Chapter Eight
Cursing himself to the devil, Tony reached for a glass to pour a drink, looked at the bottle, and took it instead.
He paced his small study, his mind a jumble, and pictures of her face, as she had looked up at him with those huge green eyes.
The way she had said his name. Bloody hell!
What must she think of him now? The first kiss was the kind of kiss he would have given his sister, but the look she had given him afterwards was certainly not sisterly.
The way she had clung to him, her beautiful full lips partly open.
An invitation to kiss them. His body had responded before his brain could tell him no.
Worst of all was that he wanted to kiss her again. God help him, what was wrong with him?
He had to get the image of her lips out of his head. He had no intention of pursuing her. He had told her that. She was so innocently na?ve about life. About men.
He had thought he had done so well, helping her get ready for her big night and praising her for her success, but in reality?
He had hated watching her dance with other men.
Especially Dunstan, because she looked like she might actually be interested in him, and damn it, he appeared like a good match. He was not jealous.
This was what they had all been working towards. This night. This ball.
She had looked stunning in her light-blue gown with her hair done like a viscount’s daughter, like a young lady worthy of attending a ton ball.
Her eyes held him captive, and her touch sent shock waves through him whenever they touched.
He realized then he had wanted to kiss her since the night they met.
He took a hefty slug from the brandy bottle. He was an arse, and he knew it.
He wanted to protect her, but now he may be the one that may hurt her if she were to get notions into her head about him.
Nothing good could come of it. He had told her he could not marry.
To do so would mean the end of his position in The Ring with Stafford and he could not imagine his life if he did not have his work to do.
It was a rule, with no exceptions. If you married or gained a title, you must leave.
It ensured that the mission came first. He could see now how distracting having to be responsible for someone could be.
He put down the bottle and walked out of the room.
He had to get out of here and he needed to divert his thoughts, and he knew exactly where to go.
He grabbed his hat and coat and left the house for his club.
Men in their cups let things slip and he wanted to know more about Lucinda’s father.
Concentrating on the father would leave no room to think about kissing the daughter, at least he hoped so.
The club was nearly empty. It was close to dawn, but a few stragglers were lounging by the fire and, as he suspected, they were the older set. He knew most of them, not well, but he knew their names. He introduced himself and joined them.
“You are Warrington’s brother?” asked one of them as he sucked on his pipe.
“Yes, the youngest.”
“Your father was a good man, died way too young,” said another.
“So I have heard but he was ill most of my life. I would love to have seen him in his prime.” He paused and put his finger to his chin. “I wonder if you remember Lord Foxton. I am currently guardian to his daughter.”
“Oh, the mystery debutante? My wife and daughter have talked of nothing else since she was presented to the queen. Everyone is wondering about her. She is Foxton’s girl?”
“I heard she has been hidden away on the Continent all this time.”
“I heard she was in the Americas.”
“No, I think I heard she has been living in the highlands of Scotland with some wild aunt who recently passed.”
The number of conflicting stories surprised Tony. Had his mother been behind this to stir up interest in Lucinda?
“Gentlemen. She is no more a mystery than most debutantes. She has simply been at finishing school.”
“Finishing school? How horrific! Why would Foxton subject his daughter to that mess?”
“That is what I am trying to figure out. He was not merchant class. Was he in dun territory and could not afford a governess? But that makes no sense as she has a generous dowry.”
“Does she now?” The men all looked at each other.
“Lucky for her you are all married men. Otherwise, I would have to go and hide her away again.” There were chuckles at that. “Now, tell me about Foxton. What was he like?”
“He was a good man from all accounts. Loved his politics, and even if I did not always agree, he did make good arguments.”
Another said, “He had charm, I’ll give him that.”
“In what way?”
“He charmed the dress off that wife of his, right under the nose of her father too. They eloped you know. Shorten would not give his blessing as he was a Tory and so the lad stole her away.”
Lucinda would probably find it all very romantic. Running away to marry.
“It was a scandal for a week and then he was given the position of ambassador to Prussia, or was it Austria? I cannot rightly recall, but I think it was to calm down her father so there would not be fisticuffs in the middle of the House of Lords.” They all chuckled again.
“Where is Lord Shorten now?”
“In the family crypt I expect. He left London soon after. Could not take the gossip I expect.”
“Did he not have any other children?”
“He had a son, but he died as a child, which is why he doted on the daughter. I do not think there were any others.”
“Thank you, gentlemen; you have been most helpful.” Tony bowed and left the men to their pipes and whiskey. He must first find out if Shorten or his wife still lived and if not, who had inherited.
The puzzle just got more interesting.
On his way home in the hack, he had time to think of all the reasons why he should never kiss Lucinda Sterling again.
And all the reasons why he wanted to. He would have to gird his loins against her.
Becoming a spy saved his life and gave him a focus, a direction, a reason to be, and he would always be grateful to Lord Stafford for taking him on, training him, and letting him have a purpose.
His service in the army had been relatively short, but he had found himself a scout sent forward to collect intelligence or to sit in on interrogations to see if the prisoner was lying.
He could tell when a man was lying by the way he looked, moved, or sounded.
An innate skill he could not even fully describe. It was an instinct.
Then, in a skirmish, he caught a lead shot in his side, and his superiors sent him home to recuperate.
He had made a full recovery and could very well have served longer—like Markham—but for his big brother.
The duke had effectively ended his military career without Tony’s knowledge or consent.
The duke had effectively taken away the very thing that had given him any sense of self.
Until, that is, he met Stafford. He gave him a chance to advance on his own merits and not because he was the baby brother of a duke.
Before Stafford employed him, he had been lost and reckless.
He would not give it up. How was he then to cope with his jealousy over Lucinda?
Could he let another man marry her? He would have to.
It was his duty, his promise to her. To find her a good man who would be a good husband.
He would just have to focus on that. That meant Dunstan was added to his list of things to investigate.