A sudden suspicion hit her. "Oxley isn't looking for the colonel, is he? You just made that up."

A satisfied smile curved his lips. "Maybe the walk will cool his ardor."

Lee rolled her eyes. Men. "Wingate knows a lot about the war, Caleb. I'm trying to discover if his loyalties are not what they seem. You did ask for my help, whether you remember it or not."

"Not that kind of help, dammit."

"Can't you see? I know these men. I might uncover something useful."

"Forget it. In case you haven't figured it out, there is every chance your friend Mary Goodhouse wound up dead because of something she learned while she worked at Parklands. I don't want that happening to you."

"Good Lord-you think that's what happened? That Mary was killed because she knew something about the traitor? You think the traitor killed her?"

"Him or someone he hired. She was working here before she moved to the city. She could have overheard something she shouldn't have."

Lee settled back against the rough brick wall, suddenly needing the support. "If that is the case, then you must let me help you. Mary was my friend. I want to see her murderer captured and brought to justice."

Caleb caught her shoulders. "Listen to me, Lee. This isn't a game we're playing. If we're going to catch whoever is in league with the French, we have to be very, very careful."

She thought of Mary, strangled and dumped into the river, and a shiver crept down her spine. "I can certainly see your point."

"Does that mean you'll stay out of this, let Major Sutton and me handle things?"

"Surely there is some way I can help."

"You can keep your eyes and ears open. Watch the servants. Listen to the household gossip. If you notice anything suspicious, come to me."

She nodded. "All right." But she wasn't about to abandon her quest. She had ways of getting information that Caleb Tanner simply did not have. She saw his eyes move down to the soft flesh swelling out the front of her gown.

You see, Caleb Tanner. This is one job you simply are not equipped to handle.

"You'd better go back in," he said, but his eyes said he wanted her to stay, that he would very much like to do something far more exciting than return to the stuffy drawing room, something like what they had done in her room the night before.

"I suppose I should." But she didn't want to leave. She wanted to do exactly what they had done last night and it made her recall the offer he had made to act as her protector. It wasn't going to happen. He would be leaving soon and she would be left alone, facing the same uncertain future that she was facing now.

Whatever she decided, at present she had more important problems. She needed to concentrate on how she was going to help catch a traitor.

Elizabeth stood in the shadows cast by the torches on the far end of the terrace. In the past ten years, she had attended so many parties like this one she had long ago lost count. In truth, tonight she would rather have stayed home with her boys, Peter and Tom, but Charles hadn't been dressed to go out, so she thought he meant to stay at the house and that meant she was the one who had to leave.

Now he was here, looking so handsome it made her heart squeeze every time she happened to catch a glimpse of him. She told herself to leave, to return to Rotham Hall, forget Charles and his search for a new mistress, but some demon masochistic force seemed to hold her there.

"I thought I saw you walk out here."

She turned at the unexpected sound of his voice. "Charles..." She hadn't heard his approach, though she should have. She knew the rhythm of his footfalls as if they were her own, had listened for them returning up the stairs night after night for the past ten years.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

She moistened her lips, which felt parchment dry. "Yes... yes, it's lovely."

"I thought perhaps you were going to stay home tonight. You mentioned something of the sort to Matilda." The housekeeper, a longtime family retainer who had become a confidant of sorts.

Her stomach tightened. He hadn't known she would be here, of course, or he wouldn't have come. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interfere with your evening. I had thought to stay home, but since it appeared that was your intention, I assumed it would be best if I went out."

"The house is quite large. As I said before, there is room enough for us both. You didn't have to leave just because I was there."

She frowned. This wasn't making any sense. "I'm afraid I don't understand. If you were planning to stay home, why are you here?"

"Because you are here, Beth."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"I know it's too soon, that I should wait, give you a chance to get to know me again, but it's agony, Beth. Watching you, wishing things were different. I'm talking about a reconciliation. I'm not the same man I was ten years ago. I don't believe you're the same woman. I want us to try again."

Disbelief mingled with fear and both of them coursed through her. It had taken years to get over the pain of losing the man she had fallen so deeply in love with. She couldn't survive that kind of pain again.

"I don't... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Because if we try, I'll start loving you again. Because if I lost you a second time, I couldn't bear it. "Because too many years have passed, Charles. There's too much water under the bridge."

"Is there someone else? I rather thought... you haven't seemed interested in anyone for quite some time. I imagined that perhaps..."

"Perhaps what, Charles?"

"That perhaps you might come to feel some affection for me. You did once... all those years ago. I was too arrogant, too wrapped up in myself to understand the gift you were offering me. I'm older now. I realize how precious that gift is. I wouldn't throw it away again."

Elizabeth swallowed. She couldn't stay out here with him a moment more. She couldn't bear to listen to another of his softly spoken words. If she did, she might weaken and she simply could not do that.

