—

A knock sounded on the library door. They both jumped guiltily, then laughed.

"My lord?" Hammil called. "You have a
guest
!" Hammil sounded breathless with excitement.

Probably Lord Liverpool returning, to create such a fervor in a snarky stick like Hammil. Possibly bad news from Foster's interrogation? "Thank you, Hammil," he called back. "I'll see to him in just a moment." He turned to Willa. "I'm sorry, wildflower. I have to go."

"But what about your plans for the chair?"

Nathaniel looked longingly at the chair, then pulled her close. "I'll tell you my plans, and you can enlarge upon them with your own."

Then he whispered into her ear until she gasped, then blushed, then sighed.

"Oh, you are a very wicked fellow, Nathaniel Stonewell."

He hated to leave her, but he kissed her hard, then went to face what surely was not going to be pleasant.

Then he entered the first parlor to find himself face-to-face with the Prince Regent.

Before him stood a burly figure clad head to toe in cream and peach satin. George was accompanied by a handful of Royal Guard, and Nathaniel suspected there were more currently covering all entrances to his house.

From behind him Nathaniel heard the light patter of feminine feet, rushing to the doorway. He turned around to see Victoria and Myrtle standing there gaping.

Victoria gasped and dropped into a deep curtsy, followed slowly by Myrtle, using her stick for balance. Nathaniel's bow was deep, immediate, and brief. He stepped forward then. "Your Highness, I—"

A whirlwind in charcoal silk blew past him. "Georgie!"

Prince George opened his arms wide. "Willie!"

Nathaniel stood there, eyes wide, mouth open, as His Royal Highness wrapped both arms around Nathaniel's bride-to-be and swung her gleefully off her feet.

"I think I'll sit now, if no one minds," Myrtle said faintly.

"Feel free," George said over the top of Willa's head. Then he took Willa's shoulders in both hands and held her off for his inspection. "You've grown as pretty as your mother," he said admiringly.

A bit too admiringly for Nathaniel's taste. "Your Highness!—"

George slid his gaze sideways to Nathaniel. "Stand down, Reardon. I'm not poaching. Willie is practically family."

Victoria's mouth was open, and she stared at Willa. "You? You are a close friend of the Prince Regent?"

Willa smiled. "Well, my mother was."

I have a sort of uncle—rather half uncle, I suppose—here in London.

And he'd arranged to have her presented at Court in a borrowed dress? Nathaniel wasn't angry. Stunned, and a little mystified, but not angry. Now that he saw them standing there arm in arm, it explained so much. As in how a simple country maid could confidently trot through London Society without a misstep of manners, nor even a smidgeon of intimidation by her betters. If she, in fact, had any betters. If he was not mistaken, there was a possible family resemblance there.

The Cobra within him went cold with the implications. Oh, dear God. Not another royal bastard?

Stiffly Nathaniel bowed again. "What is it we may do for you, Your Highness?"

George put Willa off and seated her gallantly, then took a chair of his own. "There has been a matter under investigation for some time, as I know you are aware. This was a most delicate matter, and security was a priority." He looked around at them all, but Nathaniel knew he was the only one who realized what the Prince was talking about.

George looked at the others in the room. "I came to tell you all the real reason why Reardon was consorting with traitors and why he could not have done what he was accused of."

Myrtle clapped a wrinkled hand to her chest. "Please go on, Your Highness. Tell the whole thing before I die."

"Oh dear. We mustn't have that." George smiled. "Well, the short of the matter is, every last culprit in the attempted treason plot has been apprehended or killed, and we may now reveal the circumstances surrounding the entire affair."

Victoria was white. She sat very still, staring over the prince's head at nothing at all. It occurred to Nathaniel that no one seemed terribly thunderstruck by the revelations. He turned to Willa to find her quite calm, although she was smiling.

"I knew it wasn't true." She patted his hand. "And I knew there must be a good reason why you pretended it was."

The Prince Regent bobbed his head in agreement. "Indeed, Willie. A very good reason. But now we may all revel in the truth. It has only been a few hours since we apprehended the last of the group responsible for the plot, and things are already in the works to clear your name, Reardon.

"To speed things along, I contacted several other prominent members of Society on your behalf. The story has been passed around town all afternoon. People are quite up in arms over what was done to you, I must say."

Nathaniel watched Willa lean toward Myrtle. He thought he heard something that sounded like "Mrs. Trapp."

The world would know. According to George, half of Society already knew. Only about Nathaniel's infiltration of the spy ring—and nothing about the Royal Four. Things could go back to the way they had been before.
Lord Treason is dead. Long live Lord Reardon
.

Too late to renew his father's respect. That loss would ache inside Nathaniel all the days of his life.

Yet he had Willa and a life with her without disgrace.

"Well, I dare not stay long," George said, standing. Willa and Myrtle popped up as well. Nathaniel had never sat at all. "If I park my arse more than ten minutes in a private residence, every fool with a cause to lobby comes falling around my head."

He bowed over Willa's hand, then pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek. "Do come calling, sweeting. My Court could use a bit of life in it."

Everyone bowed and curtsied to the floor, and when they arose, the Prince had left the room. Nathaniel followed George and his entourage to the door and watched as the Prince boarded his unmarked carriage and was driven away.

