Page 33 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Derrek swept one last glance around the humming village, and when he did not see Jeremy or Miss Jones, he turned to Martin. “How would I do that?”

Martin grinned. “We could use another to make even lines,” he said with a wink.

Ten minutes later, Derrek found himself in a group with other men he’d become somewhat acquainted with in the last few weeks, refreshing his long-dormant memories of the steps of Morris dancing.

And it was lovely. His heart felt so light that it mystified him. He was a hardened London policeman who had seen things so dark and disturbing that they would bring an ordinary man to his knees. He had loved where he should not have and lost that love. He thrived on danger and challenge, and yet the country life around him sang to his soul in ways that felt like he could shed his old skin and become someone new.

Perhaps there might be a way for him and Jeremy to stay right where they were. Jeremy was happy in the country as well. It was a mad idea, but perhaps the two of them had a chance of building a quiet, happy life together in a village like the one where they found themselves now.

Derrek was far along the path of imagining an entirely different life for himself, practicing the steps of the Morris dance and laughing with his newfound friends when one of them asked, “Did you hear that Lord Albert has returned to Maidstone Close?”

With those few words, the illusion of peace that Derrek had started to build for himself and Jeremy vanished.

“Lord Albert?” one of the other men asked with a sour look. “What is that miserable sod doing back here? I thought he and his worthless father had buggered off to the Continent for good.”

“It seems he didn’t,” the first man said. “Doris, that new maid up at the manor house, told me Lord Albert was back, though only for a bit before heading into London.”

“Well, of course he would be in London,” Martin said as their group began to dress for their eventual performance. “What with King William being on his deathbed and all.”

Derrek’s back went stiff and his eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?” he asked.

Martin shrugged. “Has the king not been on his deathbed for some time now?”

“But you have not heard anything specific,” Derrek said, relaxing a bit.

That ease was instantly robbed from him when Martin said, “I have heard specifics. Two blokes from London were at the pub last night, talking about how the king has been taken ill with a lung complaint of some sort. They seemed to think it would be a race between his demise and Princess Victoria’s eighteenth birthday to determine the fate of the nation.”

Guilt and frustration rolled through Derrek. He should not be hearing that news from Martin while he tied bells and ribbons to his clothes for a country Morris dance. He should have been the one to know what was going on in London and with Lord Albert first. He’d grown so enamored with his peaceful country life with Jeremy that he’d allowed himself to forget who he was and what mission he had before him.

“I cannot stay here,” he muttered to himself, standing with the sudden need to move and return to action again. “I belong in London.”

Martin eyed him strangely, but he could not have known the things Derrek was thinking.

The entire point of bringing Jeremy to the countryside was to hide him and keep him safe from Conroy and his accomplice, who was almost certainly Lord Albert Howard. As he’d just been thinking to himself that morning, Miss Jones was as fierce a protector of his dove as he was. The only right thing to do was for him to return to London to assess the changes in their situation regarding Conroy’s plot and the king’s health. He would need to leave before the day was over to catch the overnight mail coach from Aylesford.

“I do not think I can dance with you after all,” he told Martin distractedly, bending to untie the bells he’d just fastened around his calves. “My duty is to?—”

His words died on his lips at the sound of Jeremy’s laughter. He looked up, then straightened to see Jeremy, Miss Jones, and several other young women from the village walking closer, their arms filled with baskets and bundles of flowers. Someone had woven a garland of wildflowers for Jeremy and stuck smaller flowers all over him, which appeared to be what the group was laughing about. The way the sunlight struck Jeremy made him look like some sort of nymph or fawn from ancient times.

Derrek’s heart twisted and throbbed in his chest. He was so very much in love with Jeremy that it consumed his every thought and heartbeat. His dove was beyond beautiful and deserved exactly the sort of life he was living at that very moment. But he could not live that life with him. He had duties and cares in London that desperately needed his attention. He loved Jeremy, but he could not, in good conscience, have him.

Twelve

“That’s a fine-looking man you have,” Clary commented as Jeremy walked out of the woods with her and along the path that led to the wildflower meadow. “I was lucky enough to get to see quite a bit of him before he noticed me looking.” She winked and nudged Jeremy’s arm before hooking her elbow around his, as if they were two fresh village maids out for a walk at dawn.

Jeremy instantly heated and contorted his mouth, wanting to deny what his friend was implying but unable to find the words. The way Clary looked at him made him feel like a beetle specimen speared under a naturalist’s needle.

He found his voice, but the only words that came out were, “You saw Derrek in the altogether?”

He blinked, then frowned at himself. That was not what he’d intended to ask at all, but his friend’s mention of spying on Derrek reminded Jeremy that he’d more or less been doing the same thing, though he hadn’t been able to see the good bits in the scant dawn light.

This time. He’d peeped on Derrek more than a few times before, both while his champion was washing and when they were alone in the house. He was reasonably certain Derrek was aware of his curiosity, and Jeremy did not think anyone could blame him. Derrek had a fine, masculine form, and he himself was a man with ordinary desires, after all.

“I did,” Clary answered his question with a sideways smirk that said she could practically hear his thoughts. “And you are a lucky man.”

“I am not lucky at all,” Jeremy said, laughing airily. “That is to say, not in the ways you are implying.”

“Why?” Clary glanced at him with false innocence. “Have you not seen him unclothed yet?”

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