A Most Dangerous Profession(33)
“Yes, sir,” Leeds said. “We’ll sleep in the next room so we can keep an eye upon them.”
“Excellent. I shall go inside and bespeak a room. Buffon should arrive within the hour with my luggage. We should reach Balnagown Castle by nightfall tomorrow.” The real work would begin then, and Robert was looking forward to it. “When Buffon arrives, take care of his coach and horses, but do not allow him to unpack my luggage. I have all I need in my portmanteau.”
Leeds and Stewart looked pleased at the prospect of telling Buffon what to do.
Robert left and went out to the inn yard. The inn had been a welcome surprise, much larger than they’d anticipated, considering how far north they’d traveled. The two-storied timbered building dated to the sixteenth century, a style Robert rather liked. He entered the front hall and, upon finding the innkeeper, obtained the use of a private parlor.
The room he was escorted to was cozy, the ceiling so low that he was in danger of banging his head on the broad beams. A welcoming fire crackled in the grate and several well-stuffed chairs sat nearby, while a small table with two chairs were tucked beside a window that overlooked the inn yard.
Robert was glad to strip off his coat and gloves and warm himself by the fire. The innkeeper further endeared himself by producing a decanter of very tolerable brandy, which Robert enjoyed as he awaited his valet’s arrival.
He sipped the amber liquid, savoring its warmth, and wondered how Moira was faring. She would be angry that he’d left her behind, but he’d had no choice.
I have a daughter. The thought rang through him.
His entire life had changed since he’d found out. Yet he didn’t feel different; he didn’t feel like a father. While he was worried about the child, it was more because of her innocence than the fact that she was his.
Was that normal? He sighed and took another sip of brandy. I don’t know what a father should feel. Damn Moira for keeping this from me. I deserved to know.
Yet he couldn’t entirely blame her. Their relationship had been based on lies. She’d been living in London, pretending to be the daughter of a Russian prince. She was very, very good and few people had realized her deception. She’d become the darling of society, welcomed into the homes of the wealthiest and most powerful.
Before long, someone in the Home Office had noticed a slow leak of financial information. After some research, they’d realized that the Russian princess was neither Russian nor a princess, and Robert was sent to investigate by pretending to become one of her admirers.
He had expected to be unimpressed with such a sham. But what he’d found was an amazingly beautiful and intelligent woman who was as charming as she was false. But beneath that falseness, he sensed something else—an almost desperate vulnerability. Who was she? Who was she working for? And how was she able to fool so many people?
The more he’d attempted to learn, the deeper he’d become involved. There was a spark between them from their first meeting and eventually they’d succumbed to it.
Robert now admitted that the attraction had been growing into something more, which was why he’d been so furious when she’d disappeared. He’d foolishly hoped that she would begin to trust him, and tell him the truth about herself and her past. Instead, she’d arranged their sham marriage and then disappeared without a word, taking with her important documents she’d stolen from a high-ranking government official.
The Home Office had demanded an explanation, and Robert hadn’t had one. He’d been too involved in trying to discover who the real Moira MacAllister was, to notice her side activities. Furious at being made a fool of, he’d set out to find her, using all of his resources. After days of near misses, he’d finally caught up with her at a small inn by the docks in Dover. There, her defiant attitude and seeming unconcern had infuriated him even more. He’d reclaimed the stolen papers and, to prove that she meant nothing to him, had left her in the care of another man from the Home Office to deliver her to face charges.
An hour later, the agent had been thoroughly bamboozled and locked in a closet, and Moira was gone.
Robert had never stopped looking for her. As the years progressed, he’d convinced himself that it was just professional pride and curiosity about her motives in tricking him in such a way that drove him on, but now he had to face a few facts about himself—none of which were pleasant. His anger with Moira had nothing to do with his job with the Home Office, and everything to do with the growing feelings he’d had for her when she’d left.