Page 9 of A Talent for Temptation
Quinn gaped at her. “That’swhy you canceled our engagement tonight?”
“Yes. Gregory wanted me to observe a foreign princess at a ball and report back to him.” She scowled. “I was none too happy about it, either. I was looking forward to that exhibit.” She flashed him a soft smile. “To seeing you.”
For some reason, that sparked Quinn’s temper, for he glared at her. “Then why didn’t you just tell Fulkham that? For that matter, why do you insist on keeping our relationship secret?”
“Because I know nothing can come of this . . . this thing between us!” she said, exasperated that it wasn’t perfectly clear to him by now. “First of all, I have an obligation to Gregory that I must repay—”
“Does he say that?”
That stopped her in her tracks. “Well, no. But neither has he said I could stop anytime I want. And if he needs me to continue, I could never do it as . . . as your wife.”
“True,” he said baldly, confirming all her fears. “I could not worry that every time I have guests, my wife is trying to elicit their secrets.”
“Exactly,” she choked out. “And I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to live that way myself. I want . . .” She halted before she could admit just howmuchshe wanted what a life with him could offer.
“Whatdo you want? To be his spy forever?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “No. But I . . . I . . .”
“Thentellhim. Because I want a wife who can be happy with me. And I gather that you would be, if not for him.”
It was true, but Quinn didn’t know how difficult it was to tell Gregory anything. Gregory always thought he knew best. He didn’t listen. Besides . . . “It’s not just Gregory that’s a problem,” she said. “You’re rich and important and well-respected in society. And I’m probably some by-blow, whose background is murky at best.”
Her vehemence seemed to give him pause. “That didn’t keep you from marrying John Vyse.”
“No, he was a poor soldier, and also a spy for Gregory during his posting in Gibraltar. That’s how we met. Indeed, we married because of some scheme involving army officers that Gregory had John investigating, which required John to be married.”
She forced a smile. “John liked me well enough, and he fancied the danger of spying. I had no hope of ever marrying anyone else. John knew his work would be more difficult with any other sort of wife, and Gregory had offered us a nice annuity, so . . .” Bitterness had crept into her voice without her realizing it.
“Anyway,” she went on, “it was a practical arrangement. But I could never relax and settle into marriage with John. I was too busy fretting over when he would end up dead. When it finally happened, it was almost a relief. I felt as if I’d been living on a tightrope for years and could get off at last.”
“Except that you couldn’t, really,” Quinn said softly. “Because you’re still working for Fulkham.”
Wincing, she chided herself for being so disloyal as to imply her benefactor was unfairly using her. Even if sometimes she felt that way.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t do the same dangerous kind of work I did before. Just some . . . social events here and there where I keep my eyes and ears open. It’s not like when John and I pretended to be selling British secrets so we could unmask a traitor, or—”
“Good God!” Quinn threaded his fingers through his hair. “I had no idea that Fulkham was so devious as to use you and his own brother in such a manner.”
“He has to be devious, in his position. And to be honest, I think he and John rather enjoyed all the sly machinations and secrets.” She scowled. “I tolerated them at first, but I hate them now. Indeed, that’s what I love about you. You’re exactly what you seem—a decent man devoid of schemes.”
An odd expression crossed his face but was gone so quickly she was sure she imagined it. “Then you should marry me. Get out of spying completely.”
She huffed out an exasperated breath. “Haven’t you been listening, Quinn? You and I are from different worlds. If we married and anyone found out who I really was, it would ruin your family. Why, your mother is the daughter of a count!”
He burst into laughter. “My mother is a former opera dancer, darling.”
She gaped at him. “But . . . but that’s not what I heard.”
“And I heard you were the daughter of an army captain. But Fulkham isn’t the only one who can spin a good tale on behalf of someone he cares about.” He walked up to take her in his arms. “My father met my mother when he saw her in an opera in Madrid. And I hope I can trust your discretion about that, since no one other than my parents and I know the truth about her.”
That completely flummoxed her. “Still, the fact that your family have kept it secret proves that you are all concerned about appearances.”
“As are you and Fulkham,” Quinn pointed out as he clasped her head so he could scatter kisses over her brow, her cheek, her ear, making her ache for more. “Neither of you have ever revealedyourpast. We all have secrets, dearest.”
“Yes, but . . . but your father might disinherit you for marrying a woman so far beneath you.”
“He’d better not, given his own tendencies,” he whispered in her ear. “But he wouldn’t. I come from a family of men who follow their hearts.” He pressed her hand against his chest so she could feel the frenzied thudding there. “Nothing you say will prevent me from following mine.”
