A Gentleman's Honor

extensive—then went down the steps and set out to join her. She didn’t hear him; not wanting to frighten her by suddenly appearing beside her, he called her name.

Halting, she swung around and smiled. She straightened as he neared. “Did you learn anything?”

He would have taken her in his arms and kissed her, but she held out a hand; the swift glance she cast at the house was a warning.

Reluctantly bowing to her wishes, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. Kissed it, then, noting that her smile had faded, an expression he couldn’t read taking its place, he tucked her hand in his arm, anchored it with his. He let a frown show in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She blinked her eyes wide. “Wrong? Why… nothing.” She frowned lightly back. “Why did you think there was?”

Because…

He felt confused, not a normal feeling, not for him. The expression in her eyes assured him she honestly didn’t think anything was wrong, yet…

She shook his arm and started to stroll again. “Did you learn anything? What has Jack been up to—I met Kit at Lady Hartington’s luncheon, and she said he was out, too, looking for A. C.’s connections.”

He nodded. “We’ve all been out for most of the day.”

He explained. Alicia listened, put a question here and there, and continued to reiterate to herself: You are his mistress, his lover, not his wife.

That, she’d decided, was the only sane way forward, to keep their relationship on a fixed and even keel. If she let herself get seduced—emotionally seduced by her emerging dreams—she’d end hurt beyond measure. She’d accepted the position; if she adhered strictly to that role, she and he could continue as they were. That would have to be enough.

If she was forced to make the choice between being his mistress or not being with him at all, she knew which she’d choose. She never wanted to lose him, to forgo those golden moments when they were so close, when each breath, each thought, each desire was shared. If to hold on to that closeness she had to remain his mistress, so be it. It was, she’d decided, worth the price.

The news he had was exciting; they were clearly closing in on A. C. As they discussed their findings, she was conscious of Tony’s gaze on her face, black as ever but not so much intent as keen, sharp. Observant.

Finally, she felt forced to meet his eyes and raise her brows in mute question.

He searched her eyes, then looked forward, steering her along a path leading to a fountain. “Given I need to visit Lloyd’s tonight, I won’t be able to escort you to whatever entertainments you’re scheduled to attend.”

She forced herself to smile easily; she patted his arm. “Don’t worry—I’m perfectly capable of attending by myself.” Even though, in his absence, there was nothing at such events to hold her interest. She didn’t even need to watch over Adriana anymore.

She’d learned there were indeed couples, noblemen and their wellborn mistresses, of whose relationship the ton was patently aware, but to which it turned a blind eye. Her and Tony’s situation wasn’t unusual. However, one relevant and undoubtedly important aspect was that those involved in such accepted affairs never drew attention to their relationship in public.

Such couples did not spend time together in ballrooms or drawing rooms; she should undoubtedly grasp this opportunity to ease their interaction into a more socially acceptable vein.

“You find the balls a bore.” She looked ahead at the circular fountain set in the lawn. “There’s no reason you need dance attendance on me there. Not anymore.”

She glanced at him. There was a frown gathering in his eyes. She needed to discourage him from acting so overtly possessively. She smiled, trying to soften the hint. “And tonight, you need to be elsewhere searching for A. C.—there’s no need to feel it’s necessary to escort me, or that your absence will bother me—that I’ll be in any way discomposed.”

Her words were gentle, clear, her expression as always open and honest; Tony heard what she said, but wasn’t sure he understood. She was explaining something to him, but what?

His brain couldn’t seem to function as incisively as usual. The odd feeling in his chest, a deadening, dulling sensation, didn’t help. Halting, he drew in a breath, glanced, unseeing, at the fountain. “If you’re sure?”

He looked at her face, into her eyes—and saw something very close to relief in the green.

Her smile was genuine, reassuring. “Yes. I’ll be perfectly content.”

The assurance he’d asked for, yet not what he’d wanted to hear.

A babel of youthful voices spilled down from the terrace; they both looked and saw the three boys and two girls come tumbling down to the lawns.

Turning, they headed toward the children. As they reached the main lawn, Tony felt Alicia’s gaze, glanced down, and met her eyes.

Again, she smiled reassuringly, then patted his arm as she looked ahead. “I’ll be here, waiting, when you get home.”

He’d accepted the arrangement because he’d had little choice. Yet the suspicion—now hardening to conviction— that something was going awry between them grew, fueled by that part of him that had heard her words as something approaching a dismissal.

A dismissal he’d had neither justification nor opportunity to challenge.

The incident had jolted him in a way he wasn’t accustomed to; faced with a raft of unexpected uncertainties, he’d concluded he needed to think before doing anything, before reacting. Yet by one o’clock the next morning, when he silently let himself into his house, his uncertainty had only grown, until he, his usual forceful personality, felt paralyzed.

One thing he’d realized: he didn’t have any real idea of what she was thinking, of how she saw their relationship.

He’d told her he loved her; she hadn’t reciprocated.

He’d never before said those words to any woman, but in the past he’d been the recipient of such declarations too often for his comfort.

Alicia hadn’t said the words. Frowning, he climbed the stairs. Until now, he hadn’t thought he needed to hear them; until now, her physical acceptance, all that had passed between them, had been assurrance enough, guarantee enough.

But no more. Now he was uncertain. Of her.

Even though she’d assured him she’d be waiting, he wasn’t at all sure what he’d find when he entered her room. But she was indeed there, yet not quite as he’d expected. She wasn’t in bed, but standing by the side of the bow window, wrapped in her robe, arms folded beneath her breasts. Shoulder and head resting against the window frame, she looked out on the moonlit gardens.

As usual, she hadn’t heard him enter. He made no sound as he closed the door, then stood in the shadows and studied her.

She was deep in thought, her body completely still, her mind elsewhere.

He hesitated, then stepped forward more definitely; she heard him and turned. Through the shadows he saw her gentle smile. She settled back against the window frame. “Did you manage to identify A. C.’s company?”

He halted by the bed. “It’s Ellicot.”

“The one that used many different shipping lines?”

He nodded; the subject was not the one uppermost in his mind. He eased off his coat. “Tomorrow, we’ll start closing in, but we’ll need to be careful not to alert A. C. We want him still in England when we learn his name.”

He tossed the coat onto a chair, then looked at her. She’d remained at the window, leaning back against the frame, the silk robe draped about her, her arms folded. He sensed she was comfortable, at ease, yet distant.

The bed was behind him; stepping back, he sat on its side. Through the shadows, continued to study her.

He’d manipulated the situation and gained his objective—her, here, under his roof. In his house where he could share her bed easily, where she was protected constantly by his servants. He’d achieved all he’d wanted, all he’d thought they needed, yet… something was askew. The situation had developed undercurrents, ones he couldn’t read well enough to counter.