Unmasking the Spy (4 page)

“Miss Kinsey, this is Mr. Ian
Morrissey. Mr. Morrissey, I have the privilege of presenting you to Miss Alicia
Kinsey.” Lady Montgomery paused with a polite smile, but Alicia barely noticed.

A slow, luxurious heat began to
spread up her body. Alicia hoped her cheeks weren’t flushed too brightly. Mr.
Morrissey’s nostrils flared. The penetrating depths of his gaze held her in
thrall and she could feel herself becoming almost lightheaded. She wondered if
she was remembering to breathe – she’d certainly forgotten to blink.

Alicia sucked in some air and tried to
get a hold of her senses.

“Delighted to meet you,” she
breathed. Alicia hadn’t known that men could be so impossibly handsome. Mr.
Morrissey’s dark, wavy hair was a shade lighter than his black formal dress,
and the muscles that filled out his expertly tailored clothes were impossible
to hide. He exuded strength, self-assurance, and undeniable masculinity.

Mr. Morrissey reached out his hand confidently, and
her trembling fingers floated up to greet it. As he clasped her palm in his, a
tremor traveled up her wrist. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. His eyelids lowered
as he noticed the irrepressible reaction. Slowly, he kissed the gloved
knuckles. Alicia could feel the trail of heat as he dragged his gaze up her
arm, along the line of her neck, and focused on her mouth. Instinctively, she
licked her lips. His grip on her fingers tightened.

“Trust me, madam,” he said in a husky
whisper. “The pleasure is mine.”

Alicia swallowed and forced her gaze
from their joined hands.

“Oh!” cried Lady Montgomery. “The
orchestra is starting, and I have promised this set. Until later.” She
disappeared into the crowd.

Mr. Morrissey released her hand,
but his attention remained riveted on Alicia’s face. “If you have this dance
free, would you allow me the honor?”

Sweet lord. Alicia would allow him the
honor of the rest of her life, if only he would – oh, for heaven’s sake. Louis
pranced straight toward them.

“I would love to. Just a moment, let me
tell–” Alicia jumped as viselike fingers wrapped around her upper
arm and squeezed.

Louis gripped her arm and dragged
her a few feet away from Mr. Morrissey before he whipped her around to face
him. Spit flew as he hissed in her face.

“This will be the only time I
reprimand you privately, Alicia. Most men would not deign to do so. You’re
lucky I am an exemplary man.”

Alicia squinted, trying not to betray
her revulsion.

“Don’t pull faces, cousin. You
ruined
my cravat,” Louis stage-whispered, still gripping her arm. “It cannot be fixed
without starting over. I should never have listened to a word you said, and I
shall not make that mistake again.”

Alicia glanced over his shoulder
at Mr. Morrissey’s concerned expression. “Louis, we are being watched. I was
about to dance with–”

“Oh, of course, of course,
dancing is far more important than my cravat!” Louis shrilled.

Before she formulated an
appropriate retort, Louis tugged her back to Mr. Morrissey’s side and
relinquished his hold on her arm. “Here,” he huffed. He turned as if to go,
then twisted around to face her again for one last parting shot. “Learn to be a
better fiancée,” he said with a pout and floated off into the crowd.

Presumably, he disappeared to
visit the smoking room, the billiard room, the card room, or the unwanted
fiancé-to-be room – whichever space the Montgomerys were more likely to offer.
No matter. A lack of Louis corresponded with Alicia’s plans, which centered on
taking advantage of the opportunity to make a good impression on this handsome
stranger, if Louis had not ruined her chances already.

She smiled apologetically at Mr.
Morrissey and gave her arm a surreptitious rub. A bruise would ruin the effect
of her new gown, a slender, high-waisted silk with gauzy green skirts and short
puffed sleeves. Alicia’s hands shook. She hoped Mr. Morrissey wasn’t rethinking
the wisdom of asking her to dance. His eyes were focused on hers again, and her
brain no longer functioned.

“Have you permission?” he asked.

