And how could he have mistrusted her, believed her guilty of death and destruction. Of course she would help him. She was his wife and he was free to pour the dilemma of Marcus at her feet, to ask her clear-eyed advice.
He pushed the chest and the letters aside, rose to his feet, crossed the room to her, giving himself no more time to think, only to feel, to savour this moment after their parting. Without a word, cupping his hand on the back of her neck, he drew her forwards, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. She was all softness, all beguiling desirability. Luke bent his head, all other concerns obliterated, and brought his mouth down on hers. At first he felt the tension in her, but deepening the kiss, changing the angle, he lured her on until he felt the release of her breath, sweet against his skin. His tongue explored, took possession and Harriette sighed against him. She would not repulse him this
time. Need built fast in his loins, his erection hard against her as he held her strongly so that she would know his desire. His tongue tasted the dark excitement of her mouth. He would take her to bed, forget all issues that divided them, simply sinking into her warmth, her delectable body.
‘I’ve missed you. I want you…Do you know how much you are in my thoughts?’ he murmured against those lips that parted beneath his with such sweetness. Luke raised his head, studying her face, the delicate flush, the shy curve of her mouth kissed into softness. Her lips begged to be kissed again—but not now, not yet. Not until he had made an attempt to smooth the path between them. He eased his fingers from her shoulders, pushed her gently away but not too far, keeping possession of her hands, keeping her close enough to touch.
‘Harriette—I need to tell you something…’
He saw it at once, the tension returning immediately in her, fingers clenching around his, an unwillingness to meet his gaze. The grey eyes were quickly masked by dark lashes, as if she feared his confession.
‘Harriette…’
‘I need to ask you something, too,’ Harriette replied before he could continue. And he saw trouble in her eyes, now raised defiantly to his, and suffered a bleak premonition that lodged as a fist of ice in his chest.
‘Then ask me.’ Resigned, his fingers tightened around her wrists where her pulse beat so heavily against his palms.
‘I don’t think you’ll like it,’ she admitted gruffly.
‘Well, ask it anyway.’
It was not to be. Graves knocked softly and entered.
‘My lord. There is a Mr Ellerdine here. To see her ladyship. I’ve put him in the gold parlour.’
‘Alexander…!’ He felt her reaction under his hands, saw her instant smile. ‘Why would he be in town?’
It could not escape Luke’s notice that Harriette instantly pulled free from his clasp. Ellerdine, her cousin, her friend, her partner in despicable crimes. ‘Perhaps you should go and see him,’ Luke advised coolly, evenly, turning from her to pick up the correspondence from the desk again. Refusing to admit to the huge sense of disappointment. Or even more the surge of sheer male jealousy that this man had a place in her life.
But Harriette did not move. She looked at him, a frown returning. ‘Should I go to him? Or we could tell him to wait—until we are finished here.’
‘Why would we do that? I’m sure you wish to see him.’
‘Well, yes. But you said you needed to tell me something. And I—’
‘It’s not important.’
‘Oh.’ A shadow touched her face.
‘It can wait, Harriette. Go and speak with your cousin. I’m sure you have things to tell him.’
‘Yes.’ Still she did not move.
‘We’ll continue this conversation later, Harriette.’
‘Of course.’
Then, with the faintest of sighs, she was gone, leaving Luke shattered by the strength of the emotions she stirred in him. Harriette’s connection with Alexander Ellerdine did not please him at all. It was impossible to deny the bite of jealousy at the smile that lit her eyes when his name was announced. And considering it, it forced him to a decision. He could not tell her about Marie-Claude de la Roche, could he? What an unequivocal mistake that would have been! All he could do now was to sit and wait for further communication from Jean-Jacques Noir, unless his French
prisoner of war could discover something of the girl’s present whereabouts. He’d be damned if he’d give in to the rogue Noir—but he might not have any choice in the matter if Mademoiselle de la Roche could not be discovered…And Luke swore as his thoughts came full circle, ending once again with his helplessness and probable failure.
But he would not think of that now. Nor would he think of the reason for Alexander Ellerdine’s presence in his house. Or the worry in Harriette’s face when she admitted he would not like the question she must ask. And certainly not her pleasure at the prospect of setting eyes on her cousin again.
