Page 24 of After the Spy Seduces

He leaned closer to speak into her ear over the noise of the party. “Not here.”

Her fingers dug into his forearm in reply.

He slid a sideways glance at her. She walked slowly beside him, the smile of a good hostess plastered into place and her head held imperially high, looking for all the world as if she were simply entertaining one of her father’s guests. But beneath her composed surface simmered apprehension so intense that it seeped into him through her fingertips.

He should have been pleased that she’d so easily agreed to go off with him for a private conversation. Instead, unease stirred the little hairs at his nape that she could appear so calm on the outside that no one in the crush of partygoers suspected anything more between them than a mild attempt at flirtation on his part and the politeness of a dutiful hostess on hers. How had she learned to do that?

He was used to deception in his life. Lived it every moment of every day, in fact. But when it involved Diana, that same pretense troubled him.

“You look lovely this evening,” he murmured, wanting to pry under her façade to find the real woman beneath. “Downright angelic in that dress.”

“Ironic, since you’re behaving like the devil come to capture my soul.”

He grinned.Thereshe was, the feisty creature who had fought so hard against him at the inn. He liked this bit of hellcat in her. Although—he raked a sideways glance over her—he liked the pretty society lady in her, as well. More than he should.

He hadn’t lied. She didlook like an angel, with her golden hair cascading over one shoulder in a riot of curls, in that blue dress of satin and lace that hugged her bosom and capped her shoulders. Just enough skin was left bare to the eye to be tempting.Verytempting. Even now he longed to lean over and brush his mouth over her collarbone, to discover for himself if she tasted like sweet icing that melted on the tongue or exotic spices that tingled the lips.

They reached the far end of the room. Instead of circling back along the other side, he led her into the hallway with a guiding tug of his arm. He couldn’t help the spark of pleasure when she followed so trustingly. “I’m not a devil, Diana. I’m a gentleman.”

“Is there a difference?”

“None I’ve ever discovered.” He led her down the hallway and further away from the party. “But even us devils find ourselves attracted to angels every now and then.”

He’d expected a soft laugh from her, a dismissive smack of her hand on his arm to remind him to behave. Instead, she surprised him with a whispered, “Please don’t call me that.”

“Angel, you mean?” Taken aback by her reaction, he stopped and matched her frown with one of his. Every inch of him was aware that they were alone in the hallway. “It’s a compliment.”

“It’s an impossible standard that I can never—”

In one fluid motion, he opened the door beside them and swept her inside the room with him.

Dark and bathed with shadows, the room was lit only by the faint light of the starry night that fell through the tall French doors and giant fanlights dominating the far wall. Beyond the glass stretched the gardens, its paths lit by scattered torches and paper lanterns, an earthbound mirror of the stars overhead.

But at that moment, he saw none of it. His attention rested on only one place as he struggled to remember to breathe.

Diana.

A slant of moonlight fell gently over her hair and shoulders, bathing her in its silvery light and making her resemble a spirit magically cast up from the midnight shadows around them. The small pearls at her ears glistened like drops of dew, and the satin of her dress simply glowed. All of her seemed to float on the night air, delicate and ephemeral. Very much an angel. For one fantastical moment, he feared that she might vanish like the evening mist if he dared to touch her.

Completely unaware of the effect she had on him, she took a step closer. “My brother.” Her soft voice spooled around him like a silk ribbon, entangling him in her spell. “What have you learned?” She placed her hand pleadingly on his upper arm, having no idea of the heat she flared inside him with that simple touch. How she utterly captivated him. “Please tell me.”

He stared down at her, wanting to catch every flitting emotion crossing her beautiful face. “He’s alive.”

“Oh, thank God!” A deep, ragged sigh tore from her, as if she’d been holding her breath since he last saw her. Her hand on his sleeve now clutched at him, and he resisted the urge to snake his arm around her waist and pull her softness against him. “Where is he?”

He shook his head. “I traced him to the White Horse Inn. The hostlers remembered him and that he hired a post-chaise for Dover.” So Kit had followed on horseback, traveling hard across the miles to arrive at the coast by the next day, only to discover that Morgan had once more vanished. The last anyone could remember of him, Morgan had purchased a ticket for the steam packet to Calais five days before, boarded the ship, and left. “He’s in France.”

She searched his face, but she wouldn’t find any answers there, because he had no more answers to give. And he wouldn’t dare share the details of how he knew even that much. Doing so would only put her into more danger than what she’d already stumbled into on her own.

“I don’t understand…Calais?” Her pink lips parted slightly, drawing his attention to her mouth. “But why would he go there? Unless the French…”

Unable to make the connections, she let her voice trail off in confusion. Her fingers tightened their hold on his arm, silently pleading for his help in understanding.

He took her elbow in his hand to soften the news. “I have no idea why he’s gone to France or why he lied to you about where he was going, but your brother was never kidnapped. The French made you believe it in order to obtain the general’s memoirs. I don’t think he knows that they even made contact with you.”

“But the pages—the man at the tavern didn’t want them.” She shook her head, bewildered. “He refused them. You were there, you saw. Why go through all that trouble, only to refuse them?”

A damnably fine question. One he had no answer to. “Are you certain those were the pages he wanted?”