Page 18 of Irresistible
The latter he would delay until he returned to London, and the former… Well, he simply wouldn’t allow himself to find her attractive. He’d always been a man of control and discipline. This would be no different.
Chapter5
Jess surveyed her appearance one last time in the large mirror in the entry hall of Lady Pickering’s Hampshire home. She still wasn’t used to seeing Mrs. Smythe’s reflection, which she supposed was a good thing. It meant her disguise looked nothing like her.
“Splendid.” Lady Pickering moved behind her, beaming. It was the most effusive Jess had ever seen the woman. “You look magnificent. How I wish I could see your success at the Chesmores’. Alas, I shall have to settle for your verbal report upon your return.” She’d informed Jess that she could and indeed would be expected to share the outcome of the mission with her.
Turning from the mirror, Jess pulled on her gloves. “I do appreciate your confidence in me.”
“I see the barest flicker of doubt, but I’ll repeat what I told you at dinner last night: you’re ready for this,” Lady Pickering assured her.
They’d arrived yesterday afternoon and enjoyed a pleasant dinner, after which Lady Pickering had given her a tour of the house. She’d also shared a few pieces of information about Dougal, much to Jess’s surprise.
Apparently, he’d been a bit of a rake in his youth, racing about London in the company of Lord Lucien and Maximillian Hunt, who was now the Viscount Warfield. Jess would love to hear stories of their adventures. Dougal’s father had then directed him to either farm on the family estate in Scotland or pursue a military career. Dougal had joined the Black Watch and served in the war in Spain and Portugal.
Lady Pickering started toward the door. “Come, Fallin’s waiting in the drive. Don’t forget the food hamper.”
Jess picked up the basket that sat near the door and followed Lady Pickering from the house. A two-person gig stood in the drive. However, the gentleman waiting to hand her into the equipage was not whom she’d expected.
“Dougal?” she whispered. He possessed the same dark almond skin, strong jaw, and supple mouth, but his brown eyes were obscured behind spectacles and his black curls were covered in an umber-colored wig. His costume was fussier than what he typically wore—the waistcoat was a bright pattern, and a large ruby glinted in the folds of his cravat. He looked wholly different, even though she could recognize him.
He bowed. “Dougal Smythe, at your service.” His Welsh accent slipped over her like a warm cloak on a late autumn day—familiar and welcome.
“You look quite different,” Jess said, staring at his hairline.
“You’ve about four hours to become used to it,” he said with a smile as he handed her into the gig. “I’ve already put your trunk on the back.”
“Thank you.” Jess set the food hamper next to her feet and looked to Lady Pickering, who stood watching them with her hands clasped. “And thank you. We’ll see you soon.”
“Good luck to you both,” Lady Pickering said. “Do be careful.”
Dougal climbed into the gig and picked up the reins. He nodded toward Lady Pickering and started them on their way. “I trust you spent a pleasant night with Lady Pickering?”
“I did, thank you. What about you? Where did you stay?”
“A small inn outside Winchester. It was comfortable.” He tipped his head up briefly to look at the sky. “It may rain, which will only support our cause. I would just prefer it held off until we are at or near to our destination.”
The gig had a cover, but it wouldn’t keep them completely dry. “If we are rain-soaked, the Chesmores will be even more likely to take pity.”
“Exactly so,” he said with a nod.
She looked over at him, trying to accustom herself to his disguise. “Are the spectacles plain glass?”
“They are, so we must take care not to let anyone else handle them.”
Jess nodded. “The wig is the most jarring thing. I prefer your natural hair.”
“I do too, but this changes my appearance more than just the spectacles. The color of my skin usually sets me apart. It’s not the best trait for a man whose profession typically requires him to disappear into the background.”
“How did you come to be in this profession? Lady Pickering told me you were in the Black Watch. I confess I have no problem imagining you in a kilt with a scarlet coat.” In that moment, she realized she also preferred his Scottish accent to the Welsh one. But they would both be using the Welsh, even when they were alone. They wouldn’t chance slipping.
“Is that so?” he asked with a low laugh. “I rarely wear a kilt.”
“That’s a shame.” She glanced at his legs, wondering how they would look in his traditional garb. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“It’s not an exciting tale, I’m afraid. I was serving in the Black Watch, and I was given an assignment to deliver information. I did so with little difficulty and apparently great speed compared to others. After that, I was removed from the regiment and sent to work for the Foreign Office.” He drove the gig onto the road from Lady Pickering’s drive. “You must realize you can’t share that with anyone.”
“Since no one can know that you—and I—work for the Foreign Office, that goes without saying. Thank you for sharing your story with me. It’s good to know things about you. I know you said we didn’t need to get to know each other, but I contend that if we are well-acquainted, that can only help our partnership.”
