Chapter Twenty-Five
MURIEL PAUSED OUTSIDE THE BILLIARDS room to gather her courage to speak with Baron Deverell. While Erik had not been able to ask her to be his after his confession, she hoped when next they were alone, he would explain what he meant by “more.”
Unfortunately, the moment they returned to the castle, Erik had disappeared on an urgent matter. To avoid being caught alone with the baron, she retired to her room for rest, only to awaken some hours later and find Erik had yet to return. Knowing his secret, she did not question his absence. The knowledge did not keep her from glancing out of the window every few minutes, however, watching for his return and promising herself that if she did see Erik returning, she would wait for him to seek her. She would not give in to her impulse to meet him in the courtyard to confess her love.
She would not make her heart known to Erik until he spoke of love … which might lead to her dying an old maid. Perhaps such women were given an unfair representation in novels? She’d spend her days loving her little brothers and then dote upon any nieces or nephews who would follow in a few decades, all while living out her days baking in the village. It truly wasn’t a terrible prospect, for marrying a man she didn’t love while Erik lived was unthinkable.
“It’s happening Friday night.”
She paused with her hand on the billiards room door. Friday? Who was Deverell speaking with? She pressed her ear to the door but couldn’t hear the mumbled reply.
“Of course not. Do you think I would wait for my dear Muriel’s answer if she did suspect? I would have had her in a carriage to Gretna Green last night. It’s only a matter of time before she accepts my hand. The lady is as besotted with me as I am with her. I shall press her for a swift wedding, as we need her funds to continue our work.”
Another inaudible reply filtered through the door.
“Of course the shipment for France is ready as per your request. Therefore, when I received my cousin’s note, I saw no harm in arriving early to secure the girl’s hand.”
Shipment for France?The fluttering letters—the warning. Her vision blurred. The spy is Baron Deverell? Memories washed over her. Things that had not made sense months ago that she had ignored, lost as she had been in a haze of what she’d thought was courtship. Such as when they had viewed his grandmother’s cottage by the sea in Dover so long ago to determine whether or not to sell the property. The old shed behind the cottage had seemed like an odd place to store tea shipments when Deverell had a perfectly good warehouse in Dover. When she had peered through the dusty window and spied barrels instead of crates, which was the traditional way to store tea, he had grown uncommonly angry with her questions. At the end of the visit, he had decided to sell the place. Was that because of her discovery? Her vision swam and she stepped back. The floorboards released an alarming creak.
The door flew open and Deverell strode out, keeping the door from swinging wide enough to reveal who he had been speaking with inside. “Miss Beau! Have you been standing there long?”
His strident tone did little to calm her nerves. If everything Erik had told her about this infamous Requin and his crew was true, she was in grave danger. She forced herself to offer him a warm smile, drawing brightness into her voice. “Baron Deverell. I wished to bring you an answer to your proposal.”
Her tone must have been convincing, as his hard eyes softened, his features shining. He stepped into the hall and clasped her hands. “Yes?”
She ran her thumb over his hand. “I would be honored to become your bride by summer’s end.”
“Truly?” At her nod, he swept her into his embrace, his face buried in her neck. “You have made me the happiest of men, my darling Muriel.”
She drew back, hoping he did not desire a kiss. “Osmund,” she chided gently, her blush genuine from the touch of his lips upon her neck.
“Forgive my boldness.” He laughed, carving his fingers through his thick hair. “I am exultant you would choose a mere baron when you could have the Earl of Draycott. Such a pure heart demonstrates the depth of your feelings—a depth that reflects my own.”
“Why would you think I would choose him?” She lifted her lashes shyly to him. “Did I propose to him or to you?”
He pressed a kiss atop her hand. “Meet me in the lower gardens in an hour?” He leaned his forehead to hers. “The guests should be departing for the abbey soon, and I wish to kiss you properly without the threat of another guest to break us apart.”
She pulled away with a smile, allowing her fingers to linger until the last possible moment as her answer. Rounding the corner, she broke into a run, hiking her skirts to her calves as she climbed the stairs to Erik’s quarters. When he did not answer her knock, she stole down the servants’ stairs toward the stables, praying the groomsman would know where Erik had gone and when he would return. At the bottom of the stairs, she rammed straight into a familiar broad chest. “Erik!”
