Page 82 of Almost a Bride
“Yes. But don’t worry—if you fall asleep, I’ll make sure you stay in the saddle.”
Fine comfort that was, she thought irritably. They plodded along for several minutes, and Roselyn stole glances at him. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d told her, wondering how she could know the truth.
“Spencer?”
“Hmm?”
“What was it like to spy against Spain?”
In the moonlight she saw the grim set of his mouth.
“Lonely.”
She would have thought “dangerous” to be the first word he’d use.
“I had to pretend I was one of them,” he said. “Sometimes I…lost myself, what it felt like to be Spencer Thornton. I had to become Miguel de Velasco, to think—even dream—in Spanish, for fear of making a mistake that could get me killed.”
“It sounds terrible,” she whispered, wishing she could lean across and hold his hand.
“The worst part was being able to trust no one. My assignment included very little contact with other British agents. My sole duty was to get myself aboard whatever fleet sailed for England, and to report on their ability to invade us.”
“So you had no one to talk to for well over a year?”
Spencer looked down at where he gripped the reins. “My duty was to talk to people, to find out things. Along the way there were soldiers I worked beside, men who had no say in what their government did, who only wanted to survive.”
“But no women,” she said softly.
“No women.” He gave her a bitter smile. “It would have been too dangerous—what if I somehow compromised my identity?”
He seemed so sad that Roselyn felt the need to lighten his mood. “So you gave up all your mistresses.”
She thought his smile softened. “Yes, it was a hardship. I thought of them constantly, of course.”
“Of course.” She wished she could wholeheartedly believe his words. She wanted to comfort him, to take him into her arms and hold him through the dark night.
“You must know about loneliness,” he said in a hesitant voice. “Since Grant and your baby died, you’ve deliberately kept yourself alone. Why?”
The old pain had mellowed, and she smiled wistfully. “You already understand the answer. ’Tis easier, isn’t it? When you don’t care about much, you have nothing much to lose.”
“You cared about Philip Grant.”
He didn’t even ask it as a question.
“At the beginning, certainly, but not after that.”
“But I thought he was what you wanted?”
“So did I. But it was all a ruse to obtain my dowry. After my parents disowned me, he became very bitter.”
Spencer’s stillness was loud. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, not how you think. But the absolute withdrawal of his affection hurt me worse than a blow. It had been what I cherished about him. I continued to work hard at his side to at least win his respect.”
“Did you?”
She shook her head and gave a sad smile. “No. And when Mary was born, we were both a burden to him.”
She felt strangely relieved to be saying the words.
