Chapter 3
Alice left Dalton’s office as if the hounds of hell were chasing her.
Nathaniel had stayed behind to talk with the duke.
They had always been friends, despite their difference in rank and their professional relationship.
Although she supposed the difference in rank was less now that Nathaniel was a nobleman himself and didn’t work for the duke anymore.
She couldn’t wait to escape their presence. She felt cornered. Almost betrayed. By both of them. Dalton had set the ambush, and Nathaniel had sprung the trap.
Her quick steps brought her around the corner, and she turned onto Whitehall Street.
She intended to go back to the office and hide behind paperwork for the rest of the day, but the aromas wafting from the nearby tavern made her stomach grumble, reminding her she had only had a few sips of coffee in the entire day, and it was already past lunchtime.
She could hide in the tavern just as well as she could do in her overcrowded office space.
In fact, in the case Nathaniel decided to seek her out, he would be less likely to find her here.
Making a quick decision, she ducked into the tavern where she usually grabbed a bite to eat when she worked at the office.
Nodding to the owner, who greeted her from behind the counter, she passed by the barmaid, one of the owner’s daughters, and ordered one of the tavern’s excellent meat pies and a glass of wine.
She usually had ale when working, but after the unexpected encounter with her husband, she needed something stronger, and this tavern stocked decent wine.
Moving through the semi-crowded space toward the back of the room, she took a seat in a shadowy corner, as far away from the door as possible.
She positioned herself so that she was facing away from it and partially hidden by the tall back of the bench.
Many of the office clerks frequented the tavern, and today she wasn’t in the mood for company.
She needed to think. As much as she tried to turn it over in her head, she still could not understand why Nathaniel had accepted this assignment, especially now that he was divorcing her.
Was he trying to torture her? Tease her?
Or did he have more sinister motives? Such as discrediting her or ending her career?
No, she could not believe he would be so cruel.
True, she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, because the Nathaniel she knew would have never sued for a divorce under false accusations.
Maybe he simply wanted to be rid of her to marry a wife more suitable to his present station, but she couldn’t believe he would deliberately set out to harm her.
That didn’t mean he would not—had not—harmed her.
Good God, how was she going to survive working alongside Nathaniel? Reenacting how it was like when they had worked together in perfect harmony? Reminding herself of all she had lost, everything she had missed for the past five years?
As if conjured by her thoughts, the object of her obsession materialized in front of her.
“There you are. Care if I join you for lunch?” Nathaniel said, dropping onto the bench opposite, not waiting for her response.
She gaped. How had he found her?
“You forget, we used to come here,” he replied as if she had uttered the question aloud. It was disconcerting how easily he could still read her. “I figured by this time you’d be getting hungry. What did you have for breakfast, coffee?”
Yes, he knew her too damn well. And she didn’t know whether to feel alarmed or flattered that he still remembered—could accurately interpret—so many things about her. But if he could read her, so could she read him. And there were many things he was not telling her.
She sighed. “Why are you here, Nate?”
The nickname fell from her lips naturally, and she kicked herself immediately for the slip. She’d do well to maintain a distance between them. None of this tender, loving, pet-name calling.
He raised his eyebrows. “Having luncheon, of course. Is the meat pie still as good as I remember it?”
“Don’t change the subject. You know damn well what I’m referring to. Why did you accept this assignment? Why are you working with me, suddenly seeking me out? I thought your aim was to be rid of me permanently.”
He sobered, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “You are wrong. I never wished to be rid of you. It was you who left me. I’m merely making our separation official, so we can both be free to pursue our lives as we see fit, unencumbered by the past. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She smiled tightly. “How very generous of you, but I never asked to be freed.”
“What would you have me do, Alice? Accept this situation indefinitely? Sit quietly, knowing you are pursuing your life away from me? Not together, but not really free. I can’t stand it anymore.”
What she would have wanted him to do—had expected him to do—was to follow her when she left.
To show her he valued her enough to try to resolve their problems, away from his family and the stifling atmosphere of his family home.