“Muriel? Whatever is the matter?” He tucked an envelope into his coat and took her hands in his. “I thought you were going on an expedition to the abbey with the other guests before luncheon?”
She cast a glance over her shoulder, unable to control her shaking. “You were right. The spy is here.”
“What?” He gripped her by the arms. “How do you know? Did he hurt—”
Muriel wrung her hands, hardly able to comprehend the turn of events. “I—I was seeking Lord Deverell to inform him that I couldn’t marry him.”
His hands slid down her arms to gently encompass her hands again. “Truly?”
She nodded. “There’s more. Before I could knock at the billiards room, I overheard him discuss his plans for a shipment to France.”
Erik’s handsome features twisted into a scowl. “Deverell is Requin? He does not match the slight frame of the man I faced … unless the man I have been chasing all these years used the masked pirate as a scapegoat, keeping himself removed from the sea.”
“I’m not certain who Deverell is at the moment.” She frowned. “There was another in the room who seemed to be in charge, as he was asking Deverell questions I was unable to hear.”
Erik gripped his hands into fists. “Multiple traitors under my own roof? I’m a fool for thinking I could keep you from danger under my care when I cannot even see the danger right before us.”
“Spies do not become spies without having the ability to fool even their closest family.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and swallowed, pushing out the hardest bit of news. “Deverell caught me listening.”
He stiffened. “Did he threaten you?”
“He was angry to find me outside the door. Deverell attempted to hide it as I managed to convince him I was innocent.” She worried her bottom lip.
“How did you escape his suspicion?”
“Please do not be cross.”
“Muriel … what did you do?”
“I couldn’t rightly refuse his suit once he caught me at the door. I overheard him say he would spirit me off to Gretna Green if I refused him.”
“He said what?” Erik fairly growled.
She held her palm up. “I had to think of everyone’s safety in Draycott Castle. I had to prove I was his besotted Chilham lass, and the only way to accomplish that was to …”
He took a step back, his stare pained. “Please tell me you did not promise yourself to a traitor?”
“Well, I’m not actually going to marry the baron, but yes. Yes, I accepted his proposal.”
He ran a hand over his jaw. “You are not going to marry him?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Because I would like the privilege of marrying you.”
Her heart stumbled. “What?”
He tucked a curl behind her ear, his eyes lingering on her lips. “I hold you in the greatest of affection, Muriel Beau. I believe I have been in love with you since the moment I awoke on the kitchen floor to you pressing your ear to my chest.”
“You love me?” She shook her head and stared up at him. “You, Lord Draycott, love me?”
“With everything that I am and everything I will be.” He clutched her hands. “Say something.”
She dared to cup his chin and guide his lips closer to hers, pausing a breath away to whisper, “My dearest Captain, do you know how long I have waited to speak of my feelings for you?”
“You return my adoration?” His eyes flashed.
It took everything in her to keep herself from giving in to a kiss. “Most ardently.”
“I ache to kiss you. Even in a false engagement with Baron Deverell …” He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice dipping into a husky growl. “I wish to wait until you are mine alone, for I am irrevocably yours forever.”
Her knees wobbled at the passion in his voice, and she retreated a step to clear her thoughts. “Speaking of kissing once I am free, this is how I shall cry off the wedding. Step one, you will plan an activity that will keep all guests from the house for at least a few hours this very afternoon so I can search his room.”
At this suggestion, all tenderness melted, and he crossed his arms, becoming the dangerous privateer. “Absolutely not. It is far too precarious a position in which to put you.”
“But, as his fiancée has pulled all sorts of antics in the past, he surely will not find it out of character if I am discovered in his room, setting a gift for him on his pillow.”
“The man is dangerous. If he is working for Requin, or, heaven forbid, is Requin—”
“You’ve dedicated your life to aiding the Crown. I can dedicate myself for a few hours.”
“That’s different. I have trained to be a weapon nearly the entirety of my life.” He pressed his lips into a firm line. “You cannot protect yourself.”
