The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер

with Aubrey Maystone.

      Just as she was sure that Aubrey Mayston’s real reason for calling upon her so unexpectedly this morning was sure to be a matter of some delicacy and no doubt related to her work for the Crown.

      In which case, the arrogantly disapproving Darian Hunter would just have to continue to think what he would regarding her relationship with the older man. As, it seemed, he always chose to think the worst of her.

      ‘Aubrey!’ She greeted the older man with a warm smile as she crossed the hallway to link her arm with his and allowed him to kiss her lightly on the cheek. ‘His Grace was just leaving.’ She turned to look at Wolfingham with coldly challenging eyes.

      ‘I would prefer him to remain, my dear.’

      To Mariah’s surprise it was Aubrey Maystone who answered her softly, rather than the harsh response she had fully expected from Wolfingham regarding her obvious dismissal of him. A frown marred her brow as she turned to give the older man a puzzled glance.

      Maystone raised his brows pointedly towards her hovering butler before answering her. ‘Might I suggest you consider ordering us all some refreshment?’

      ‘Er—of course.’ Mariah was more than a little disconcerted. ‘Bring tea and brandy, if you please, Fuller,’ she instructed distractedly before the three of them turned to enter the gold salon. Mariah was still totally at a loss to understand why Aubrey Maystone should have deliberately delayed Wolfingham’s departure.

      ‘What is this all about, Maystone?’ Darian Hunter felt no hesitation in expressing his own impatience with the older man’s request, as he restlessly paced the length of the room once the three of them were alone together with the door closed behind them. A disdainful smile curled his top lip. ‘I trust we are not about to engage in a proprietary claim of ownership on your part, in response to your having discovered my having paid the countess a visit this morning?’

      ‘Wolfingham!’ the older man snapped reprovingly.

      Mariah also gasped at Wolfingham’s deliberate insult. ‘I am not a hunting dog, nor a piece of horseflesh, Wolfingham, to be owned by any man!’

      In truth, it had not been Darian’s intention to insult Mariah. He had merely meant to challenge the older man for what he perceived must be Maystone’s displeasure at finding Darian in the home of his mistress.

      Darian had not meant to insult Mariah, but he could see by the stiff way that she now held herself, the fierce glitter in her eyes and the two spots of angry colour that had appeared in her otherwise pale cheeks, that was exactly what he had done. ‘I meant you no disrespect—’

      ‘Did you not?’ she scorned.

      Had he?

      Darian frowned as he realised that he was the one who felt displeased and unsettled, both at the other man’s arrival and the unmistakable familiarity that he knew existed between Maystone and Mariah.

      It was obvious, from the warmth of Mariah’s tone and manner whenever she spoke to the older man, that she liked and approved of Aubrey Maystone. Just as it was equally as obvious, from the coldness of her tone and manner whenever she addressed Darian, that she disliked and disapproved of him intensely.

      And he, Darian acknowledged heavily, had done little in their acquaintance so far to dispel or temper those feelings of dislike. The opposite, in fact. ‘I sincerely apologise if I spoke out of turn.’ He bowed stiffly to Mariah before turning to the older man. ‘Perhaps, if you have something you wish to say to me, Maystone, it might be better if we arrange another time and place in which to have that conversation?’

      ‘I trust you are not considering engaging in another duel, Wolfingham?’ Mariah Beecham scorned.

      ‘Another duel?’ Lord Maystone looked confused.

      ‘A misunderstanding on Lady Beecham’s part,’ Darian dismissed coolly; Aubrey Maystone was one of the few people who knew in exactly what manner Darian had received the bullet wound to his shoulder. ‘If you will send word when it is convenient for me to call upon you, Maystone?’

      ‘I was perfectly serious when I said it was fortuitous that you happened to be here this morning.’ The older man eyed him impatiently.

      Darian studied the older man through narrowed lids, noting the hard glitter to Maystone’s eyes and the lines of strain etched beside his nose and mouth. Evidence that the other man’s mood was not as cheerfully relaxed as it had appeared to be when he had arrived? ‘What could you possibly have to discuss with me if not my visit this morning to Mar—Lady Beecham?’

      Mariah was wondering the same thing, as she also wondered why Aubrey Maystone had called at her home at all; as a precaution, the two of them had never met at Aubrey’s offices in the Foreign Office or here in her home, but chose instead to pass information on to each other whenever Aubrey arranged for them to meet socially. The fact that Aubrey had chosen to call on her here this morning must mean that he had something of a serious nature to import.

      Although that still did not explain why it was he wished Wolfingham to remain.

      ‘That will be all, thank you, Fuller.’ Mariah smiled at the butler once he had straightened from placing the tray bearing the tea and brandy on the low coffee table. ‘I am not at home to any more callers this morning,’ she added, waiting until her butler had left the room and closed the door behind him before turning back to Aubrey Maystone. ‘What—’

      ‘I shall begin this conversation,’ Maystone spoke firmly, ‘by first stating that it is necessary that I now inform both of you of the other’s involvement in certain matters of secrecy and delicacy to the Crown.’

      Mariah was so stunned by Aubrey’s announcement that she instantly sank down weakly into one of the armchairs, before she even dared to look up and see that Wolfingham’s expression was one of equal shock—proof that he was just as stunned as she was at being so bluntly outed as an agent for the Crown, by the very man who acted as her—no, their?—spymaster?

      Mariah was more than shocked; she was having great difficulty believing Aubrey Maystone’s announcement in regard to the haughtily disapproving and condescending Duke of Wolfingham.

      The man Mariah knew society believed to be both sober and stern.

      A man she personally knew to be arrogant and unpleasant, as well as insulting.

      That same gentleman worked secretly, as she did, for the Crown?

      It seemed barely possible it could be true, yet it must be so if Aubrey Maystone said that it was.

      The puzzle was why Aubrey Maystone had now revealed something that had, in Mariah’s case, remained a secret to all but her daughter for seven years.

      A sentiment, a confidence, that Wolfingham echoed, if the glittering green of his eyes was any indication. ‘What do you mean by talking so frankly, Maystone?’

      ‘Recent developments have made it necessary, Darian,’ the older man excused heavily as he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘And I also suggest that the two of you get over your shock as quickly as possible, so that we might then proceed.’

      Darian was shocked by Maystone’s unexpected announcement, too much so to be able to hide the emotion.

      And it was a knowledge, in regard to Mariah Beecham, that instantly posed a dozen other questions in Darian’s mind.

      Such as how long had Mariah been engaged in such dangerous and secret work for the Crown?

      And why had she?

      When did she?

      Where?

      And how?

      It was perhaps the answer to that last question that interested Darian the most.

      For surely there was only one way in which a woman in society might go about gaining secret information?

      ‘It