Caleb clamped down on his jaw, fighting to contain the fury that shot through him. He was coming to dislike Mark Sutton more and more. If the man hadn't been his superior, Caleb would have dragged him off his horse and given him a taste of the punishment he had doled out to the last man who had insulted Vermillion.

Instead, he forced himself to remain silent as they rode the rest of the way down the lane back to London. All the way there, he kept thinking of the hurt and betrayal he had seen in Lee's face.

And wondering what would happen when she found out he was betraying her trust again.


The weeklong house party began the following day. The first event was an evening of gaming, dancing, and entertainment designed so that guests could become better acquainted. Though most already knew each other, there were always a number of recent acquaintances Gabriella had made. Actresses and opera singers, poets and artists, men like Major Sutton and Captain Tanner.

Lord Nash was there for the week, as well as Colonel Wingate and, of course, Lord Andrew Mondale. Lee was chatting with the colonel when a flash of scarlet caught her eye and she turned to see Caleb walk into the drawing room.

The moment he spotted them, a scowl appeared on his face. He quickly smoothed it away.

"Captain Tanner," the colonel called out to him, drawing him in their direction though he was already walking that way. "I don't believe we've met."

"No, sir. Not formally."

"You know Miss Durant, I assume."

The edge of his mouth barely curved. "Yes, I've had the pleasure."

She colored. She prayed the colonel wouldn't notice.

"Good evening, Miss Durant."

"Captain Tanner."

The colonel seemed unaware of the tension in their exchange. "You're assigned to Wellesley, I hear. Some sort of special duty. All very hush-hush, I gather."

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it, sir."

"No, no, of course not. All the same, it's quite a coup, I would say, career-wise. Wellesley has grand ambitions. If you're one of the chosen, you could go very far. I gather that is your intention."

"Yes, sir. The army's been my home for the past eight years. I don't see any reason for that to change." He flicked a glance in Lee's direction, but his expression didn't alter.

He would be returning to Spain. She knew it shouldn't bother her, told herself it didn't.

They spoke for a moment more, trivialities, talk of the war. All the while she continued to smile and tried not to look at Caleb. Every time she did, her gaze slid down to his mouth and she remembered the heat of it pressed against her skin.

As soon as she could politely escape, she excused herself and slipped away. She had made it as far as the gaming room when Andrew Mondale appeared, handsome, almost pretty with his gleaming golden hair, jonquil tailcoat, and dark green breeches.

"Where have you been, my heart? I was about to perish of loneliness without you."

She arched a brow. "Really? And here I thought Juliette Beauvoir was keeping you well entertained." Beautiful and black-haired, with a pouty mouth and big blue eyes, Juliette was an actress in Drury Lane. She had set her sights on Mondale some weeks back. As far as Lee was concerned, she could have him.

"Juliette is not you, my dove. Surely you can't think she interests me in the least."

She toyed with a wispy red curl next to her ear, a gesture unconsciously Vermillion. "Actually, I think you and Juliette would suit." She looked thoughtful. "Yes, I believe the two of you would suit very well."

Andrew slapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, my pet. You know there is only one woman for me." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "It is you and none other, my beauty."

Vermillion laughed. Andrew could often be charming. But it was Nash she would choose. After Caleb, she knew the deep sort of bonding that intimacy with a man could bring. She wouldn't risk those feelings again and especially not with a man as inconstant as Andrew.

"Behave yourself," she said. "I believe Juliette is watching. Besides, I need to find my aunt. Why don't you try your hand at whist while I am gone?"

"I suppose if you insist… but my heart shall bleed until your return."

She laughed again as she turned to leave—and bumped right into Caleb. He steadied her with a big hand at her waist and leaned to whisper in her ear.

"I could manage to make his heart bleed in earnest, if only you just say the word." There was the mere hint of a curve to his lips and she thought that he might have been only half in jest.

She managed a flirty smile. "Why, Captain Tanner—you aren't jealous, are you?"

His eyes darkened. "I am jealous of every man in this room and undoubtedly you know it."

But she hadn't. Not really. And she was stunned at the realization that Caleb still felt something for her. She didn't know quite what to say. Fortunately, at that moment, the three-piece orchestra in the corner struck up a waltz, filling the room with music and ending their brief exchange.

Caleb saved her from an embarrassingly lengthy silence by taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

"I've seen you waltz," he said. "I watched you through the windows. I wondered how it would feel to hold you in my arms."

She rested a faintly trembling hand on the shoulder of his scarlet uniform jacket and felt the outline of his heavy gold epaulets. With a single long stride, he led her into the waltz.

That he was an excellent dancer came as no surprise. He had always been a graceful man and here he seemed completely at home, gliding her into each turn, sweeping her along with him as if they had danced together a thousand times. His hold was firm and steady, his shoulder warm and solid beneath her hand. The conversation in the room seemed to slowly fade. The faces of the guests blurred into little more than a haze of color and for this brief time there was only Caleb.

Her heart swelled, pounded. Her chest squeezed, and in that moment, the shocking realization hit her: She was in love with Caleb.

Not just a little in love, but passionately, dangerously in love.

"I need to talk to you," he said. "When can we meet?"

But Lee was so engrossed in her newfound knowledge that she barely heard him. "Wh-what did you say?"

"I said we need to meet. We need to talk. I'll come to your room tonight, a little after midnight."

