Page 17 of The Spy and His Lady Love
He banged on the front wall of the carriage and seconds later the driver opened the door and assisted with her descent.
“Please see the lady safely inside.”
Standing in the large welcoming foyer of Wentworth Manor, Penelope felt anything but welcome. What happened just now inside the carriage? Had she done something wrong? Why had he treated her poorly at the end? Hiking up her skirts, she hurried up the stairs to her room. Waved her maid away mumbling, “I can undress myself.” Instead of undressing she unclasped her cloak, let it fall silently to the floor, and fell onto the bed on her stomach. Tears leaked from her eyes, wetting the coverlet, so she rolled over onto her back, hugged herself, and cried even more. Her mind traveled back to the moment Newbury became angry with her. Had she said or done something? A loud gasp escaped her lips, and she shot up. “Oh my God, I called him Hugh.”
Harry stomped around the library,drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey, swearing loudly at himself for the fool he was. Edmond entered the room, took the bottle from his hands, and placed it on the credenza.
“What has you in such a foul mood?”
“The little twit called me Hugh,” he spat out as he swayed toward a chair and crumpled down in it. It was either that or fall flat onto the floor. On his face. He was smashed.
“She did, did she now?”
“I may not be able to see straight, but I can tell from your voice you’re finding this amusing. And I don’t want to hear, ‘I warned you.’”
“Well…your words not mine.” Edmond went to the sideboard and helped himself to a glass of fine brandy the Duke of Wentworth sent to Harry. “Care to share just what was transpiring when Lady Penelope referred to you as Hugh?”
He swayed forward and almost tumbled out of the chair. “No. I don’t. Suffice it to say, she’ll never make the mistake again.”
“Once you are wed and divulge your secret, I dare say not.”
The room wouldn’t stop moving. He closed his eyes, opened his eyes, and still the walls moved in a circular motion as did Edmond. “Sit the bloody hell down, you’re making me dizzy.”
Snorting, Edmond did as he was told. “You do realize, there’s a possibility Lady Penelope will never speak to you again when she finds out? She will think you made a fool of her. Not the best way to start a marriage.”
Harry swung his head Edmond’s way, then cringed. He loathed when he drank to excess. He would hate himself even more in the morning when he was puking his guts out. His stomach rolled—or sooner. “I know. But how else am I s-s-s-supposed to handle this dilemma?”
“Confide in her now and put the poor girl out of her misery in thinking she’s marrying a one-eyed, scarred gimp.”
That remark brought laughter to Harry’s lips. Put the way Edmond said it sounded either horrifying or humorous. Indeed, only he and those who knew would find it humorous. Others, such as Penelope, would find being settled with him for life horrifying. Damn. He had some ruminating to do.
The following day,with a head twice its size, a nagging headache, and a stomach that refused to keep anything down, Harry sent for Mr. Smythe. The Runner had had plenty of time to think about the job offer and to investigate Harry and the position he held within the War Office. Promptly at half eleven, he was announced. Harry stood, leaning on the desk, playing the part of the cripple. He gestured to a chair opposite his mahogany desk. “Please have a seat.”
Smythe bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.” And waited until Harry sat.
“May I offer you some brandy or whiskey?”
“No, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get down to business.”
“Certainly.” The Runner seemed almost agitated with him. Had he uncovered his secret and took offense? “Have you come to a conclusion about the offer?”
Harry wasn’t surprised Smythe’s face gave nothing about his decision away. He was, after all, the best Runner in London to date. Had to keep his emotions blank. Otherwise his enemies would know his thoughts and he would be dead. One of the reasons he was so valuable to the Crown.
“I’ve thought long and hard about the offer. And I must decline.”
Sitting back in his seat, Harry eyed Smythe with a raised brow in his one uncovered eye. “You do realize I’m merely the messenger for the Regent? He is the one who recommended you for the position. If I were you, I would think wisely about changing your answer.”
Smythe sat up straighter and leaned forward just a tad in the chair. The only sign he gave of unease. “I did not understand.”
“Perhaps, at our first meeting, I neglected to mention it.” Harry paused and if he looked deep enough into the man’s eyes, he could see the wheels in motion as he rethought his decision. “Is there anything I can do to persuade you to change your mind?” Harry purposely didn’t disclose that little tidbit of information about the prince. Most men would jump at the opportunity when the prince’s name was mentioned. Which was why it never was. Except now. He wanted the man on his team. And truthfully would do anything to get him. When it came to his position, Harry was ruthless. If only he could be more ruthless in his personal life. A little pain settled inside his chest. He would not think about her now.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Quite bold to accuse a duke and a member of the War Office of lying. In what way did I do so?”
“In pretending to be injured. As in being two people, The Duke of Newbury and Mr. Hugh Sinclair, your distant cousin.”
“So you are as good as they say.” Newbury removed the patch from his eye and used his handkerchief to remove as much of the make-up that he could which created his scar. He’d not worn the brace on his knee, which truth be told, he needed sometimes from an actual injury. Smythe didn’t so much as twitch at the revelation. “Forgive me for deceiving you. I stay alive because of my disguises. As the crippled duke, I’m ignored at most society functions and for some reason people think I’m daft in the head as well. They look past me and divulge secrets and espionage. Especially at my clubs. Many members at Whites’ or Brooks’, once in their cups, spill all sorts of secrets.”
