Page 12 of After the Spy Seduces

Unfortunately, with wars on the continent and troubles in the far-flung corners of the empire, visits to Idlewild were few and far between until they returned for good three years ago. When they came back to the farm, Higgins was there to welcome them home—including baby Meredith, who had been born en route from India and shown to all their friends and servants by Mama with beaming pride.

Higgins had been especially kind to Garrett these past few years, as if he realized the weight her brother carried on his shoulders as General Thaddeus “Never Surrender” Morgan’s only son.

Oh, how she wished she could confide in Higgins about Garret! But she couldn’t. Especially now that Carlisle had set doubts swirling inside her about her brother’s disappearance and suspicions about who might have given information to the French. Of course it wasn’t Higgins. She knew that in her heart. But Higgins talked to the other servants and staff, and she simply couldn’t risk putting Garrett’s life in further danger, certainly not after how badly tonight’s exchange had gone. And not if Carlisle’s intuition was correct, that Garrett’s disappearance had nothing to do with the French. If so, then her brother might very well still be alive and waiting to be rescued.

“You need to be careful, lassie,” he warned. “Never know who you might run into out here in the darkness an’ fog.”

She sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? “I’m heading inside right now.”

“Need me to escort you to the door?”

Her chest warmed at his thoughtfulness. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sleep tight, then.”

“Thank you, Higgins.” Impulsively, she hugged the old steward. “For everything.”

Then she was gone, hurrying away through the fog and darkness toward the house. By the time she’d reached the unlocked kitchen door, so much roiling guilt and fear and worry tangled in a lump in the pit of her stomach that she feared she might cast up her accounts right there, all over the stone floor.

She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the wall to take several deep, slow breaths to calm herself, but she knew that the only way to make herself truly feel better was to tell the general about Garrett and her failed attempt to rescue him. The exact thing Carlisle had warned her not to do.

But what did Christopher Carlisle know about her family, for heaven’s sake? Or how much she owed her brother for all he’d done for her since they left India? Did Carlisle care about anyone or anything except himself? He was nothing more than a scoundrel, content to shiftlessly waste away his allowance on cards, women, and drink, while seeking no sort of gainful living. Even his concern over her brother was only so he could be paid whatever gambling debts Garrett owed him.Hadto be. Lately, since Mama died, Garrett had become little more than a scapegrace himself, spending far too many nights in gambling hells and seedy locales of all kinds.

That would all change, though, as soon as Garrett took the position at the Inns of Court that he’d been waiting for. It broke the general’s heart to know that his son hadn’t been able to thrive in the army, that he’d not been able to capitalize on any of the other opportunities that had been available to him. But Garrett liked the law, argued well, and would do a grand job of it in London, she knew. Perhaps someday he might even take the silks and become a King’s Counsel. Then, the general would have to admit that he was proud of Garrett. He wouldhaveto.

But none of that would come to pass if he didn’t return safely.

With a burst of steely resolve, she shoved herself away from the wall and slipped quickly through the dark house. She hurried up the stairs toward the first floor study where her father liked to spend his evenings, surrounded by his papers and books, warmed as much by a glass of fine cognac as by the fire.

And that was where she found him, slumped down in his favorite leather chair, a book lying open across his lap, and his chin resting on his chest.

She paused in the doorway. Even in his sleep, the general possessed the dignity and stateliness of a man of his rank and grand accomplishments. A soldier who had dedicated his life to the army, he’d been thwarted from being named field marshal only because his family wasn’t connected to the aristocracy, and by the time Prinny had handed out the rank to several worthless royals and aristocrats, there had been none left for the true heroes like her father. A true hero he was, too, saving countless men’s lives at Toulouse and Vittoria and playing a pivotal role in the Waterloo campaign. When the wars with Boney and America were finally over, he’d gone on to save lives in India.

“They don’t make men like you anymore, do they, general?” she whispered. Men so dedicated to Crown and country that they were willing to sacrifice everything for a greater cause and for no gain of their own. Men who were willing to be sent wherever His Majesty needed them. Men who knew that war was never glorious, and that gallantry in the midst of battle was a damn lie.

Her throat tightened with emotion. A man willing to protect his family at all costs, even at the price of his own career.

That was why she loved him, and why it tore at her heart to know that he and Garrett were always at odds.

Dread pierced her, so hard that she winced. How could she tell him that his only son was in danger and that she’d failed to bring him home? That she’d unwittingly attempted to commit treason tonight herself in a futile attempt to save him?

Papa had sacrificed so much for her. How would he ever be able to forgive her for that?

The general stirred in his sleep, waking himself with a loud snore. He glanced around, as if sensing that he wasn’t alone. He saw her lingering in the doorway, blinked hard for a moment to clear the fog of sleep, and smiled.

“Diana.” His expression faded into confusion. “Why are you dressed like that?” He squinted at the mantel clock. “At this hour?”

“I was checking on the new foal in the stables.” The same lie she’d given Higgins, followed by the same pang of guilt. “I didn’t want to dirty my dress, so I put on Garrett’s old clothes.”

“Just like you to fuss over those horses.” He closed the book and set it onto the round side table at his elbow. “I wish I could convince you to be as interested in soirees and outings.”

With a wry smile, she approached him. “Ah, but horses are so much better at intelligent conversation than all those society dandies, far better at dancing, and never spill punch on my dress.”

He grimaced. “They never ask to court you, you mean.”

“That, too. Find me a husband whom I can put out to pasture when I’m tired of him, and then I might consider it.” At her father’s exaggerated look of exasperation, she squatted down beside the chair and rocked back onto the heels of her boots, more than happy to change the direction of this conversation. “Why are you still up? You should have gone to bed hours ago.”

“I spent the evening going over the last of the preparations for the party next week.” He gestured an irritated hand at a stack of papers on his desk and exhaled a long sigh. “Your mother always did the planning for these things. All I had to do was stand at the front door and greet the guests.”