She gave a cursory glance around the room. “Like how Sir Winstead has a handkerchief sticking out of his pocket with lip paint on it that is decidedly not the same color as his wife’s. Lady Hidemore is desperately trying not to stare at Lord Pengree, who is with his new wife after tossing over Lady Hidemore last Season, and Lord Markham is fighting off a case of hives, which happens each time he loses too much whilst gambling, and he has just come from the study where gambling is no doubt in full swing.”
The corporal glanced around. Even though he obviously didn’t know the people she was speaking of, he narrowed his eyes and regarded her down the length of his nose with a newfound respect. “Did anyone ever tell you, you would make a fine spy?”
“Actually, I—”
Her words were lost as Grandmama came sweeping up to them. “Corporal Grimaldi,” the older woman said. “It’s good to see you. There’s someone I think you should meet. Lord Warren, the head of the Home Office, is here and he’s asked about you.”
Corporal Grimaldi’s eyes widened with obvious interest. “I’ve been trying to catch the ear of Lord Warren for weeks,” he whispered, looking at Nicole with obvious regret. She nodded and said, “Go on then,” not willing either to keep him from meeting Lord Warren or to defy her grandmother. Grandmama was obviously trying to free Nicole’s time in favor of the Marquess of Tinsley, who was even now headed her way with a half-full glass of no doubt lukewarm punch.
“Until we meet again, Corporal,” Nicole said with a bright smile, before darting through the crowd to escape the marquess.
***
Another knock scattered Nicole’s thoughts and her memories faded, but this time the knock was from a door in the sidewall of her gorgeous new bedchamber. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Mark strolled in. He’d changed from his traveling clothes into buckskin breeches and a blue waistcoat. The skintight breeches left little to the imagination. Nicole glanced away.
The maids, who had been unpacking Nicole’s trunk, both giggled and rushed off through the main door to the corridor.
“How are you settling in?” Mark strolled to the vase of flowers and plucked off a dead leaf.
“It’s a lovely room,” Nicole murmured.
“I’d hoped you’d like it.”
“Louise and Susanna said you’d told them I’d return with you.”
He turned to face her. His grin was wicked. “Confidence never hurt anyone.”
“Least of all you.” She couldn’t help smiling a little. She gestured to the painting on the wall. “Is that Lawrence?”
“Of course not. I’m a spymaster, not the prince.”
Nicole walked up to the painting and studied it. “It looks quite a bit like a Lawrence.” The one she’d told him years ago was her favorite, actually.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, averting his gaze when she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t know much about art. I found that at a market and decided it would match the room.”
She decided to let it go for the moment. She gestured to the door he’d come through. “Is that your room?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed. “And you want me to stay… here? Next door?” She gestured to her room.
“It is customary for a husband and wife to have adjoining rooms, or have you forgotten that during your time in France?”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” she managed to force past her suddenly dry lips.
“It’s especially convenient for a husband and wife who intend to create a child,” he added with a sly grin.
All she could do was nod.
“Do you like the flowers?” He turned to regard the vase again.
“White roses are my favorite,” she said softly, watching him caress a petal with a single fingertip. She couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d purchased white roses for her. She swallowed hard.
“Are they?” He sounded as nonchalant as she’d ever heard.
She narrowed her eyes on him. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that all of these things, her favorite things, were gathered here in this room. What in heaven’s name did it mean that he’d gone to all this trouble to prepare them for her? She wasn’t about to ask him. He’d simply deny they’d been chosen with purpose.
