6. A Former Spy Confesses Much
Meanwhile, at the Castlewait townhouse
Jack regarded the nightshirt Persephone had given him with a wince. He rarely wore one to bed now that he was back in London. These days, he didn’t have to spend his nights half-dressed and be ready to move on a moment’s notice.
When he was assigned to a small unit of agents in the Kingdom of the Netherlands, he had grown used to settling on an uncomfortable cot or on the ground, rarely able to enjoy a full night of sleep. As an aristocrat and an officer in the military, he would have been provided a private tent and a clerk or two to see to it he wasn’t disturbed.
As a spy, he didn’t have that luxury.
For the past two decades, he had thrilled at carrying out the clandestine assignments. Excitement at receiving new orders had him looking forward to donning disguises and traveling incognito. Intercepting enemy orders and decoding their messages had provided a daily dose of adrenaline and provided him a sense of purpose his position as Earl of Wilmington couldn’t begin to match.
Now... now he was glad to have his days of deception behind him. Only a month ago, his last assignment in Belgium had resulted in what the Foreign Office was sure would be a turning point in the war against Napoleon and the French.
Although he had suffered a slight wound from a bayonet, he was otherwise undamaged. Despite assurances he could continue his work on the Continent, he received orders claiming his cover was blown and that his services would no longer be required by the Crown.
He had returned to British shores dressed as a commoner. Arrived at his apartment in The Albany finding it much the way he had left it. Resumed life as an aristocrat.
Discovered he hadn’t been missed.
He hadn’t been missed because either someone had taken to pretending to be him, or he was a victim of mistaken identity.
His reputation as a rake, one he hadn’t suffered since before he had inherited the earldom nearly twenty years ago, had returned thanks to someone who had his initials.
Lord JW.
Through no fault of his own, he was suddenly back in the gossip pages. Rumors claimed he was deflowering virgins and having his way with young widows despite his absence from Society. Given he hadn’t been with a woman since his return to England, he couldn’t decide whether he was amused or annoyed by the situation.
Well, after what had happened tonight, he certainly wasn’t amused.
Tossing his coats and shirt onto the back of a chair before removing his shoes and stockings, he headed into the bathing chamber. A candle lamp provided more than enough light to see by given the size of the mirror over a dressing table. Another mirror hung over a console on which a ceramic bowl and a pitcher sat. Steam poured forth from the pitcher as he emptied its contents into the bowl. He helped himself to a linen cloth and doused it in the water. Sighing with satisfaction as he washed his face and chest, Jack was about to help himself to a bath linen when he realized he wasn’t alone.
He stepped to the side to discover Persephone’s reflection next to his in the mirror.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said in a quiet voice.
Jack couldn’t help his body’s reaction to seeing her again, especially given her mode of dress. She wore only a thin silk wrapper tied at the waist, the fabric doing nothing to hide the swell of her breasts or hips nor the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs.
“You’re not interrupting,” he murmured. He rubbed the linen over his face and chest, well aware her gaze had settled on the once-black hair that covered most of his chest. The graying, crisp curls tapered to a thin line of dark hair that disappeared behind the top of his black breeches. “You’re a very welcome sight, in fact.”
Persephone approached him, one hand landing on his chest as she lifted her face to his. Their kiss was quick but thorough, and when she pulled away to allow her gaze to sweep over the rest of his body, she winced. “What happened here?” she asked in alarm, her finger darting to where the bayonet had glanced off a rib.
“A frog got me,” he replied. “Before I could kill him.”
From her immediate reaction, Jack knew she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. “I did a stint on the Continent. I’ve only been back in England a few weeks.”
Persephone furrowed a brow. “How... how is that possible?” she asked in a whisper.
He kissed her forehead and led her into the master suite. The bed linens had been turned down, the expanse of white an overt invitation. “Tell me, when is the last time you remember actually seeing me here in London?” he asked, his own memory that of a night he attended the theatre with his mother while Persephone had been escorted by her husband.
Her brows furrowing, Persephone looked as if she was about to respond and then scoffed. “I suppose it was that night at the theatre. About a week before... before Castlewait died,” she stammered. “You were escorting Countess Wilmington, as I recall.”
“I had already received orders to go to the Continent,” he said as he turned down the flame on the room’s only candle lamp. “I left England two days later.”
Persephone inhaled softly. “I didn’t know you were in the army,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“I wasn’t,” he stated. He had moved to the darkest corner of the room while he undid the fastenings at the top of his breeches. Pushing them down along with his smalls, he stepped out of the garments, well aware Persephone watched in fascination.
She’d had the very same expression on her face the first time she had watched him undress. One of awe mixed with embarrassment and mayhap a dose of fright.
“Navy?” she guessed as her gaze followed his movements. He bent to lift his breeches from the floor before draping them over a chair and then made his way to the bed. His manhood, only partially erect, jutted out from a nest of dark curls.
“I wasn’t in the military,” he said as he lifted a hip onto the edge of the bed. He lay down and stretched as he inhaled deeply. A chuckle erupted as he pulled the bed linens up and over his naked body.
“What is it?” she asked as she moved to join him. She didn’t remove the wrapper as she climbed onto the bed and slid beneath the covers.
“This bed is more comfortable than anything I’ve slept in for a very long time,” he said in a quiet voice. He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and pulled her so she was half atop him. The wrapper still hid most of her from his view, but at that moment, he was glad she wasn’t naked. He needed to think. Needed her to remember.
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept in this bed,” she murmured.
He grunted. “Castlewait didn’t share this bed with you?” he asked in surprise.
“He always came to mine,” she replied.
“Was he good to you?”
Persephone gave a start, surprised by the query. “He wasn’t a bad man. Not at all,” she said in a whisper. “If he ever took a mistress, I never learned of it. He was a good father, too.”
