Page 59 of Rules for Heiresses
“No, thank you.” Courtland lifted a brow. He wasn’t cut out to be a spy. “Sommers is personal.”
“Then I pray I never get on your bad side.”
“As if neither of you would do the same,” Courtland remarked. Notwithstanding that Waterstone was one of the queen’s most cold-blooded infiltrators, the Duke of Embry also had a reputation for ruthlessness. Both men were honorable to a fault, however, and he admired them for what they had achieved.
Embry was a couple years older than he was, and he’d gone to Eton, not Harrow. Waterstone was a transplanted New York–born peer who’d come back to England because his uncle was dying. Rumor had it that he was a double agent working for the Americans as well as the British Crown, but with the earl, one could never be sure. Even his wife was fake—a necessary deception that made most people look the other way. After all, who would look twice at a dandified earl with a coquette of a countess on his arm? It was the perfect disguise. The perfect diversion. Even Ravenna had fallen for the ruse, believing them madly in love when they were little more than colleagues.
“Where’s your better half?” Courtland asked.
“Working another angle for information.” Waterstone arched a brow. “Where’s yours?”
“My duchess is not a spy.”
The earl’s grin was so wide, it nearly split his face in half. He waggled his blond eyebrows. “As far asyouknow.”
Courtland shook his head, dismissing the man’s absurd ramblings, and then froze. He swiveled, frowning at the knowing look on his friend’s face and shifted his gaze toward the closed study door.No, his wife would not be so bold as to eavesdrop, would she? As quickly as the idea came to him, he discarded it before laughing at his own idiocy.
Of courseshe’d be listening.
She was Ravenna, a rebel through and through. Now that he thought about it, he’d bet his entire fortune that she was standing just beyond those doors, ear pressed to the wood. For how long was anyone’s guess, though he imagined it would have been from the moment Embry and Waterstone arrived. If his duchess was one thing, it was inquisitive. The appearance of her brother and the earl would have been lure enough.
“Care to make a wager?” Waterstone asked snidely, catching the direction of his glance. “On what’s beyond that door?”
The ever ascetic Duke of Embry covered his laugh with a cough. “I can’t take that bet because of…reasons.”
“Reasons that have red hair and brown eyes?” Waterstone joked.
Courtland blinked. His wife’s beguiling image appeared in head. Her hair was not merely red, it was auburn with streaks of russet and cinnamon. And her eyes were the color of rich, potent sherry until she was caught in the throes of passion…and then they became molten gold-dusted copper. Fuck, even knowing she might on the other side of that door flooded him with lust. Tamping down his desires, he strode to the door and opened it.
There was no one there.
With a small, satisfied grin, he turned to set the mistaken Waterstone in his place, and watched as his smug friend burst into cackles better suited to a witch than a grown man. Courtland froze, thought for a moment, and then a huff of self-deprecating laughter tore from his chest. He shook his head in defeat and closed the study door.
The clever little minx wasn’t outside the study because she was alreadyinside.
* * *
Ravenna had forgotten how much energy it took to stay perfectly still…to barely breathe, while keeping her entire body from cramping in misery. That Earl of Waterstone was distressingly sharp. She could tell by the way his hawkish eyes took in every detail, cataloged every move and every change, even something so small as a whisper of air on the other side of a room.
Perhaps that was a bit of a stretch, but suffice it to say that he was more observant than most. Rawley, she knew from experience, was also alert. Her brother was no slouch either; he very rarely missed anything. If she’d had to guess, at least two of the men in that room had been spies, were currently still spies, or were planning a future in spying.
Her husband, however, had seemed distracted for reasons unknown. Courtland was a mess, his hair rumpled, clothing askew, and he looked like he hadn’t had a shave in days. She’d gotten an eyeful of that strong, bristled jaw when he’d walked past to the study door. Ravenna wondered what it would feel like to kiss his face…to feel those unshaved whiskers abrading the sensitive skin of her bare thighs.
No!Notthe kind of thoughts to be having when she was seconds from discovery, peeping on a private conversation with two dukes, an earl slash spy, and her husband’s man of business whom Ravenna was nearly certain might also be an active agent of the Crown. But she couldn’t help it as her body flushed with heat and the faintest of exhalations left her lips. Her husband faltered midstep, though he did not look in her direction.
Damnation.
If Waterstone hadn’t heard the tiny gasp, she might get off scot-free. From what she could discern, the earl was currently half collapsed in his chair from mirth over a joke she’d missed, and her brother just seemed amused. But Ravenna should have been paying attention to her husband because the duke had halted in place, face thoughtful. For a horrible moment, she feared imminent discovery, and then, a bark of laughter broke from him.
Shaking his head, he strode past her hiding place, the alcove where what looked like a broken decorative bust used to be, not even sparing a glance in her direction. Ravenna fought back a silent sigh of relief. It was tight, but provided just enough space for her to wedge into without being noticed. The duke went over to the mantel and poured two glasses of brandy. Since her brother already had a drink, she assumed it was for the earl.
“You might as well come out, Duchess,” Courtland drawled.
Goodness, was he referring toher? Ravenna stilled, not even daring to breathe.
“If you stop breathing, you’ll swoon, and that alcove won’t hold you.”
Well, shit.
