“Of course, milady.” With a nod to Sin and a bow to Winnifred, Gavin followed the dowager marchioness out of the room, leaving Sin and Winnifred alone.
Sin sank back into his seat and picked up his glass. He took a sip, examining his wife over the rim. “You weren’t expecting to face a rebellion upon your marriage, I expect.”
“No.” She shook her head ruefully. “I am sorry to say that my education in political events has been poor. My father rarely even looked at the papers. I didn’t realize there was still such unrest.”
“An unrest that is being encouraged, I fear.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Someone is inciting this. I can feel it.”
Winnifred’s mouth opened in a delightful littleO. A knot formed in his gut. That look of surprise was the one she wore when she’d had her first orgasm. It was seductive as hell. He wanted those lips in indecent ways.
“Well, what can you do about it?” she asked.
He crossed one leg over the other. Yes, that was the question. He’d sent out inquiries to every contact he had in Scotland, but had heard nothing yet. And so he sat. And waited.
He hated waiting.
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw. “Tell me what you think.”
***
Tell me what you think. Five dangerous words.
Her husband’s gaze landed on her, the weight of it making it hard for her to breathe. He made the question sound so simple. And so inviting. He made her want to believe she could trust him.
She pressed her hands into her thighs, digging her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. Her heart pounded. Some small part of her knew it shouldn’t be this frightening to speak openly. That the average person didn’t become queasy at the thought of a voicing an opinion.
But Sinclair wasn’t just another person. He was her husband, with the full legal ramifications that position entailed. He held power over her of which she had to be wary. The power to send her away.
She swallowed, trying to bring moisture back to her mouth. But he had asked. Demanded, really. Could the consequences really be so bad if she was following her husband’s directive?
“I think,” she said slowly, watching his expression, “that you cannot do anything about such intrigue/if some element is subverting the masses. If you concentrate on alleviating the food shortages, the resentment and anger will dissipate, at least for your people here.”
He stood. Pacing to the window, he clasped his hands behind his back and stared outside. “What you say is sensible, and with what I’ve ordered from London, my tenants will have a steady supply of food in their belly soon enough. But I cannot feed all of Scotland.”
No, nor the rest of the world. This dark summer was a global epidemic, with reports of crop failures coming in from as far away as the Americas.
Sinclair’s shoulders were as tight as a drum, and she realized just how heavily his responsibilities weighed upon him.
Hesitantly, she stood and inched over to him. She rested her palm on his back, the action seeming somehow more intimate than their marital bed. “There is nothing to be done about people’s anger,” she said quietly. “Nothing that has happened is your responsibility.”
He spun and caught her wrist, setting her heart to pounding. He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Thank you,” he said, is voice a low rumble that shivered down her spine. “But there are steps I can take. And if these riots are being stirred up as a prelude for rebellion, indeed it is my duty to take action.”
He stroked his thumb along the inner curve of her thumb.
She stared at where their hands met. “Duty?”
He drew his eyebrows together. “There is something I need to tell you, but it must be kept in the strictest confidence. Aside from a few trusted servants who work with me on occasion, no one else at Kenmore knows.”
The tingles along her thumb were starting to spread to other parts of her body. Her breath quickened. “Of course. I would never betray you.”
He examined her face before nodding. “I am not only a member of the House of Lords, but I also aid the British government in another capacity. When threats against the Crown arise, I’m called upon to investigate and eliminate the risk. In short, I’m a spy.”
Winnifred blinked. And blinked again. Of all the things she’d thought he might say, that hadn’t been in her top one hundred imaginings.
“You understand why this can never be spoken of?”
She nodded. “Of course. I am at such a loss for words, I don’t think I can speak of it.”
Her husband was a spy.
