Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Simon gathered Gwendolyn in his arms and pulled the blanket over their naked bodies. She curled into him, her cold hand resting gently on his chest. Neither spoke. What did a man say to a woman when he'd taken her virginity out of wedlock? What words would assuage his guilt?

And yet he was not sorry.

Touching her always felt right.

The timing couldn't be worse.

Pursuing spies was a dangerous hobby. Every dice with danger might be his last. He couldn't promise to right past mistakes until he'd caught the villain. This wasn't the time to chase his own happiness but a time to think about the lives of every British agent living and working in France.

Aware of his disquiet, Gwendolyn came up on her elbow and looked him keenly in the eye. "I have no regrets. I invited you here. We were always destined to be lovers. We could barely keep our hands to ourselves all those years ago. Why should it be any different now?"

Her hair was a mess of dark curls, her lips swollen from their passionate kisses. She'd never looked more beautiful than she did at this moment. "A gentleman should show restraint."

She smiled though her eyes lacked lustre. "Restraint? According to gossip, you're a pirate and a heathen."

He smoothed his hand over her bare buttock. Mother of all saints! He wanted her again. "Minx. We should dress before I roll on top of you and plunder you senseless."

"A damsel alone in a cave wouldn't put up a fight."

Only a rake would take her again so soon. "As enticing as the thought may be, you need time to recover."

Time was the one thing they didn't have.

The ache in his chest returned.

Only two months ago, one of Mowbray's men was shot whilst attempting to apprehend a suspect in Dieppe. If the spy was amongst the gentlemen attending the viscount's Christmas festivities, he would kill to keep his identity a secret.

"I understand. I must sound like a wicked wanton." She sounded hurt and a little embarrassed. "What must you think of me?"

He cupped her cheek. "I think you're adorable. But there's a reason I'm here, an important reason. If I fail in my duty to the Crown, men might die. I can't live with that on my conscience."

"Let me help you. I can find what you're looking for. No one would question me inspecting the bedchambers."

Though she made a good point, he'd not place her at risk. "It's too dangerous. The less you know, the better."

The determined set of her jaw said she disagreed. "You suspect Mr Payne of a crime. Why else would you rummage through his personal possessions? I can help you. I have a reason to question the men staying at Westmore."

He stroked her hair off her cheek. "When did you become so brave?"

"Life is precarious, and we—" She froze.

The scuffle of footsteps on the pebbled beach forced Simon to sit up. He tapped his finger to his lips and lowered his voice. "Rise slowly. Dress quickly and quietly. Stay away from the cave entrance."

Gwendolyn obeyed his instructions.

He threw on his clothes, crept to the entrance and peered out.

A lonely figure stood on the dark shore. Judging by his height and build and swathe of dark hair it had to be Lord Bancroft. The man carried a lit lantern, the flame spluttering amid the wind and light snowfall.

Seconds passed as he stared out at a desolate sea.

Was he waiting for a boat? For his French counterpart?

Only a fool would risk making the journey when the weather was volatile. Had Simon's arrival left the lord spooked? But no one knew he worked for the Crown. Unless there was a traitor amongst the ranks.

"What the hell is he waiting for?" Simon whispered.

Gwendolyn crept up behind him and peered over his shoulder. "Is that Lord Bancroft? Why would he be outside in the dead of night?"

"Who can say?" In hindsight, perhaps it was better if Gwendolyn knew the truth. What if she accosted the lord at breakfast and invented a story about seeing him from her window? "Can I trust you?"

"I would never break a confidence."

He'd always believed she was loyal to a fault, until her brother conspired to prove otherwise. "According to intelligence, one of the guests is a spy. There's to be a trade. Money for a list of British agents working in France."

She snorted. "Lord Bancroft is too dull to be a spy."

Simon smiled at her naiveté. "It's always those you least expect. Any one of the guests might be guilty. If I can find the list, I can save the lives of those working abroad."

"And that's what you were doing in Mr Payne's room?"

"Yes, until you became an alluring diversion."

She laughed, her hot breath tickling his nape. "So, I'm to blame for you losing focus?"

"I haven't had my mind on the mission since locking eyes with you in the drawing room." In truth, he'd spent the journey northward remembering every passionate kiss. "If I'm not careful, I'll get myself shot."

"Shot!" The word left her lips in a shriek of panic.

Her body was close to his, he felt her shudder.

"Shush. Bancroft will hear us. If I'm to succeed in my mission, I must stay alert. I must apprehend the traitor before he discovers who I am."

She fell silent for a moment, and he could almost hear the cogs in her mind whirring. "Searching the rooms during daylight hours would carry less risk. I shall supervise the cleaning of Lord Bancroft's bedchamber in the morning. See what I can discover."

"What if you're caught?"