Except what else was there to think of?
Harriette discovered Alexander leaning his shoulders against the wall to gaze out of the window over the smart railed gardens of Grosvenor Square, a glass of port in hand.
‘You look flustered.’ His first remark, not particularly friendly.
‘Yes,’ she responded, instantly wary. ‘I ran downstairs too quickly.’
Harriette closed the door carefully at her back and simply stood there, grasping at her composure. Her cheeks felt to be on fire and her fashionable curls were undoubtedly disordered from Luke’s possessive fingers. It even felt that her lips were soft and bruised from the power of his kisses. As for her heart, it leaped and bounded against her muslin bodice, so much that it compromised her breathing.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. Running her tongue over dry lips, Harriette ordered her thoughts back into line. And failed. How devastating was Luke’s
presence. Five minutes in his company, in his arms, and all her self-control was awry. His hard mouth capturing hers, his hand caressing the nape of her neck, his arms pinioning her against his body whilst his tongue plundered her mouth with such urgency, for a brief time she could imagine that nothing could come between them. How weak she was that she could forget the presence of Captain Henri and a box of gold, seduced by strong arms and searing lips that captured her soul from her body.
And then, given the most trivial of excuses, he had dismissed her, whilst she had escaped from him with ridiculous speed. But it would have been far too dangerous to remain, far too easy to forget to keep her emotions hidden from his searching green gaze. How humiliating for her if Luke should discover that her heart was his, when he had no desire to possess it. Kissing her was one thing; loving her was quite another.
Whilst his need to talk to her had not been so very urgent after all. He had almost ordered her from the room, as if he had regretted his hot kisses.
Harriette’s heart hurt.
‘Is the enforced leisure of town life robbing you of your energy? I recall the time when you could sail all day without losing breath,’ Alexander remarked.
Harriette sensed the implied criticism, but merely shook her head.
‘Too much pleasure, too much champagne. Too much the Countess of Venmore, I would say. I told you you’d regret it. But you wouldn’t listen, would you? You were always too headstrong for your own good.’
There was the sharpness again in his words. Harriette’s spine stiffened. ‘I don’t regret it. And I don’t like your implications that I made a mistake, Alexander!’
But he was close beside her, abandoning the glass of port so that he could lean to kiss her cheek with easy familiarity, gentling his voice. ‘I meant no harm. Perhaps I’ve missed you more than I realised, Harry. You look charming, different.’
Puffing out a little breath, relieved that there was no ill will between them after all, Harriette smiled in quick forgiveness. ‘Zan—it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?’
‘A lucrative little sale that you’ll approve of.’ He took her hand in a companionable hold. ‘A valuable cargo. You’ll soon be seeing some of our silks and laces clothing the backs of the
haut ton
.’
‘So business is good.’
‘It is. And I couldn’t resist visiting my pretty cousin to enquire after her good fortune, could I?’
Harriette felt a comforting warmth blooming in her breast. Unlike her edgy dealings with Luke, here was someone uncomplicated whom she had known for ever. No tensions or difficulties in their relationship, no need for her to hide her thoughts or her feelings, no need to keep up a permanent pretence. No need to question her loyalties for a man whom she loved but dare not love. Zan was a friend, knew her faults and strengths, just as she knew his. There was no deceit in Alexander, no attempt to hide his shadowy dealings outside the law, and she found that she had missed him, the ease of their conversation. To her dismay, her horror, she felt tears gather and begin to track down her cheeks.
‘Harriette—what is it?’ Alexander demanded at once. ‘What has happened to make you weep?’
Before she could wipe away the tears and assemble a suitable answer, she was surrounded by his arms, and faced
with such immediate compassion she found herself weeping on his shoulder. Thoroughly embarrassed, she resisted, but his arms were warm and comfortable so that the tightness in her chest eased and the tears continued to flow. Until Alexander drew her to a little gilt-legged sofa and settled her there. Finding a handkerchief in his pocket, he sat beside her and dried her tears with competent strokes.
‘Nothing can be so bad as to reduce my brave cousin to tears. Tell me, Harriette.’
‘Nothing.’ She took the linen from Alexander and sniffed, mortified, contrite. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.’
