‘Bargain,’ Frederica said, holding out her hand. ‘Shall we shake on it?’
‘I’d rather kiss on it.’
She cursed her fair cheeks, for her body agreed that was amuch betterway to seal a bargain. But before Samuel could kiss her, there was a knock on the door. They leaned away from each other, both a little breathless.
‘Come in,’ Samuel said in French.
A gentleman in his mid-thirties entered the small private parlour. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that hid his eyes. His nose was large and straight and his lips a thin straight line. He was neatly dressed in a scarlet uniform with a white cross on the chest.
Samuel and Frederica rose to their feet.
‘Lieutenant-Colonel Grant,’ Samuel said, bowing. ‘Please allow me to present my betrothed, Lady Frederica Stringham.’
She beamed at the man and gestured to the chair. ‘Do please sit down. I have never met a real spy before.’
He sat at the table next to Samuel and accepted a cup of tea from her, but his body stiffened at the wordspy. Oh, dear. She should not have said that word either.
‘I am no spy, my lady. I do not believe in subterfuge.’
Disappointed, but undaunted, Frederica asked, ‘Do you invariably wear your British uniform while collecting information in France?’
Samuel snorted, but did not say anything.
Grant set his cup down on his saucer with a clatter. Frederica feared he might shatter them both. The china was too dainty for such handling. Her mother would have given the man, spy or no, a sharp reprimand.
‘Of course. I am a man of honour.’
He also appeared to be a man who thought quite a lot about himself. This brought a small smile to her lips, but she quelled it. ‘But is it not dangerous to proclaim your allegiance by your clothing?’
‘This is no place for a lady. But I will have you know that I have never condescended to sneaking about in civilian clothing. And when I was captured during the Peninsular War, my companion who wore plain clothes was shot, whereas I was brought to the general and treated according to my rank.’
Samuel cleared his throat. ‘Have a care, Grant, on how you speak to a young woman that also happens to be a lady and the daughter of a duke. Lady Frederica is here at General Lord Wellington’s request.’
Frederica handed the intelligence officer a tray of scones. ‘I am glad that you were spared, Lieutenant-Colonel.’
Grant grunted at this, but dropped his scone on the table and rifled through his satchel. He handed Samuel a stack of grubby papers. Standing, the spy drained his cup of tea and took his half-eaten scone in his hand. He saluted with it. ‘Be here next week. Same time, Colonel Lord Pelford.’
‘Very good,’ Samuel said, but did not bother to stand as their brusque guest left the small parlour with a slam of the door.
Frederica watched him straighten the papers before placing them in a satchel that he wore around his neck and shoulder. She eyed Samuel closely. His movements were controlled and he did not seem at all alarmed that they were carrying intelligence documents. He had always been terribly brave. It used to annoy her. Samuel never once refused one of her brothers’ dares. Even if he did break his foot in that dark cave.
His gaze met hers. ‘Sorry about Grant. I have met him a few times before and the fellow is insufferable. He should have treated you with more respect.’
‘When you proposed, I asked about your war experiences and you were equally disdainful.’
She watched as he pulled at his cravat.
Samuel’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘I do,’ she said, swallowing and holding up her fingers as she quoted,‘“They are not fit for a woman’s ears”.’
Frederica expected him to be embarrassed, not to laugh. But he did and loudly. The sound did something to her inner organs.
He grinned at her. ‘I am surprised you didn’t box my ears on the spot.’
Her fingers touched her parted lips. ‘I wanted to.’
Taking a deep breath, he sobered. ‘Forgive me, I was angry and out of sorts that day. I only remember feeling as if I had no choice and resenting it. I know that your ears and the rest of your very beautiful body are more than capable of anything that you set your mind to.’