One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,92

anger and grief had encased her in a layer of ice.

“I paid a call on Mrs. Drummond that evening,” Langley explained, still not meeting her gaze. “I stayed longer than I ought to have done.”

“You needn’t worry, my lady,” added Mrs. Drummond. “It was only ever an innocent flirtation. I was a happily married woman.” Though the words were clearly motivated by jealousy—either what Fanny felt or what she hoped to provoke—in the woman’s cool voice, Amanda also heard the telltale notes of guilt. Guilt at the role, however small, she’d played in her husband’s death. Distracting Langley from his mission had upended Fanny Drummond’s whole world—a feeling Amanda knew all too well.

She cared not a jot about Langley and Mrs. Drummond’s flirtation—innocent or otherwise. She cared that Langley now sat, eyes screwed shut, pinching his nose beneath the bridge of his spectacles, lost in the tortures of his thoughts. Was he comparing present circumstances to past missteps? Was he now recalling with something less than pleasure the hours they had spent together before George had taken the boys?

Well, she did not intend to let him. She did not intend to be consigned in his mind to either a distraction or a flirtation.

“Surely, Colonel Millrose, you must realize that neither Major Stanhope nor Mrs. Drummond is responsible for what happened to her husband.”

Just as neither she nor Langley was responsible for what had happened to Jamie and Philip. And here, if such was required, was proof of the damage misplaced blame and guilt could do. Good Lord. No wonder Langley had wanted her safely out of this mess.

“I do,” Colonel Millrose readily agreed, folding his arms across his chest. “And I’ve told both of them as much. But I can’t make them forgive one another—or themselves. Worst of all, since that night, Stanhope doesn’t trust himself. And that makes it well-nigh impossible for his fellow intelligence officers to trust him.”

Amanda drew a deep breath, calling up the mental image of that morning’s fencing lesson on the Hurst’s lawn, the smiles on Jamie’s and Philip’s faces. Her sons had put their faith in this man. So could she.

“I trust him,” she said firmly. “And I do not want him removed from this case.”

Langley spun and looked at her, blinking as though stunned, unable to believe what he’d heard. No stern schoolmaster. No devilish rogue. Just him, raw and vulnerable, utterly without disguise. His lips parted, but no words came, in any of his voices.

Amanda met that bewildered look with a steady one of her own. She could not see beyond the present moment. She did not know how they would find and rescue her sons. But she had to believe they would succeed, just as she had to believe there would be a time, afterward, when she and Langley could share another private moment. A sunny hour in which she might bare not just her body to him, but her heart.

But for now, as they sat in this secret lair, together but not alone, she would have to be content with the unexpected discovery that she wanted such a moment—wanted many other adventures with him.

“Now, Colonel Millrose,” she said primly, dropping a lump of sugar into her cup before taking a fortifying sip, “about my boys…”

“I’ve sent agents to scout Jacobs’s whereabouts.” He lowered his head, looking apologetic. “Until they return, however, I’m afraid there’s not much to do but wait.”

His words roused Mrs. Drummond, who had been staring thoughtfully at the floor. “If you’d like, your ladyship, I’ll take you to my quarters. More pleasant surroundings in which to take your tea,” she said, standing and picking up the tray. “I suspect you could use a rest.”

“Rest? I couldn’t possibly,” Amanda began. She felt no less frantic than she had when they’d set out from Richmond, yet also strangely paralyzed, uncertain how to move, what to do. “Surely there’s something we can—”

Colonel Millrose broke in. “There is no we, my lady. Despite the involvement of your sons, this is not a civilian matter.”

She had been told as much before. But this time, her pleading glance at Langley was to no avail. He had the nerve to answer her with one of those stern, knowing looks. With a huff of impatience and a frown for the colonel, she rose and followed Mrs. Drummond from the room.

Mrs. Drummond’s room was far less spartan than Langley’s had been, with a real bed covered by a pretty quilt and a paneled screen to divide