His voice was as soothing as a feather eiderdown on a winter’s night, wrapping her round in reassurance. ‘Why should you not lean on my shoulder? Who else would you turn to? Have we not always stood for one another, even as children?’
‘I know.’ Her smile was watery.
She felt Alexander’s fingers tighten on hers. ‘What has he done to you?’
‘Luke? Why, nothing. He doesn’t beat me, you know.’ She tried for a gleam of humour. ‘Luke treats me with all consideration and gives me all I could possibly need. I’ve received nothing but kindness here. I have no complaints.’
‘No one understands you as I do. You should never have married him, Harriette. As I said, you always were foolishly headstrong.’
But I love him. I’m just no longer sure that love is enough!
Harriette shook her head and could not answer.
‘Tell me,’ Alexander repeated.
How tempting it was, because she was vulnerable, because she could speak of her suspicions to no one in the
Hallaston household, and because he was her cousin. How tempting to tell Zan of the Frenchman in the guest room. The box of guineas. The letter and what she knew of a villain called Jean-Jacques Noir. Luke’s visit to the parole town.
She could not. How could she put into words, even to her cousin, that Luke was in communication with the enemy, perhaps in the pay of France, passing information or gold coin—or both—to Napoleon? Helping French prisoners of war to break their terms of parole so that they might escape to fight again.
Her words dried on her lips at the enormity of it all.
Besides, could she believe that Luke had the makings of a traitor? He had rescued her from the consequences of scandal and cruel gossip. Surely then his whole life could not be guided by
dishonour
. Yet why not? Had he not bargained for the use of the
Ghost
? How well that would fit with a life of spying and the passing of secrets to England’s enemies.
‘There’s nothing to tell.’ And Harriette sighed.
‘When I offered you a means of escape from this, you should have taken it. You should have wed me, Harriette,’ he chided gently.
‘Perhaps.’ She found that she could no longer meet his eyes. ‘You are very kind.’
‘Not kind. I care about you. I always have.’
‘I know.’
But I don’t love you—and you don’t love me.
Harriette swallowed against the tears that threatened again, covering her face with her hands.
With one hand he lifted her chin so that she must look up. ‘We could have lived together at the Pride. Made a life there.’
She tried a smile. ‘And done what? Seen it fall down around our ears? Neither of us has the money to put it to rights.’
‘No, we don’t. Not even with the profits from smuggling.’ He hesitated. ‘Not yet, but one day perhaps…’
Harriette smiled damply. ‘It’s only dreams, Zan. It would take a fortune.’
‘Poor Harriette. So torn by doubts.’ His hand was warm on her cheek, his voice soft in her ear. ‘Leave it all. Come back to Lydyard’s Pride with me. I can’t promise you wealth and luxury but you’ll know all my sins. Venmore will divorce you and you can wed me. As you should have done in the first place.’ His thumb stroked her lips. ‘Just do it, Harry.’
His seductive tones, his use of her childhood name, destroyed her composure anew and Harriette wept again, until Alexander drew her in his arms. ‘Don’t weep,’ he murmured, his head against the top of her head. ‘He’s not worth it.’ She felt him touch his lips to her hair.
The door to the parlour opened softly.
Venmore stood on the threshold.
Harriette sprang to her feet, cheeks flushed in a wash of guilt, furious she should feel so compromised at receiving comfort from her cousin. She wiped her eyes ineffectually on a scrap of lace and linen. The tensions in the room screamed within her. She lifted her head and faced her husband.
‘I see I have interrupted,’ he remarked, cold as a January night. ‘How remiss of me. I should have realised that there were issues between cousins that were not my affair.’
How to answer that? Harriette quailed before the glacial chill in Luke’s face, the proud arrogance of his stance, even as she resented his entirely wrong conclusions. ‘No…indeed, my lord, there are none.’
‘We are cousins, Venmore. There is a lifetime of connection between us. Harriette—I must go.’ Alexander
bowed to Harriette, deliberately, as provocative as his words, lifting her hand to his lips, and then to the Earl. ‘Forgive me for trespassing on your time, my lord.’ And he walked to the door before looking back over his shoulder. ‘You know my advice, Harriette. It’s your choice if you act on it.’