A Whisper of Treason Page 5

  She had a governess, the two girls and two burly footmen to elude. Preferably in a way that didn’t arouse suspicion.

  They set off in a stately procession. At a strategic point, Delphi allowed a piece of paper to slip from her portfolio. “Oh!” she exclaimed as Miss Cornwell turned around. Then she added hastily to the footman who was preparing to chase after it, “No, I’ll get it. You stay with the others. I won’t be a moment.”

  Before they could argue, she was off. When she had walked back to the house yesterday, she’d noticed the sudden whirling breeze that had nearly taken her hat off. It was caused by the junction of two narrow alleyways. She used it now.

  She’d ensured she would lose her hat today, having loosened the bow before they set off. And it came to pass. As she chased the sheet of paper, her broad-brimmed hat tipped forward and spun off her head. When she grabbed the paper, she had to chase after the hat, which had somehow slipped out of her grasp twice.

  She turned the corner, knowing the footman would follow. That made time scarce. She left the hat to its own devices and raced around the next corner, and the next, turning down the alleyways, and then backing up on herself. The footman, one of the men from England, would never follow her.

  Delphi glanced up at the remnants of the Roman carving in the wall above her head. She knew exactly where she was, and where she needed to go.

  Finally, out of breath, aware of the passersby staring at her, Delphi slowed her walk. She could do nothing about her hatless state, but she retained her linen cap, and her attempt at respectability. Her gown had no extravagancies; good blue silk, for sure, but not an expensive finish, or elaborate embroidery, and she didn’t wear her wide hoops. Taking her cue from her sister-in-law, Annie, who dressed richly but with simplicity, Delphi had ensured she wouldn’t stand out here.

  She could be a merchant’s wife hurrying home for her midday meal. Especially when she slowed her pace to a brisk walk. And she’d taken care to avoid the truly dangerous alleyways.

  Two more turns took her where she needed. The Spanish Steps reared above her, the old, ceremonial passage for a long-ago pope turned into a thoroughfare. Traders stood on them, holding bunches of flowers, bits of ribbon and fresh fruit for sale. Visitors to the city sauntered up the steps to the houses at the top, and the view over the old city they could gain there. Delphi lived in one of those grand houses at the top, a bit further on. At least they didn’t overlook the steps, otherwise Delphi would have had to find another approach.

  About halfway up, she found the door she was looking for. Holding her breath, she knocked.

  Chapter Five

  The man who opened the door stared down his long nose at her. “Yes?”

  “I need to see his grace,” she said. Because she had nothing to lose, she handed him her card. “Pray take that to him.”

  The superior servant glanced at the card, then took another look. “This is yours?”

  Delphi plunged her hand in her pocket and produced her card case to show him the rest. “Yes. Take the card,” she said firmly.

  He stared at her and she thought he would refuse to let her in, leave her kicking her heels on the doorstep. But after taking another look, he opened the door. “Come in.”

  She entered the lion’s den.

  A dusty-smelling hall greeted her. One plain hall chair graced the small space. Lighter rectangles where pictures must have once hung added to the melancholy.

  How had he found himself in this mess? Was he really so poor? He must be, for who would live in a place like this voluntarily?

  Trensom would be furious when he found out what she’d done. Delphi pushed away the reminder of the consequences she had yet to face, and sat reluctantly on the chair when the man waved her towards it. She refused to let go of her portfolio. Her heart pounded, not from exertion after her escape, but anticipation of what was to come.

  After a good ten minutes, the servant returned. “If you would come this way, my lady, his grace will grant you a moment of his time, but he says you must not stay long. He intends to send word to his grace of Trensom that you are here.”

  Delphi closed her eyes. She should have expected that. She’d had a vague plan of returning to the house full of apologies, flustered but fine. She would tell them she had lost herself in the streets, and finally found a way out of the warren of alleyways.

  “If he feels he must,” she said.

