Seb was torn. One half of him wanted to smash his fist into the smug face of his half-brother and the other wanted to run. Instead he remained rooted to the spot and hoped his legendary talent for blending into the wallpaper would single-handedly save the mission.
He had to think.
He had to remember his training and his higher purpose here today. Had to rise above the volatile emotions which he had long buried and not expected to return. Not here and certainly not now. He had to do what was best for King and country. The scar on his cheek began to hurt, just as it had on that fateful day when his father’s acknowledged son had split it open with his riding crop and Seb had realised that he and his mother were truly destitute. Penniless. It hadn’t been a misunderstanding, but deliberate. The new Duke’s petty revenge on his father.
It had broken his mother.
Killed her soon after.
Indecision turned to white-hot rage and Seb decided to kill his half-brother and to hell with the mission. Today had been fifteen years coming...
He felt her hand on his elbow and allowed her to move him towards another door, ridiculously grateful for her perceptiveness because he was able to draw on her calm strength to control the sleeping monster which had suddenly reawakened. She closed the door behind them and dragged him down the quiet hallway towards an empty room.
Wordlessly, she pushed him into a chair, then poured a glass of brandy which she pushed into his hand. She never said a thing, almost as if she already understood everything, but sat next to him on the arm of the chair and stroked his free hand. The contact and her presence soothed him.
‘How did you know?’
‘Your reaction. The subtle similarities in both of your features. You have the same dark eyes. A similar nose—but you will be delighted to know you look nothing like him other than that. If you hadn’t confessed to being a duke’s son, I would be none the wiser.’
‘Did he recognise me?’
‘Is there a chance he might not?’
A laughable question. Seb and his mother had been disposable. As Lord Fennimore had quite rightly said, his dear brother had probably forgotten he existed soon after he had callously wounded him. ‘I was a boy when we last collided—not that we had ever collided much before. I went to him for help and he gave me this instead.’ He touched the scar and her fingers immediately followed, tracing the line of it gently before brushing the hair out of his eyes. Without thinking, he leaned against her palm and sighed, trying to control the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
To his surprise he did. He wanted to rant and rave and purge the anger. ‘We lived in the hunting lodge on Thetford’s estate. An open secret, yet detached from both the great house and its tenants. He would come and she would blossom. My mother loved my father. She assumed he loved her back, but even as a child I knew that was wishful thinking. I called him sir in the lodge but instinctively dipped my eyes if I saw him outside. He paid for tutors. He paid for everything. Then he died and we learned that he had made no provision for my mother in his will. She had given him sixteen years and didn’t warrant a mention. He left me money in trust to pay for my education when I came of age. Nothing else. That same day the steward came. Ordered us out of our home. After all those years he gave us three days to be off Thetford’s land.’ Churning it up again brought all those turbulent feelings back. To realise they were still so raw and unresolved was unsettling. Seb didn’t recognise himself because it was hard to reconcile the boy with the man he had become. He had thought he had moved on, yet they were one and the same. The fierce independence, the pride, the unacknowledged shame of not being born better, the resourcefulness and the shyness—even the drive to see justice done—all stemmed from those formative years and the consequences of that day.
Gem was still sat comforting him. There was no judgement on her lovely face, only sympathy. Seb took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, needing the contact. ‘My brother was residing in London. He was—is—ten years older than me. I took myself there to inform him of the steward’s mistake, stupidly believing it was a mistake and my father would undoubtedly have issued proper instructions about my mother’s future care. Because it never occurred to me that I would not be granted an audience, I rode directly to Berkeley Square from Norfolk, presented myself at his front door and told the butler that his Grace’s brother was here to see him. I was sat waiting in his hallway when he came. Two footmen held me down and he beat me senseless, then threw me out on the street. I haven’t seen him since.’
‘What happened to you and your mother?’
‘My grandparents took us in. My mother had been estranged from them since before I was born because they disapproved of her choices. I’m not entirely certain she had bothered to tell them about me until we turned up at the farm, but they welcomed us and gave us a new home. One I loved, but my mother didn’t. She never stopped grieving for what happened. It was just shy of two years later that she caught a chill and lost the will to live.’ And he was still angry at that, too. That he had not been enough to make her want to stay. ‘So there you have it. In a nutshell. Beyond that door is a man I loathe above all others and I have no idea what to do about it.’
‘Oh, Seb.’ Her arm came around his shoulders and she pulled him close, resting her head on top of his. Inexplicably, her embrace lessened the pain. ‘What a conundrum. What do you want to do?’
‘Break his neck with my bare hands.’
‘Understandable. I sense there is a but.’
‘But I have an important job to do.’
She inhaled, then exhaled slowly. ‘Then you have your answer. As it is highly unlikely from what you have said that he will recognise you, you must be Millcroft until it is safe to be Seb again. Then you can take what action you think fit and I will happily help you. In the meantime, for the mission you must pretend to be cordial and so must I.’
‘And if he does recognise me?’
‘Between us, we will think of something.’
‘You make it sound so simple.’
She stood and shrugged, her smile banishing the last of the murderous thoughts for the time being. ‘We are spies, Seb. Nothing is ever simple.’
