Page 14 of Assisting Lord Richmond
His frown indicated he didn’t appreciate her observation. She tried not to return his expression. While kind and pleasant were already items she considered important on her list of husband requirements, she wondered if she ought to add a lack of arrogance. She couldn’t really expect a gentleman to be humble, but he needn’t consider himself the most important creature to have walked the earth.
She turned the subject, hoping to see if he could match her other two requirements – well read, and possessing all his teeth. He had yet to smile, so she couldn’t be sure. Ellen wasn’t going to be so shallow as to require he be exceedingly handsome. Appearances can fade over time. But she did expect her husband to be known for being kind. Again, she had her future children to think about. And while she didn’t want to refine overmuch on appearance, she would set the bar low and require that he have all his teeth. She really didn’t think she could bear to sit across the breakfast table from someone who was missing his.
“Have you found any circulating libraries in Town to suit you?” she thought to inquire, adding a broad smile at the end in the hopes that it would be returned. Instead the man’s expression barely changed, and her heart sank.
While she expected to marry a man who probably enjoyed many things she would consider dull such as sport or hunting, she also expected to be able to carry on enjoyable conversations with him about literature or plays or some such. And if he could teach her something he had learned, she would consider that a bonus.
Ellen had thought her list was broad and vague enough to allow for a wide range of eligible gentlemen, but she was disappointed to note that many of the men she had so far been introduced to were not what she would deem pleasant. She started to wonder if she was just too provincial in her sentiments. Perhaps haughty didn’t necessarily translate into unpleasant. But she could not see herself being comfortable with a man who thought he was that much her superior. She stifled a sigh as she curtsied to Lord Adwell after he he brought her back to her mother’s side. She was certain she had not yet met her future husband.
It didn’t help her concentration on the Husband Hunt project when she finally saw that Hugh had arrived, despite his insistence earlier that day that he wouldn’t be in attendance. Of course, his entrance was far less spectacular than that of a debutante, but Ellen still noticed it somehow. It seemed to her as though they were attuned to one another when their eyes met across the crowded ballroom. Hugh was the first to avert his gaze. And he didn’t once approach her during the brief period that he was present.
Since she was performing the steps of acontredanceat that moment, Ellen was forced to mind her steps rather than the way her heart rate had kicked up upon seeing the handsome viscount. It seemed he was determined to ignore her despite how their gazes had clung. He hadn’t even nodded in greeting.
Ellen told herself he wasn’t hurting her feelings, but she didn’t quite believe it. Perhaps he wasn’t deliberately hurting her feelings, but it hurt nonetheless. After the rather intense conversation they’d had that afternoon, she had rather expected that their relationship had turned a corner of sorts and they could return to the friendship they had enjoyed as children. At the very least, she would have expected that he would approach to greet her.
It would seem that had been a foolish supposition on her part. She only hoped the gentlemen in the current dance didn’t notice how damp her palms had grown.
Chapter Eight
Hugh had to force his gaze away from Ellen’s when his eyes met hers across the crowded ballroom. She was a vision in the creamy coloured gown that seemed to float around her. He had never seen a more beautiful woman. But he couldn’t be thinking such thoughts. He had a war to avert, if at all possible.
He turned his mind forcibly away from the fact that Ellen was searching for a husband and concentrated on the matters at hand. In point of fact, he had barely noticed that Gilbert had approached him.
“How’s your Spanish?” Hugh asked the other gentleman, who only stared at him in dismay.
“Dismal at the moment. I cannot say that I’ve ever spoken a word of it. But my French is excellent, as was my Latin when I was in school. From what I understand they are closely related, so I might be able to pick up quite a bit.”
Hugh nodded. “You should understand a great deal, but you won’t be able to express yourself very well in a short time. I had suspected as much. You will need a companion to accompany you. I know just the fellow. It is why I attended this evening.”
After the introductions were performed and it seemed as though the two gentlemen would be able to get on well together, Hugh made good his escape. He needn’t be present at such a large social event, in fact, he ought not be. He could plead his state of being in mourning.
“Disculpe.” Hugh heard the Spanish word, and his feet nearly froze in the action of walking away from the Chorley Ball. He managed to not betray himself, though. It was a challenge even though it shouldn’t have been. He was getting slack in his home country. He was used to always being on guard. His instincts took over, and his steps didn’t even falter.
“Perdón, señor.” This time the voice was louder and closer. Hugh’s ears were attuned to the accent and emphasis, and he knew he was being addressed by someone from the region of Spain where he had been skulking most recently. “Excuse me, sir. I suppose I ought to use English, since I’m on English soil.” This statement was followed by an epithet Hugh couldn’t quite translate, but it was evident the speaker wasn’t happy about being in England. Reluctantly he paused in his attempt to leave the area and turned toward the woman speaking to him.
“Are you speaking to me?” He asked it as innocently as he could muster, hoping the surprise on his face was only that of being addressed in a foreign tongue and not shock over the speaker’s appearance. Because the woman before him was an exotic beauty.
His eyebrows twitched. Could she possibly be a spy when she was that attractive? He surmised that it would be a challenge for her to hide or avoid detection. But then again, the best spies were a lot like chameleons. He had often felt like one himself. And he suspected that someone trying to get close to him would think they needed to be highly attractive to get his attention. Little did she know, he preferred the simple country beauty of an English debutante rather than an exotic entertainer like her.
“Sí, señor. I would speak to you a moment,por favor.”
Hugh knew there was trouble on his horizon, but there was nothing for it but to see what she wanted. It was a good thing that he was already leaving his assignment with the Home Office if his identity had been compromised.
“We have been following you, Hugh, Viscount of Richmond.” The woman stepped toward him, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “We know that you used to be Mr. Harrison and also Mr. Turner and that you have been spying on us. We have known this for a long time.” She paused, probably for dramatic effect, but all it did was make Hugh feel sick in his stomach. “You have been especially active since San Ildefenso,tengo razón.” Again she paused, and it took all Hugh’s considerable experience to keep a pleasantly puzzled expression on his features. “And we know how seriously you have taken your work. So, some in our circles expect that since your foolish English sentiments will require you to retire from actively pursuing us, you will find someone to replace you.”
Hugh swallowed down his instinctive reaction. He supposed he shouldn’t be so shocked. The spy trade required a keen understanding of people. And he didn’t think he would be so terribly hard to read. Hehadthought his identity had been better covered, but that was probably overconfidence on his part. But now everyone he had spoken to while in Town was at risk of exposure.
“The problem is, you have met with so many that we cannot be sure,” she was continuing with what she no doubt thought was a seductive purr, but all it did was stop the blood in Hugh’s veins. “Except the woman.”
Hugh’s heart froze in his chest before it began beating at triple its usual rate and felt as though it were trying to jump right out of his chest.
“It is obvious she means something to you. We thought your aristocratic ideals would prevent you from recruiting a woman, especially one of noble birth, but we could be wrong.”
“I have no idea what you are on about,” Hugh suddenly remembered that he ought to be dissembling. ‘Admit nothing’ had been drilled into him from the very beginning of his training as an agent.
“Yes, you do,” she replied with arrogance.
“If you think I am a spy, why are you telling me this?”
