No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(107)

“I did not wish to associate with him,” Collette answered, her back to the room so she did not have to cover her lips, only speak softly. How she wished for something cool to relieve the heat coursing through her body. “He asked Mrs. Saxenby for an introduction.”

Lady Ravensgate’s thin brows rose high on her forehead, all but disappearing. “Really? That is most curious.”

“It is most inconvenient. I had hoped to move closer to Palmer and Thorpe. I thought I’d overhead something of interest.”

“No time now. Mrs. Saxenby is signaling to begin the discussion.”

Collette sighed. The last thing she wanted was to have to listen to men drone on about an irrelevant piece of literature. Her father was sitting in a cell at this very moment, and she was stuck in a drawing room hundreds of miles away, helpless to save him.

She angled her body so she might appear interested in Mrs. Saxenby’s announcement, and in the process had a view of the couch she’d been occupying.

It was empty.

She searched the room for Mr. Beaumont.

He was nowhere to be found.

Disappointment surged through her, and wasn’t that the biggest annoyance of the evening?

*

“What do you mean you have nothing to report?” Draven asked that evening at the club that bore his name. Draven had found the Rafe in the dining room and signaled to him for privacy. Rafe had gone reluctantly. He was not ready to see Draven yet. But he’d joined the lieutenant colonel in a room on the top floor of the club that no one used. From the looks of it, Porter, the Master of the House, stored linens and paintings here.

“Exactly what I said,” Rafe answered. “This assignment is…taking longer than I imagined.”

“Then perhaps you should do more than simply imagine.”

Rafe bit back the saucy retort on his lips out of respect for Draven. “Yes, sir.”

Draven paced, his wild red hair jutting in several different directions. “What have you found out so far? Has she revealed anything to you?”

Rafe rubbed his temple. He’d had a headache all week. That was what came of being forced to converse about poetry and politics for hours on end. “She hasn’t exactly spoken to me, sir.” Unless one counted a litany of facts on hedgehogs. Rafe still wasn’t certain what to make of that exchange.

Draven stopped midstride. “I asked you to find out who she is working for and what she knows. That means you have to do more than take her to bed.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “Yes, sir.”

“What do you have to say for yourself, Lieutenant?”

Rafe didn’t have a whole hell of a lot to say. He only wished the problem was too much time in bed and not enough teasing information from her. “I’ll do better, sir.”

Draven threw his hands up and paced away. “You will try harder. Is that what I’m to tell the Foreign Office? My man will try harder? What exactly is the problem? Is she that tight-lipped?”

Draven had no idea. And Rafe wasn’t about to tell him that he’d only managed to get a few sentences out of the chit. And most of those made little sense. He knew his progress wasn’t acceptable. He knew his commander expected more. But Rafe didn’t bloody well know what to do. He’d never met a woman like her.

Draven sat, attempting to appear patient. “If you don’t tell me the problem, I can’t help you.”

“There’s no problem, sir. I will have more to report soon.” And he would. This was his chance. He would not fail.

“Report now. I want details.”

Hell’s teeth, but the whole situation was humiliating. Rafe had never needed help with women before.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

Rafe blew out a long breath. “I haven’t bedded her, sir.” That was a detail. Perhaps it would be enough for Draven.

Draven shrugged. “Fine. That’s not part of it anyway.”

Rafe nodded, staring at his hands. He didn’t like what he had to say next. “I may not be able to…er, bed her, sir.”

Draven’s eyes narrowed. “You find her that repulsive? I saw nothing wrong with her.”

“It’s not that. It’s simply that she doesn’t appear interested in me, sir.”

“Are you saying I should get another man? Because I have already tapped you for this.”

“I’m not saying that at all.” Rafe blew out a breath and folded his hands together as though in prayer. “I mean, I’ve lost—” His voice caught in his throat. “I’ve lost my…charm.” That wasn’t exactly the word he wanted. But it was the easiest way to describe the effect he had on women. Or the effect he had on all women but Miss Fournay. “But I swear I will find it again. There must be a way to reach her…”

Draven said nothing for so long that Rafe finally looked up at him. Draven stared at him, brows furrowed together. “I am no judge of these sorts of things, but you don’t look any different to me. You’re still as”—he cleared his throat—“handsome as you always were. Christ, I never thought I’d be saying that to one of my men.”

“Thank you, sir, but my”—he swallowed—“allure is more than looks.”

Draven stabbed his hands on his hips. “What? Am I to list all of your accomplishments? All the reasons the woman should fall, if not in love, in lust with you?”