  The servant took her through a room very different to the hall; elegantly appointed, but simply, as if nobody spent much time here. At the end lay a servant’s door, a job-door set into the plaster. Without hesitation, he opened it and passed through. He climbed the narrow wooden stairs, not looking around to see if she followed him.

  Was Adam truly at home, or was this man taking her somewhere to ravish her? Why had she not thought of that before? She should have insisted that Kilsyth come to the door.

  A door at the top let in a flood of light when the man opened it. He stepped through the doorway and held it open for her.

  Delphi walked into a different world.

  Tall windows covered by whispers of silk gauze that let the light in but kept spies out made her blink as she passed from gloom to broad daylight. The paintings on the wall were not of the slick variety sold to gullible visitors. The views of Rome had life and vitality. A large pier glass set between the windows on the far side of the spacious room reflected light from the windows opposite. The air was scented by the arrangement of fresh flowers set in the fireplace and in crystal vases set on side tables around the room. Sofas and chairs stood invitingly, green cushions plumped.

  Delphi noticed all these things from one comprehensive visual sweep of the room. Her gaze snagged on the man who got to his feet as she entered. He stood waiting. He bowed. Numbly, she curtseyed in response. “I thought you might come,” said the Duke of Kilsyth softly, “but I did not think you would come alone.”

  She stared. From his sky-blue banyan to his spotless white breeches, this was the Duke of Kilsyth she knew. The shabby, dingy wig was gone, and in its place, he wore his natural blond hair, tied back with a black velvet ribbon. He had grown it since she last saw him. His attitude, his stance, that air of confidence were all firmly in place.

  “Adam?”

  He glanced past her to where his manservant stood. “Would you mind getting some tea, Heath?”

  With a light grunt, the man obliged. Delphi heard the door close behind her, but she didn’t look around.

  Adam spread his hands and shrugged. “He’s my majordomo and my valet. Getting tea is beneath him, but he’ll have to bear it the best he can.”

  Absorbed in speculation, Delphi did not immediately respond.

  She drew a breath. “You haven’t lost your fortune?”

  His mouth quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. But no, I have not.” He took the two steps that brought him to her, holding out his hand. “Won’t you come and sit?”

  She put her hand into his, registering that thrill she always experienced when he touched her, and let him lead her to one of the sofas. Trying to dismiss her response had become increasingly difficult, and now that she was with him again, she could not ignore it.

  The jolt made her move forward faster than she’d intended and, somehow, she ended up with his arms around her, steadying her. Naturally, she tilted her head back to look up into his face, since he was so much taller than her. She didn’t expect him to groan, so softly had she been even a foot away she wouldn’t have heard it, or to bend his head and touch his lips to hers.

  Only a brush, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he gazed into her eyes. “I had meant our friendship to go differently than it did. I wanted—so much, to do this, to have the right to do this as often as we both wished.”

  He smelled of ivory soap and that subtle cologne that belonged to him alone. Beneath it, his masculinity pulsed, a constant base note in everything that was Adam.

  Finally, Delphi admitted the simple fact she
had denied for so long. She wanted him—badly. If not for society’s strictures and his own gentlemanly manners, she’d have had him that night in Greenwich. Her body called to him, fed from him, and she couldn’t deny her need a moment longer.

  Did it matter what he had or had not done? She knew him as a man of integrity. She trusted him, in this at least.

  That trust gave her the impetus to go up on tiptoe and press her lips against his, her movement not as practiced as his, but far more eager. His arms banded around her, holding her securely, as she gave him tacit permission to do what he wished.

  He wished to deepen the kiss, to cup her head, holding it steady, threading his fingers through her hair as he ravaged her mouth.

  Heat and desire opened Delphi to a new world, one in which she willingly gave up control to another person, a concept she had never considered before. Not like this, without reason, but with all the passion she could muster. She responded the best she could, touching her tongue to his in unbearable intimacy. Sliding her hands under his fine banyan, she touched the linen of his shirt, one step nearer to his naked flesh. She wanted everything, and since she could not return here without losing her family and reputation, she would take it now.

