Wedding In Springtime(12)

"By promising the most gruesome thing in the world." Grant's shoulders  sagged at the mere thought of his penance. "I must dance with all the  debutantes."

"No!" Genie covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

"I fear it is true. So now that you know the lengths I will go to secure  you an invitation, you cannot possibly be so disobliging as to leave  London before the ball."

"No, indeed, of course I shall come." Her eyes shone for a moment and  then a cloud passed over them once more. "But afterward, I must go home.  I cannot be responsible for causing my aunt to spend such a vast amount  for a matchmaker."

"But she would only have to pay anything if you entered into the married state. This seems an easy thing to avoid."

Genie graced him with a brilliant smile. "You would know best."

Grant returned her smile. "I can tutor you in the ways of avoiding matrimony."

"I would be most obliged. Does the work of a match-breaker have a fee associated with it?"

"My fee is only the pleasure I have in protecting my friends from wedded bliss."

"Is that what happened between the duke and Lady Louisa? You worked your dark arts to wither away any affection for the match?"

Grant shook his head. "Theirs is an arranged match, and you are right  about a general lack of enthusiasm from either partner for the match."

"It seems a shame that two people should be bound together for life without any affection from either party."

"I should be happy if I could inspire even a decent conversation between the two," remarked Grant without thought.

"Oh yes, do let's help them!"

Grant could not recall making any such suggestion, but the angel before  him lit up with excitement, and any thought to the contrary was  vanquished. "Yes, let us see what we can do."

"Good, what an excellent idea. We should try to get them together, try to encourage them to make conversation."

Grant, who never once interfered with the romantic interests, or lack of  interest, of his friends, found himself nodding in agreement despite  himself. Genie beamed in return and Grant decided it was all worth it.  Poor Marchford would have to fend for himself.

"So I am to defend you against suitors while trying to inspire romance in the duke."

"Yes! A lovely plan I think."

Grant could think of a few other words for it but said nothing.  "Whatever else we do, please recall you owe me the first dance. I have  paid for it dearly and I shall have it."

"Indeed, you shall," conceded Genie.

Grant took her gloved hand in his and kissed it at the edge of the  glove, his lips brushing momentarily over her skin. "Until we meet on  the morrow."

"Miss Talbot!" Another young woman, brunette, not at all as pretty as  the lovely bundle he was sitting beside, strode down the gallery hall  with purpose, Marchford trailing in her wake. He had seen that look in a  matron's eye before and knew it was time to abandon his new prize.

Grant rose and greeted his friend. "Marchford. Came to find you. Kept me waiting outside."

"I do apologize," said Marchford, strolling behind the determined  female. "Miss Rose, may I present Mr. William Grant. Miss Talbot, I  believe you are already acquainted."

"How do you do?" said Miss Rose evenly. "I am already acquainted with Mr. Grant."

Grant merely smiled and made his bow. He did remember Miss Rose, but he  would have preferred to forget. "You are to be the dowager's new  companion, I understand."

"Yes, you are correct," said Miss Rose, moving between him and the  lovely Miss Talbot. Not only was she utterly immune to any flirtation,  but she also appeared determined to protect Miss Talbot from the same.

"Let me show you back to the drawing room, ladies," said Marchford. "I fear I must away, as I have kept Mr. Grant waiting."

"I can escort Miss Talbot back to the drawing room, Your Grace. I fear  we have kept you from your appointment." Miss Rose curtsied efficiently  and, linking arms with Miss Talbot, turned to leave.

"Do not forget, Miss Talbot, the first dance is mine!" declared Grant.

Miss Talbot turned back to him. "I would be most obliged," she said before she was tugged back by the militant Miss Rose.         

     



 

Grant watched the retreating figures of the women, his eyes roving with pleasure over the flawless form of Miss Talbot.

"Why do I feel compelled to remind you," drawled Marchford when the  ladies were out of hearing range, "that Miss Talbot is the cousin to my  intended bride?"

"Merely admiring the view," said Grant.

***

When Marchford returned from his ride with Grant, he was informed there  was a Mr. Neville waiting for him in his library. Marchford frowned. He  did not recall having any business with a Mr. Neville, and curiosity  getting the best of him, he decided to speak with the man before  changing his clothes.

Mr. Neville was a small man with a receding hairline. What hair he had  was combed forward over the barren spots in a rather futile attempt to  hide what he had lost. Marchford could have no respect for the tailor  who had cut the shoulders of Neville's brown coat too wide in a vain  attempt to make his client appear larger. The effect, unfortunately,  made the man appear not fully grown. Despite these flaws in appearance,  the man surveyed him with the utmost confidence, holding a leather case  to his chest with pride.

"Do I have the pleasure of addressing the Duke of Marchford?"

"Yes," replied Marchford, unaccustomed to being addressed so directly in  his own home. "And I believe you are Mr. Neville? What can I do for  you, sir?"

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace," said the man. "I  have been sent by the Foreign Office to give you this." The man handed  him a sealed envelope. "Please read it, Your Grace."

Marchford noted the seal with displeasure. He had served the Foreign  Office for the past eight years. Some of his service he could discuss;  other operations would remain forever in secret. No one understood why  he had returned to Spain after his brother died. Everyone assumed he was  avoiding marriage or did not wish the responsibility of the title, but  those reasons would not have kept him from doing his duty.

The truth was Marchford had been in the middle of a sensitive mission  and had made important contacts with the enemy. If he had not returned,  the mission would have failed. It took him three years, but they finally  tracked the spy back to its source and foiled an attempt to seize the  city of Cadiz. Marchford turned the sealed letter over in his hands. He  thought he had made it clear he was done working as a spy.

Marchford broke the seal with a small sigh and quickly read the  contents. The letter contained a warning that the Foreign Office feared  French agents had infiltrated London society. Marchford was warned he  himself might be the target of spies trying to gain information  regarding his covert work by any means possible.

"Any number of French agents know you have been working for the Foreign  Office," said Mr. Neville. "I am to take any sensitive information you  have and store it for safe keeping."

"If I had any such information, I assure you it is quite safe."

Mr. Neville's brows collapsed together. "I need not tell you the war  with Napoleon and his coalition goes poorly. Most of Europe has already  fallen under his power. It is of vital importance any information you  have does not fall into enemy hands."

"It will not."

Mr. Neville chewed on his bottom lip, clearly displeased with the duke's  answer. "You must be wary of those around you. Anyone could be in  league with Napoleon. He pays his spies well. You have been seen in the  company of a Mr. Grant and Lord Thornton."

"Friends from my days at Eton. Not spies."

"And you live with your grandmother."

Marchford cut off the man with a laugh. "My grandmother may have her  faults, but I doubt being a secret French spy is one of them."

"She recently took up a companion, a Miss Penelope Rose." The man pulled  some papers from his case. "The daughter of a country parson, now  deceased. She has four sisters, all married. She remains unwed." The man  spoke the last words like an indictment against her.

"I see you have done your best to pry into my affairs. I must remind you  that this is my business and none of your concern." Marchford let his  voice drop.

"She has gained access to your house as have others who come to visit  you or your grandmother. Any one of them could be a spy. The French can  offer enough money for information even my own mother would be tempted  to switch allegiances."

"Then you should be concerned with getting your own house in order and stop meddling in my affairs."

"Speaking of affairs, you were seen speaking with an opera singer."

"Thank you for your service to the Crown, Mr. Neville," said the duke, holding open the door. "Have a good day."