Not Quite A Gentleman

which, as I’m sure you now understand, belongs to me.” He crossed his arms over his chest, gratified to see that she no longer looked amused. She did not, however, look entirely convinced. “As I trust I’ve satisfied your curiosity, I would appreciate it if you would now return the note to me.”

“Actually, you’ve only succeeded in whetting my curiosity, Dr. Oliver.”

“A pity, as that is all the explanation I’m prepared to give you.” He held out his hand. “My letter, if you please, Lady Victoria.”

Instead of complying, she commenced pacing in front of him. He could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she considered all he’d said. With a resigned sigh, he lowered his hand and watched her. The firelight cast her in a soft, gilded glow, highlighting her shiny hair. Her gown, a burnished bronze silk that accentuated her blue eyes while complimenting her creamy complexion, swirled about her ankles as she turned.

His gaze settled on the delicate curve of her slender neck, left enticingly bare by the upswept Grecian knot in which her hair was arranged. He found himself fascinated by the spot where her neck met the gentle slope of her shoulder… by that delicate hollow formed at the juncture of the base of her throat and her collarbone. His fingers and lips suddenly itched with an overwhelming desire to touch her there. Taste her there. Experience the silky smoothness of that vulnerable spot. Breathe in the elusive rosy fragrance he knew would be clinging to her skin.

She turned again and pursed her lips, drawing his attention to their rosy plumpness. In spite of the passage of three years, he recalled every exact detail of those lips. Their smooth texture. Their lush fullness. Their delicious taste. The sensuous glide of them against his mouth and tongue. He’d kissed his fair share of women before that stolen moment with Lady Victoria, but those few minutes with her in the gallery had effectively wiped his memory clean of those previous encounters.

He’d also kissed his fair share of women after that stolen moment with Lady Victoria. To his profound puzzlement-and annoyance-he’d discovered that while other lips might feel nice and taste fine, no other lips felt quite like hers. Tasted quite like hers. Indeed, the need to prove to himself that he was wrong on this score had turned into something of a quest-until he’d started feeling like the prince in the Cinderella fairy tale, only rather than trying to discover whose foot fit the glass slipper, he attempted to find a set of lips that suited him as well. The prince had eventually succeeded. Unfortunately, he had yet to be so lucky.

Perhaps because you’ve been looking in the wrong places, his inner voice whispered. Kissing the wrong women. Perhaps you should look no further than this very room…

Nathan consigned his damn inner voice to the devil then clenched his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to snag Lady Victoria as she paced by him again, to snatch her into his arms and kiss her. Prove to himself that he’d attached far too much significance to a meaningless kiss. It couldn’t have been that good. Yes, he’d obviously blown the entire episode out of proportion. And there was one sure way to prove that.

Before he could move, however, Lady Victoria ceased pacing and swirled to face him. “If this tale you’ve related is true,” she said, eyeing him with the sort of ripe suspicion a mouse would cast upon a hungry tabby, “then my father must somehow be involved.”

Damn. He’d known she might add two and two and arrive at the correct sum. He’d hoped she would not, gambled that like many women of her station, her head would be filled with nothing more than gossip and fashions. Clearly Lady Victoria wasn’t a fool. A denial rose to his lips, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Instead he found himself fascinated to hear what she’d say next.

She obliged him by rushing on. “Even if Father wasn’t the person who hid the note in my bag, he must have known of its existence. He was most emphatic that I travel to Cornwall. Too emphatic, now that I ponder upon it.” She slowly shook her head, her frown growing more pronounced as her gaze shifted to the flames dancing in the grate. “It would explain so much…” she murmured.

Nathan kept his features completely impassive-a talent left over from his spying days-and simply watched her. After nearly a full minute of silence, her gaze swiveled and bore into him. “My father works for the Crown.”

The words were a statement rather than a question, and said in an utterly flat tone.

Nathan saw no point in prevaricating. “Yes.”

A humorless sound escaped her. “It’s all so clear now… the late night clandestine meetings in his study, his frequent absences, the worried look in his eyes when he thought himself unobserved.” She blew out a long breath and shook her head. “I knew, in my heart, that he wasn’t being truthful, that there was more going on than just the gambling and male frivolity he used as excuses, but I never pressed him.” Her expression changed to one of profound hurt, and the area around his heart seemed to collapse in on itself at that distressed look. “I thought he had a mistress and was merely being circumvent and discreet for the sake of my sensibilities.”

“I’m afraid secrecy goes hand in hand with spying.”

“Secrecy? You mean lying.”

He could see she was floundering, trying to assimilate her emotions, and seeing her straggle affected him in a way he couldn’t name. Walking to her, he lightly grasped her upper arms.

“I mean saying and doing what is necessary to keep your association with the Crown concealed so as to carry out your duty to protect this country’s interests. To keep yourself, your friends, your family safe.”

Her gaze searched his, then she asked, “That night you came to our town house to see my father… was that about the mission involving the jewels?”

A muscle ticked in Nathan’s jaw. “Yes.”

“My father was involved?”

Up to his bloody damn neck. “He was.” He released her, and then, after a quick debate with himself, decided there was no point in not telling her. “Your father coordinated the mission. He is the person who recruited us.”

She absorbed that, then said, “So Father is more than simply a spy. He’s a… boss of other spies?”

“Correct.”

“And who besides you is included in this ‘us’ he recruited?”

“My brother and Lord Alwyck.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “So at dinner this evening I sat between two spies and across from another one.”

“Former spies. Yes.”

“Was your father also a spy?”

“No.”

“Your butler? Housekeeper? Valet?”

One corner of his mouth hiked up. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“How refreshing. But let us not forget my absent-minded, genial father who I clearly do not know at all.” Her voice trembled on the last word, and she lowered her chin to stare at the floor.

Nathan again experienced that hollow feeling in his chest. Touching a single finger under her chin, he gently urged her head up until their gazes met. “The fact that he is regarded as absentminded and genial worked greatly to his advantage. The work he coordinated saved hundreds of British soldiers’ lives. In order for him to do that, there were aspects of his life that he couldn’t share with you, or anyone else.”

She swallowed, her slender throat working, her eyes brimming with questions. “I can understand that,” she finally said. “But what I don’t understand is why send this note to you with me? Why not send one of his spy people? Or summon you to London?”

Before answering, he slid his finger from beneath her chin, allowing its tip to trail over her skin for the merest fraction of an inch. Soft. Bloody hell, she was so soft. His hands all but twitched with the need to touch her again. The desire was so intense, he had to move away from her to ensure he wouldn’t give in to the need.

After walking to the mantel, he stared into the glowing flames and engaged in a quick internal debate. Then he turned to face her. “Your father sent you to Cornwall because he believes you’re in danger. He wanted you out of London and the information brought to Cornwall, so he accomplished both goals with one journey.”

“Danger?” she repeated, her tone expressing both doubt and surprise. “What sort of danger? And why would he think such a thing?”

“He didn’t say specifically, but he clearly believes some harm might befall you. As to why, I would guess that he has either received a threat against you or he has himself been threatened and therefore fears you might be