  Neither of them noticed the door behind them open, until Heath coughed, and another voice declared, rather loudly, “Let her go.”

  Adam groaned but, this time, long and low as he lifted his mouth and rested his forehead against hers. He lifted his head, shook it slightly as if to restore reason. “Trensom, I regret—”

  Whatever he was about to regret was left unsaid, as Trensom strode to them, his footsteps shaking the boards under their feet. Delphi refused to let go of Adam. He tried to ease her away, but she held tight. “No.”

  Trensom laid a shaking hand on Delphi’s shoulder as he addressed Adam. “Not only are you a traitor to your country, you are a blackguard and a monster who would take advantage of a women under my care. You will meet me for this, sir!”

  Glancing down at her, Adam gave Delphi a wry smile. “I regret that we were caught, but at least I’ve had the chance to kiss you as I wanted.”

  “Name your weapons and the place, sir!” Trensom thundered.

  Adam released Delphi and eased her to one side of him.

  “No, your grace,” he said, “I will not meet you. Not only would you wreck your own reputation, but that of the lady you are trying to protect. If you must murder me, do it now, or at least somewhere discreet.”

  “I suppose Miss Cornwell told you, or was it the messenger Kilsyth sent?” she asked Trensom.

  Distress, excitement, shock, all warred within her for dominance, and she had no idea how to cope with it all. So she faced the situation directly, as she always did.

  Trensom spared her a disdainful glance. “Miss Cornwell arrived home in a distressed state. She is deeply concerned for your safety. When I heard what had happened, I guessed where you would be. I missed the calling card as soon as you left the house, but until Miss Cornwell returned I did not connect our brief interview this morning with its disappearance.”

  “Then you haven’t come here with a procession and in state?” Adam asked, sarcasm ringing in his voice.

  “Of course not,” Trensom said. “I trust you to release the lady to leave with me.”

  Adam gave him a cold nod. “Naturally.”

  Delphi found their discussion of her infuriating. How dare they discuss her as if she weren’t there? Instead of standing meekly aside, she stepped between them. “The choice remains with me.”

  Trensom spared her a glance. “After what I saw him doing to you, I am surprised you would even consider being in his presence.”

  “Was that meant to be gentlemanly? Well, sir, you shot wide of the mark there. What you saw was what we were doing together.” She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “And if you had not come in so precipitately, you would have seen nothing.” Besides, he could not afford to throw stones. “As I recall, your courtship was not bereft of incident.”

  From what Matilda had told her, they were not half so circumspect. She’d fallen out of a tree into his arms, and tumbled them both to the ground in what Matilda later described as delightful confusion.

  Trensom shrugged. “Matilda was not a young woman with a reputation to lose.”

  “Oh, so you’ll tell people and ruin my reputation yourself, will you?” Waving at the gauze covering the windows, she said, “Because you were the only one who saw, apart from Adam’s manservant.” And she refused to be sorry because of that. She’d enjoyed every second. She wanted to do it again.

  “He will tell no one,” Adam murmured. “So, Trensom, it is up to you.”

  Confusion warred within Delphi. She wanted her revenge on Adam. And yet, when in his presence, she turned as decisive as butter. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t know what to do about it.

  The tips of Trensom’s ears turned pink, a sure sign of anger, or so Matilda had told her. Good. Because she was angry, too. She took a step forward.

  “You think he’s a traitor.” Lifting her hand, she poked a finger against Trensom’s waistcoat. “But I do not. I know Kilsyth. Why would he give up everything he has fought for? If he wanted to do that, he’d have done it after Culloden, not now.”

  As she spoke, she recognized her disquiet with this whole situation. She could not believe he would turn traitor. Why would he even consider it? “He bowed to the Stuart king. So do many people. So what?”

  “Come.” Trensom held out his arm, indicating the door. “I have no interest in what the Duke of Kilsyth does, or as he will no doubt be known in the future, Mr. Glinn. Nor do I have any jurisdiction over him, other than to see him return to Britain in chains.”

