Page 20 of Lady and the Scamp

Will took a deep breath. One of the first rules an agent learned was never to let the personal color the professional. “No, I’m not that certain. I don’t think it’s an act, but I’m not willing to stake the queen’s life on it. Not yet.”

“Then the work continues. I’ve tugged at me own connections here in London and hope to have some information you can use soon.”

“Send it through the usual channels.”

“I will. And now I’ll see you out before Bridget comes to see what’s keeping me and we both hear an earful.”

Chapter Five

The next day was clear and mild, and the queen proposed playing croquet and lawn bowls followed by a picnic. Clearly the news about the dead assassin had scared her enough that she was not yet ready to venture outside the palace.

Will and the prince made their way outside before the others and stood in the shade, watching the servants finish laying out the croquet game.

“The police have nothing of any use,” Albert was saying. “They can’t even tell me if the man acted alone.”

“I’m sorry to say it, Your Highness, but I don’t believe he did. As I told you, the Royal Saboteurs recently infiltrated an Irish separatist group, and they have plans for actions all over the country. We believe the queen’s assassin was working with that group.”

“Innishfree.”

“That’s correct.”

“I want them stopped, Mr. Galloway.”

“We’ll stop them, Your Highness.”

The sound of feminine voices drew the attention of both men, and Will glanced toward the French doors leading out of the palace. The queen emerged first, her dog trotting at her heel. Behind her was the Duchess of Charlemont. Will tried to make himself look away then. He shouldn’t want to see Lady Averley so badly, but he found himself watching for her pale hair. She followed the duchess, and Will’s breath caught in his throat. She wore a lovely blue gown with white stripes and lace at the throatand sleeves. Her hair had been swept up and back, as opposed to her usual dour style of a bun at the nape of her neck. She looked utterly ravishing, and Will thanked God for the others present because if they’d been alone, he would not have been able to stop himself from going to her.

“It appears as though Lady Averley has put aside her mourning,” the prince observed.

That would explain the blue dress and the style of her hair. “I wonder what precipitated that decision.”

“Do you?” the prince said, brow raised. He walked toward his wife and gave her a sweeping bow. She took his arm and they moved toward the croquet. Will made to follow, but a red-haired footman appeared with a silver tray. “Letter for you, sir.”

“Thank you.” Will recognized Bridget Kelly’s hand and moved inside. It would need to be destroyed as soon as he read it. He found a parlor with a fire in the hearth and stood with an arm on the mantel. He read the note once then again then tossed it in the fire and watched it burn. Cal’s contacts had uncovered a meeting of Innishfree tonight. Will was under no illusions that he would be able to gain entrance, but if Lady Averley was part of the plot to kill the queen, mightn’t she attend?

He returned to the lawn, where it appeared a spirited game of croquet was already underway. He agreed to keep score and then wished he had chosen to play lawn bowls. Emily was one of the croquet players, and Will had to watch the game—and the players—to keep score. He should have been watching all of the players, but his gaze was drawn to Emily over and over. He traced the lines of her slim back when she bent to swing the croquet mallet. He watched the breeze lift the tendrils of hair that had come loose at the back of her neck.

And at one point, she caught him watching her, and he all but groaned when she gave him a slight smile and then appeared to wet her lips out of nervousness.

He might as well accept that he wanted her. And he might as well accept that he couldn’t have her. He definitely had feelings for her and sleeping with her would only exacerbate that problem. She was his mission. He had to remain impartial. Especially if she was plotting to help Irish separatists kill the queen.

Clearly that would not happen on the palace grounds this afternoon, and as soon as the game ended, Will moved away and moved to go inside. He wasn’t about to watch the ladies play lawn bowls. Watching Emily bend over to roll a ball was too much to ask. He decided to take the long way back into the palace to give his body time to cool down. There was a long columned portico, and he stepped into the coolness beneath it. He’d lingered there no more than a moment or two when he heard his name.

He turned and uttered a low curse. Emily had followed him at a clip, and now she slowed, her hand on her waist as she tried to catch her breath. Will imagined loosening her corset so she might breathe easier. And then he imagined sliding his hands around her bare waist and up to cup—

“Lady Averley, is anything amiss?”

She shook her head and reached for a column where she rested a gloved hand. Will tried very hard not to notice the way her bosom rose and fell. Thank God it was afternoon and her gown was not cut low. “A word, sir,” she finally managed.

“Of course. Catch your breath, my lady. And may I say you look lovely today? Blue suits you.”

Her pale eyes flashed at him, and he all but took a step back. Clearly, she did not want his compliments.

“Last night,” she began, “you took liberties.”

Will could only wish he’d taken liberties. If he had, then he wouldn’t be wondering what her mouth would feel like underhis. “Did I? I was under the impression I merely escorted you back to your chamber and left you at the door.”

“You used my Christian name without my leave.”

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