One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,85

Mr. Stanhope will see to it.” Then she collapsed against the squab, watching her mother wave them down the road with an already tear-stained handkerchief.

“You oughtn’t to make promises on my behalf.” Langley was sitting across from her in the rear-facing seat, staring out the opposite window as the greens of early summer sped past. “Particularly not ones I’m not certain I can keep, my lady.”

She could not help but note the distant, formal address, even though they were alone. Even though, an hour before, they had…

“I mean to see that you keep this one, Major Stanhope,” she said. “At least with respect to my sons.”

He made no reply. Given his rigid posture, it seemed entirely possible the words had bounced off without penetrating.

With nervous fingers, she pleated the fabric of her skirt, then swallowed and jutted her chin forward, feigning bravery. “I would give my life for my children. That is no platitude, sir.” She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and swallowed again to stave off the sob rising in her throat. How long could she keep her terror at bay through sheer force of will? “I have no fear for myself.”

Still without turning toward her, he whispered, “I do.”

Two simple words. Easy to imbue them with a great deal of meaning—perhaps a great deal more than she ought. Nevertheless, they broke the floodgates. Tears streamed steadily, silently down her face.

And then, she wasn’t quite sure how, he was beside her, enfolding her in his arms as the carriage rattled on. He tossed her bonnet on the seat where he’d been and drew her head down to his chest. She let herself take comfort in the steady drumbeat of his heart.

“This is my fault,” he said. “I knew better. Or ought to have done. I let myself be distracted once during a mission, and it cost a man his life. Even knowing the weight of that guilt, I…I let myself be distracted once again. I still—”

“Don’t,” she sobbed, raising a fingertip to his lips to put a stop to further self-recrimination.

Those lips. Thin, with a sharp bow. Rarely soft or smiling, yet surprisingly sensual. How well she had come to know them. How well they had come to know her. Heat flared in her cheeks at the memory of the pleasure that mouth had given her.…

Oh, God. How could she even think of such things at a time like this? He spoke of being distracted, but she had provided the distraction. If anyone was to blame for what had happened to the boys, it was she.

Langley seemed to read her thoughts. He caught her hand in his, stroked the center of her palm with the pad of his thumb, then kissed her fingertip and drew it away from his mouth. “Whatever happens,” he insisted, “you mustn’t blame yourself.”

“Then who?” she choked out past a fresh wave of tears.

“Put the blame squarely where it belongs,” he said, squeezing her fingers.

She dragged in a steadying breath. “All right, then. I blame George.”

Even as she said it, she could hardly believe it. Lord Dulsworthy and codebook and kidnapping were not words that belonged in the same sentence—in the same conversation!

“It doesn’t quite seem possible, does it?” he agreed. “Or probable, at least. I confess I’ve had a difficult time persuading myself to be as suspicious of him as I obviously ought to have been. I should at least have warned the boys…”

She shook her head. “None of that, now. He’s responsible. In fact, I wonder…” The suggestion that rose to her lips was so ridiculous, she could barely bring herself to utter it. “If you don’t have a better plan, I think we should go to Lord Dulsworthy’s. If we find him at home, we can confront him and force him to tell us what he knows.”

“Confront him? Tell us?” Langley stared down at her, as if seeking assistance in untangling the meaning of what she’d said. “What sort of kidnapper would be daft enough to return to his own home immediately after the crime and then reveal what he’s done?”

Laying a hand on his chest, she pushed herself upright, favoring him with raised eyebrows and a patient, prompting expression.

His disbelief was palpable. “No, surely not. Not even Dulsworthy could be so…”

Amanda quirked her lips and lifted one shoulder.

With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Langley extracted himself and leaned forward to slide open the little door that allowed passengers to communicate with the coach’s driver.