“Actually, my father hadn’t inherited the title yet. He started out as a clerk for your uncle at the Ten... his club.” He lifted the bottle of wine and brought it to his mouth.
The way he changed course in mid-sentence told her all she needed to know about how the men met. Once again, the Tenet Club had come up in conversation. There had to be more about that club than met the eye. Once she returned home, she would quiz her father for more details.
Grimness rested around his mouth. “He gave my father a position when many turned their back. It was Coburn who turned his fortunes around.”
“My uncle is very kind.” It was because of him that Elizabeth’s ventures for Mr. Zander succeeded. If the mysterious third smuggler had indeed guessed her true identity, she would be forced to take her uncle into her confidence. Since a woman couldn’t sign a contract, she had to look for an alternative solution. She and two solicitors well versed in corporate law had drawn up the trust for the Zander Trading Company. She had needed someone she could trust, and that man was Coburn. He was a man of great integrity and she admired him; even more since her trip to London.
“Yes, I am indebted to him in many ways.” He tapped his thumb against the bottle and exhaled a long breath. “I went to Spain and that is where I met Maria.”
By the iciness that entered his voice, Elizabeth had a sense where the story was going. She continued to wait for him to disclose all on his own schedule, although she was dying of curiosity about Maria. “I have never been to Spain, although I hear Barcelona is a beautiful city.”
“It is; at least above ground.” A self-deprecating smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “She was married to a count who was twice her age. I had been sent to Spain to fight the French and had fallen for her lies. She claimed he was abusive. I had heard rumors about him from other people confirming his cruelty. He was friends with Napoleon and was a ranking member of the Spanish parliament. I stupidly thought that if I could catch him in the act of spying, I could have him jailed and free her from an unwanted marriage.”
Elizabeth shook her head in disgust at the horrible woman who used Langdon in such an ill manner. “If you ended up in a dungeon, my guess is you failed in your endeavor.”
“You assumed correctly. We became lovers. I asked her to go away with me. I even had a plan. She refused and told me she never wished to see me again.” He released a bitter laugh. Hurt rested in the depths of his eyes. After all these years, the scars of his past still haunted him.
“How truly horrible of her.” She curled her fingers into her palm and winced at the bite of her nails in the tender flesh. His pain was her pain and she wished she had the power to take it away.
Jaw tight, he rubbed at his temple. “Yes, she was unduly harsh. I acted on a whim and confronted her at her home, explaining what I knew about her husband. A servant overheard our exchange and told her husband. He had me arrested.”
She shifted her position, furious on his behalf. “What an awful woman. You were lucky to escape from such a wicked person.”
“It was not a pleasant situation. If it weren’t for Stanton and Henderson, I would still rot in the dungeon.” He pressed his lips together, heaviness weighing him down.
Her opinion of Stanton was less than stellar. Elizabeth had never forgiven his rudeness on their first meeting, nor had she warmed up to the man during their brief greetings at several outings. Henderson, however, intrigued her more than he should. “Mr. Henderson is a very dangerous-looking man. I shudder to think what it would be like to have him as your enemy.”
He rallied at her comment, lines forming between his strong brows. “He is no innocent, but yes, he is a good man to have by your side during a fight.”
“You’re fortunate to have him on your side. Is he in the army as well?” She lifted the bread off the ham, inspecting the spicy mustard that was one of Cook’s specialties. The sandwich reminded her of home. If the storm continued, they might be trapped inside for another day or more.
“He is a mercenary who does the occasional job for me.” He fiddled with his own food but didn’t eat it. The lightheartedness he’d exhibited before his story had faded. He tilted his head and held her gaze.
“He looks very much like what I imagined a government agent to be,” she teased, wishing to see him smile again.
“Unlike me?” By the frown lines between his eyes, he was displeased over the turn of the conversation. “I seem to recall you referring to me as a dandy.”
A blush stole up her cheeks at the reminder. She hadn’t been very pleasant on their first day, but in her defense, he had lied to her. “I have since changed my mind about you. Yes, you’re well-turned out and although you’re not laden with an arsenal of weapons, you’re no less competent.”
“Competent. What every man wishes to hear from a comely woman.” The amusement returned, eliminating his earlier sourness. It also revealed a hidden vulnerability. She would be blind not to see that he liked her. There was not an ounce of doubt in her mind that he wanted her. From the way her body tingled at his mere touch, she harbored the same desires.
Pushing the food aside, she leaned in and rested her hand on his shoulder. She had a craving, and it wasn’t for a ham sandwich. “I can name one arena in which you’re very competent.”
“Just one arena?” he asked, his lips finding her seeking mouth.
She closed her eyes, drinking in the need which sparked his kiss. “You have a way of growing on one. Rather like a wart.”
Light laughter answered her cheeky response. Jaw angled, he continued to seduce her with sultry kisses. “Are you wearing your breeches under this skirt?” he asked, his lips playing across hers with each word.
“No, I am wearing nothing.” She had put on the bare minimum of clothing while anticipating this very outcome. In the time they had left, she intended to use it wisely. She slipped her arms around his neck, aching to hold him close to her heart; to never let him go.
If she had one wish, it would be just that.
The fire continued to burn, the sweet scent of wood mixed with ash. She was falling in love with him and the knowledge was bittersweet. The heat of his kisses grew in intensity, his tongue gliding along her own.
Every kiss he bestowed on her was magic. She had no right to fall in love with him, nor was it wise to admit it. She did not know how much longer he would be in her life. Because of her crime, she had developed a contingency plan to flee the country if she was ever found out.
Any roots she had in England would be left to wither and he had his boots firmly planted in the soil.
