“Yes,” he nodded, “the one you gave me the night before I left for France. I kept it with me all those weeks. Even after I was angry with you, I couldn’t make myself discard it. It smells like you…lilacs.”
Julianna leaned over and kissed him. “Do you know, I still have the handkerchief I took from your study, also?”
“No.” He smiled at her. “Where is it?”
“Hidden in a reticule in my wardrobe.” She laughed and kissed him again. “It smells like you, too.”
They both laughed and then Julianna said, “Oh, wait till you hear that Mary knew who you were the whole time. Can you believe it?”
Rhys threw back his head and laughed. “Ha. Are you serious? If so, she’s a fine actress, your sister.”
“That’s what I told her. I never had an inkling that she knew.” Julianna shook her head.
Rhys placed the handkerchief back on the side table. “She didn’t wonder why I was pretending to be a groomsman?”
Julianna shrugged. “That’s Mary for you.”
Rhys gathered Julianna in his arms again. “I wasn’t jesting about the buttercups. I fully intend to purchase a hothouse full of them for her. And I may offer Clayton an ungodly sum of money to buy Whisper for her, too.”
Tears sprang to Julianna’s eyes. “You’d do that for her?”
He rubbed her shoulder. “Of course I would.”
A sly smile covered Julianna’s face. “Well, in that case, you may want to leave Whisper where she is, and we’ll simply take Mary back to Clayton Manor for more lessons.”
At Rhys’s confused look, Julianna continued, “Seems Lady Mary fancies a certain groomsman named Henry.”
Rhys’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you jesting?”
“Not at all. She confessed to me after we returned. Apparently, he gave her another riding lesson after I came back to London.”
Rhys shook his head. “Well, I can hardly blame Henry. But I can’t see your father being pleased with the match.”
“You might be surprised. I’ve come to learn recently that while Mary may seem quiet, she has a spine a blacksmith couldn’t bend with fire.”
“I don’t doubt it. She is your sister, after all.”
* * *
Not an hour later,a loud banging on the front door woke Rhys out of a deep, contented sleep.Blast. No doubt Julianna’s father was at the door. Well, Rhys might as well be called on the carpet. It was bound to happen sooner than later.
Careful not to wake Julianna, Rhys quickly slipped out of the bed and pulled on a dressing gown. Then, he hobbled his way down the stairs where a sleepy-sounding Lawson—also garbed in a dressing gown—had already opened the front door.
“I don’t care what time it is, let me in,” came Bell’s urgent voice from outside.
“My master is asleep, my lord,” Lawson replied. “I will tell him you were here.”
“It’s all right, Lawson,” Rhys called, somewhat relieved that it was merely the Marquess of Bellingham and not the Duke of Montlake, here to challenge him to pistols at dawn. “Let him in.”
Lawson dutifully stepped back and opened the door wider, bowing to the marquess.
Bell marched inside, with a diminutive, pretty, young red-headed woman at his side. Rhys narrowed his eyes on her. She looked vaguely familiar. Was she one of the lady’s maids from Clayton’s house party? He’d seen her a time or two during meals in the manor house.
Rhys braced a hand on the bottom of the balustrade and blinked. “Care to tell me why you’re here at this hour, Bell?”
Bell’s face looked grim. “We’ve found the Bidassoa traitor. We need to leave for France immediately, and we need your help.”
