Kate Pearce - Educating Elizabeth

"Your young man did inquire about you, but I think I managed to reassure him. Did you accomplish your purpose?"

Elizabeth glanced in the mirror and rubbed a smudge of hot chocolate from her top lip. "Yes, thank you, Madame." She glanced at the huge pile of garments Madame and her assistants were eagerly wrapping up and sighed. "You will have to send the bill to the Duke of Diable Delamere. I certainly cannot afford to pay for all of these myself."

Madame Isabelle gasped and clasped her hands to her bosom. "You are so lucky, my dear. The duke is one of my best customers. He will be delighted with your choices." She frowned and shook her finger at Elizabeth. "A word of advice. If I had known that you were attempting to deceive the Duke of Diable Delamere I would never had aided you. He is far too clever to be misled."

With this last piece of unfortunately true and sage advice, Elizabeth was escorted firmly from the shop, her bags deposited with Nicholas and sent home.

"Can you describe the man to me, Nicholas?"

"He was about your age and had striking blond hair. He had the bearing of an ex-military man. I couldn't get very close to them for fear Mrs. Waterstone might see me. As it was, I barely made it back to the shop before she did."

"You did well, Nick." Gervase frowned down at his gleaming boots. "Return to the coffee house and see if you can find out who this person is. I suspect he is the same man Mrs. Waterstone met in the park a week or two ago."

"Yes, of course, Your Grace. I will go at once."

Nicholas grabbed his hat and coat and rushed into the hall, nearly colliding with Elizabeth as she reached the bottom of the stairs. With a shouted apology, Nicholas sped out the door.

Half-laughing, Elizabeth caught Gervase's eye and shrugged.

He straightened and removed all expression from his face as she came toward him. The slight frown between her brows heightened his concern and tightened his gut.

"Your Grace, may I have a moment of your time?"

At his nod, she sank gracefully into the chair in front of his desk. She wore a soft lilac gown, high to the neck, and her spectacles adorned her nose. His tension mounted as she bit her lip.

"I was wondering if you might give me an advance on my wages."

He stared at her for a full minute before he could bring himself to speak. Of all the things he expected, a plea for money had not been one of them.

"Why do you need money so badly? Your costs cannot be heavy living here, as you do, at my expense."

Her bosom rose and fell as she drew in an agitated breath. "I cannot tell you what the money is for, Your Grace. Can't you just accept that I need it? That I only ask because it is completely necessary?"

Gervase's thoughts flew to the mysterious blond man. Was she being blackmailed? Was that why she was afraid to tell him? He frowned. If she truly worked for Mr. Forester and the French, surely she would be receiving money rather than asking to borrow it.

"Are you in need of my assistance, Miss Waterstone? There is nothing you could tell me that would shock me and I promise to act in the strictest of confidence." Gervase sank into the chair behind his desk and smiled encouragingly.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth glared back at him.

"I will not be manipulated, Your Grace. I'm sure if I were a man you would lend me the money without question, without even asking for repayment. I'm just as capable of sorting out my finances and making my own decisions as you are!"

"If you were a man," Gervase said softly, "You would not be in my employ and we would not be having this conversation." He admired the militant sparkle in her gray eyes and the sharp edge of her temper grazing his will as she shot to her feet. He waved her back to her chair and she subsided with an indignant huffing sound.

"I will think about what you have asked me, Elizabeth, and give you my decision before the week is out." He hoped this would give him enough time to find out exactly what she was up to.

"I suppose that will have to do, Your Grace." She sighed. "Thank you."

"Before you disappear, my dear, it behooves me to remind you of our agreement." She went still and he smiled. "You are not entirely responsible for your own actions are you? You promised to obey me."

"I promised to be directed by you in matters of the flesh, Your Grace. Not in all spheres of my life."

He sat back and placed his hands behind his head, keeping her in view as he stretched. Her gaze followed the flex of his muscled arms and she swallowed.

