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“You’ve known all this time Drake was here?”
“No. But you…you can sense him. Your muscles are wound tight.” He rubbed his thumb along the base of her spine.
His bold touches weren’t offensive, but were of a brotherly nature, comforting and reassuring, as opposed to the sparks Anthony ignited within her with a mere look.
She rolled back down to firmly plant her feet on the ground. Her hands skimmed over his lapel. “Thank you, my lord, for being honest with me. And for providing insight into the mind of an agent. Or in this case, a mere gentleman.”
“Drake is no ordinary gentleman. We both know that to be a fact.” Lord Camdon had spoken loud enough that if Anthony was near, as she suspected, he would have heard. Slowly removing his arms from about her waist, Lord Camdon wound them firmly behind his back, his gaze never leaving her face. He was keenly observing her every reaction. “Lady Minerva, it would be an honor if you would agree to play a game of chess with me.”
The man’s features were in the shadows and hard to read. Why would Lord Camdon issue the challenge? Why now? Had Anthony overheard?
She stared back at the man that was calmly awaiting her reply. He was an official agent of the Foreign Office. A spy. Purported to be a very talented and dutiful member of the agency. Loyal. Devoted. Which meant he would marry if ordered to.
Minerva peered up and asked, “Did the Head of the Foreign Office order you to challenge me, in order to recruit me?”
“Regardless of whether or not I was ordered to issue the challenge, I sincerely hope you will accept.”
Ha. She would wager a month’s worth of pin money she was correct. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed that the Head of the Foreign Office was some old, matchmaking biddy. What I don’t understand is why your leader, who has the weighty responsibility for our country’s international relations, would go to such extremes to recruit me. He is a rather tenacious fellow.”
The corner of Lord Camdon’s lips twitched at her last statement. Odd. Her brother-in-law-to-be had had a similar reaction when she referred to the agency’s leader as being male. Could the Head of the Foreign Office be, in fact, a woman?
Intrigued by the notion, Minerva’s mind wandered once more. Having spent time with Avondale, it was clear to her that whoever the leader of the Foreign Office was, they were well respected, and their unorthodox methods were revered.
“Lady Minerva…” Lord Camdon had clearly recognized that her thoughts drifted. “Shall we play a game of chess?”
“Only if you and the Head of the Foreign Office agree to my terms…” Terms that she quickly formulated and assessed for viability.
“And what are these conditions you insist upon?”
“If I win, your leader will cease to harass me into joining your ranks. If you win, we shall marry—however, only if that is your wish, not your leader’s.”
“Very well. I shall share your terms with my leader and inform you of their decision on the morrow.”
Lord Camdon had once again deftly avoided using gender-specific pronouns. Now that she pondered on it, no one referred to the Head of the Foreign Office as “he.” All these years she had assumed it was a gentleman. It would be mad to think that the king would allow a woman to govern over such a critical department for the country. Ah, but the king was unconventional, to put it mildly.
The tinkle of the dinner bell broke her train of thought. Lord Camdon offered his arm, and she noted the back of her neck no longer tingled. Anthony must have left at some point during their conversation. How peculiar—normally so in tune was she with Anthony that she should have noticed.
As she approached the terrace doors, guests were lining up to leave to go to the dining room. She searched for her sisters, but neither Isadora nor Diana were in sight, reminding her that they had moved on. Diana was happily married to Chestwick, and Isadora was soon be wed. It was what Minerva had planned. It was what she’d wished for. Yet the joy of a successfully executed plan was distinctly missing.
Lord Camdon led her through the doors. “If I convince my superior to agree to your terms, would you entertain the idea of the match being conducted at my residence…properly chaperoned, of course?”
“Why your residence?”
“I’d like for you to become familiar with your new home.”
The man’s ego wasn’t lacking by any means. His self-assuredness made her smile. “You are rather confident of your chess skills.”
Lord Camdon winked. “That, or perhaps I have faith in my skills of persuasion.”
His reply made her chuckle. “If your leader agrees to my terms, then it will be Kent whom you will be persuading to allow our game to take place in your home. My brother oversees all my chess matches.”
All but one. Minerva had skillfully avoided her brother since the night he visited her bedchambers. Benedict would not be happy to discover she was traipsing to the outskirts of Mayfair to play Anthony in private.
“Hm. I wonder who it will take more exception to the location—your brother or Drake?” Lord Camdon waggled his eyebrows at her. Bother. The man was clearly skilled at reading a person. She’d have to be careful if they were indeed to sit across from one another in front of a chessboard.
*
Anthony raked ahand through his hair to dislodge the prickly leaves. He should have returned to his lodgings when Camdon and Minerva spotted him in the hedges and came out to investigate. Combined, the two were exceptionally hard to evade, and he had shifted further out of sight and hearing than what he had wished to. They didn’t pursue him, but rather engaged in what appeared to be an intimate conversation that had Minerva behaving in a way he’d never witnessed before with a gentleman. Oh, the woman had flirted with others in the past, but always at a distance.