  Delphi stayed where she was. Trensom waited. So did she, refusing to allow him to discourage her. Or make her turn away from the man she was sure was no traitor. “Something else is happening here. It’s not like him.”

  Adam paced around her, taking in Trensom. “I did not invite you to visit me here. Either of you. And I do not offer you an excuse, or an explanation for my behavior. Why should I?” He glanced at Trensom before he turned his full attention on to her. “So I took advantage of you, of course I did. You come to my rooms on your own, what am I to think? Go back to your home, Delphi. You know nothing of this. Neither should you.”

  What he said struck her as wrong. “You’re trying to drive me away,” she stated.

  “In that, at least, we agree,” Trensom said. “Come,” he repeated. “We’ll go home and say nothing more of this unfortunate incident.”

  “No.” Delphi had not meant a flat refusal, but that was how it came out.

  Trensom stood before her, Adam at her side.

  She had the floor. She should take advantage of it. Really, the way she swept her skirts aside and moved away from both men made her proud. A dramatic gesture that had actually worked, for a change. “I want an explanation. A rational discussion.”

  She turned back to see Trensom take a menacing step towards Adam, fists raised. “You offered my charge an insult.”

  Did they never listen? “I am not your charge and he offered me no insult. But there is no arguing with two stubborn men like you. I’ll go home with you, but I won’t ignore Kilsyth, not until we know what is going on.” Though she feared the worst. Why wouldn’t Adam tell her what was going on? The reason for the shabby garments, the defiance?

  He said nothing. Just stared at her as if he were a dying man and she was the last thing he would ever see.

  She addressed him directly. “Tell me, Adam.” Obviously not today. Trensom had put paid to that.

  Trensom heaved a sigh from the depths of his soul. Then he looked at her and shook his head.

  She moved to the door. “Well? Am I to wait here all day?”

  They could easily have walked, but Trensom had ordered the carriage. It stood at the top of the Spanish Steps. Why, she wasn’t sure, but she got in, and Trensom got in beside her.

&n
bsp; “Did you think you’d have to carry me kicking and screaming?” she asked.

  “Something of that nature,” he admitted. “And if I am seen to accompany you, I’m a kind of chaperone. They’ll assume we arrived together and left together. Enough to stop the gossiping tongues, perhaps. The more flamboyant, the better.”

  Delphi glanced out the window and grinned. “Well, in this thing, you’ll accomplish that. We’re certainly traveling in state.”

  The carriage, not the traveling berlin but a lighter and more fashionable vehicle for city use, certainly made a splash, with its crested doors, outriders and footmen up behind. People stared after them.

  The duke loftily ignored them, but Delphi watched with the trace of wonder that always remained with her. Considering her relatively humble background, when all she had to worry about in the street was pickpockets, rising to this level of luxurious grandeur unnerved her.

  Lady Delphi Dersingham was a creature apart from Delphi, the lady from Bunhill Row.

  “Delphi, what were you thinking?” Ignoring the bright day, the gaping spectators, he turned in his seat to face her directly.

  Delphi did the same. His perceptive gaze bored into her, but she met it boldly.

  If matters had turned out differently, this man might have become her husband. Handsome, distinguished, a man in his forties, who most considered needed an heir. But the duke showed no desire to replace his heir presumptive. Instead, he’d married Matilda. Delphi couldn’t be sorry for it. While she liked Trensom, she found him somewhat daunting. She tried to forget that now. She had something to say.

  “I thought Kilsyth deserved a better hearing than that which cheap gossip has given to him. That letter you waved at me. I didn’t see what it contained. I thought that—” Breaking off, she shook her head. Already, Trensom’s mouth had firmed, his gaze hardened. “He treated me unfairly in London, but that doesn’t make him a traitor. Nor will I consider him one until I hear for sure that he has joined the ranks of the Jacobites.”