Runaway Lady. Claire Thornton
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behaviour so directly. When he’d heard he would be confronting a vengeful widow, he’d been afraid he might have to deal with tears and emotional pleas.
Although he couldn’t see her face, he saw her gloved fingers tighten on the mask, and sensed an increased tension grip her body. He was satisfied that whatever else might or might not be the truth, the lady was indeed sensitive to mention of England’s current enemy.
‘And what has that to do with my notice?’ she asked sharply.
‘I was going to sign up on a merchantman, but until the blockade is lifted…’ He shrugged. ‘If I don’t work, I don’t eat.’
‘What if the blockade is lifted and the ships sail before you can return to London?’ she asked.
‘There’s always another ship,’ he said nonchalantly, which was true, although he hadn’t built his fortune by habitually letting the initiative slide. ‘I am here, in need of work. What is it you want me to do?’
‘With such an arrogant, heedless attitude, I am surprised you ever find anyone willing to hire you,’ the lady said tartly.
‘They hire me because I am very good at what I do.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Many things.’
‘Be more specific. Can you use that sword by your side?’
Harry laughed. ‘I’m hardly likely to say no,’ he pointed out. ‘I have guarded the passage of men and goods along many dangerous routes, from Scanderoon to Aleppo, Smyrna to Istanbul.’
The mask moved slightly as the lady looked Harry carefully up and down.
The fifteen years he’d spent in the Levant meant he was not used to being in the company of women. Whenever he was in the presence of his sister-in-law, Mary, he felt ill at ease, anxious that he do nothing to alarm her or embarrass his brother, Richard. After the Dutch attack on the English ships he’d escorted Richard, Mary and their newborn son to Mary’s family home in Bedfordshire. Once there, Harry had been invited by Mary’s parents to remain as an honoured guest, but he’d felt so uncomfortable in the presence of his sister-in-law and all her female relatives he’d claimed he had business to attend to in London. He’d given his apologies as courteously as he could, while inwardly castigating himself for his lack of social address. But when he’d heard the news from Swiftbourne that a Dutch agent was recruiting men at Richard’s coffee-house he was glad his return to London meant he was available to investigate the matter.
The expressionless scrutiny by the masked lady was an odd, potentially disturbing experience, but it left Harry unmoved. If it had been Richard’s wife, or one of her sisters, studying him so closely Harry would have felt very unsettled—concerned he had either offended the lady or revealed his ignorance of the manners of polite English society in some subtle, unintentional way. But he felt no such qualms in the presence of the spy. What the lady saw was what she got. And since she hadn’t already dismissed him he was beginning to suspect he could be just what she wanted.
If she really was a Dutch agent, recruiting men to work against England from within its borders, her interest in him might not be so surprising. Not if Swiftbourne’s parting shot was correct. ‘You have a lean and hungry look, Harry,’ his former guardian had said. ‘The kind of man any conscienceless agent would want to employ.’
‘You are judging me by yourself, my lord,’ Harry had replied drily, and received a characteristically enigmatic smile in response.
‘It will be your duty to protect me,’ the lady said, her words cutting across his thoughts.
‘From whom?’
‘My lord’s former…former mistress—her servants, that is.’
Harry’s eyes widened briefly before he controlled his expression. Would a grieving widow have taken a lover already? Perhaps she hadn’t been so distressed by her husband’s death? But if she was enjoying her new freedom, it cast doubt over the claim she was determined to avenge her husband.
‘She is jealous, you see.’ The mask trembled briefly, before the lady’s hand steadied once more. Harry noted the tell-tale gesture and immediately suspected this was yet another lie.
‘Despite what you said, I assure you my beauty does not drive most men wild,’ said the masked lady, and from her tone he was inclined to believe she meant it. ‘But my lord is quite fond of me. Very fond of me. Besotted. I mean, devoted,’ she corrected herself quickly. ‘Unfortunately, his former mistress… Well, she wants to scratch my eyes out.’
‘You want to hire me to protect you from a cat fight?’ Harry exclaimed.
‘Of course not! I would never demean myself…she has servants, of course. They might try to cause me trouble on my journey to Portsmouth.’
‘Indeed. And what about your besotted, devoted lord?’ Harry found her description of her nameless lover very unconvincing.
‘What about him?’ the masked lady said uneasily.
‘Why did so devoted a gentleman ever let you out of his sight? Why is he not providing for your comfort and safety? Did he misuse his former mistress or fail to provide adequately for her when they parted? Does he know you are hiring a manservant in the back room of a coffee-house? For my own future well-being, I must ask—is he a reasonable man, or prone to jealousy—?’
‘Very reasonable. Very reasonable,’ the lady broke in hastily. ‘He is the soul of discretion, of good sense—’
‘Yet he left you alone in London at the mercy of his former mistress while he went to Portsmouth?’ Harry made no attempt to hide the scepticism in his voice.
‘Well, um…it’s the Dutch, of course,’ the lady said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘He cannot leave his post until this business with the Dutch is resolved.’
Harry noticed the almost irritated note in her voice. What kind of spy considered war a nuisance?
‘Is your lover married?’ he asked.
‘What? Of course not!’ The mask quivered with outrage at the suggestion. ‘Do you think I’d have an affair with a married man?’
‘If he’s not married already, why isn’t he going to marry you?’ Harry asked.
There was another long silence. ‘You are right,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t thought of it before, but you are completely correct. He should be marrying me and, as soon as the opportunity arises, I will draw it to his attention.’
‘Madam, I cannot believe a lady possessed of such firm resolve needs me to protect you from a mere former mistress,’ said Harry. ‘Let me spare you the expense of my hire—’
‘Sit down!’ she all but shrieked as he started to stand up. ‘I do need you. I definitely do need you.’
‘Is that so?’ Harry relaxed back onto the chair, satisfied his bluff had worked. He had no idea what the lady was up to but, spy or not, he intended to find out. ‘And when will I see your face? Or do you intend to hold that mask in front of you all the way to Portsmouth?’
‘Masks are very fashionable,’ she said, somewhat defensively. ‘Respectable ladies wear them to the theatre and even to market or in the street.’
Since Harry hadn’t ventured near the theatre since his return to London, he couldn’t comment on that. ‘But you are not, by your own admission, a respectable woman,’ he pointed out. ‘At least, not until you coerce your lord into marrying you. I am surprised your ambition needed to be prompted in that regard.’
‘I am not hiring you to cast judgement upon my morals, but to protect my person from harm,’ said the lady coldly.
‘When will I see your face?’ Harry repeated. ‘I don’t work for anyone unless I have looked into their unmasked face.’