Wonderful. He witnessed her
cousin’s tantrum and now feared she needed to beg his permission to dance. Beg
Louis, to whom she might find herself pledged in fourteen days if she were not
successful with her current stratagem. Alicia bit her lip. She would be happy
when the betrothal problem was solved and behind her, when she could laugh at
it someday. Someday, when she got a nursery full of children and a husband who
adored her. Somewhere far from Louis.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

Mr. Morrissey’s brow creased. “I
meant only–”

Alicia laughed at herself. “I’m
sorry. I just realized.”

How silly. He must think she was
the biggest ninny in the world. For once, men’s general belief that women were
foolish creatures might play to her advantage. She hoped he didn’t ask her any
more questions – it seemed she was incapable of answering the most basic of
queries. If she ever met him again, she would be certain to have her head on
straight.

Normally, Alicia was very adept
at the art of conversation, but after the insanity with Louis, her mind melted
with Mr. Morrissey in her sight. He must think her fresh from the schoolroom,
as inane as she had been acting. Her brain just wasn’t operating tonight, and
Mr. Morrissey was accountable for much of that condition.

“Yes, I have permission for the
waltz. Of course that’s what you meant.” Alicia bowed her head, unable to
believe what a muck she was making of the situation. “And, yes, I would love to
dance.”

Mr. Morrissey extended one strong
arm and she rested her hand on his forearm. Alicia could have sworn she could
feel the warmth from his palm through her gown and her undergarments, heating
the warm skin beneath. The heat in his eyes made her wonder if his palm could
also feel the texture of her trembling skin through her clothes.

Alicia reached out one arm and
laid her hand on his bicep. He closed his eyes. His arm felt just as powerful
as it looked. The taut muscles flexed slightly under her touch, thrilling
Alicia with a sense of power. She could affect him just as he affected her. A
smile threatened, and she bit her lip.

He fastened his gaze on her
mouth. Alicia’s breath caught. He seemed unable to decide whether to focus his
hungry stare at her lips or her eyes. Alicia wasn’t sure which she preferred.

The music began in earnest. Her
body whirled with his and she needed all her mental faculties just to remember
to keep breathing.

*          *          *

Light began to streak across the
foggy horizon when Ian reached the river. He’d retired not long after the Montgomery’s soirée because he was accustomed to rising with the sun. Dawn was his
favorite time of day. Even on the muddy banks of the Thames.

Ian stooped and gathered a
handful of stones. He picked through them for a flat one, and with a practiced
movement, sent it skipping across the water. The river stank of rubbish and
dead fish. He wished he were at Heatherley. His pond at home was beautiful,
clear, and clean. He was tired of his west-end townhouse already. But here he
was, in London, just as Caspian had hoped.

Ian sent another stone across the water.
Four hops.

Stuck here. Not just for the
weekend, as he’d hoped. But perhaps for the entire bloody month. And wrapped up
in another mission, for the love of God, even though this one was hardly of the
same caliber as those during wartime.

Caspian was right. There ought to
be a fair investigation before the jewel thief’s victims became too restless
and Lord Chadwick found himself at their mercy. An innocent man in trouble. And
Chadwick was a father. Alicia Kinsey’s father. Seductive Alicia Kinsey. Just
the memory of her touch burning through his clothes made his body-

Ian tossed the remaining stones aside,
and knelt to find better ones.

There must be evidence pointing
in one direction or the other. Ian owed Caspian his best efforts. He owed
Chadwick and his daughter the decency to be thorough and fair, to prevent false
charges against an innocent man. And Ian owed a full investigation most of all
to his own father, to be absolutely certain before he allowed any man to suffer
punishment for a crime he did not commit. His father, however, was a topic he
did not wish to contemplate this morning.

Ian rose to his feet with a new handful
of stones. Juggling them in his hand, he considered his options.

He’d have to search Chadwick
House tonight. If Lord Chadwick was innocent, he must be removed from
suspicion, and quickly. He could not allow himself to be sidetracked, just
because he had met a member of the family.

