Page 63 of To Love A Spy
“Indeed.” His smile revealed a flash of teeth. “I was simply not sure how much a lady wished to admit to the naked truth of life. So many of your fair sex are hopeless romantics.”
“I prefer to take a more cynical view of the world. That way, I am rarely disappointed.”
“We are alike in many ways,madame,” he said in a husky murmur. “Tell me then, why the match with a prig like Daggett?”
Valencia considered the question, deliberately drawing out the silence before she answered. “My family has excellent connections with the Caribbean sugar trade, which have proved useful for Thomas. He has parlayed his cleverness into considerable wealth, and is likely to rise in importance in our country. I found it suited me to go along for the ride.”
“I would have thought that you would have your choice of rich, influential men. They are, after all, the type who can afford to be attracted to beautiful women.”
Valencia fixed him with a cool stare. “Indeed. But most of them want a perfect specimen, unflawed by an ungainly limp. The offers I received tended not to be respectable ones.”
His eyes took on a speculative gleam.
“Time is not an ally for a woman,” she went on. “So when Thomas was willing to overlook my infirmity and advanced years, I decided the prospect was to my advantage.”
“You don’t sound bitter.”
“It is the law of the jungle. The strong have no mercy for the weak. Tears and tantrums would only be a waste of breath.”
“You intrigue me,madame. It is rare to meet a lady who comprehends the true nature of the world.”
She lowered her lashes, determined to fan his interest despite the fire searing through her twisted muscles. “And Iappreciate the sympathetic ear, sir. You cannot know how very pleasant it is to be able converse with a like-minded spirit.”
He sidled closer, joining their bodies from shoulder to thigh. “The rest of my anatomy is at your disposal—you have only to ask.”
“Naughty man,” she whispered, managing not to gag on the scent of his musky cologne.
To her relief, the return of the others interrupted thetete a tete.
“Feeling better, my dear?” called Lynsley.
“But of course.” Valencia rose, somewhat unsteadily, and accepted his arm.
“Excellent. Levalier has just informed me that he has an important engagement in town, and I assured him we would not make him late.” It was only then that he acknowledged Rochambert’s presence. “Kind of you to keep my wife company, sir.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” replied the Frenchman. “Madame Daggett is a most interesting lady.”
Lynsley turned away without answering him and set off at a brisk clip. “Don’t dally, my dear.”
Somehow, despite several stumbles, she managed to keep up. But every step was agony. Her scar burned from what felt like the assault of redhot pitchforks stabbing along the line of puckered flesh. Beneath her fluttering skirts, her undergarments were growing drenched with sweat.
Discipline.Don’t give in pain. Valencia repeated the words like her long-ago yoga mantras, matching the silent cadence to her aching step. She was determined to match the marquess’s sangfroid.
Lynsley would likely march from here to hell with both legs cut off at the knees.
Even with such thoughts prodding her on, it seemed like an eternity before they came to the courtyard where the carriages were waiting.
The marquess took his time in thanking their French hosts, while she managed a stoic smile in answers to their solicitous questions. Whether she could keep her leg from collapsing was a close call, but finally Lynsley finished his rounds and offered a hand up into their barouche.
Valencia climbed in blindly, her limbs seeming to move of their own accord. Half crawling, half falling, she slid onto the seat.
She heard his boot scrape against the iron rungs, followed by the rap of his walking stick, signaling the driver to spring the team.
As the whip cracked, Lynsley pulled the curtain closed, then quickly lifted her legs and lay her along the length of the leather.
Valencia couldn’t hold back a cry of pain.
Dropping to his knees on the floorboards, he swept up her skirts, and suddenly his large, strong hands were skimming over her stockings. Ever so gently, he grasped her thigh.