"I shall say my prying stems from a need to know more about the man I might marry. It's the perfect excuse. No one will suspect me."

He thought to inform her she would marry no one but him. But what if they were destined to be nothing more than lovers? What if he was destined to die during the assignment and fate had granted them a chance to say goodbye?

"Let's wait and see what Bancroft is up to before we make a plan." There was every chance the deal would be done tonight. "If I'm forced to leave the cave and confront him, you must race back to the house and inform your brother."

They watched and waited.

Long minutes passed.

Still, Bancroft stood on the shore.

Gwendolyn yawned. She didn't wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his shoulder. Despite spending the last hour making love, despite the spark of electricity in the air, she seemed reluctant to touch him again.

"Look," she whispered as a figure in an over-sized greatcoat hobbled along the shore towards Bancroft. "It's a man. It's impossible to say who, though it's not one of the guests."

The newcomer stopped to talk to the peer, though no documents or money changed hands. Bancroft pointed to the headland north of their position. The men seemed to be negotiating. They could be arguing over the price, though the stranger pointed at the heavens while shaking his head.

Upon reaching an agreement, both men nodded and parted ways. Perhaps they'd arranged to meet tomorrow night. If so, that meant Bancroft had the list in his possession, and Simon still had time to find the document. If only he could focus on the task, not the woman whose soft breath stroked his neck.

"Mr Pope walks with a slight limp." Gwendolyn gestured to the stranger with the odd gait. "And he owns a fishing boat. His business has suffered since he injured his leg and his son moved abroad."

Simon turned to look at her—and almost wished he hadn't. God, he had never seen anything as beautiful. The gleam of satisfaction in her dark eyes held him spellbound. He wanted to kiss her but could not afford to become distracted.

"You've an eye for detail," he said, keen to make amends for five years worth of pain. "Perhaps you could assist me. On condition you do exactly as I say."

Gwendolyn's eyes widened, and she grinned like a court jester. "Do you mean it? I swear, I shall be no trouble. I shall do whatever you ask."

His heart swelled. He could think of many things he'd like her to do, none relating to the case. "Come. You're shivering. We cannot sleep here all night. Now Bancroft has gone, let me escort you back to the house."

She nodded, though he sensed her hesitance. "It was foolish to think we might remain in the cave until dawn."

"It's not foolish to long for what we once had. What we might still have when I'm free of my obligations." Danger lurked in the shadows. It would be foolish to make promises or cling to false hope. If only he could find the damn list.

"I promise to be a help, not a hindrance." She placed her hand on his upper arm, the merest touch igniting a fire in his blood.

"Then perhaps you should kiss me to seal our bargain."

Their mouths met.

The kiss was achingly slow. A caress so deep it tightened every muscle. They held hands as they walked along the snow-covered beach, only parted as they neared the house.

They met her pathetic excuse for a brother in the hall. Snow covered the shoulders of the viscount's greatcoat. The ugly purple bruise surrounding his eye made him look more like a pirate than a peer of the realm.

"Where the hell have you been?" the lord whispered between gritted teeth. "I searched the house and gardens. Walked as far as Whitney Grange. You realise you left the front door open, Garrick?"

"I've not visited the Grange in years," he said, keen to avoid discussing their whereabouts. "Perhaps a vagrant forced the lock."

"There's a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets strewn about the place. Someone had stacked dry wood beside the fire."

The lord's accusatory tone roused Simon's ire. "As I said, maybe some poor devil is merely sheltering from the storm."

"A deserted house would be the ideal place for a lovers' tryst." The lord stepped closer, his nose twitching like a hound sniffing out the scent of their arousal. "Look at her. She looks like she's been tumbled in a bloody haystack."

"It's snowing and blowing a gale," Gwendolyn countered. "Mr Garrick found me on the beach and insisted on escorting me home."

The viscount muttered a curse. "You being here, Garrick, has left everyone unsettled. I encountered Miss Netherwell wandering aimlessly along the corridor. Myrtle had taken to cleaning the study because she couldn't sleep. I found Mrs Astley and Mr Payne drinking port in the library. Both were keen to know why you've come to Whitehaven."

"I trust you put your duty to the Crown before your need to feed the gossips." Simon considered the man who had lied to his family. Oliver Caldwell was a consummate actor. Perhaps he was the spy and wished to cast suspicion elsewhere.

Simon made a mental note to search the lord's desk. He would only mention it to Gwendolyn if he found proof of her brother's duplicity.

Gwendolyn stifled a yawn. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed. It's been a day full of shocking revelations. Doubtless the guests would be appalled to know you're not what you seem."

Despite her brother's plea to discuss the matter privately, she whirled around and marched upstairs.

"My work abroad taught me an important lesson," Simon said, feeling contempt, not pity for the pathetic lord. "A man cannot escape his transgressions. The past always comes back to haunt him."