"Well then, Miss Waterstone, has it occurred to you that there is another way to earn your money? I've had several interested inquiries as to your identity since you appeared by my side. I'm sure that if we put our heads together we could discover a tolerable man to take you on as his mistress. Maybe you could ask him for a sum of money as a gift of good faith to tie the bargain?"

Despite his words, the thought of her with another man caused an uncontrollable jolt of pure possessiveness to uncurl and ripple throughout his large frame. He flexed his fingers in an effort not to reach out and take the words back.

She rose to her feet, her face rigid. She stalked toward him, placed her hands flat on the top of his desk and leaned forward. "You are truly a devil, Your Grace. There is no need to rip up at me because you regret sharing your secrets. I've no intention of using them against you."

Gervase let out his breath as she turned on her heel and marched from the room. Her remarks were ridiculous. He had to find out what she was hiding. It was fast becoming more important to him than the code.

Elizabeth stormed up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door with a satisfying crash. She threw her spectacles to the floor and resisted the urge to grind them into the carpet. How dare the duke sit there with that irritating smile on his face and refuse to give her the money? How dare he insinuate that she should look around for a rich protector? Jack Llewelyn had been right. She should never have gone cap in hand to the devil. Exposing her brother's plight to the duke was unthinkable.

She crawled onto her bed and a rush of unwanted tears overwhelmed her, leaving her gasping and shuddering. But as anger departed, cold logic took its place. The duke was correct. He did have a perfect right to inquire as to why she required a large advance on her salary.

She reached into her pocket, retrieved a fresh handkerchief, and blew her nose. So why had she reacted so angrily when he had suggested a perfectly viable alternative given her supposed choice of profession? She stilled and allowed her true feelings to consume her. Despite all of his warnings, she believed Gervase had come to care for her. She had foolishly begun to imagine a future for them together.

There was also the matter of her desire to experience to its fullest extent the pleasure the duke had shown her. She stared at the embroidered pink roses on her satin counterpane. If she was truly honest with herself, and she must be, she wanted the duke to finish what he had started. If her financial circumstances dictated that she had to leave him, she wanted to experience his lovemaking just once before she embarked on her new career. And it was still the only viable alternative. Breaking code for the government didn't pay half as well.

She traced the intertwining silk yarn, which climbed the stems and thorns of the roses, and made up her mind. She would not ask the duke for money again, but she would ask him to take her to his bed and break their bargain. When she had experienced the best he could offer her, she was sure she could move on to her next rich protector and reap the financial rewards she needed to support Michael.

With her eminently practical decision made, and a small sick feeling in the region of her stomach, Elizabeth slid off the bed and rang the bell. She was anxious to repair the ravages of her crying and eager to put her new plan into action.

She stared into the mirror and wondered why she had the curious sensation that someone was squeezing her heart until she could scarcely breathe.

"I've finished the translation, Your Grace."

Elizabeth waited by the door until the duke looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk and removed his spectacles. His dark hair sparked blue in the sunlight that poured through the high arched window.

"Come in, Mrs. Waterstone and allow me to fetch you a brandy. You don't look at all the thing."

With a sigh of thanks, Elizabeth sank into the chair Sir John pulled out for her and accepted a glass of brandy from the duke. She held out the original scrap of parchment and her translation of it and the duke took them from her.

Gervase cursed under his breath. "It tells us virtually nothing. The attempt to assassinate the Prince Regent will be in London in the summer." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "At least that leaves Brighton out of the puzzle. The Prince Regent might be wiser to spend his entire summer down there. It is far easier to guard."

Elizabeth frowned. "But don't you see, Your Grace? It is well known that the prince prefers to spend his summer in Brighton. Why would he come up to London unless he had to?"

"The Prince Regent will return to London if Parliament requires his presence at any official ceremonies." Sir John answered. "I assume, Your Grace, that a victory parade is planned to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon? Surely that would take place in the summer?"