Page 1 of The Spy and His Lady Love
Chapter 1
“Who isthe man dancing with Lady Elizabeth Spencer?” Penelope Hemlock asked her brother, Thomas Seabrook, the Duke of Wentworth.
“I’ve never set eyes on the gentleman before,” Wentworth answered with curiosity steeped in his voice. “Isn’t that the point of a masquerade ball? To be unrecognizable.”
“He’s holding Lady Elizabeth rather close and intimately as though he’squitefamiliar with her. She’s the sister of one of your close friends. Do something, Thomas, before he causes a scandal.”
Her brother’s eyes pierced hers. “Pray tell, how do you know about intimacy and scandal sinceyou were raisedin the country and are only ten and seven?” Shaking his head, he said, “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Thankfully, the waltz had ended. “Excuse me, I’m going tofollow them,” Penelope murmured.
“Follow them…”
Penelope didn’t hear the end of her brother’s words as her curiosity, which had gotten her into trouble in the past, got the best of her. Following Elizabeth and the stranger took her out of the ballroom and into the dark shadowy hallways. Squinting into the ebony darkness from her hiding spot behind a potted palm, her face peeking out between the palm leaves, she saw silhouettes of figures while hushed whispers swirled throughout the air. Her eyes and ears strained to no avail. Too dark to recognize anyone, not that she really would, having only been in London a short time. Nor could she hear what secrets were being uttered.
Had that man taken Elizabeth into the shadows to compromise her? As her heart sped up and she prepared to enter the intimidating darkness to seek Elizabeth, a hand grabbed her upper arm roughly. She was spun around until she crashed into an unyielding wall of hard maleness.
“What do you think you are doing? Do you want some reprobate to think you’re a doxy and take advantage of you?” The deep, intimidating voice sent shivers up and down her spine in both panic and awareness.
“I…I…beg your pardon.” She shrugged her shoulder out of his reach. “I’m looking for someone. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He lowered his head. The man towered over her, and right before he breathed into her ear, she caught his sneer. “I believe your brother, the duke, would disagree. Shall we find him?”
Who was this man, and why was he making her his business? “No. I believe I will retreatbackinto the ballroom. Excuse me.”
“Please, let me escort you. I believe I hear a waltz playing, and I would enjoy your company on the dance floor.”
Before Penelope could protest and refuse the dance, he was leading her into the dimly lit ballroom amongst a crush of bodies. She prayed her recent dance lessons were fortuitous as this was the first time she’d danced a waltz with someone other than her dancing master. She also hoped no one recognized her as it was forbidden to dance a waltz before receiving permission from one of the patronesses of Almacks. And she wasn’t attending Almacks until Wednesday next. Of course she never imagined being accepted into Almacks. But as usual Wentworth’s name and money opened doors.
“Relax, I will not ravish you.” The deep timbre of his voice did strange things to her insides.
“It’s not that. I’m embarrassed to admit this is my first waltz.” Too bad a mask covered most of his face. A face she believed would be handsome.
“You are dancing splendidly. The duke got his money’s worth.”
Penelope frowned. “You have me at a disadvantage. You appear to know who I am, but I don’t know you. Pray, tell me your name?” She waited with bated breath for his answer. And waited and waited.
When she’d nearly given up, he replied, “You may call me Hugh.”
“Hugh…?” Most men flaunted their family name, making her wonder why all the secrecy.
He chuckled. “Your inquisitive nature will get you in trouble. I’m surprised Wentworth has not lectured you about it.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. Not that he could see with her mask coving the top half of her face. “I’ve done my best to hide that part of my personality from him.”
“Well done, my dear. But I expect you won’t be able to for long.”
The more she listened to Hugh speak, the more he sounded familiar, even though she couldn’t have possibly met him before. His name rang no bells or warningsinsideher head. Although she had to ask, “Have we met before?”
He cocked his head and studied her eyes as he led her into a twirl. “No. But I’m aware of your family. Wentworth is a powerful and respected duke. And you have only recently come under his protection.”
An inferno encompassed her entire body. No doubt this man knew her shame. “’Bastard’. You may say it. It will not be the first or last time someone refers to me as it. I realize I am tarnished goods and will be near impossible to marry off, even with my sizable dowry.” Her stomach tightened and her chest began to ache as she waited for this stranger’s response.
Wentworth believed adopting her into the home of her dead father and renaming her, Lady Penelope Seabrook, would open all avenues for her. Would make up for their father’s indiscretion and the station of her birth. That an overly large dowry would make men ignore what she was. She went along with him. He’d given her no choice. That didn’t make her believe him.
“Forgive me, Lady Penelope if I gave you the impression of disrespect. I meant no such thing by referring to your family and how you came about to be a part of it. Also, you should know, I do not judge people by the circumstances of their birth. Some of the highest born people of the aristocracy are not worth my time.” As the music ended, he asked, “May I escort you back to your brother?”
“That would be lovely.”
