The Spy's Lady

Chapter 2

TSL Chapter 2

The Ashford Manor

London, 1800.

Elizabeth walked briskly through the tall shrubs planted in the lush garden of the Duchess of Ashford, a multitude of emotions sweeping through her mind and body, shame overriding them all. 

She had given her heart to the man, and all he'd done was call her to the gardens to tell her that he had no intention of courting her anymore, let alone marry her. What a fool she'd been! Gracie had told her to beware of a rakehell like him, but she had all but laughed in her face, saying that she believed in him, that he would never hurt her in any way.

Fool! Fool! Fool! She berated herself even as she choked on a sob, trying her best not to appear like a sniveling ninny, as she reached the doors that led to the ballroom and a waiting Aunt Cleo. As she gripped the doorframe, she gave into the impulse to turn around one last time, to look in the direction she had just come from.

She could just make out his silhouette near the shrub trimmed to resemble a bird of some sort, and even with the distance, she could feel his piercing blue gaze on her own. 

"Liz, I cannot promise you a future. Do not ask me why, if I could tell you, I would. I hope you find a good husband, someone worthy of you, but I cannot be him."

His last words echoed in her head, and at that moment, something changed in her. She would never realize it, but some fundamental part of her broke in that moment, the part that was so open and accepting of people and their unique flaws, was now skeptical and unforgiving. 

Dry-eyed, she turned and walked through the doors and into the heavily lit ballroom, head high. 

Every inch a Lady of the Ton.

********************************************************************************

London, 1807.

Elizabeth woke up to the warm glow of a handful of candles and lying on a comfortable bed, her body covered with a warm blanket which was tucked cozily around her. Slowly opening her eyes, she tried not to panic at the unfamiliar surroundings, but a look to her left made her want to drown in the soft cushions. And curse her rotten luck.

Conrad Brighton, heir to the Duke of Northumberland, and the very last person Elizabeth expected to see, sat in an armchair pulled to the side of the bed, aquamarine eyes staring lazily at her prone form. She saw no reason to act like she was surprised at her predicament, it would only make him ridicule her.

"What time is it?" she asked, throwing off the covers and attempting to get out of bed in the same motion, which made her realize she was still in her gown from last night, but something that felt like a bandage was wrapped securely around her left ankle, making it difficult to walk without a limp. And she would not limp in front of Conrad Brighton.

Standing awkwardly by balancing her weight on one foot, she noticed that his gaze had turned questioning as if he was waiting for something. 

Blushing, she tacked on a lame,"My Lord" to her question, mentally cursing once again, as he gave her that damned crooked smile that had dazzled her all those years ago, and still bought a twinge to her heart, damn the faulty organ.

"You've slept the night away I'm afraid," Connie could see the effort she was putting into standing still, he had seen how swollen her ankle had become, after the bullet had grazed it causing her to fall off the wall, and all he wanted was to get her to rest her foot, and herself. But one look at her wary eyes had him sighing inwardly. She would probably chew off her finger than listen to anything he had to say.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine the ruckus that might already have ensued at The Orphanage. So many hours, wasted. All because she wasn't quick enough. But now she was in an entirely different mess. How to slip away from Conrad? And where were her belongings?

Casting a furtive glance toward the bedside, she was relieved to see the velvet pouch containing the emeralds, and Mercy, resting safely on the low table next to the bed. As she reached for Mercy, feeling the cool metal handle reassure her, she looked at Conrad, but he was looking at the blade, a deep frown on his brow. Eyes widening, she quickly picked up the pouch, hiding Mercy from his view, lest he look at it more closely and find out her secret, which began on that lonely night seven years ago.

"I shall have the coach brought around to the side door since I do not think you would want the staff to witness you leaving the house-"

"Yes, thank you, my Lord. That would suit me nicely." She couldn't stay with him in the same room for much longer, Lizzie thought. His very masculine presence made even the large bedroom seem like a broom closet. Or maybe it was just her lack of willpower that made her want to lie back down on the bed, his eyes on hers, and just be.

Conrad tried to quell the urge to ask her the hundreds of questions that trembled on the tip of his tongue, choosing to let her have her illusion of his ignorance this once. She looked tired and drained, but like that night seven years ago, he could not offer her the comfort she needed. He could have his answers later. But her peace of mind, she needed immediately. And he very well knew his presence did nothing to help.

Smiling, he walked towards her cautiously and said, "Forgive me, Elizabeth, but I cannot let you walk to the side door in your state. Think of this as a necessary evil."

And scooped her up into his arms, startling her enough to stutter in silence and grip her belongings tightly to her chest. 

All the while cursing the universe in her mind.

*****************************************************************************

A/N:

Well its been two years, and I hope I haven't lost my touch, and your confidence, dear followers.

Vote and comment!

~Shreya.