Page 8 of After the Spy Seduces

“Yes.” Her mouth turned down grimly. She was sharp enough to realize the suspicion lingering behind his question. “You think that one of the servants was involved?”

“Very likely.”

She slid an icy glance down to his hand on her arm. “Our staff has worked for us for years. Many of them served with my father in the army. They’re loyal and would never do as you’re implying.”

In his experience, people did all kinds of unlikely things, especially when desperate. Whether the servants had anything to do with Morgan’s disappearance, he had no idea. But someone inside the house had contacted the French, of that he was certain. “Those pages they asked for—they’re from your father’s memoirs?”

Her brows drew together, wary of where he was leading her. “Yes.”

“How many pages has the general completed so far, do you estimate?”

Confusion visibly stiffened her limbs. “A few hundred. But I don’t see—”

“Tell me this then.” He leaned toward her, bringing his face level with hers. “How did the kidnappers know which pages to ask for out of all those hundreds if no one inside your household told them?”

If her face wasn’t awash in shadows, he was certain he would have seen her pale. “You think—” The words choked off. She cleared her throat and tried again. “You think someone inside our house kidnapped my brother?”

He thought it might be much worse than that. If he had to place odds in the book at White’s, he’d venture that Garrett Morgan might already be dead. That was why the French had to coerce Diana into handing over the pages rather than receiving them from Morgan himself, whom Kit’s contacts had assured him was already working with the French. And that was most likely why Morgan wasn’t in the tavern for the trade, waiting to be freed.

But upsetting her by telling her that would do no good. So he asked instead, “What does the general know about tonight?”

“Nothing. It was all my own doing.”

Thathe easily believed. “Good,” he bit out, releasing her arm. Then warned, “Keep it that way. Tell no one about your missing brother or what you did tonight. You can’t trust anyone.”

“Not even you?”

His mouth twisted as he leaned in to murmur, “Especiallynot me.”

A threat lingered behind his words, one he didn’t bother attempting to hide.

But instead of keeping her distance, the frustrating woman stepped closer. Every inch of him tingled with an awareness of her that crackled on the rain-scented air around them.

She studied him in the shadows. “Why are you looking for Garrett?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Because you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.” More truth existed behind that quiet comment than he wanted to admit.

“Not even me?”

Responding to her challenge, he raked a slow, languid look over her, letting his gaze linger on all those tell-tale places that marked her for a woman beneath boy’s clothing. Good Lord, how could he have ever confused her for a lad? Long legs accentuated by breeches that rounded into full hips and a narrow waist. Full, ripe lips that were now pressed into an irritated line, which he was certain she’d meant as a chastisement but which only had him wanting to kiss them until they softened beneath his.

“Especially not a beautiful woman,” he murmured. The night was full of confessions, apparently.

Despite the darkness, he saw her cheeks flush. Damnation if that didn’t make him want to kiss her even more.

He’d known Diana for years—from a distance. As two people living on the fringes of society, they’d attended several of the same events since the general and his family had returned from India three years ago. Kit’s cousin Robert had courted Diana, before they’d mutually broken off. Kit himself had once served under her father’s command during the last skirmish with the Americans, in the early days of his commission.

And always, Kit had avoided Diana. Like the plague.

Oh, she was beautiful, certainly, possessing soft and ethereal qualities that reminded him of an angel, right down to that golden hair and those deep blue eyes that could beckon a man to his ruin if he wasn’t careful. Intelligent and accomplished, and in far more areas than that drivel of music lessons, watercolors, and drawing room French that society misses believed constituted an education. She was a general’s daughter, after all, disciplined and composed, and she’d already traveled to more places around the world in her father’s wake than most women ever traveled in their entire lives.

But no good could have come from Kit pursuing her, so he’d never tried. He didn’t seduce unmarried innocents, and anything more serious was simply impossible. Hell, he couldn’t even ask her for a waltz or turn about the garden because he couldn’t risk her seeing right through his façade if he let her get too close. Ironic, given that getting close to Diana Morgan was the goal of half the unmarried gentlemen in England.

Tonight proved that he’d been right to stay away. Was she playing a role in her brother’s treason? Or was she simply a pawn for the French?