is without—"
Flabbergasted,
Jared interrupted. "Pray, what war games are you speaking of?" His
voice took on a chilling calm as he waited for her answer. Nigel yelped, hiding
his nose beneath his paws.
Agatha
dropped her gaze, pushing her buttered bun about with her fork. "I have
ways, my boy." She took a small bite, tipping her round face his way.
"Now, as to Jane, she does open her mouth a bit too often in front of the
gentlemen, and of course, I realize that you are not aware of her capabilities
as a hostess. The Season she was out did have its shortcomings, the weather and
all, you know. However, nevermind that. London can be so dreary sometimes.
'Course, Emily had been with us for a few years off and on. Still, I believe
the best thing—"
She
clamped her mouth shut as Jared's purposeful strides ate up the rug between
them. "Confound it! Have you been snooping about my quarters?"
The
older lady put a hand to her chest as if in pain. "Moi? How could you
conceive of such a thing? And do I detect a bit of censure in your tone, young
man?"
Jared
grimaced. If his aunt knew about his work with Whitehall, it was possible
others knew about him as well, including a certain Monsieur Devereaux. A cold
knot formed in the pit of his belly as he thought about his daughter's safety.
At least Agatha hadn't mentioned Gabrielle . . . yet.
"How
did you know about my work?" he asked, his mind reeling.
Agatha
stiffened as Jared found himself attacked by two huge gray eyes, accusing him
of an insensitivity he was well known for. "You are Jane's guardian, Lord
Stonebridge, and you left her for three long years. You were not in India the
last two, one could only assume that the Black Wolf—"
Jared
drew in a sharp breath and felt as if someone stuck him with a bayonet.
"The Black Wolf?" His voice held a hardness that he was certain even
Agatha had never heard before.
He had
kept his cover a secret from the deadliest of men, and now this lady, whom he
loved like a mother, seemed to have uncovered his secret as if it were mere
child's play.
"Pray,
dear aunt, I can only hope that you have not spoken of this to anyone,
including Jane. I have noticed that her mouth opens at the strangest of times."
Agatha
blinked in surprise. "Gracious, what do you take me for, a gabster? I
traveled down to Whitehall to inquire about well... things." She shrugged
and popped another piece of bread into her mouth. "One thing led to
another, and I began to deduce your role as . . ." she lowered her voice,
"you know, a secret agent over the last few years."
Jared's
anger turned into a white-hot fury. "You went to Headquarters?"
Agatha
reached across the table, buttered another raspberry bun, and looked up.
"I assure you, Jared, no one was the wiser. I am quite good friends with
the Secretary. And do quit looking at me as if you were going to throw me into
some witch's brew."
Jared's
gaze sizzled with reproach. Agatha's explanation still did not tell him how she
knew who or what he was. It was all he could do to hold in his anger at the
danger his aunt had put herself in, and his daughter, and him, and Jane . . .
and now Emily. Come to think of it, it was simply amazing this paragon of
information who sat before him had no notion of his relationship with the
duke's daughter ... or had she?
"It
would be best if you keep these small facts to yourself, Aunt, and never, never
bring them into conversation again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Her gray
eyes lit up like a lantern in a storm. "Perfectly."
"Very
good, then. We will speak of this later." He headed toward the door,
looked back at his aunt, and shook his head, afraid to let another word pass
his lips before he did permanent harm to their relationship. He must get word
to Headquarters.
"Oh,
and, Jared dear."
He threw
an icy glare over his shoulder. "What, pray tell, could you have to say
now?"
"You
are not truly out at heels, are you? I do have some money from my mother's side
that is quite a
Flabbergasted,
Jared interrupted. "Pray, what war games are you speaking of?" His
voice took on a chilling calm as he waited for her answer. Nigel yelped, hiding
his nose beneath his paws.
Agatha
dropped her gaze, pushing her buttered bun about with her fork. "I have
ways, my boy." She took a small bite, tipping her round face his way.
"Now, as to Jane, she does open her mouth a bit too often in front of the
gentlemen, and of course, I realize that you are not aware of her capabilities
as a hostess. The Season she was out did have its shortcomings, the weather and
all, you know. However, nevermind that. London can be so dreary sometimes.
'Course, Emily had been with us for a few years off and on. Still, I believe
the best thing—"
She
clamped her mouth shut as Jared's purposeful strides ate up the rug between
them. "Confound it! Have you been snooping about my quarters?"
The
older lady put a hand to her chest as if in pain. "Moi? How could you
conceive of such a thing? And do I detect a bit of censure in your tone, young
man?"
Jared
grimaced. If his aunt knew about his work with Whitehall, it was possible
others knew about him as well, including a certain Monsieur Devereaux. A cold
knot formed in the pit of his belly as he thought about his daughter's safety.
At least Agatha hadn't mentioned Gabrielle . . . yet.
"How
did you know about my work?" he asked, his mind reeling.
Agatha
stiffened as Jared found himself attacked by two huge gray eyes, accusing him
of an insensitivity he was well known for. "You are Jane's guardian, Lord
Stonebridge, and you left her for three long years. You were not in India the
last two, one could only assume that the Black Wolf—"
Jared
drew in a sharp breath and felt as if someone stuck him with a bayonet.
"The Black Wolf?" His voice held a hardness that he was certain even
Agatha had never heard before.
He had
kept his cover a secret from the deadliest of men, and now this lady, whom he
loved like a mother, seemed to have uncovered his secret as if it were mere
child's play.
"Pray,
dear aunt, I can only hope that you have not spoken of this to anyone,
including Jane. I have noticed that her mouth opens at the strangest of times."
Agatha
blinked in surprise. "Gracious, what do you take me for, a gabster? I
traveled down to Whitehall to inquire about well... things." She shrugged
and popped another piece of bread into her mouth. "One thing led to
another, and I began to deduce your role as . . ." she lowered her voice,
"you know, a secret agent over the last few years."
Jared's
anger turned into a white-hot fury. "You went to Headquarters?"
Agatha
reached across the table, buttered another raspberry bun, and looked up.
"I assure you, Jared, no one was the wiser. I am quite good friends with
the Secretary. And do quit looking at me as if you were going to throw me into
some witch's brew."
Jared's
gaze sizzled with reproach. Agatha's explanation still did not tell him how she
knew who or what he was. It was all he could do to hold in his anger at the
danger his aunt had put herself in, and his daughter, and him, and Jane . . .
and now Emily. Come to think of it, it was simply amazing this paragon of
information who sat before him had no notion of his relationship with the
duke's daughter ... or had she?
"It
would be best if you keep these small facts to yourself, Aunt, and never, never
bring them into conversation again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Her gray
eyes lit up like a lantern in a storm. "Perfectly."
"Very
good, then. We will speak of this later." He headed toward the door,
looked back at his aunt, and shook his head, afraid to let another word pass
his lips before he did permanent harm to their relationship. He must get word
to Headquarters.
"Oh,
and, Jared dear."
He threw
an icy glare over his shoulder. "What, pray tell, could you have to say
now?"
"You
are not truly out at heels, are you? I do have some money from my mother's side
that is quite a
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