“What about your father?” he asked.
“He died when I was a child.” Why was she telling this complete stranger so many details about her life? The truth was, she’d barely known her father. Her uncle and her cousin Harry took care of her mother, her grandmother, and herself.
“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. I lost my father too young as well.” Genuine regret sounded in his deep voice.
“I’m sorry too,” she murmured.
“Who did you say your mother is?” His handsome features moved in and out of the shadows as he cocked his head to consider her.
She fought her smile and lifted her chin. “You didn’t tell me your name yet, why should I reveal mine?” This felt suspiciously like what flirting must feel like.
His smile returned, a white flash in the darkness. “Very good, sweetheart, eye on the prize.”
“You’re obviously a soldier.” She wanted to kick herself for the foolishly obvious words as soon as they escaped her mouth.
“What gave me away?” He grinned at her and his teeth were perfectly even behind those arresting lips. He took a step toward her.
“Your hair arrangement, obviously.” She grinned back and took a step forward as well. Did this soldier like to be teased? He was certainly much more interesting to speak with than the Marquess of Tinsley, a man who never encountered a jest he didn’t misunderstand.
“Ah, it has a tendency to do that.” The soldier removed his hat and ran his fingers through the slightly curly dark locks. His hair looked like black silk. Nicolelonged to run her fingers through it too. She squeezed the spoon in her hand instead.
“I must get back,” she finally announced, hoping the regret in her voice wasn’t too obvious. “But before I go, I’ll give you one last chance to tell me your name.”
His grin was utterly captivating. “Why would a nice young lady like you want to know a mere soldier’s name?”
“So I can follow your career?” The words flew from her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. “Besides, my uncle says there are many years of fighting ahead of us. How do I know you won’t be a captain one day?”
His posture straightened and a spark of determination shone in his dark eyes. “I’m going to be a general. You can count on it.” And then, “What’s your father’s name?”
She plunked her free hand on her hip. “That wasn’t even a good attempt.”
“You cannot blame me for it, can you, sweetheart?” His teeth flashed again in the darkness.
Every time he called her “sweetheart,” her palms got sweaty and her heart raced a little. The endearment felt… illicit.
“I’ll just go back in and ask Joseph, the footman, to call the watch to get this”—she glanced down at the still-unconscious thief—“ne’er-do-well out of here.”
“No need. I’ll take care of it,” the handsome stranger replied.
Very well. There wouldn’t be a bounty for a crime like this. Bow Street wouldn’t be interested. She reluctantly returned to the house, stealing a glance at thesoldier twice as she went. He tipped his hat to her, and her stomach did a little flip.
Oh, how she hoped she would see the handsome stranger again.
***
Loud laughter brought Nicole’s attention back to theDuc de Frontenac’s dinner party. With Mark there, sucking up all the oxygen, she was suddenly aware of how stuffy and close it was in the crowded room. Her kid slippers pinched her feet, making her want to step out of them and flee, shoeless, onto the balcony for fresh air.
It was no surprise that Mark had come here tonight. The man was pure arrogance. No doubt he’d waltzed right into the party this evening and demanded entrée. She should have guessed he would. He wasn’t one to sit around in a rented room crossing his fingers and contemplating things. He was a man of action. They’d had that in common when they met. No doubt he’d bribed a servant to tell him where she would be tonight. The man was a master spy; deducing her whereabouts was hardly a challenge. It had been her mistake to leave him unattended in her château. She’d have to speak to the servants.
The crowd in front of her thinned, allowing her a momentary uninterrupted view of Mark, head to toe. She hadn’t been mistaken earlier at her house. He looked good. No wonder the French ladies hovered around him. She’d been shocked to see him today. Shocked and a bit elated.Notbecause she missed him. Never that.Onlybecause she’d always expected that the next missive she received about her husband would be the news of his untimely demise.
He was smart, he was calculating, and he was an excellent spy. He was also reckless. He’d do anything to get his man, win his case, excel at anything. His own life was nothing in pursuit of his goal: to be the best damned spymaster London had ever known. She’d heard enough rumors about him over the years. He’d accomplished that goal and then some.
He’d managed to survive the wars. He’d managed to get himself promoted to the rank of general. And now he needed her? For another promotion. She sagged against the wall. Of course he did. His work was all he cared about. At the expense of all other things… including their marriage.
She hadn’t told him what her one condition was. It may have been petty of her, but she wanted to make him wait, to make him squirm and wonder. For a man so used to being in control, waiting was torture. But, she also hadn’t been ready to vocalize what it was she wanted. The moment he’d asked her for a favor, she’d known. She’d always known what she wanted from him. He wasn’t going to like it. He might well say no, even if it cost him his promotion, and that was why she needed more time to come up with the perfect way to phrase it. She’d learned long ago that with Mark, presentation made a difference. He was too smart to be manipulated. She had to be careful, very careful.
She nodded politely at something one of the people surrounding her said and then asked thecomtein a quiet whisper if he might fetch her a glass of champagne. Henri trotted off to do her bidding and her attention immediately reverted across the room to where Mark stood. He was clearly in the middle of a story becausehe was speaking with his hands while the ladies surrounding him all stared at him with wide eyes and rapt interest. Nicole had intended to come to this soiree tonight, enjoy the company of her friends, and hope that the right words to explain to Mark what she wanted would present themselves in the morning. A good night’s sleep often helped with such dilemmas.
