Page 64 of Better Off Wed

“Fitting, certainly. A proper hideout for a den of spies.”

“Intelligence officers,” he corrected mildly. “Mama and Julia know very little about the nature of my work.”

Laura pressed a fingertip to her lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

His breath caught, as if he started to speak then thought better of what he meant to say. The slightest frown darted between his brows. “And yours with me.”

But what if the most important secret she was keeping wasn’t her alias?

What if it was the depth of her feelings for him?

He had already turned back to the window to gauge their progress through the narrow streets.

“Your devotion to your mother and sister is charming,” she said, watching him.

“I have little else to give them.”

She wanted not to challenge his words but to reassure him. To tell him it was enough. She would be elated by such a gift, if it were offered.

At last the coach slowed and he scoured their surroundings, leaning first one way and then the other, before opening the door and stepping out. With her less practiced eyes, she could see nothing out of the ordinary. Not a soul was in sight. The lane itself was unremarkable, the houses varying from ramshackle to quaint. Roses and ivy wound their way up the brick walls of Briar Cottage, like something from a storybook.

She accepted Jeremy’s arm, leaning more on him than on her walking stick as they approached the house. A face peeped from behind a curtain and disappeared.

“Have you some play in mind, a particular script for us to follow?” He glanced down at her when they reached the doorstep, where she had paused to inhale the sweet scent of flowers.

“I think I’m done with the theater for the time being. Acting out parts, anyway.”

Again, the sensation that he was tempted to speak but restrained himself. Before she could urge him, the door opened.

“Jeremy! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” The face that had been at the window belonged presumably to Julia, whose brown hair, not quite as dark as her brother’s, framed a round, smiling face. Laura guessed her to be about seventeen. “And who is this?”

“If you’ll let us inside, she’ll likely tell you.” Julia took a step backward to give them room. Jeremy released Laura’s arm to let her cross the threshold, then doffed his hat and still had to duck beneath the lintel. “Is Mama in the sitting room?”

Julia shook her head. “The garden.”

“Ask her to come inside, will you, please?” Laura did not miss the glance he sent over his shoulder into the empty street before closing and locking the door behind them.

When Julia stepped away to do as he’d asked, Laura said in a low voice, “Colonel Millrose will send the promised protection, I’m sure.”

“He already has. If you could easily spot them, they would not be doing their job. But I still do not wish to be caught off guard when Thornton arrives.”

The house was a perfect square, with a staircase running up the center. To the right sat a room behind closed doors, while to the left a window-filled room ran the length of the house, combining the functions of dining room and sitting room, cluttered with furnishings for its varied tasks. Charming though the house was, its modest size could not help but recall to her mind what Jeremy had told Lord Thornton about his financial woes.

She followed Jeremy into the room on the left and had hardly sat down in the chair he indicated before he brought her a small stool. “I can tell your ankle is still troubling you.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “I’ve been bustling about a bit more than I planned today.”

In another moment, though, she was standing again as Julia entered the room with a woman, presumably her mother, who was simultaneously unknotting her apron with one hand and smoothing her hair with the other and hurrying to give Jeremy a kiss when she spotted Laura.

“Oh! Julia didn’t say we had a guest.” Her cheeks flushed with that same color that so often brightened her son’s, and indeed it was easy to see where Jeremy had got his sculpted features and good looks, though Mrs. Addison was fair-haired. She was a beautiful woman, and if Laura hadn’t known that she must be fifty or very near it, she would never have guessed.

“I said there was a surprise,” Julia retorted. “My brother hardly qualifies as that—though it would behoove him to give us some notice next time, particularly if he intends to stay for luncheon.”

“I may stay rather longer than that, just to torment my dear little sister,” he said, giving her a playful grin. One would never have known, to look at him, how much he hid behind that smile. “Now,” he went on, “may I introduce Miss Laura Hopkins, who is the sister of a fellow officer. It seems that we—”

“I,” Laura corrected, speaking across him, “have landed your brother in a spot of trouble. I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Addison, Miss Addison.” She dipped into a curtsy, but fatigue made her ankle buckle. Though she managed to disguise it, and to muffle the gasp that rose to her lips, Jeremy was once more at her side—a little too quickly to pass off as mere politeness, if the speculative glance exchanged between mother and daughter was anything to judge by.

“Any friend of my son’s is of course welcome,” said Mrs. Addison as he helped Laura back into her chair.