She missed a step, thinking of Caleb in her bedchamber, thinking what would happen if she actually let him in. "Are you insane? You can't come to my room."

He smiled. He had the whitest, most wonderful smile. "You might want to keep your voice down. One of your lapdogs might hear. I don't think they would appreciate knowing you were inviting a man to your room."

"I'm not inviting you to my room! I'm barely speaking to you!"

He stifled a grin, but amusement danced in his eyes. He led her into a turn, then pulled her back into his arms, holding her a little closer than he should have.

"Make some excuse and retire a little early. Don't forget to leave your door unlocked."

"Listen to me, Caleb Tanner. If you come to my room, I won't be there. You might be used to giving orders to your men, but I am not one of your soldiers."

Without missing a step, he drew her even closer. She could smell his cologne, feel the strength of the hand at her waist. There was something in his eyes. Dear Lord, if only she knew what it was.

"It's important, Lee."

The music abruptly ended. Caleb's hold lingered an instant longer, then he made a very formal bow and stepped away.

As soon as they reached the edge of the dance floor, Lee excused herself and left him. Caleb watched her until she disappeared from the drawing room.


I'm a fool. Completely insane. He had tried to talk himself out of it, known he was acting as ridiculous as the rest of her besotted swains, but still couldn't stop himself.

Returning to Parklands had been a mistake. He should have stayed as far away from Lee as he could get. Unfortunately, he'd had no choice. Orders were orders and his were to find a traitor. Though he no longer believed that Vermillion was involved, someone at Parklands—a frequent guest, one of the servants, or even Gabriella Durant—was involved in a conspiracy to obtain information and convey it to the enemy. It was his job to discover who it was.

What he didn't need to do was to become even more involved with Lee.

Standing in the darkness at the edge of the terrace, Caleb cursed himself. Through the windows of the drawing room, he could see her in conversation with Jonathan Parker, Lord Nash. It made his insides tighten. He hadn't encountered Nash yet but undoubtedly he would. As much as he respected the viscount, he couldn't bear to think of him touching Lee as he had, spending time in her bed.

Through the tall windows of the drawing room, he could hear her smoky laughter, watch her smile at something Nash said, and his stomach clenched with jealousy. In some strange way she belonged to him.

He wanted her, had from the moment he had first seen her. He still did.

He thought how lovely she looked tonight in her high-waisted topaz gown. With her fiery hair swept up in curls, a few soft tendrils framing her face, she looked older, more sophisticated, yet now he noticed the innocence that sometimes crept into her expression, the charming naïveté that hid behind her practiced smile.

Perhaps those were the very things that made her so attractive to men, made her appear so mysterious and intriguing.

She was wearing very little face paint tonight, just enough kohl to make her eyes look huge and blue-green, enough rouge on her lips to remind him how soft and full they were, how sweet they tasted.

Caleb cursed as a shot of lust slid into his groin and his shaft went achingly hard. He was glad for the shadows on the terrace and annoyed at the heavy bulge straining against the front of his breeches.

Dammit to bloody hell. What was it about her that made her so different from the rest of the women he had known?

Cursing the unwelcome hold she had over him, Caleb walked away from the window. He couldn't afford to think of her and so he turned his attention to the task he had set for himself tonight.

The party was in full swing, guests drinking, gambling, dancing, some sneaking off to assignations in the rooms upstairs. The drawing rooms in this wing of the house echoed with laughter and gaiety, but the opposite wing was mostly dark. The library was there and the study. Both rooms opened onto the garden.

Careful to stay in the shadows, Caleb made his way in that direction.






14


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Gabriella Durant stood next to Elizabeth Sorenson beneath the extravagant cloud-painted ceiling of the Cirrus Room. It hummed with the laughter and conversation of guests, the busy hustle of liveried servants carrying silver trays heavy with hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Elizabeth's blue eyes latched onto one of the men across the room. "My God—did you invite Charles?" Gowned in white satin glittering with brilliants, Elizabeth stared at her husband as if a ghost had appeared on the opposite side of the drawing room.

"He arrived with Lord Claymont. Dylan said Charles asked if he could come." It was very bad ton, Gabriella knew. A man could come to an affair like this with his mistress, but never his wife.

Years ago, after Charles had abandoned his bride for another woman, Elizabeth had shown her disdain for Society and done exactly as she pleased. She still did. But she rarely appeared at a function where her husband would be present and Charles did his best to avoid his errant wife.

Or at least he had done so in the past.

Lately, Gabriella had noticed, Charles had made an unexpected appearance on several occasions and much of his attention had focused on his beautiful wife.

"Perhaps he has come because you are here."

"Charles?" She laughed and Gabriella didn't miss the bitterness in her voice. "I am the last reason he would be here. Perhaps he has his eye on an actress or an opera singer… Juliette Beauvoir perhaps. I heard he has been without a mistress for some time."

"Now that you mention it, I had heard that as well." Gabriella looked at her friend, whose gaze kept straying across the room toward the lean, sandy-haired man she had married but with whom she no longer shared a bed.

"Have you seen much of Charles lately?" Gabriella asked.

Elizabeth turned. "It's funny you should ask. You know he has been living at Rotham Hall these last several months." It was the earl's estate not far from the city where Elizabeth lived with her sons Peter and Tom. "I told him if he wished to stay with the boys for a while, I would move into the town house, but he said there was plenty of room for all of us."