Unmasking the Spy (5 page)

“I need to marry for love,” Alicia said
slowly.

“I should hope so, dear. Follow your
heart.” Beatrix stuck a small square on the tip of her nose and crossed her
eyes, making Alicia burst into laughter.

Great-aunt Beatrix followed her heart, but her
devotion had not turned out as hoped. Perhaps avoiding such sad circumstances
explained why most women married for economic, social, or business reasons.
Practical reasons. Reasons that didn’t include love.

“No matter what?” Alicia asked, placing a
star-shaped patch in the center of her forehead.

“Never, ever give up. Be true to
your heart.”

She felt warmed by a renewed bond
with her aunt.

Her father, however, was another
matter. He had been strict even when Mama still lived with them, and close to
tyrannical since she’d been gone. Even so, Alicia continued to obey him in all
things – until now. In his mind, her rebellion precipitated an abrupt fall from
grace. She doubted any patience or sympathy for her remained.

Beatrix put the patch stand in
Alicia’s lap and turned toward the window. She giggled at her reflection and
breathed on the glass to watch the steam from her mouth spread and disappear.

By the time Louis was of age,
Papa spoke of him with a veneer of contempt. If she could understand Papa’s
motivation for enforcing a sudden marriage, perhaps she could provide an
alternative solution and avoid wedding Louis altogether.

If Papa still harbored some of
his old doubts about Louis, there had to be more to this betrothal than evident
at first blush. Perhaps despite his more questionable qualities, Louis was a
better judge of antiquities than she gave him credit for. Perhaps he and her
father had become friends.

Alicia furrowed her brow in
consternation, and the star patch twitched on her forehead.

Perhaps she overlooked some clue,
some statement that would shed light on the situation. She fought to recall the
conversation with her father without becoming angry anew.

The insults he had given! “More
at stake than you, Alicia,” he’d said. As if there could ever be more at stake
than the bride and groom in question. “Girls know nothing about business
dealings, Alicia,” he’d said. As if collecting antiques constituted a business.

But… he might be involved in
other business matters. It would not be unlike Papa to simply want her out of
his hair so that he could concentrate on his own concerns. No doubt, Papa
thought marrying her to Louis an excellent opportunity.

Alicia pressed her lips together. A marriage of
Papa’s convenience happened to be quite inconvenient to her. Proving to Louis
she would be an unfit wife seemed a sound strategy.

Beatrix turned from the window
and pulled something else from the folds of her skirts. Alicia looked closer
and her mouth fell open. Great-aunt Beatrix stared back, calmly chewing the end
of a cigar.

“What are you doing?” Alicia
gasped.

“Chewing a cheroot,” her aunt
responded, her mouth distorted by the brown cigar dangling from thin, chapped
lips and her face still speckled with random fashion patches.

“Where on earth did you get a
cheroot?” Alicia demanded.

Great-aunt Beatrix removed the
offending cigar from her mouth and cast her eyes heavenward. “Chadwick’s
office, of course. I’d have got one for you had I known you’d be so
interested.”

Alicia gaped. Papa locked his
office every time he went out, which meant Beatrix must have snuck in while he
was still at home. Perhaps Great-aunt Beatrix was as dotty as her father
claimed.

“But why would you want one?”

Beatrix slanted a condescending
gaze in her direction. “To see what it was like.”

“Are you going to smoke it?”
Alicia asked in horror.

“Of course not,” Beatrix
answered. “I want to chew it.”

Alicia felt like a fish deprived
of water. Her mouth was moving, but only inarticulate sounds escaped. Secreting
cigars from the sanctuary of Papa’s study topped every antic she’d seen her
aunt do before.

Beatrix shrugged, dropped the
unlit cigar into a dress pocket, and returned her gaze to the window.

On second thought, Beatrix had a
wily streak unlike any other. Sometimes, Alicia wished she were more like her
unconventional aunt. If Beatrix wanted to chew a cheroot, she chewed a cheroot.
By unfocusing her gaze and lolling her head just so, Beatrix could blame almost
any indiscretion on eccentricity evoked by her old age. Alicia had seen her get
away with exactly that on multiple occasions.

To sneak into her father’s office
may have been foolish, yes, but also daring. And to do so undetected… Alicia
imagined Beatrix executed this particular maneuver with regularity. It would
enrage her father to find out she made a habit of pilfering his possessions. He
kept everything in his office. He littered his desk with accounts, ledgers,
papers, notes for negotiations… Alicia’s back straightened. Yes, exactly. He
kept everything in his office.

If she could find out what
dealings prompted the sudden threat of engagement to Louis, she could determine
a way out. All she had to do was examine the papers on his desk.

Alicia dreamed she’d marry for
love, but today she’d settle for not marrying Louis.  If Beatrix could creep in
and out without incident, so could she. But what if she were caught? All
great-aunt Beatrix had to do was look crazy. Papa might be irritated, but he’d
roll his eyes and ring for a maid to return her to her room. Alicia would
receive a far worse punishment.

She would have to go at night.

Papa was a sound sleeper and
unlikely to be roaming the halls. It could work. It would have to work. Her
father expected to give Louis his permission and settle contract terms thirteen
days hence. Thirteen days!  It was unthinkable.  There had to be some escape,
and there was one way to find out.

Tonight, she would find some
answers.

Alicia drummed her fingers on the silk tablecloth
and counted candles in the chandelier to pass the time.  Anticipation bubbled
in her stomach. The office was so close to the dining room – but of course,
Papa was in it at the moment with Louis.  He must have forgotten she and
Beatrix would be waiting for him. 

Beatrix sat at the table next to
her, sipping wine. Alicia grinned at her aunt’s disgruntled expression when the
patch at the end of her nose fell into the wine. Beatrix fished out the soggy
square and set her glass back on the table with a harrumph.

