“I think I’d better return to London. I have unfinished business in town.”
“Oh? Are you working on something?” John asked with interest, and she could have kicked herself for speaking out of turn. In trying to come up with an excuse to leave immediately, she had opened herself up for that question. Now she would have to lie or dissemble, and she hated doing that to John.
“Nothing important. Only clerical work, but Dalton wants some reports and verifications completed posthaste.”
John grinned. “You know Dalton; he always wants things done yesterday. Don’t let him run you ragged.”
“I’m not. I would really rather return, John. I…I don’t know why I came. I guess I was searching for something I needed. For some reason, I thought I would find it here, but I didn’t.”
“I understand.”
The way he looked at her, eyes somber, gaze direct, made her believe that he really did. But how could he? He was the heir to a marquisate. A respected aristocrat. He knew his worth, his place in the world. She, on the other hand, was still figuring out who she was. Who she wanted to be. She knew she was a good agent.Was that all she could be? She needed more. Especially of late. After reuniting with Nathaniel, she had begun dreaming again. Had started to believe in the possibilities.
“If I leave now, I can catch the last train back to London.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No! You need to stay here. Talk to your father and don’t antagonize him. Especially not over me. It’s not worth it, and you may be left with regrets.”
“At least let me accompany you to the train station. I’ll see you safely on your way.”
An hour later, she was back on the train, racing back to London. And, she hoped, to Nathaniel. Would he have returned from his country estate in her absence? What would he think upon finding her gone? But she had only been gone for two days. One night. After a full week away, it would be the height of irony that he would return on the one night she spent away.
She arrived home at sunset. It was a good thing that John’s estate was not terribly far from London. No more than a couple of hours by train. In the first-class seat John had insisted on buying for her, the trip had been fast and comfortable. Nathaniel’s estate was a bit farther. About six or seven hours by train. If he wasn’t yet in London, maybe she could make the trip to see him. Or not. She should probably wait until he returned.
In the meantime, she had lots of work to do. They had both neglected the mission for long enough. She should continue to go through the widow’s papers. Nathaniel had promised to keep working on the cipher while he was away, but if he was dealing with problems at his estate, he might not have had much time to worry about the mission.
Another reminder of how his priorities had shifted. How he was no longer an agent first. Before, Nathaniel would have never abandoned a mission—abandoned her in the middle of a mission—to go solve a problem at his estate. But then, before, he hadn’thad an estate. She knew it wasn’t his fault, and that he hadn’t asked for the extra responsibilities. But the reality was that he was now Lord Greystone. This was now his life. He was a lord first, an agent second.
And she? What place did she occupy in his list of priorities now? She used to believe she was number one, just as he was for her. She was not sure of that anymore. Regardless, she was resolved to tell him everything. She should have told him from the start. It was past time they talked openly, but it never seemed to be a good time. Before, there had never been secrets between them. If they wanted to forge a true and lasting union, it couldn’t be different this time.
She pushed open the door to their library, opened the safe, and retrieved the papers she had been perusing before John showed up. A sense of renewed purpose compelled her as she looked again at the documents with fresh eyes, a driving need to make progress. Some instinct was telling her they had wasted enough time. And time was running out.
CHAPTER 22
Nathanielhadn’tneededtowait long. One more day, and he’d have abandoned all pretense of patience, stormed into Ardmore’s estate uninvited, and demanded to see her—consequences be damned. But Alice had returned.
Alone.
According to the note from Benjamin, the ever-watchful lad, she’d arrived without company the evening prior, which sparked a flicker of hope. Had there been a rift between her and Ardmore? Was that why she’d come back so soon, without fanfare or explanation?
Nathaniel hadn’t visited her immediately, however. He ached to do so, but he needed to consider his next step carefully. Instead, he had instructed Benjamin to be on the lookout and let her know of every movement she made. Why was he spying on his wife instead of simply going to talk to her? The answer was not comfortable. Distrust brewed in his heart and he wanted to see her next move before he made his own.
Other than Alice going out for a couple of hours in the morning, and the maid coming in, there had been no other comings and goings in the house. Nothing of importance to report the entire day. But about an hour ago, his patience and instinct had been proven right when Benjamin sent a message that the missus had requested a carriage to pick her up at seven in the evening.
Interesting. Where did she plan to go? What did she plan to do? He would follow. He would find out. Tonight, he would get his answers.
He finished tying his necktie and slid his arms into the sleeves of his evening coat, then smoothed his hands over the front. The familiar presence of the weapon in his pocket comforted him. He didn’t know what he was walking into, but he’d be ready for anything. After years of danger and secret missions, it was second nature for him to carry a weapon. Or two. He nodded to the butler, who stood guard by the front door, as he put on his overcoat, retrieved his walking stick—another weapon, since it concealed a blade—and opened the door.
“Don’t wait up for me, Wilson.”
His coach stood ready to take him, as he had requested, and he jumped in with alacrity, his body thrumming with anticipation. Was it the thrill of the chase, or the prospect of soon seeing his wife? Regardless of the motive, he took a deep breath and tamped down his reactions. Missions required a cool head.
He was acting like a green lad. Or worse, a besotted fool cuckolded by his wife and still hopelessly in love. The idea blackened his mood. The upcoming confrontation would not be easy. They might have to face painful facts and hurt themselves further in the process. But it was long past time to clear the festering misunderstandings that had divided them for so long and speak the truth, once and for all. Even if it was painful.The events of tonight might decide whether they had a future together…or not.
As the coach rolled through the elegant Mayfair streets and turned west toward Kensington, he idly looked out the window, seeing the darkening shapes of trees in Hyde Park pass by, listening to the clamor of the city as it came awake with entertainment as night approached. The coach turned the corner into their quiet street, and stopped. He had instructed his driver to stop some distance away from her home. It was still a quarter of an hour before seven. Now they waited.
They didn’t have a wait long. The coach she had requested rolled up to her door at precisely seven and she slipped out of the house at once. As if she had been waiting for it behind the door.
