Part 8 (1/2)
Confident he could, and would, do a better job of remembering what he wanted from Kate in the future, he smoothed his cravat, brushed a bit of lint from his coat and stepped outside onto the veranda.
”Good afternoon, Lady Kate.”
She spared him a brief glance over the top of her book as he walked around to take a seat beside her. ”Is there a particular reason you've been following me about all day, Mr. Hunter?”
”Several, in fact. Would you care to hear them?”
”Not really,” she replied and turned the page. ”I'd rather you just stop.”
”Can't, I'm afraid. I've orders.”
”Orders?” She laughed a little at that and looked up. ”From whom?”
He hid a smile when her eyes darted to his mouth. He'd known she would try to pretend the kisses hadn't happened, just as he'd known she would not be able to pull it off.
”William Fletcher,” he told her.
”You don't take orders from Mr. Fletcher,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Her gaze dipped to his mouth once more before she blushed and stuck her nose back in her book. ”He works for the War Department.”
”That's not common knowledge,” he commented, although he wasn't particularly surprised she knew of it. Only to be expected, really, since a number of her friends and family members-including her brother Whit-worked for the War Department.
She twisted her lips but didn't look up. ”It's not entirely uncommon knowledge.”
”Whit let something slip, or was it the duke?” He sincerely doubted it was the ever reticent James McAlistair.
”I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” she demurred.
”I'm sure you do, and while I can appreciate your circ.u.mspection on the matter, I'll remind you that when Evie's life was in danger, I was one of the men Whit and William chose to guard her.” That had been a remarkably shortsighted and precarious choice, in his opinion. He'd suggested they draw out their adversary by using Evie as bait.
”That's true.” Kate seemed to think about that for a moment before inclining her head in acknowledgment. ”Very well, I do know what you mean, but I don't believe for a moment that you work for the War Department in any official capacity. Also, nothing was 'slipped,' as you put it. I am not so sheltered that I am unaware of what goes on in my own home. ”
He'd wager she knew only what had been gleaned in bits and pieces. And he had no intention of filling in the blanks.
”As it happens, I do work for Mr. Fletcher in an official capacity.” He stretched his legs out before him. ”And he has ordered me to keep an eye on you.”
She seemed to consider that, and him, then lowered her head a little, just as he had not long ago at her mother's ball, and whispered, ”Liar.”
”Liar, is it?” he asked on a laugh.
”Yes.” She straightened again. ”To begin with, you're not the sort to work for the War Department.”
”And what sort might that be?”
She frowned a little in thought. ”Oh, patriotic, selfless, brave, perhaps a little reckless.”
”I'm an unpatriotic and selfish coward with a cautious streak?”
”I didn't say that. I simply don't believe you possess those qualities to the degree necessary to risk life and limb in the name of crown and country.”
The patriotic bit, he'd give her. The lack of selflessness as well. But d.a.m.n if he'd have her thinking him a coward. It would better serve his purposes, however, to have that argument another time.
”Second,” Kate continued, ”Mr. Fletcher would not employ one of his men as a chaperone for a young lady at a house party.”
”He would if he thought that young lady in danger.”
”What a lively imagination you have,” she said, and with enough amus.e.m.e.nt in her voice to tell him she didn't think the less of him for it. ”In danger of what?”
”From whom, actually. Your admirer is heavily invested in a smuggling operation.”
”Which one?”
”Which...” He nearly gaped at her. Holy h.e.l.l, could he have been that mistaken about the girl's innocence? ”How many smuggling operations are you aware of?”
”Oh, all of them,” she drawled with a roll of her eyes. ”Which admirer?”
”Ah. Lord Martin.”
”Really?” She stared at him, her blue eyes going round. ”You're in earnest?”
”Never more so.”
”Lord Martin a smuggler?” She blew out a long breath, glanced back toward the house as if she expected to see the gentleman in question coming out the door, then turned back again. ”Goodness, I shouldn't have thought he'd have the spine.”
”You say that as if he's risen in your estimation.”
”I suppose he has, in a way. I've always thought him something of a milksop. Well, not always. There was a period of time, a significant period of time to be honest, when I was quite attached to him. Or at least the idea of him. He seemed terribly dramatic and romantic, and...” She trailed off. ”I beg your pardon. I have a tendency to ramble.”
”Yes, I know.”
She shot him an annoyed look. ”What I am trying to say is, I don't think more of him for smuggling. I simply think more of him for being capable capable of smuggling. One can admire a talent without approving of how it's put to use.” of smuggling. One can admire a talent without approving of how it's put to use.”
He wondered how she would judge the use of his talents. Not well, he imagined. ”Did you miss the part where I said his talents place you in danger?”
”No.”
”You don't appear concerned.”
She shrugged. ”I'm not particularly. Lord Martin shares a closer bond to others in residence than he does with me. You'd be better off following them about.”
”Which others?”
”Oh, Mr. Kepford and Mr. Woodruff come to mind. I believe the three of them attended school together.”
”I rather doubt he fancies them.”
”I rather doubt his fancying me puts me in any sort of jeopardy,” she returned. ”Particularly in light of the fact that I do not fancy him. What do you expect him to do, exactly? Recruit me into his merry band of outlaws?”
”Robin Hood wasn't a smuggler.”