The Notorious Lord

Lady Sally’s reading group and immediately discounted the possibility that any one of them could be a traitor. It was simply not possible. Then a thought came into her head and she became very still. When she looked up at Cory she saw that he was watching her with the ghost of a smile. She knew he had read her thoughts. She caught her breath.

‘You suspected me, didn’t you, Cory Newlyn!’ she whispered. ‘You thought that I might be your spy.’

Cory shook his head. He took her hand in his. ‘Rachel, I can honestly say that I never believed you guilty of such a thing.’

Rachel stared at him, trying to divine whether or not he was telling the truth. Suddenly she felt cold and afraid; not afraid of Cory’s suspicions, but deeply scared that he might not hold the good opinion of her that she had always taken for granted.

Cory’s fingers tightened on hers and an urgent note came into his voice.

‘Rachel, I promise you…I never thought that.’

Rachel swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. She felt a ridiculous urge to burst into tears. ‘Are you sure?’ Her voice sounded very small.

‘I swear it.’ There was tenderness in Cory’s voice now. ‘Good God, Rachel, how could you think such a thing? We have known each other this age. Why do you think that I am trusting you now? It is only because I know I can trust you and that you would never betray the secret.’

‘Thank you,’ Rachel said. She felt a little better. ‘I am glad that I still hold your good opinion, Cory, for sometimes I think that I do not know you very well at all.’

She heard Cory sigh. ‘I confess that you did give me a bad moment when you lied about being out on the terrace.’

Rachel stifled a small giggle. ‘I am sorry. I did not realise it would make you suspect me, or I should have spoken up at once.’

‘I still do not understand why you did it,’ Cory said.

‘I am sorry,’ Rachel said again. ‘I was confused by what I had heard and…’ she hesitated ‘…rather angry with you as well.’

It seemed as though Cory was waiting for her to say more, but when she did not speak, he sighed and let go of her hand. ‘I suppose that I can understand that,’ he said. ‘God knows, I have been doing enough covert things to arouse anybody’s suspicions-’

Rachel froze. ‘The books!’ she said, her voice warming into anger again, ‘You said that Maskelyne was the man who died. That must mean that he was part of the Duke of Kestrel’s counter-spying plan.’ She turned her angry gaze on Cory again. ‘I suppose that when I found you in the stables that time you were checking that Maskelyne’s books did not contain a clue. Yet you told me you were looking for clues to the Midwinter Treasure! You lied to me!’

‘No, I did not,’ Cory said mildly.

‘But you said-’

‘I said nothing. You were the one who made the assumption that I was in the stables to try and steal a march on you in the hunt for the treasure.’

Rachel felt as though she was about to burst with indignation. ‘But you let me carry on believing it!’

‘Of course. I did not wish you to become suspicious and possibly put yourself in danger.’

Rachel frowned. ‘You did not correct my false assumption. There is some deceit in that.’

‘Rachel,’ Cory said, ‘we have just been discussing you telling me a direct lie about your presence on the terrace at the ball. I do not think that you are in a position to haul me over the coals for deceit.’

Rachel had the grace to feel slightly ashamed. ‘I suppose not. This whole matter smacks of deception, if the truth be told.’

‘Spying usually does,’ Cory pointed out. ‘It is an ugly business.’

Rachel was still sorting the information in her head, assessing and re-assessing all the things that had happened, thinking of Cory’s behaviour. ‘When you and Richard Kestrel came to Saltires that afternoon,’ she said, ‘what was your purpose there? For surely you had one…’

‘You require us to have more of a purpose than simply to flirt with the ladies of the reading group?’ Cory asked mockingly.

Rachel studied his face. ‘Yes, I do.’ She waved a hand about in agitation. ‘You are doing it again-trying to encourage me to make assumptions so that you do not have to answer my questions!’

Cory possessed himself of her hand again and gave her a smile that made her feel quite weak. ‘I assure you that I had no intention of deliberately misleading you again,’ he said. ‘The truth is that someone took a shot at me on my way home from Midwinter Royal that night, Rachel. When we came to the reading group the following day, it was with the intention of discovering who it had been.’

Chapter Sixteen

Rachel stared at Cory in utter disbelief. There was a singing in her ears and she could almost feel the colour draining from her face. Cory was watching her with a mixture of concern and speculation as he took in her distress. He looked exactly the same to her and yet somehow her perspective had shifted one final time, the pieces clicking into place with the neat precision of a wooden puzzle. Rachel knew then that if she ever lost him she would feel wrenched in two, as though a most fundamental part of her was missing. She felt shocked and dazed and terrified. Then she felt angry.

‘Someone shot at you?’ she whispered. She freed her hand from Cory’s grasp and thumped him ineffectually on the chest. ‘Someone shot at you, Cory Newlyn, and you sit there telling me about it weeks later, as though you are relating an incident at a garden party? Good God, I knew that you had a reputation for coolness, but this is beyond anything!’

She was startled to see that she was shaking. She put her hands up to her face briefly, then sat back, blinking. Someone had shot at Cory. Someone had tried to kill him. Nothing that he had told her up to this point had made anything like the impact on her that that simple sentence had done. She felt shaken to the core.

She saw something change in Cory’s face then and he pulled her into his arms and held her close. With a muttered imprecation he loosened the ribbons of her bonnet, pushing it back so that he could rest his cheek against hers. One hand stroked her hair. He was murmuring soothing words and the combination of his voice and the gentling of his hands steadied her. It felt very right to be in his arms and safety and comfort flooded through her. The tears that threatened her receded a little.

‘I cannot believe it,’ she said unsteadily.

Cory’s arms tightened about her. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of, Rachel. I am quite safe.’

‘That is not the point.’ Rachel’s gloved fingers tangled with his lapels and she gave him a little shake. ‘You could have been killed.’

Cory pressed his lips to her hair. ‘But I was not. Rachel, I swear that I did not mean to frighten you. The only reason that I did not tell you this before was because the whole of this business has been secret and I had no wish to put you in danger.’

Rachel relaxed slightly. Gradually the fear melted away and another awareness crept in. She could feel Cory’s heart beating steadily under her ear. With her nose buried in his shirt, she could inhale the dry, pleasant smell of the material and beneath it the muskier, sensual smell of his skin. Her nerves prickled. It felt warm and familiar to be in his arms, but there was another feeling there, an excitement underneath that was very different.

With deliberation, Rachel drew away a little and looked at him. ‘So you came to the reading group the following day to see if you could work out who it was who attacked you?’

‘I had injured them,’ Cory said gently.

Rachel shook her head slightly. ‘I cannot believe it could be one of us. It simply is not possible…’

Cory did not say anything and after a moment she sighed.

‘What are you thinking?’ Cory asked.