* * *
Clarissa paced the bedchamber floor impatiently, waiting for Seb to come, feeling very daring in the borrowed breeches, shirt and dark coat she had pilfered from a wardrobe. She had no clue as to whether he still intended to go out tonight, but if he was then she was going with him. The idea of Seb in danger without her eyes there, too, to keep him out of harm’s way would make sleep impossible, especially after the evening he had endured through no fault of his own. Seeing Seb distraught and briefly panicked had bothered her. It made her feel hugely protective of him. At some point, he had come to mean a great deal to her and she worried about him. Therefore, it stood to reason if she wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, she might as well assist him tonight and every night henceforth in all aspects of his mission—because together they were the perfect team.
It was a decision she had made very early in the evening immediately after his confession because it was obvious he was vulnerable and needed looking after. By her. Clarissa had straightened Seb’s lapels, neatened his hair again because she couldn’t seem to stop touching him, then threaded her arm through his proprietorially. When they emerged back into the drawing room, it was Lord Millcroft and his adoring Incomparable that everyone saw.
She stood by his side while he was introduced to Thetford and, while they both inwardly held their breath, they were soon relieved to see not one flicker of recognition in the older half-sibling’s eyes. Overall, it had been a brief exchange but the knowledge that Thetford was blessedly ignorant of her spy’s real identity seemed to alleviate some of Seb’s tension and allowed him to focus during the long dinner to such an extent that before the gentlemen left for their port and cigars, he managed to engage in some small talk with his nemesis.
Clarissa, on the other hand, fretted the entire time he was gone, but she needn’t have worried. A surreptitious peek into the billiards room on her way to bed reassured her he was all Millcroft and she felt an inordinate sense of pride in him. There were not many men who could behave with such restraint and grace when under intense pressure. In the presence of two dukes, he stood tall and proud. Just the right amount of arrogance and confidence to convince anyone he was as good, if not better, than the rest of the men assembled. No wonder he excelled at what he did. But he still needed looking after. Especially tonight. Coming face to face with his past had rattled him and only she knew Seb was wearing a carefully constructed mask.
The tap on the door made her breath hitch. ‘Who is it?’ Her maid would have a fit if she saw her dressed like this. Especially after Agnes had taken half an hour to bind her hair in the rags. Rags which now sat listlessly on her dressing table next to the Mrs Radcliffe novel she had been attempting to read for four months.
‘Me.’ The deep whisper made those goosebumps appear all over her skin again. The sight of him dressed head to foot in black gave those goosebumps goosebumps. The colour suited him, making him seem more dangerous and sinfully exciting than usual. He closed the door and gaped at her attire.
‘What are you wearing?’
To lighten the suddenly tense mood, Clarissa did a little twirl. ‘My new spying clothes. Do you like them? I could hardly climb out of the window in layers of petticoats, now could I?’
‘You are not going out of the window.’ He dropped the heavy rope on the floor and began to secure it to some furniture as if his word was law.
‘Yes, I am. You need me.’
‘I need you in here, not out there where it is dangerous.’ His ferocious scowl could have curdled milk.
‘In case it has escaped your notice, it is probably just as dangerous in here as it is out there. What happens if they become suspicious or wonder why you are missing? They will come and find me.’
‘Take off those ridiculous clothes and go to bed.’
‘If you think I am going to spend the night worrying about you while meekly waiting here after tonight’s revelations, then you can think again. Need I remind you that I have saved your mission at least twice that I know of and without me you would still be floundering in a ballroom in Mayfair rather than here in Penhurst’s house. You said I am resourceful and have excellent instincts, two things that would come in useful if the unthinkable happens. You have had a trying day. Trying days play on the mind and make us miss things. Extra eyes will ensure that doesn’t happen. Besides, if you refuse to take me with you, we both know I shall only climb down once you have gone. And then I will be all alone. Wandering the Downs in the dark. Looking for you. Wouldn’t you feel better knowing I was with you in the first place?’
She watched his eyes narrow while he thought of a response and decided to deny him the chance. Decisively, Clarissa marched to the window and began to lower the rope outside. His big palms came down and imprisoned her hands. ‘I’d feel better knowing that you were safe and sound in here.’
‘And what about how I feel? Or does that not matter?’
His mouth opened and she silenced him with her hand. ‘I am supremely tired of trying to do what other people want. I’m tired of all the effort it takes to be an Incomparable. I’m tired of feigning politeness to the limpet Olivia or Penhurst and his cronies. I’m tired of all of Westbridge’s dithering, I’m tired of competing for his affections or being treated like an ornament and I am fed up with taking orders from you.’
He seemed offended to be included in that list. ‘I don’t give you orders.’
‘Yes, you do. In the last few days alone you’ve ordered me to remain silent, keep secrets and you’ve threatened to put a guard on me if I disobey. Just then you ordered me to go to bed. Well, understand this—I’m not going to nor am I going to spend more fruitless hours worrying about you in here when I know I can be an asset to you outside.’ She snatched her hands from under his and sat on the window sill, feeling righteously indignant. ‘You either take me with you or I will follow later.’
‘I bet you’ve never even climbed a rope.’
She was winning if that was the best argument he could think of. ‘I haven’t, but you have. If push comes to shove, then I’m sure you can throw me over those impressive shoulders.’