Another stone went flying across the
river. Five hops.

True, that particular family
member was nothing if not stunning. Shining, golden curls that begged to be
touched. Expressive hazel eyes gifted with flecks of green and gold, generously
surrounded by thick brown lashes. And that body… But scant days remained to
make any objections before Caspian captured Lord Chadwick for the theft and
subsequent sale of stolen jewels and delivered him to the victims for any
punishment they saw fit. He would not be surprised if the accused perished in a
duel of honor.

The next stone he threw sank on
the first hop.

*          *          *

Later that afternoon, Alicia
dismissed her maid and went downstairs earlier than usual. Although unlikely
that Great-aunt Beatrix awaited her already, since the old woman’s afternoon
naps ran to the extreme, Alicia didn’t want to stare at her rose-papered walls
a single minute more.

Stiffening her shoulders, Alicia
descended the staircase, strode down the hallway, and slipped into the library.
A beloved smell greeted her – the pleasant scent of books. Floor to ceiling
shelves swept across every wall in the room, and a myriad of volumes of varying
sizes squeezed together tightly on each row. Alicia sank into her usual chair
and gazed around the warm-hued room. A light rain tapped against the windows.

“Dear?” came a familiar, halting
voice.

Alicia’s head snapped up.

A stout, fresh-faced maid led
great-aunt Beatrix to the window. Alicia smiled. Her aunt habitually reclined
on the wide, wine-colored cushion covering the deep window seat. She loved to
look out the window while she listened absently to Alicia’s voice. Already some
activity outside the glass absorbed Beatrix fully, presenting Alicia with the
back of her aunt’s silver-haired head.

Alicia craned her neck. Ah, a
bird. The robin pried a worm from the wet soil and with a flap of its wings,
soared into the gray sky. Although not partial to worms herself, Alicia found
herself wishing she could fly away with the robin, leaving Louis and Papa
behind.

“Good afternoon, Aunt,” Alicia said with
a fond smile. Beatrix was the one person in her life with whom she could be
herself without fear of ridicule or condescension. Like Alicia’s mother, Aunt
Beatrix had always offered unconditional love.

The maid adjusted the woolen
shawl covering her aunt’s thin frame and left the room. Great-aunt Beatrix
twisted around to face Alicia and graced her with a spirited grin. Not for the
first time, Alicia got the distinct impression that much of her aunt’s
vagueness was an act put on for Papa’s benefit.

“I brought you something fun,”
Beatrix said, bringing from behind her back a medium-sized chalice made of blue
glass and a matching dish.

Alicia regarded the object
uncertainly. “What is it? A vase set?”

Beatrix chortled. “Vases aren’t
fun
.
It’s a patch stand! When I was your age, men and women of fashion would adorn
themselves with patches. Come see.” She chose a small black cloth, dipped a
finger in something gooey and smeared the back of the fabric. She pressed her
fingers against her face for a long moment before letting go. A tiny heart
clung to her cheek.

Alicia gasped and bounced over to the
window seat. She settled into the cushion next to her aunt. She reached for a
square of cloth and laughed when she pulled up a moon-shaped swatch of black
velvet. Aunt Beatrix was right – patches
were
fun.

She imagined herself coming out at the
time that such things were in fashion. Perhaps some elegant gentleman in a
powdered wig would have swept her off her feet. Wearing patches was almost like
wearing a disguise. How intriguing to go dancing with everyone in wigs and
patches!

Alicia’s smile faltered. Although she
busied herself with applying various shapes, thoughts of Louis kept intruding.
Her best plan would be to find an alternate suitor. However, a limited number
of eligible suitors populated town. The Season hadn’t yet begun. Parties were
small, and filled with people she had known for years, none of which sparked
her interest.

Except, of course, for last
night. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the pressure of Ian
Morrissey’s strong hand on her waist, the sensation of his soft lips through
the thin silk gloves covering her knuckles, the shiver that slid across her
skin everywhere he touched with those dark blue eyes. She wanted a man like
that to fall in love with her.