in the morning before I make any definitive plans for my departure?” His voice was deliberately light. “I should enjoy another night of your warm hospitality, at the very least.”
Several emotions warred for dominance on Metford’s expressive face. A need to see Julius gone and as far away from Bethany as possible. Pleasure, because of Julius’s praise. Along with a lingering suspicion regarding the sincerity of Julius’s demeanor.
Julius kept his expression one of innocent flattery.
“Of course,” Metford finally accepted. “But I must caution you again, my dear”—he turned to his niece—“as to the inadvisability of being alone with an unmarried gentleman. I should hate to have to call Andover out because of your naivete.”
Julius’s mouth thinned as he saw the blush that instantly colored Bethany’s cheeks. Because, no matter how lightly given, Metford’s words of rebuke were made as a way of deliberately humiliating her. A demonstration that Metford might love her, but that he would still not brook her defiance or her blatantly ignoring what sounded like teasing, but which was actually an order.
“Lady Bethany was not the one at fault. I was,” Julius stated firmly. “I was so interested in seeing another Lawrence portrait that the thought of the propriety of it did not even enter my head.” He gave Bethany an apologetic smile before turning back to Metford. “I should have known better than to ask Lady Bethany and waited until you returned and were able to show the portrait to me.”
Again, Metford’s emotions seemed to be warring between the satisfaction of having Julius apologize and the impropriety itself.
Satisfaction eventually won out, the smile he gave Julius condescending at best. “I accept your apology.” He bowed his acknowledgment.
Obviously, he’d not realized Julius had not, in fact, made an apology on this matter, only given an explanation. And an untruthful one at that.
The humor now glowing in Bethany’s eyes told him she was fully aware of that lack of apology, even if Metford was not.
A weight lifted from Julius’s chest the moment he saw and recognized Bethany was once again able to see the humor in the situation.
A realization of relief that instantly caused Julius to frown and, in turn, change Bethany’s humor to confusion. But, damn it, his own mood should not be affected by whether she felt happy or sad.
“If you will both excuse me,” he bit out abruptly. “I have some letters urgently in need of my attention before my possible departure tomorrow.” He ignored the way Bethany’s eyes widened at his blatant statement of the half-truth before he turned briskly on his heel and left the study.
The letters hidden inside his waistcoat seemed to burn red-hot through his shirt.
As confirmation of his lie, or because of their importance?
“Dear God, James, this lurking about in my bedchamber has to stop!” Julius, having just entered that room, now raised a hand to his rapidly beating heart as he glared at the younger man once again standing near the window.
James gave an unconcerned shrug. “Being a valet is utterly boring. And your overreaction just now to my being in here was that of a man with a guilty conscience,” he taunted.
Was it?
If so, what did Julius have to feel guilty about?
The letters hidden in his waistcoat?
Or what he now recognized as his increasing regard for Bethany?
Regard?
Julius had taken on many identities during his years of acting as a spy, and fabricated many details about himself when he did so. But he had always, he believed, been honest with himself.
He didn’t merely feel regard for Bethany, or admiration for her intelligence and quick wits, along with the dangerous work of assisting the smugglers in the area. He was falling in love with her. Might already have done so—
“I say, are you feeling quite well?”
James’s obvious concern penetrated the haze of uncertainty that held Julius in its grip, reminding him that whatever his feelings were for Bethany, this was not the time to focus on them.
“Your face just went white,” James explained.
Julius forced the tension from his shoulders and a slight smile to his lips. “Perhaps I am grown too old to be involved in this subterfuge.” He removed the letters from inside his waistcoat, five in all. “Your sister helped me remove these from the hidden drawer in your uncle’s desk a short time ago.”
James’s eyes widened. “Does she know why?”
He shook his head. “Only that I suspect your uncle of doing something underhanded.”
“Then I am surprised she helped you.” James scowled. “One thing that has become very