«
^
»

Nathaniel reentered the first parlor, tempted to grab Willa up and carry her back to the library for a bit of private revelry in the chair. All such amorous celebration was forgotten when he saw Myrtle standing before Victoria in challenge.

"You knew all along, didn't you, Victoria? You're not the slightest bit surprised by any of this."

"Don't be silly," Victoria said shakily. "Of course, I—well, I am—well, you don't seem particularly surprised, either."

Myrtle waved a hand. "That's because I eavesdropped on Thaniel and that rook Liverpool!" Then her eyes narrowed suddenly. "Randolph knew better as well, didn't he?"

"Don't be silly. Of course he didn't." Victoria's head was high, her expression indignant, but she was lying. Nathaniel knew it. A prickle began in the vicinity of his chest.

Myrtle held up one hand. "Victoria, there is no reason anymore to tell anything but the absolute truth, unless you are determined to be purposely cruel."

Victoria snarled. "I, cruel? I? Do you know that three weeks after I gave in to Randolph's importuning to wed, my late husband's elder brother died and my son became Lord Reardon? Three weeks!" She glared at them all. "I missed finally being 'Lady Reardon' by three miserable weeks!"

Myrtle scoffed. "And that was Randolph's fault, I take it?"

"Of course it was," Victoria snapped. "He robbed me of being one of the pivots of the
ton
! With that title and Nathaniel's money, I could have had everything!"

"Poor Randolph," Willa said quietly.

"Indeed," Nathaniel said.

Myrtle raised her cane at Victoria. "Are you telling me that you punished my poor boy for thirty years because he wed you three weeks too soon?"

Victoria cast her gaze around the room, obviously looking for support. Her glance fell on Willa. "You think me shallow and ambitious. I can see it in your face. Just you wait, Lady Reardon!" The words burst from her like a flood held back too long. "Soon you'll realize that a woman has nothing, no standing in the world, but what her husband brings her and what he takes away! Once you tie yourself to a man, you are a mere reflection of him. You think he will give you your dreams, but he won't care. Men—only concerned with their own interests, their own pleasures! When the first blush of romance wears off, you'll be nothing to him, just as I became nothing to Thomas, and then less than nothing to Randolph."

"My nephew never mistreated you," Myrtle said stoutly.

"Mistreated me?" Victoria laughed, a cold, jagged noise. "No, he never beat me, never even berated me. What he did was so much worse. What he did was declare me
invisible
. Even when his illness struck… I thought,
Thank God, he needs me at last
—but he didn't. He shut me out still, keeping to himself in his study, in his rooms, keeping everyone away, muttering to himself all the time—I began to fear that he'd gone mad, but the physician said that it was an effect of the tonic Randolph took, that he spoke under his breath, that he couldn't seem to control his words."

Nathaniel went cold. Randolph hadn't dared let anyone near. God, had there ever been a man so full of secrets as the Old Man? Spymaster, privy to the inner workings of the most secret government agencies, Randolph must have lived in terror of spilling too much. Unable to trust anyone, not even himself, Randolph had made sure that no one would come close enough to know.

And what of Victoria? What sort of life must she have led, bonded to a man who cared so little for her, a man obsessed with duty he could not explain—

A man like me.

Nathaniel's gaze shot to where Willa sat, her attention fixed on Victoria, her eyes damp with sympathy for his mother's pain. Pain that Nathaniel had never seen, had never bothered to see. Pain that had made her bitter. He had blamed her for her bitterness, even while he'd felt the sting of Randolph's lack of interest himself.

Randolph, in his self-imposed isolation with his all-consuming duty, had injured them all and himself as well.

There had to be another way to unite life and duty, didn't there? Or was Willa condemned to the same bitterness that consumed Victoria? Was he himself condemned to Randolph's achingly solitary existence, removed from any contact or solace for the sake of duty?

When Myrtle began to defend her nephew vehemently, Nathaniel held up one hand. "I think being married to my father might not have been a complete joy, either," he said quietly. "His work meant more to him than any mere human being could."

Victoria sent him a stunned, oddly vulnerable glance. Apparently, she had not expected any defense from him.

"As for being cruel," Victoria tossed her head, but she also took one step away from Myrtle, "how dare you accuse me—"

"Victoria, you were not surprised by the Prince Regent's claims one little bit," Myrtle broke in. "If you cannot be truthful for your son's sake, perhaps you'll do it for your own sake. You tell the truth, all of it, right now, and I'll see to an income for you of two hundred pounds a year."

Victoria looked from one face to another, her tension obviously growing. Willa could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Reject Myrtle's offer, clinging to her cruelty, and live forever at the forbearance of Nathaniel and Willa.

Or let the darkness free, and free herself at the same time. It was money enough to live a life of certain comfort, even luxury. Willa held her breath, really not sure which way Victoria would choose.

"Very well." Victoria slumped slowly into her chair. "He knew. He suspected it was something of the sort even before the official news came. I tried to convince him it was not. He acted as if your disgrace was nothing," Victoria continued. "I expected him to despise you for what you did. Do you know what he said? He said, 'Thaniel knows his duty. He'll know that I'm only doing mine.' As if betraying us all, embarrassing us, ruining my standing in Society forever—as if it was nothing! Then he shut the door on me, like he did every day of our lives together. If I had my way, I'd burn that blasted study door!"