Beau bit the inside of his cheek and let his hand holding the letter fall to his side once again. He’d been bested by another spy. A female spy. A female spy to whom he was ridiculously attracted. He refused to ask her the question that was perched on the tip of his tongue: had she been pretending when she’d slept with him? Had she merely done it to get close to him, to learn more about who he was? Because in that, he hadn’t been playacting. No. He hadn’t. Not for one moment.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Do you mind telling me how you figured it out?” He had to ensure that no one else knew.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, obviously guessing his concern. “No one else knows, that I’m aware of. After you told me your name is Beau, I overheard Lady Copperpot and Wilhelmina talking about a ‘Lord Bellingham.’ And they mentioned that Lord Clayton had referred to him—you—as ‘Bell.’ After that, I put it all together when Lady Wilhelmina told me Lord Bellingham’s Christian name was Beaumont.”
“Damn it.” Beau shook his head. “I knew I never should have told you my name.”
“Well, now that it’s all out in the open, I might as well tell you my full name. As I said, my Christian name is Marianne. But like my brother—as you’ve probably already guessed—my surname is Ellsworth, not Notley. Notley was my mother’s maiden name.”
Beau tossed the letter onto the desk in front of him and faced the window. “I suppose we both should have told each other more before we…slept together.”
“I don’t regret it,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Neither do I.”
“I don’t regret it, but I think it’s best if we don’t repeat it,” Marianne continued. “Especially now that we know we both work for General Grimaldi. And now that I realize you’re a marquess,” she added, averting her eyes.
“I agree,” Beau replied, not certain he agreed at all. But he could understand why she felt that way, and he didn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.
He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t come to him the last two nights, but he already suspected he knew why. She’d learned his identity and hadn’t been ready to discuss it with him. “We wouldn’t want it to…complicate things,” he finished.
“Yes, exactly—'complicate things,’” she echoed. “I’m glad we agree on it. Especially since it appears your orders are also to return to Lord Copperpot’s house after this party ends.”
“Appears so,” he replied stoically. “The only other clue left is whatever Cunningham, Hightower, and Copperpot were speaking about when I overheard them in the study that day. I assume Grimaldi wants us to learn more about that.”
“So, youwerelistening at the keyhole that day?” Marianne asked with wry smile.
“Guilty.”
“What do you thinkIwas doing, walking by? I was trying to hear, too.” She winked at him.
Beau shook his head, but he also had to laugh. He’d been thoroughly duped by Grimaldi and Marianne. There was no two ways about it. He’d been a damn, arrogant fool.
Marianne’s countenance quickly turned serious again. “If you’re going to return to Lord Copperpot’s estate, you’ll have to convince Mr. Broughton to stay away longer,” she pointed out.
Beau shrugged. “I’m not worried about that. I have my ways.”
“Which are?” Marianne put her hands on her hips and rocked back and forth on her heels.
Beau glanced at her. “They usually involve money.”
“I see,” Marianne replied. “It must be quite convenient to be able to use money to solve your problems.”
“I assure you, it is.” Beau scrubbed his hand through his hair again, still trying to reconcile today’s turn of events. “Very well. For the foreseeable future, it seems we must work together to find the Bidassoa traitor.”
“Seems that way,” Marianne replied. “And you agree that we won’t continue our, ahem, physical relationship?” She swallowed hard.
Beau gave her a sidewise stare. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Then of course I agree.”
She held out her hand to him. “Partners?”
“Partners,” he agreed, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. God help him. For the first time in his life, he had a partner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