Muffled voices filtered through
the wall. Alicia tilted her head. Must be Louis, complaining again.

“… not the right one … “

How could Papa stand such
constant whining?

“Louis, these are better ... a
pair of exquisite beauties …”

Poor Papa. Trying to talk sense
into the senseless.

“… not what I wanted … and I will
tell you …”

No, please don’t. Nobody wants to
hear it.

“… ignorant …”

Heaven forfend men and their
antiquities. What could there be to argue about? She turned back to Beatrix,
intending to begin a conversation, when the voices floated more clearly from
down the hall. Papa must have opened the office door. 

“Did Alicia dance with you at the
soiree?” her father boomed.

With luck, Louis planned to dine
elsewhere.  Alicia hoped for one last chance to ask her father to let her
choose her own husband.

Louis’ loud sniff resonated down
the hall.  “Hardly.”

“I thought she wanted to look
courted.”

“She danced with some rake. 
Never seen him before.”

“You let Alicia dance with a
rakehell?” Chadwick’s roar exploded from the other side of the wall.

She glanced at her aunt, who
winked.

Ian Morrissey had not presented
himself as a rake at all. Granted, Alicia had not been blind to the women
drooling on themselves when he walked past. However, she saw no indication that
he pursued dalliance with any of them.

In fact, he seemed perfectly
eligible. Handsome. Proper. And the electrifying touch of his hands on her body
while they danced… He could be a prospective suitor. Perhaps he was someone she
could even grow to love.

 “Not all night, just one dance.”
Louis seemed to realize the mistake in admitting his lack of attention. 
“Didn’t want to dominate her.  Beautiful as she was, and all.”

Alicia stifled a snort. Other
than his brief foray onto the dance floor, Louis only emerged from the card
room long enough to refill his glass or his stomach.

The irregular beat of footfalls
tapped closer.

“I don’t know why you’re letting
her put off the inevitable, Chadwick.”

Chadwick’s tone betrayed his
irritation. “The sooner she decides you suit, the sooner you wed.”

Alicia gritted her teeth.

“Two weeks,” said Louis. “Or
sooner.”

“I expect you to court her
properly, and shield the family from scandal.”

“Every other night, Chadwick.  I
keep my promises.”

Alicia swirled her wine glass.
What a liar.

“This should appear to be a real
courtship, Louis.  Er… press her hand and whisper sweet things to her.”

Oh Lord.  Now Papa was quoting
her out of context to Louis and filling his head with all the things she
fervently hoped Louis would never think to do.

“Of course, Chadwick.  I
frequently do.”

More likely, he considered
demonstrative affectation not worth the bother. What kind of marriage could be
made of mutual repulsion?  Alicia sighed.  If they’d had mutual respect at
least, they could be like every other
ton
couple, she supposed. 
Although a mere business decision might be a raging success for most people,
Alicia craved something more.

“The bell rang some time past. 
Won’t you stay for supper, Louis?”

Please, no.

Louis came into view. He lifted a
quizzing glass and peered at the dining table. He looked from Beatrix to Alicia
and back again. Great-aunt Beatrix leaned sideways out of her chair, to inspect
the tablecloth embroidery in minute detail. Alicia’s nose inched higher into
the air.

 “I’m sorry,” said Louis, not
looking sorry at all. “I have a previous engagement. But I will return tomorrow
to take Alicia to… another dinner?”

“Ball,” Alicia corrected.

“Whatever you say.” He shoved a
pair of delicately painted glass vases under the crook of one elbow as if they
were nothing more than rubbish. He eyed great-aunt Beatrix with disdain and
minced toward the door.

Thank God.  Questioning Papa
would be difficult enough without Louis’ piggy face glaring at her. Alicia
pasted on a smile until her father finished his goodbyes. 

Chadwick returned without a word
regarding his tardiness to the table. He motioned to a passing footman before
looking at Alicia and Beatrix. He shook his head but chose not to comment.

Alicia piled her plate with
vegetables, and had eaten half her bread by the time great-aunt Beatrix
acknowledged Papa’s scrutiny and finished her inspection of the tablecloth.

Her father helped himself to
roast duck and ignored the boiled vegetables.  “How was the soirée last night?”

Alicia set down her fork and
gathered her courage.

“Precisely what I wished to
discuss, Papa. I am uncertain Louis and I will ever suit.”

Chadwick twirled his flute of
Chablis.

“Daughter, you asked for time and
I granted you two weeks.  Utilize what time remains.”

Alicia gritted her teeth. She had
asked for two months. “Papa, time isn’t the point.”

“Pray tell, what is your point?”

She took a deep breath.  “I do
not wish to marry Louis.”

Rather than bother with a reply,
Chadwick silently resumed eating.

Alicia decided to take a shot in
the dark, and give her father one last opportunity to say something that would
stop her from taking drastic action.

“Is the only reason you want me
to marry Louis because you believe me incapable of finding a husband on my
own?  I swear that if you grant me more time, I can garner the interest of a
perfectly respectable gentleman.”

Chadwick choked on his bread and
took a hasty swallow of wine.

“Louis is respectable, daughter.”

Humph.  One could hardly deny
that Louis was from decent blood, his vices no different than some, his paunch
no bigger than most, and his age not quite old enough to raise eyebrows, as was
often the case with many of England’s eligible bachelors. 

“I didn’t choose him,” Alicia
tried again, her voice fraught with frustration.

Chadwick looked at her coldly.
“No, you didn’t. I chose him,” he said with a tone of finality. “You know
Louis, the title will be kept in the family, you are edging closer to an age –
I see no reason for fuss.”