Unmasking the Spy Read Free

the City and all it
represented, including the frenetic atmosphere of the marriage mart known as
the Season and the attitude of the haut ton in general. He couldn’t
comprehend why Caspian hadn’t come to Heatherley to speak with him.
    Ian’s country home was far from London, and he had no desire to leave. No desire to dance until the wee hours of the
morning and worry about whether his cravat was folded in a perfect Trône
d'Amour . More than that, he had no wish to see how long the memories were
for the cause célèbre of his family’s past or to face ill-concealed
animosity toward his half-Irish heritage.
    Heatherley had been in his
mother’s line of the family for generations. It was a spacious, sprawling mansion
in the middle of the country and firmly in his heart. The walls in this room
were a cheery yellow, the windows big and wide to let in the bright sun. Best
of all, Heatherley was a full day’s ride from London – far from dampened
dresses and hinged tongues.
    Swearing under his breath, Ian
crushed the letter in his palm and slammed his fist onto the sideboard. He
wished he could toss the missive into the fire and forget it. He wished he
could pretend he hadn’t seen it, or the stiff square of vellum that fell into
his hand when he opened the note.
    An elegant script proclaimed an
invitation to the Montgomery’s one night hence for dinner and dancing.
Marvelous.
    Scowling, Ian forced his long
fingers to unfurl from around the crumpled paper. He turned, smoothed out the
crinkles with both hands, and studied the words again. No matter how many times
he reread the four concise sentences, he could find nothing to misinterpret in
the strong strokes across the parchment. As always, Caspian was maddeningly
clear in his instructions.
    Ian refolded the note and tucked
it inside his waistcoat. He crossed to the bell pull and gave the rope a firm
tug. He shook his head, almost unable to believe he was really going to leave
Heatherley on the command of four terse sentences. If only he didn’t owe
Caspian his life.
    London . Damn.
    *          *          *
    Alicia chewed her lower lip. Her
maid had come and gone. She had been dressed in her light pink gown with its
deep rose ribbon, her hair styled in an elegant chignon, everything just so for
what seemed like hours. The first rays of light filtered through her window and
across her lap, but the sight of the Saturday-morning sun did little to salve
the long, sleepless night or her relentless sense of trepidation.
    If he and Papa agreed to settle
the marriage contract terms today, Louis would be her only hope for a husband.
Well, without inviting scandal.
    She stood with sudden resolve.
She had avoided confrontation for long enough. It was time to stop waiting for
life to happen, and to play a hand in the cards it dealt. Time to discover
exactly how quickly fate intended to spring an unwanted wedding.
    Alicia strode through her door to
the staircase and began to descend. She heard the voices before she had taken
her third step.
    “I am unconvinced indulgence is
wise.”
    The thin whine of her cousin’s
shrill voice reached Alicia’s ear, and her foot froze four inches above the
next step. When she did not immediately hear her father respond, she imagined
him about to enlist help in convincing a recalcitrant daughter to wed.
    “Alicia’s willingness in this
matter is imperative, Louis. The church demands it.”
    Alicia allowed her hovering foot
to descend the final inches to the next step.
    Willingly marry Louis. Hah. Such
naivety might mark her as a hopeless romantic – but she’d always thought one or
both of them would have found true love by now, and thus be already married… to
someone other than each other.
    True, she’d never had a flock of
suitors from which to choose, although she lacked neither looks nor money. She
possessed a reasonable dowry, and people often gasped at the extraordinary
likeness she shared with her mother, whose