After a long silence, Lady Agnes said, "You're remarkably clear-sighted, Miss Fox. As a woman who has avoided the bars myself, I can understand that."

"But it will be a waste of a good father," Miss Emily said with a sigh.

Grey and Ca.s.sie had agreed that afternoon that for discretion's sake, they should sleep in their separate rooms. But in the dark hours after midnight, Grey's resolve snapped when a nightmare of darkness and desolation yanked him awake.

Shaking, he crossed the corridor to Ca.s.sie's room. She woke instantly, as a good spy needed to do, and equally swiftly recognized her visitor. Silently she extended a hand. He took it gratefully and slid into the bed next to her.

In her arms, he slept.

Chapter 27.

With a groan, Grey sat up in bed. "It's almost dawn. I'd better slink back to my own room."

Ca.s.sie wrapped an arm around his waist. "This doesn't seem like the sort of household where anyone is easily shocked."

"Perhaps not, but I don't want to put Lady Agnes in an awkward situation." He kissed her forehead. "Don't complain. You get to stay in this nicely warmed bed."

"It just got a great deal colder," she sighed as he stood up.

"We have a cozy journey to London ahead of us. By the time we reach there, you'll be bored with me." He opened her door, checked that no one was in sight, and slipped back to his own room, thinking there was a reason people got married. Sharing a bed legally would be much more pleasant than tiptoeing through icy corridors.

He wasn't going to sleep again, so he dressed and headed downstairs in hopes of acquiring a cup of tea since the kitchen staff started early. He found not only a friendly cook and tea, but toasted bread with honey. He was happily consuming a second slice when Lady Agnes appeared fully dressed and with amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. "Good morning, all."

As Grey murmured a response, the cook poured a cup of tea, added honey and milk, and handed it to the headmistress. After a deep swallow, Lady Agnes said, "Complications have arisen, Wyndham. Come with me and I'll show you."

"Yes, ma'am." It was easy to fall back into schoolboy mode. Though Lady Agnes didn't seem upset, he was curious, so he swallowed the last of his toast and honey and followed her upstairs. To his surprise, she led him to her private rooms and threw open the door to her dressing room.

"Behold the complications," she said with a laugh.

Curled up on an expensive velvet cloak were Regine and three fat little puppies who were blindly nursing. "Good heavens!" Grey knelt to examine the new arrivals, keeping a careful distance away. "Aren't you looking proud of yourself, Regine. Apart from eating enough for three horses, you kept your secret well. I wonder what the father looked like? The puppies look even more mixed than their mother."

"They're adorable," Lady Agnes said firmly. "Lineage doesn't matter."

Grey grinned. "There speaks a woman with some of the bluest bloodlines in Britain."

"I didn't choose my ancestors any more than these puppies chose their father." Lady Agnes swallowed more tea. "I rather like mixed breeds. More surprises."

Regine briefly looked up from licking the pups, then returned to her washing. Grey got to his feet. "I have no idea how she got in here, Lady Agnes. I will replace the cloak when I have money again."

Lady Agnes made a dismissive gesture. "No need to worry about that, but you can't take a new mother and her puppies in a carriage to London."

He laughed at her expression. "You aren't the least bit sorry, are you?"

She grinned. "I've a weakness for all young creatures, whether children, kittens, or puppies. I'd love to keep one of these. My old dog died a few weeks ago, and I've been thinking it's time I looked for a new pup. There are boys here who would like puppies, too." She looked thoughtful. "There is one lad in particular who really needs a pup of his own."

"You can give away the puppies, but I'll be back for Regine when her offspring are old enough to do without her." He extended one hand, and when Regine didn't seem inclined to bite, he scratched her head. "I'll miss her, though."

"You'll just have to keep your Miss Fox close then," Lady Agnes said blandly.

Grey certainly intended to try.

After a fast trip up to London, the luxurious coach rumbled to a halt in front of Kirkland House. As the footman lowered the steps, Kirkland offered his hand to Grey. "I'll call in Exeter Street tomorrow. If you need anything, just send word."

"I'll be fine." Grey shook his friend's hand. "When I feel ready to return to the bosom of my loving family, you'll be the first to know."

"More likely the second to know." Kirkland inclined his head to Ca.s.sie, then climbed out of the carriage.

After the door was closed and the carriage resumed its progress across the city, Grey settled back in the seat and took Ca.s.sie's hand. "Was London always this crowded, smelly, and noisy?"

"Yes, which is probably why you've buried those memories." She laced her fingers through his. "Does London make you want to run screaming?"

"Somewhat." His smile was twisted. "I'm doing better than I would have even a week ago. But I'm glad to be heading to a cave where I can hide for the rest of the day to recover from the journey."

