Page 2 of His Wife, the Spy
However, even Father’s London library smelled of read books. Sir Reginald Spencer’s smelled of new leather and tobacco, and the spines glinted in the sunshine like soldiers lined up for review.
“Miss Pearce.” Spencer motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Annabel bristled at the command that made her feel like a prized terrier. At least her employer didn’t call her by her Christian name.
She took the chair that claimed the most shadow and waited for Spencer to sit. As he emerged from the sun’s glare, his features formed.
As a young man, he’d likely garnered a great deal of attention due to his height. As an older man, everything about him—from his fair skin to his white-blond hair—stretched too thinly over his large bones. He would have been terrifying looming down from a pulpit. Best that he’d given up his parish for a position in the royal household.
“How is Bitty this morning?”
“Elizabethis well.” Annabel emphasized the girl’s first name. The unfortunate family nickname sounded too much like “Biddy” to be complimentary. Besides that, the girl had inheritedher father’s height. “She was beginning her art lesson when I left her.”
The man nodded, his smile as thin as his eyebrows. His lined face seemed to fight the effort. “She shows some aptitude for it, I believe.”
“She does.” In truth, Elizabeth sat still for little else. “I would like to challenge her by taking her to the National Museum, where she can study and copy the masters. There are several young ladies who do the same, and it would be good for Elizabeth to try her hand at something unfamiliar.”
“Perhaps she should carry her supplies to Wiltshire for new scenery,” Spencer said.
Annabel’s hopes fell. “She thought she saw an invitation.”
“She did, and I have already answered. Elizabeth will leave in four days’ time with you as her companion.”
“Four days will barely give us time to gather wardrobes, sir.”
“She should need no new dresses. Many of the ones purchased for the Season have yet to be worn.”
It was true. Elizabeth had all she needed, but Annabel needed…
Nothing. She was a paid companion, hired to step in due to Mrs. Spencer’s illness. Two day dresses and something for evening meals were the only requirements. Her days of croquet and ballrooms were over.
But that didn’t mean she had no say. She had a job and, to her, part of that was bringing Elizabeth out properly. That meant using her own experiences about which events were better suited to find quality husbands.
The last house party she had attended with Jasper Warren had ended prematurely in a drunken display that left all the ladies in tears and one young man—not a gentleman, despite his upbringing—with a broken nose.
“With respect, sir, are you certain of this? Lord Ramsbury’s reputation for bacchanals is no secret, and Elizabeth, frankly, is too impulsive. The environment will most likely—”
“Elizabeth will have the month to grow accustomed to the crowd she will likely mingle with for the rest of her life. As for her impulses, that is why she has you.”
“A month?”
A month at the sort of party where Annabel would have been a guest only a year ago. A month withtonladies she knew from ballrooms and rides in the park. They could be horrid to each other in the best of circumstances, and this was not Annabel’s best circumstance.
It likely wouldn’t be Elizabeth’s either. She was better in shorter events where there was little chance for her manners and temper to wear thin.
“Sir, since we will be near Bath, perhaps a visit to Elizabeth’s mother would be in order. Maybe a fortnight there would ease Elizabeth’s mind over Mrs. Spencer’s health.”
The lie was a gamble. Elizabeth was no more worried about her mother than anyone else in the household, including the lady’s husband. Annabel wrote to her of Elizabeth’s successes in the Season, detailing everything she was missing, but she rarely saw any other letters in the outgoing post.
Spencer looked at her from under his brows. “At month’s end, if Elizabeth wishes to see her mother, she may visit for a week, no more. Her mother will not bear the upheaval for a fortnight. But you will spend the month at Kennet Hall. That is plenty of time to accomplish my goal.”
Hisgoal? Surely he wasn’t title-hunting for his daughter amongst Warren’s set. “Sir, Elizabeth has many well-situated suitors in London.” Annabel scoured her memory for the standouts amongst Elizabeth’s recent dance partners. “Mr. Cameron is heir to the Earl of Whitestone, and Mr.—”
“I do not care to send my daughter husband-hunting more than she already is,” Spencer said. “I want to know what goes on in that house.”
“You want a scandal.” Annabel wasn’t a fool. She’d investigated Spencer before entering his employment. The reports had been good, though there were a few whispers of his ability to sniff out secrets and use them to his benefit. There were suspicions that he’d helped bring down Viscount Stratford just a few months earlier.
Spencer shook his head. “I have a well-founded suspicion that Jasper Warren is plotting some sort of upheaval in Wales.”
