“It is complicated, Alice. There’s some truth to what I said in Dalton’s office. Because of the circumstances, I am needed on this mission. By the Foreign Office, by you, by Dalton. It would be unconscionable for me to refuse my help when I am able to provide it.”
He paused. She remained silent. If he thought she was going to jump into the breach and fill the silence, he was to be sorely disappointed. Perhaps recognizing that, he continued.
“But there are also deeper, more complex reasons I don’t even understand myself. I guess I wanted to see you. To work together one more time before we part definitely.”
He was telling the truth. There was a hint of melancholy in his voice. Sorrow for what they had once been, and were no more? This was goodbye for him, then. Probably a way to bring closure to a chapter of his life that got interrupted when he inherited so unexpectedly. And solving the issue of the inconvenient wife he had acquired in his previous life.
Oh, but it hurt. It hurt to know he had put her behind him. That, for him, this was nothing more than a last adventure he wanted to have before settling down to the staid life of a nobleman, probably with an equally noble wife. Her heart beat sluggishly, as if heavy with the pain, and a knot had lodged in her throat. She could not break down in front of him. Of all the things she had surrendered to him—her heart, her pride, her life—she refused to surrender her dignity as well.
The barmaid, arriving with her food and drink, came to her rescue.
“Oy, Alice. Here you ‘ave your meat pie and that fancy wine you favor.” She plunked both down on the table in front of her.
Alice grabbed the glass of wine as if it contained the elixir of life and gulped down a big swallow in an effort to clear her throat.
“Mr. Greystone! So nice to see you ‘round these parts again. What will you be ‘aving?”
“Hullo, Mary. It’s good to be back at this fine establishment. I’ve missed the excellent meat pies your mother makes. I’ll have one of those as well. Oh, and keep the wine coming.”
He replied with the effortless charm that characterized him. He remembered the barmaid’s name. Of course, he did. Nate forgot very little. Especially not faces and names. It was part of what made him such an effective agent.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy with your order, sir.”
“I can’t drink more than a glass of wine. I must return to work.” And she wasn’t planning to get tipsy with him. Lowered inhibitions around Nathaniel was a dangerous thing.
“No, you don’t. Dalton said you are excused from clerical work while on this mission.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need you going behind my back, speaking to Dalton and interfering with my work.”
He held his hands up, palms out. “Settle down, Alice. It was Dalton’s idea. He asked me to convey the message to you if I saw you this afternoon, which I imagine he thought was likely.”
“He could have told me himself before I left his office not half an hour ago.” She cut a piece of the pie and forked it into her mouth.
“But you left so precipitously that he probably didn’t have time to get around to it.”
Holding her gaze, he slowly reached for her glass of wine and brought it to his mouth, deliberately turning it to drink from the same place she had. Watching his lips rest on the same spot that still held the imprint of hers, his throat ripple as he swallowed; it felt almost as if he had kissed her lips.
She could well remember—had never forgotten—the press of his lips against hers. Their warmth, their texture, the taste of him haunted her still. A shiver of awareness rippled through her body. Exactly as he intended.
Oh, bloody hell. If he was able to elicit such a response without even touching her, how could she hope to survive this mission unscathed? She feared she wouldn’t. Before this was all done, she would be scorched raw.
And the worst part is, knowing this, she could not even find in her heart any will to resist it.
CHAPTER 4
Nathanieladjustedthecuffsof his evening coat as he stepped into the grand ballroom of the Russian Embassy. He stood as the butler took his card and announced his arrival, suppressing a wince. Would he ever get used to the pomposity of announcements? He had held the title for nigh on six years now, yet he still felt uncomfortable being addressed as Lord Greystone. He was far better suited to working in the shadows. Coming and going without attracting notice.
With the announcement done, he stepped into the ballroom. He appeared calm, but as he weaved through the throng, the old excitement of the hunt thrummed through his body. Every person was a possibility; behind every corner, a piece of useful information could hide. Was that the reason his heart beat faster, or was it the knowledge that soon he would see her again?
He had met with Alice and Dalton once again to discuss the strategy, but he had been unable to come up with an excuse to meet her a third time. The details of their first foray into theirmission had been discussed and agreed upon. There was no point in rehashing the details. Alice and he were both experts at this type of subterfuge.
The air was thick with perfume, cigar smoke, and the heady mix of politics and flirtation. An orchestra played, and couples danced on the polished parquet floor, the women twirling like colorful flowers. Chandeliers dripped crystal light over the crush of diplomats, aristocrats, and ambitious social climbers.
His gaze swept the crowd, cataloguing familiar faces, noting the unknowns. Searching for someone in particular. And then—he saw her.
Alice.
Only it wasn’t Alice. Not the woman he knew. At least not at first glance.