“I rendered you unconscious the first time we met.” She crossed her arms. “I’d say I can defend myself quite well.”
“This is not a jest, Muriel. Requin broaches no failure. If he even senses a traitor—”
She intertwined her fingers in his, emboldened by his declaration of love. “I can do this, Erik. You only need to trust me to help you.”
He closed the distance between them once more. “I believe you can do anything.”
“Now I really wish to kiss you.”
His eyes were so full of love and trust that it nearly undid her. She pressed her hands to his solid chest and gently pushed herself away from him and his dizzying scent. “Hopefully I may when my engagement is officially broken.”
He sighed. “If you are determined to take on such risk, I shall arrange an outing to keep the house party busy.”
“From which, I shall be conveniently ill.” She cracked her knuckles. “We are going to need some help. Shall I bring Tess and Vivienne into our small circle? If you agree, I need to fetch them before they leave for the abbey excursion.”
Erik ran a hand over his jaw, clearly uneasy.
“If they can protect the secret that I once rent my dress in half from a tree-climbing expedition and was forced to run home in my buntlings and was nearly caught by a herd of gentlemen on a fox hunt as my unmentionables were the same color as the fox, they can protect your secret.”
His brows shot up. “While a shocking tale, surely a secret from one’s childhood does not match a secret such as this?”
“This was last year.” She shuddered. “I knew ordering such a color was outlandish. I thought it amusing and, as no one would ever see them, it was a safe enough color … Indeed, it was not.”
Erik chuckled at Muriel’s scandalous caper. Guiding her to the private library, he tugged the bell cord and instructed the footman to fetch her two best friends, who appeared in only moments with their bonnets already in place for their promenade. Muriel noticed Erik clenching his fists as she explained all to her two dearest friends. She supposed after years of having his secret identity known only to Sir Alexander, it went against his very nature to bring anyone else into his confidence.
“What do you think?” Muriel halted her frantic pacing of the library.
“We will, of course, assist you in any way we can,” Vivienne reassured them, though her eyes darted back and forth to Erik in a manner that betrayed her apprehension of him now that she knew of his dangerous occupation.
“I cannot believe you promised your hand to Deverell despite suspecting his true loyalty.” Tess scowled, flipping her knife over in her palm. “If that traitor so much as looks at you wrong, Muriel, I will—”
Erik stepped forward, placing a hand on Tess’s shoulder. “I appreciate your sentiment and echo it in my heart, but you need to leave him to me, Miss Hale. While you may be able to defend yourself with your skills and the element of surprise, once you lose that surprise, he will overpower you. But, on the score of Muriel’s hand in marriage—” Erik looked to Muriel, silently asking her permission to share more. At her slight nod, he continued, “Allow me to settle your mind. As soon as we capture this dangerous spy and this farce of an engagement is over between her and the baron, and as she will not be allowed to take any of the credit for the capture of this dangerous spy, Miss Beau and I will have banns read in church, eclipsing the scandal of her being attached to a traitor’s name.”
His last words were lost in the cacophony of squeals.
“I knew you were special.” Vivienne seized his hand in hers, squeezing it.
Tess engulfed Muriel in a hug. “Only a man of great character would do for our dear Muriel.”
“Felicitations will have to wait.” Muriel disentangled herself from her friend. “For now, we need to formulate a plan that sees me in Deverell’s chambers while he is out of the castle.” She cleared her throat. “Until then, I need to meet him in the lower gardens. He is expecting me.”
Tess reached under her skirt and untied something from her calf, then knelt before Muriel. “If you should need it.” And without further ado, she lifted Muriel’s skirt, revealing her shapely calf.
Erik whipped his back to them, clearing his throat. “Please do not be tempted to use it unless there is no other option. I would hate for you to be wounded.”
Muriel’s hand rested on his shoulder, turning him to her. “All will be well. There is no telling how long our meeting will be, otherwise I’d say search his chambers while I keep him entertained.”
“Entertained?” He released a growl and shook his head. “I will be watching you from the bushes. We will find a way for you to search his room while I keep him busy.”