"I-I have to go in. Gabriella needs my help with the entertainment. If you'll excuse me, Charles-" She tried to walk past, but he caught her arm.

"Think about it, Beth. That's all I ask."

He let her go and she started walking, her legs trembling, hurrying as fast as she dared back to the safety of the house. She didn't look at Charles. Not once. She was afraid of what might happen if she did.

The party was winding down. Most of the servants had been dismissed or retired to their beds. In an intimate drawing room at the rear of the house, Gabriella Durant's laughter drifted through the hallways as she entertained her last few guests. Likely, she would keep them company for several more hours at least.

The house was mostly dark. The woman glanced around, stepped out of her third floor room and started down the hall. The servants' stairs were empty, most of the household asleep. She slipped out into the second-floor corridor, bare feet padding on the polished wooden floor. She knew which room was his, knew he would be there sleeping in the big room next to the mistress's extravagant suite, a quiet, airy room with a large, comfortable bed and a view out over the garden.

She shouldn't go to him here, she knew, but she wanted to see him. Needed to see him.

She knew he would be angry at first, but she would explain how careful she had been, that no one had seen her leave her room; and she would please him, give him the kind of pleasure that would make him forgive her small indiscretion.

She tapped on the door, then turned the knob, found it unlocked. She wouldn't need the skeleton key she had taken from the pantry. She slipped inside and closed the door, jumped a little when she heard the sound of his husky voice.

"What are you doing in here? You know better than to come here." The sheets rustled as he sat up in the wide, carved bed. "You know how disastrous it would be if we were discovered."

She moved silently toward the bed, saw him toss back the sheet, swing his legs to the side of the mattress, plant his feet on the floor.

"Please, mon cher ... do not be angry. I 'ad to see you. I 'ave missed you. Let me show you 'ow much."

He tensed as she knelt on the floor in front of him but he didn't push her away. Reaching down, she caught the hem of his nightshirt, shoved it up over his legs. They were strong legs, nicely muscled. He was already hard, she saw, anticipating what she meant to do. She reached down and cupped his sex, pleased at how quickly he had responded.

"You can't be in here," he said, but the protest was weak. She caressed him, cupped him, took him into her mouth, and a few minutes later heard him groan.

She thought that afterward he would invite her into his bed, that he would make love to her, even if the loving would be brief, but it was not to be.

"You have to leave. Now. Before someone sees you. Never come to me again. Not here. If you have information, send word and I'll meet you at the inn."

Anger trickled through her. She didn't deserve to be treated this way. " 'Ow much longer? I am tired of hiding what I feel for you. You said you would take me away from here. You promised."

He caught her shoulders, squeezed until it hurt. "Listen to me. You will do as I say, do you understand me?" His hold gentled, turned into a caress. "It won't be that much longer. As soon as this is over, we'll go away together. I'll buy you a house, something expensive, a place in the country-perhaps another one in the city. I'll dress you in beautiful gowns, buy you jewelry. You'll have everything you ever wanted."

"All I want is you."

He bent his head and kissed her and the anger slowly faded.

"Do as I tell you," he said more gently. "Find out what you can. Leave word in the usual place and I'll meet you at the inn. Now be a good girl and go back to your bed. And be careful when you leave. Make sure no one sees you."

She didn't want to go. She wanted to climb up on the deep feather mattress and have him make love to her. But she had displeased him enough by coming to his room.

"Au revoir, mon coeur," she said. She left him there in the bedchamber and started toward her quarters on the floor above. One day soon, she would have the information he wanted. Then they could leave the country, go somewhere together. She smiled as she slipped back inside her room and closed the door, her head filled with pleasant dreams.

16.

Lee awakened early the following morning. She had work to do. Dressing in a simple skirt and blouse, she made her way out to the stable, spoke to Arlie, then talked to Jacob about plans for an upcoming race. Noir was ready, Jacob said, then went on and on about Caleb, praising him for the work he had done with the horses.

"There's a one-day race in Donneymead," she said. "That is only a few hours' walk from here. Take Noir and a couple of the younger horses. It will help get them ready for the meet at St. Leger."

"Aye, Miss. I'll see it done."

She left the older man and headed back toward the house, pausing as she passed by one of the stalls. Muffin was feeding her kittens, all of which appeared to be healthy and growing by leaps and bounds. Lee stroked the yellow cat's fur and left them, thinking of Caleb and the night the kittens had been born. She would have liked to take Grand Coeur for a ride, but Gabriella had planned a lavish picnic down by the stream and she didn't want to disappoint her.

By the time she returned to the house and Jeannie helped her into a gauzy white muslin gown and tucked her hair up beneath a wide-brimmed straw bonnet decorated with artificial roses, the group was assembled at the bottom of the stairs.