Jack jerked. “Where are the boys? You had... you had two, did you not?”
She hummed her initial response. “They’re away at university, and my daughter is spending this Season with her grandmother in Kent,” she explained, waiting for his reaction.
“You have a daughter?” he asked with a grin, wondering how he had missed learning about her.
“She’ll start finishing school this autumn,” Persephone said on a sigh.
“Who is seeing to the earldom?”
Persephone hesitated before saying, “I am, along with a man of business. At least until Robert is finished with university,” she said, referring to her oldest son, the new Earl of Castlewait.
“You’re probably doing a better job of it than he did,” Jack murmured.
Furrowing a brow, Persephone sighed. “It’s given me something to keep my mind occupied this past year,” she admitted. “And it’s really no more difficult than running the household.”
Jack scoffed—he had worked in service to the Crown in order to avoid running his own earldom. Between a man of business and his solicitor and regular reports on the matter, he had to trust that the Wilmington earldom was in good stead.
“What about you?” Persephone asked. “I never heard if you married... and if you weren’t in the military, what were you doing on the Continent during a war?”
Jack considered her queries and decided to answer them in order.
“Still haven’t married,” he replied sleepily. “Because you were the one that got away,” he added before he kissed the top of her head. He grinned at hearing her soft gasp. “As for war, I worked for Chamberlain,” he murmured, referring to the head of the Foreign Office. “For Crown and country and all that rot,” he added.
As he expected, Persephone lifted her head from his chest to gasp, this time more forcibly. “You were a... you were a spy?” The last two words were barely audible. Her eyes suddenly rounded. “Do you suppose that has something to do with how you ended up in my coach this evening?”
His gaze darted to the dark fabric of the canopy above the bed. For some reason, her shock at learning he had worked for the Foreign Office had him amused. “I was.” He considered her other comment. “I rather doubt my ending up in your coach has anything to do with my assignments in the Kingdom of the Netherlands, though,” he murmured. He paused before he asked, “Who the hell is Lord JW?”
Still holding herself up on one elbow, Persephone ignored the curse as she stared down at Jack. She shook her head. “You mean... you’re not?”
He rolled his eyes and winced when it caused his headache to worsen. “I am not. I mean, I am a ‘Lord JW’, but I am not the Lord JW The Tattler has been writing about,” he claimed.
Her gaze drifted down the counterpane as Persephone considered his words. “You’re right,” she murmured. “If you were on the Continent until a few weeks ago...”
“I was. When exactly did these mentions of a ‘Lord JW’ start appearing in print?”
Persephone didn’t respond right away, her gaze on her mind’s eye. “It’s been a few months now, I think,” she finally said.
“What was the most damning incident they wrote about?”
Persephone blinked. “Well, there was one where he allegedly climbed into a coach whilst it was stopped at an intersection and had his way with a young lady.”
Jack jerked and then winced when the sudden movement had his head protesting. “He raped her?” he asked in alarm.
“No,” she replied, although hesitantly. “According to the young lady’s maid, the dalliance had all been arranged in advance,” she explained, displaying an expression of amusement.
“Well, who was the man?”
Shrugging, she said, “The young lady wouldn’t say, and neither would the lady’s maid.”
Jack scoffed. “What else?”
“The Kravets girl. I don’t recall her given name, but she and her mother, the Baroness Kravets, were supposedly attending Lady Worthington’s musicale, and the girl and Lord JW were discovered kissing in an alcove.”
Although the incident didn’t sound too damning, Jack realized kissing a young, unmarried lady could land a man in hot water. The young lady would have suffered worse, however. “When was this?” he asked.
“About a fortnight ago. I was actually in attendance that evening,” Persephone said with some excitement. “It was my first time going to a Society event since burning my widow’s weeds,” she added with a grin.
“You burned your black gowns?” he asked in disbelief.
“To a crisp,” she said, grinning in delight. “In the fireplace in my bedchamber. At least, those my lady’s maid didn’t want,” she quickly added.
He chuckled softly, but he was more interested in what had occurred at the musicale. “Did you see anything? Hear anything that night?”
About to respond, she clamped her mouth shut. “No,” she finally admitted. “I don’t even recall seeing the baroness there, which has me wondering why The Tattler would even make mention of her.”
“They printed her name?” he asked in surprise.
“Well, no. Not exactly. They always just use a peer’s initials, but in this case, ‘Baroness K’ had to be Margaret Kravets. There’s no other baroness with a last name beginning with a K,” she explained.
Jack furrowed a brow. “And the daughter?”
“Lady Kravets only has the one,” Persephone replied.
Jack blew out a breath in frustration. “What else?”
“There have been some young widows?—”
“You?” he asked, jerking as if he intended to sit up.
“I said young widows,” Persephone repeated, pressing a hand against his chest to force him to lie down.
“You’re still young,” he argued.
She scoffed, but another grin touched her lips. “It’s times like this I really wish you had challenged Castlewait for my hand,” she whispered.
A grimace crossed his face. “As do I,” he admitted.
He liked hearing her slight inhalation of breath. The way her blue eyes rounded whenever he surprised her. He closed his eyes when he felt sleep coming on, but he still had things he needed to say to her. “Over the years, I’ve been very good at my avocation,” he said in a fading whisper. “But I’ve been a terrible aristocrat. Oh, I’ve attended Parliament when I can, but I don’t have a wife, which means I don’t have an heir, which means...” His voice trailed off as his body relaxed into the bed.
Persephone watched as he fell asleep. Although she felt the weariness of a long day, her body was well aware a naked man was pressed against her. At some point, he would awaken, and he would see to providing satiation for her swollen breasts and throbbing core.
Her racing mind was another matter, though.
If Lord JW wasn’t Jack, Earl of Wilmington, then who the hell was he?