What she had dreamed about for five years, clinging on to hope—foolishly, it would now seem—was for him to wake up one day and realize they still loved each other.
And they had once had something precious that was worth fighting for.
But he had done the opposite. Instead of coming back, he had initiated a permanent separation.
No point in telling him how she felt. The dreams she had once harbored.She had been foolish enough already. Evidently, the feelings were all one-sided. He had moved on and wanted to get on with his life.
“That being the case, all the more reason to question the wisdom of our working together. So I ask again, and I’d like the truth without deflection or prevarication, if you please. Why did you accept this mission?”
He took a deep breath. Exhaled it slowly. She saw him consciously trying to school his expression into an impassive mask. He knew she would be observing. Analyzing. Cataloguing every brief expression, every tiny move. He didn’t want to give anything away.
“It is complicated, Alice. There’s some truth to what I said in Dalton’s office. Because of the circumstances, I am needed on this mission. By the Foreign Office, by you, by Dalton. It would be unconscionable for me to refuse my help when I am able to provide it.”
He paused. She remained silent. If he thought she was going to jump into the breach and fill the silence, he was to be sorely disappointed. Perhaps recognizing that, he continued.
“But there are also deeper, more complex reasons I don’t even understand myself. I guess I wanted to see you. To work together one more time before we part definitely.”
He was telling the truth. There was a hint of melancholy in his voice.
Sorrow for what they had once been, and were no more?
This was goodbye for him, then. Probably a way to bring closure to a chapter of his life that got interrupted when he inherited so unexpectedly.
And solving the issue of the inconvenient wife he had acquired in his previous life.
Oh, but it hurt. It hurt to know he had put her behind him.
That, for him, this was nothing more than a last adventure he wanted to have before settling down to the staid life of a nobleman, probably with an equally noble wife.
Her heart beat sluggishly, as if heavy with the pain, and a knot had lodged in her throat.
She could not break down in front of him.
Of all the things she had surrendered to him—her heart, her pride, her life—she refused to surrender her dignity as well.
The barmaid, arriving with her food and drink, came to her rescue.
“Oy, Alice. Here you ‘ave your meat pie and that fancy wine you favor.” She plunked both down on the table in front of her.
Alice grabbed the glass of wine as if it contained the elixir of life and gulped down a big swallow in an effort to clear her throat.
“Mr. Greystone! So nice to see you ‘round these parts again. What will you be ‘aving?”
“Hullo, Mary. It’s good to be back at this fine establishment. I’ve missed the excellent meat pies your mother makes. I’ll have one of those as well. Oh, and keep the wine coming.”
He replied with the effortless charm that characterized him. He remembered the barmaid’s name. Of course, he did. Nate forgot very little. Especially not faces and names. It was part of what made him such an effective agent.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy with your order, sir.”
“I can’t drink more than a glass of wine. I must return to work.” And she wasn’t planning to get tipsy with him. Lowered inhibitions around Nathaniel was a dangerous thing.
“No, you don’t. Dalton said you are excused from clerical work while on this mission.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need you going behind my back, speaking to Dalton and interfering with my work.”
He held his hands up, palms out. “Settle down, Alice. It was Dalton’s idea. He asked me to convey the message to you if I saw you this afternoon, which I imagine he thought was likely.”
“He could have told me himself before I left his office not half an hour ago.” She cut a piece of the pie and forked it into her mouth.
“But you left so precipitously that he probably didn’t have time to get around to it.”
Holding her gaze, he slowly reached for her glass of wine and brought it to his mouth, deliberately turning it to drink from the same place she had.
Watching his lips rest on the same spot that still held the imprint of hers, his throat ripple as he swallowed; it felt almost as if he had kissed her lips.
She could well remember—had never forgotten—the press of his lips against hers. Their warmth, their texture, the taste of him haunted her still. A shiver of awareness rippled through her body. Exactly as he intended.
Oh, bloody hell. If he was able to elicit such a response without even touching her, how could she hope to survive this mission unscathed? She feared she wouldn’t. Before this was all done, she would be scorched raw.
And the worst part is, knowing this, she could not even find in her heart any will to resist it.