"For the rest of today, you can relax. But I warn you that as of tomorrow I'll be marching you out to sample the delights of London," she said. "Starting with the Covent Garden market. It's so close to the house that if you run screaming, you won't even be out of breath by the time you return to your cave."

"Very thoughtful of you. But I think that if you're with me, I should be able to control myself under most conditions." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. "I don't know why I find your presence so easy, but I'm grateful for it."

"I may be easier because I didn't know you before Castle Durand," she said thoughtfully. "I don't expect you to be the same as you were at twenty. And because I know you're not broken beyond repair, I'm not hovering and worrying and missing the glittering Lord Wyndham of fond memory. I'll settle for seeing you happy as the man you've become now."

He waggled his eyebrows. "The fact that I'm an amazing lover isn't part of your calculations?"

She laughed. "That belongs on a different set of scales, my lord."

"Scales of solid gold, I'm sure." His smile faded as he gazed out the window. "My parents might be in London waiting for Parliament."

"Perhaps. Even if they're here, you needn't see them until you want to."

"I do want to see them. Just ... not yet." He made an effort to lighten his tone. "I'd rather visit Astley's Circus or some other entertainment. I a.s.sume the Theatre Royal is still in Covent Garden?"

"Yes, though the theater you knew burned down several years ago. A new one was built in the same place, so the shows carry on," she replied. "Perhaps tomorrow we can go by the theater and look at the playbills to see what's being performed."

He hesitated. "I like the theater, but I'm not ready to be part of a rowdy theater crowd, and I can't sit in a box without the risk of being recognized."

"Maybe in a week or two," she said peaceably.

They fell silent, but their hands remained locked together. Grey's gaze was riveted on the city that was the beating heart of Britain. Ca.s.sie thought he was handling the crowds and confusion well. Every day, he became stronger. Better able to manage.

Dusk was approaching when they arrived at 11 Exeter Street. "It's bigger than I expected," Grey said as he helped Ca.s.sie from the carriage.

"This area was once fashionable and the large houses remain." She produced her key and led the way up the front steps. "There are enough boardinghouses in the neighborhood that our comings and goings aren't noticed."

She opened the door to the small foyer and she and Grey entered, his arm slung affectionately around her shoulders. Inside was a tall, lean man on the point of departure. Ca.s.sie stiffened as she recognized the whipcord strength and brown hair.

As he saw her, his serious face lit with a smile. "Ca.s.sie! Since I'm leaving for Scotland tomorrow, I stopped by on the off chance you might have just returned."

Rob Carmichael. Ca.s.sie froze as he moved toward her. Then Rob stopped dead, his gaze moving from Ca.s.sie to Grey.

"My G.o.d, Wyndham, you're back from the grave!" Rob said with amazed pleasure. His expression changed as he saw and correctly interpreted the casual intimacy between Grey and Ca.s.sie. His voice hardened. "You seem to have come out of France smelling of roses, Wyndham."

"Hardly," Grey said, frowning as he looked from Rob to Ca.s.sie and back.

"I thought you had better judgment than to fall for cheap charm," Rob said to Ca.s.sie, his voice brittle. "Or is it for his money? Wyndham certainly has more than I do, and he had a reputation for being generous to his mistresses."

"Watch your tongue, Carmichael!" Grey removed his arm from Ca.s.sie's shoulders and stepped forward, his hands tightening into fists. "Apologize to her!"

"For speaking the truth? Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely!" Rob also moved into a fighter's stance, his jaw set with fury.

"Stop it, both of you!" Ca.s.sie snapped in a voice that could have cut gla.s.s. "You're behaving like children!"

Mrs. Powell, who ran the house with her husband, had been drawn to the foyer by the sound of voices, so Ca.s.sie continued, "Mrs. Powell, this is Mr. Sommers and he'll be staying here for a while. Please take him up to a room."

When Grey opened his mouth to protest, Ca.s.sie gave him a glance that said Go! He didn't look happy about that, but he followed Mrs. Powell up the stairs.

"No need to send him off," Rob said, his voice harsh. "I'm leaving. I doubt our paths will cross much in the future, Ca.s.sandra."

"You are not leaving until we talk, Robert," Ca.s.sie said firmly. "In the drawing room." She grabbed his arm so he couldn't escape without shaking her off.

After a moment of boulder-like resistance, he accompanied her into the adjoining room. In the better light, Ca.s.sie saw pain in Rob's eyes. Her annoyance evaporated. "I'm sorry, Rob. I didn't intend that you find out in such a difficult way."

"I don't think there is any good way to dismiss a lover," he bit out.

