“Over the past year, tens of thousands have died in Spain in civil war. Make no mistake, if the heir is assassinated, there will be war. It is in England and all of Europe’s best interest that it be avoided at all costs.”
“There must be a reason you’re telling me this,” Mariana cut in. She sensed a deeper truth rippling beneath Nick’s words. “A spy doesn’t reveal himself unless he receives something valuable in exchange. What is it that I have of value to you?”
He shifted in his chair and regarded her as if from a great distance. She could almost see the gears in his head racing to devise the best strategy for handling her. “You caught the attention of the Comte de Villefranche tonight.”
“You were in the Foyer?” she asked.
“I have people.”
“You havepeople?”
His eyes held hers. “Yes.” He was absolutely daring her to look away first. “Villefranche is connected to the assassination plot.”
“The Comte de Villefranche?” she returned, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You cannot possibly believe that . . .boy. . . is capable of assassination and revolution.”
“I’ve seenboysdo worse.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“The truth—”
“The truth?” she interrupted. “I wasn’t aware you and the truth were acquainted.”
“The truth is,” he continued patiently—too patiently, “Villefranche fits the description of the sort of idealistic young man who powerful men manipulate into doing their dirty work. He wouldn’t be the first.”
Fraught silence stilled the air. “Before receiving the note that you were missing and presumed dead,” she said, “your life appeared to be centered around the pursuit of the pleasures of our social set. I thought you played at politics and diplomacy here and there, but nothing serious. Nothing important.”
Nick leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, his entire demeanor taking on a distinct register of urgency as he breached the space between them. Anticipation sparked the air alive, and the room shrank away. It was just him and her.
The breath caught in her chest between an inhale and an exhale, holding the scent of him deep inside. She imagined sandalwood roots extending from her lungs into her veins to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
“Who do you think operates the government of England?” he asked, his voice hushed velvet. “Those with money, education, and land. The Lords, Mariana.” The gray of his irises glowed with intensity. “Is it such a stretch that I could be one of them?”
Another unruly blush flared to the surface, its warm bloom heating her up by a few degrees. This one for her stupidity. Of course, Nick was the sort of man who kept governments operating. He possessed the intellect and the capability.
These were qualities she’d liked about him from the beginning. These were memories that had been banished to the past. Until tonight.
“Why are youhere, Nick? In this hotel suite?” she whispered. He was close, so close. “Once Hortense returns, she will help me pack, and I shall be gone by daybreak. You will be free to resume the strange and mystifying life you lead here.”
His gaze slid sideways, and he sat back in his seat. She almost ached for the loss of his nearness. Almost. She couldn’t possibly be that foolish.
On a sigh, she tilted her head, first to one side to remove one diamond drop earring, then to the other side to remove the other. Next, she tugged open the clasp of her gold filigree bracelet. Her gaze lifted to find him following her every move.
Instantly, a specific sort of intimacy pervaded the air between them. It was the slow, familiar intimacy of a husband observing his wife make herself comfortable.
“What are you doing?”
If she didn’t know better, she might think she’d unnerved him. “Readying myself for bed. It’s what one does in the normal scheme of things. Or isnormalcompletely lost to you?”
“Normal,” he replied, “is a word deeply rooted in the relative.Normalis an entirely individual experience.”
She resisted an incredulous shake of her head. “Philosophical musings aside, when did Hortense say she would return?” she asked, her tone all brisk business. She needed the distance such a tone provided.
“I asked her to take the night off.”
Mariana opened her mouth and snapped it shut. Those words couldn’t possibly mean what they sounded like, what her body, traitorous and hot, might hope they meant. “I have no lady’s maid tonight?” she got out.
He nodded.