"All right, everyone." Gabriella clapped her hands and smiled like a little girl. "There are carriages waiting out front. It isn't that far. Those of you who prefer to walk may come with me."

Lee glanced around, searching for Caleb, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. Not everyone was in attendance. Some were still abed, others merely not inclined to a day in the sun. Lord Andrew was among those remaining behind, she noticed, as was Juliette Beauvoir.

Lee tried not to wonder what Caleb planned to do for the day, whether he might be bold enough to snoop through some of the guests' bedchambers or if he might be interested in whiling away the hours with the lovely Juliette. Lee swiftly buried the thought. She didn't have time for jealousy, though she was coming to dislike the conniving young woman in the extreme. She needed to continue her efforts to gain information and the picnic would perfectly suit.

As Gabriella had promised, it didn't take long to reach the grassy meadow. Walking next to Elizabeth Sorenson, they chatted pleasantly along the way, though Elizabeth seemed strangely quiet today.

"Come, darlings-join the party. Have a glass of champagne or perhaps some ratafia." Aunt Gabby stepped between the two women, linked arms with them, and led them toward linen-draped tables that had been arranged for the occasion. There were benches and chairs enough for all and each table was spread with fine porcelain plates and gleaming silver and crystal. Not exactly Lee's idea of a picnic, but the guests seemed excited about it.

A few feet away, another row of tables overflowed with food: roast partridge and pickled salmon, oysters in anchovy sauce, venison and mutton pasties, cold meats, jellies, candied fruits, and custards, and wine, of course, to accompany the meal. It was a lavish spread and guests lined up, plates in hand, ready to indulge themselves.

It was sometime later that Lee was finally able to escape her aunt and begin interviewing the guests, having earlier that morning mentally listed which of them might know something important, something that would help the French.

Sir Peter Peasley was a frequent visitor to Parklands and a close friend of Colin Streatham, who worked for the Secretary of State. He might be privy to inside information. Lisette Moreau was French and also often a visitor. Would Sir Peter tell her military secrets in order to please her? And even if he did, what role did Parklands play?

Caleb believed someone in the house might be involved in conveying the information. Another of the guests? One of the servants? Perhaps the house was simply a meeting place where information was exchanged before being passed on to the enemy.

She surveyed the group clustered on blankets beneath the trees or still seated at the tables. Charles Sorenson was a high-ranking member of the House of Lords. What might he know? Claymont was a man of equally high position, though she refused to believe the earl might be involved. She knew the earl, Dylan Sommers, had known him for years. He was the most trustworthy man she had ever met. He simply wasn't capable of that kind of deceit.

And there was Wingate, of course. The colonel was a high-ranking officer of the Life Guards, reporting directly to General Ulysses Stevens. He might have access to a great deal of valuable information. Even Lord Nash, advisor to the Chancellor, would have access to important documents and the like.

Lee sighed as she watched the people beneath the trees and thought how impossible a task it would be to ferret out the traitor.

Assuming there really was a traitor.

Assuming that person was actually there at Parklands.

"You look as if you are pondering the fate of the world." Major Sutton stood beside her, gold buttons gleaming, curly black hair ruffled by the breeze.

"Perhaps I am."

"I can think of something much more fun. Perhaps I could persuade you to walk with me. Yesterday I stumbled upon a wonderful old ruin... part of a medieval abbey, I believe. I'm sure you've seen it. Perhaps you would join me in exploring the place." He took her arm, started leading her away from the group toward a path that began at the edge of the trees.

She looked back over her shoulder, but her feet kept moving as he firmly led her away. "I-I think I had better go back and join the others. My aunt will be-"

"What's the matter?" One black eyebrow went up. "You're not afraid, are you? Tell me you wouldn't rather take a walk through the woods than sit round listening to a bunch of old fools gossip."

"Well, I-"

"Actually, the lady was looking for me." The voice sounded familiar, but when she turned, it wasn't Caleb. Lucas Tanner strode toward her, a hard look on his face. Fortunately, the warning in his intense blue eyes was not directed at her.

Major Sutton seemed not to notice. "Is that right, Miss Durant?" He must have recognized the lie for what it was, but Luc's look of warning had put her on alert.

"Yes, actually, I was." She stepped away from the major, reached over and took Luc's arm. "I didn't see you earlier. Have you eaten, my lord?"

"Yes, but I believe I could use something to drink. If you'll excuse us, Major... ?"

Sutton made a brief bow and a look passed between the two men. Lee let Lucas guide her back toward the others, stopping just out of earshot.

"Sutton has a reputation, love. When it comes to women, it isn't a good one."

"I believe you have a similar reputation, my lord."

His mouth edged up. "Perhaps that is so, but I've never forced a woman to do anything she didn't want to do."

Lee frowned, not liking the thought. "If that is the sort of man the major is, I appreciate your timely rescue."