I.”
“I don’t regret it, but I think it’s best if we don’t repeat it,” Marianne continued. “Especially now that we know we both work for General Grimaldi. And now that I realize you’re a marquess,” she added, averting her eyes.
“I agree,” Beau replied, not certain he agreed at all. But he could understand why she felt that way, and he didn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.
He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t come to him the last two nights, but he already suspected he knew why. She’d learned his identity and hadn’t been ready to discuss it with him. “We wouldn’t want it to…complicate things,” he finished.
“Yes, exactly—'complicate things,’” she echoed. “I’m glad we agree on it. Especially since it appears your orders are also to return to Lord Copperpot’s house after this party ends.”
“Appears so,” he replied stoically. “The only other clue left is whatever Cunningham, Hightower, and Copperpot were speaking about when I overheard them in the study that day. I assume Grimaldi wants us to learn more about that.”
“So, you were listening at the keyhole that day?” Marianne asked with wry smile.
“Guilty.”
“What do you think I was doing, walking by? I was trying to hear, too.” She winked at him.
Beau shook his head, but he also had to laugh. He’d been thoroughly duped by Grimaldi and Marianne. There was no two ways about it. He’d been a damn, arrogant fool.
Marianne’s countenance quickly turned serious again. “If you’re going to return to Lord Copperpot’s estate, you’ll have to convince Mr. Broughton to stay away longer,” she pointed out.
Beau shrugged. “I’m not worried about that. I have my ways.”
“Which are?” Marianne put her hands on her hips and rocked back and forth on her heels.
Beau glanced at her. “They usually involve money.”
“I see,” Marianne replied. “It must be quite convenient to be able to use money to solve your problems.”
“I assure you, it is.” Beau scrubbed his hand through his hair again, still trying to reconcile today’s turn of events. “Very well. For the foreseeable future, it seems we must work together to find the Bidassoa traitor.”
“Seems that way,” Marianne replied. “And you agree that we won’t continue our, ahem, physical relationship?” She swallowed hard.
Beau gave her a sidewise stare. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Then of course I agree.”
She held out her hand to him. “Partners?”
“Partners,” he agreed, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. God help him. For the first time in his life, he had a partner.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lord Copperpot’s Country Estate, October 1814
It hadn’t been much of a feat to get Mr. Broughton to agree to relinquish his position as valet to Lord Copperpot for the foreseeable future.
As Beau had expected, a healthy sum of money and the promise that he would be assured a position in the future was all it took to convince the chap to take an extended holiday. Lord Copperpot, for his part, was only too ready to keep Beau on as his valet. He’d been pleased by his work and probably relished the idea of no longer having to worry about his valet’s sobriety on any given night.
Weeks had passed however, and Beau was slowly going mad. It wasn’t that the work of a valet was too much for him. It was quite routine, actually, once one got used to it. No. His problem with the weeks he’d spent at Lord Copperpot’s estate was the proximity to Marianne. Specifically, the fact that he was in her company quite often, he wanted her as much as he ever had, and he could do nothing about it.
The monotony of his days was broken only by glimpses of Marianne and the letters he received from Kendall. The earl, of course, did not put his address on the letters he wrote, nor did he frank them as he was entitled to do as a member of Parliament. He also didn’t seal them with his crest. Any of those actions would draw too much attention to the correspondence. Instead, Kendall wrote on plain paper, not vellum, and Beau was able to get the letters in the daily post call without any of the other servants at Lord Copperpot’s estate thinking anything was amiss.
Kendall’s letters informed Beau that Kendall and Miss Wharton were to be married in the spring. Seems the earl had, in fact, found the love of his life while posing as a footman at the house party.
Worth, however, was in trouble. According to Kendall, the duke had left