"You and I weren't lovers, Rob. We were friends and occasional bedmates when it suited us. We swore no vows of love or constancy."

"Did you intend to tell me that you were with Wyndham? Or did you hope I wouldn't find out?"

She sighed. "You and I have never talked about other lovers, though since I'm in France so much, I've a.s.sumed you don't always sleep alone when I'm not here."

"Oddly enough, I have." His mouth twisted. "I thought we were more than merely convenient bedmates."

"Yes, but the true bond has always been friendship, not romantic love." She caught his gaze with her own, wanting him to believe her words. "The friendship and caring and trust have been real, Rob. I would hate to lose that."

A muscle in his jaw jerked. "Why Wyndham, Ca.s.sie? His legendary charm? It was hard to hate him even when I wanted to."

She frowned. "Why did you want to hate him?"

He shrugged. "Merely because I was jealous that everything came so easily to him."

And nothing had come easily to Rob. "Perhaps it will make you feel better to know that Grey spent ten years in solitary confinement in a castle dungeon," she said tartly. "I a.s.sure you that surviving that did not come easily."

"Ten years of solitary confinement?" Rob exclaimed, looking appalled. "Poor devil. You helped him escape?"

She nodded. "We've only just returned to England." Wearily she unfastened her cloak. "I was looking forward to a quiet evening."

"With Wyndham." Rob shook his head. "I have trouble imagining you with him. Is it because he needs you for now and you feel bound to help him?"

Why Wyndham indeed? "Perhaps," she said thoughtfully. "You never let yourself need anyone or anything, Rob. I'm the same. Both of us are experts at asking for nothing. So self-sufficient that we can't connect deeply with another human being. With Grey, I ... I become someone else."

Rob's gaze was searching. "Are you in love with him?"

"A little, I suppose." She hesitated, not sure how honest she could let herself be. But Rob deserved honesty. "With him, I feel again. It hurts, but it's ... rewarding."

"Ah, Ca.s.sie, I didn't know you had a shred of romance in your soul." Rob pulled her into a swift, hard hug. "If you want more than you had with me, I hope you find it. But it won't be with Wyndham. He'll never marry you."

Recognizing that this was an embrace of friends, she relaxed against his hard, familiar body, tears stinging her eyes. Though they might save their friendship, any chance of becoming more was gone. "If I ever had such illusions, I've been sufficiently warned by any number of people eager to explain how that will never happen. When Wyndham and I go our separate ways, I won't be surprised or devastated."

She was very good at moving on alone.

Rob's anger was gone, but he sounded wistful when he said, "I thought that someday the two of us might retire to a quiet village where we could bore each other with our old war stories. But that isn't going to happen, is it?"

"Highly unlikely," she agreed. "But ... Rob, can we be friends again? Please?"

"We can." He ended the embrace. "But I'm glad I'm off to Scotland. I should be sufficiently busy that I won't pine."

"You won't pine," she said with a touch of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I was just a habit."

"Perhaps, but a good one," he said quietly. "Take care, my dear girl."

She watched him leave the room, taut and always ready for trouble, and wished they'd been able to love each other.

Girding herself for another difficult discussion, Ca.s.sie headed upstairs. She met Mrs. Powell at the top of the steps.

"I put Mr. Sommers in the room at the back of the house where it's nice and quiet," the older woman said. Though she was middle-aged and known for steady good sense and discretion, she gave a girlish giggle. "He's quite the handsome fellow, he is! How long will he be staying?"

Grey's charm was obviously recovering along with the rest of him, Ca.s.sie thought acerbically. "Several weeks, perhaps. He's an old friend of Lord Kirkland's."

"A lord himself, I'll be bound," Mrs. Powell said as she turned to descend the stairs. "I'll make sure he's comfortable."

Ca.s.sie headed down the long corridor to the Blue Room. After knocking on the door as warning, she entered before Grey had time to tell her to go away.

He stood at the window watching night fall on London, the dome of St. Peter's silhouetted against the skyline. He was cool and remote and very much Lord Wyndham.

"I'm sorry for that scene," she said without preamble. "It was the purest bad luck that Rob Carmichael happened to stop by as we were arriving."

"Bad luck indeed," he said, not turning to look at her.

"You knew I was no innocent virgin," she said with exasperation.

"Neither was I, but my dalliances are all ten years in the past." After a long silence, he said haltingly, "And ... there's a difference between abstract knowledge and knowing that you've been with a man I know and always found rather intimidating." In a softer voice, he added, "A man who seems very much your sort."

"Intimidating is a useful trait for a Bow Street Runner," she agreed, interested in how the two men saw each other. "Will you please stop staring out the window?"