Muriel did not stop to think of the danger as she hurried out into the courtyard and across the drawbridge to the gardens just beyond. If she didn’t know Erik was close behind, keeping her safe, the journey in the gardens to meet an enemy spy would have frightened her even more so.
“Muriel.” The baron strode out from behind the topiary that led into the maze. He reached for her hand. “Shall we take a turn, my darling?”
“It’s highly improper for us to find each other alone in the maze.” She glanced over her shoulder, looking for Erik. “Even at midday.”
“That’s why he brought me, my dear.” Lady Ingram glided around the corner.
Her cheeks heated. Did Lady Ingram think less of her for meeting a gentleman alone when she had no idea if there was a chaperone present? She was the one who taught you about chance meetings …
She grasped Muriel’s hands, beaming. “Deverell told me all. I’m so pleased for you two. Such a good match to a gentleman your father will heartily approve.” She winked at them. “Now, take your secluded stroll, my dears, I will not be far behind. Though, I may unintentionally turn my back for half a moment if someone wishes to steal a kiss.”
Muriel felt the heat spring to her neck. At the baron’s taking her arm, she summoned a shy smile, as a woman in love might give.
“Muriel, I was wondering if you’d be willing to wed me sooner rather than later?”
She ran her fingertips over the hedge of hawthorns. “After my scandalous proposal to you, I think that would be best.”
He clasped her hands to his chest, pressing a kiss atop her fingers. “I know my title may not be as grand as some who wish to wed you, but I can avow that my pockets are deep. With our fortunes combined, there will be no others in Kent as wealthy as we.”
She lifted her gaze. “You would have us settle in Kent?”
He gently clasped her chin, smiling down at her. “Of course, my sweet. I would not separate you from your family. I know how much they mean to you, and I’ve always longed for a houseful of brothers. Yours shall be mine as well.”
She swallowed back the unexpected emotion clouding her throat. “You are too kind, Baron.”
“Come now, my dearest. We are engaged, surely you can call me by my Christian name consistently again?”
“Osmund,” she amended.
He lifted her chin with his finger, bending low to claim her lips. She had wished to save her first kiss for Erik. There was no way to dodge it when she needed to prove her infatuation and, in turn, protect Erik.
“Deverell!” Erik strode from his place behind the shrubs, unable to keep himself from interfering.
Deverell jerked back, anger flashing in his gaze. “Lord Draycott.” He cleared his throat and put a pace between himself and Muriel. “Where did you come from?”
“I came in search of Muriel and heard from one of the servants she was heading toward the maze.” He frowned. “Imagine my surprise to find her alone with you. I do not appreciate you absconding with a lady in my house party.”
Lady Ingram appeared, rolling her eyes. “They were not alone, I assure you, my lord. I would never allow my charge to sully her reputation with such an indiscretion.”
He shifted his stance. “Ah, I beg your pardon, Lady Ingram.”
Muriel folded her hands in front of her skirts. “Did you need something, my lord?”
From his inside pocket, he lifted a stack of papers for a play Vivienne had magically supplied from her trunks as if she had been waiting for just such an occasion. “Before setting out for the abbey, Miss Vivienne provided a play for today’s entertainment. I was assigning parts when I realized three of our party were missing from the group leaving for the excursion.” He flipped through the papers, removed a slim stack, and handed it to the baron. “You have been cast in the role of the male lead, my lord.”
Deverell ran a hand over his chin, smothering a weighty sigh. “And the female lead?”
“Goes to our fair Miss Tess Hale.”
He frowned. “And our dear Miss Beau?”
Erik flipped through the papers. “It appears Miss Poppy has assigned Miss Beau the role of the tree.”
“A tree?” She blinked at him as Baron Deverell snorted in his effort to control his laughter.
“It is a very special tree—a beech tree in fact,” Erik assured her. “It is where the two lovers first meet. One might say you are the root of the story.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very droll, my lord.”
“Miss Vivienne apparently has not forgotten, nor forgiven, your part in last Christmas’s tableau,” Deverell whispered to Muriel, his eyes dancing with mirth.
Erik tensed, abhorring that Deverell shared such memories with his Muriel, especially when he posed such a threat to her and their country. Patience. He may win the battle, but you shall win the war.