"Well, he's always been very, very rich, hasn't he?" Maggie said reasonably. "Oh, he's not bad-looking, but he's also a bore, both in and out of bed." She gave a bawdy chuckle, then asked silent forgiveness for the enormous lie she was about to utter. "Really, Oliver-do you mind if I call you Oliver? I always think of you that way-if Candover had to rely on his physical attributes to keep a mistress, no woman would go back for a second round."
It was what Northwood wanted to hear. Leaning forward greedily, he asked, "How much of a man is he, then?"
"Well, a lady really shouldn't talk of such things. Let's just say that where she would hope to find the most, she would have to be content with the least." She giggled and undulated in her chair a little, her posture signaling availability. "He's also a thirty-second wonder with absolutely no imagination. Why, he won't even…"
She listed several exotic variations on the common theme, and had the satisfaction of seeing Northwood's eyes nearly bulge from their sockets with fascinated lust.
Tilting her head to one side, she said reflectively, "In spite of losing all that lovely money, I was rather relieved that I didn't marry him. Besides being tedious and madly jealous, he's dreadfully stuffy. But when I was eighteen, I was so proud to have attached the heir to a dukedom that I didn't care what he was like."
"You have me to thank for his breaking the engagement."
Maggie felt a cold chill on the back of her neck, but she managed to purr, "How did that happen?"
"It was easy. You're right, Candover isn't very clever. Anyone could see that he was head over heels for you even without an announcement."
"He did follow me around like a stag in rut," she agreed.
Northwood sipped more wine, his expression dark.
"I always despised him. We were in school together, my birth is as good as his-and a damned sight better than that Gypsy friend of his-but Candover was always too high in the instep to associate with the likes of me. Just because he had a fortune and was heir to a grand title, he acted as if that made him better than me. But I watch people, you know, I know what their weaknesses are."
Cutting off the flow of self-congratulation, Maggie coaxed him back to the original topic. "What was his weakness?"
"Why, his weakness was you, of course. He thought you were so pure and perfect. I decided to let him find out that you weren't." Northwood looked at her challengingly. "Even though you had him flummoxed, I knew you were too good to be true. It was obvious that you were a hot-tailed wench."
She had to swallow before she could say admiringly, "That was very perceptive of you, Oliver. What did you do about it?"
"A group of us had been out one night, drinking and carrying on. When I knew that Candover was within earshot, I described how you had spread your legs for me in the back garden of one of those balls. I pretended that I was too drunk to know that I was being indiscreet, but I knew exactly what I was saying." Northwood gave a smile of pure malice. "Candover acted as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. He got up and left right away, and the next I knew, you had left London."
She stared at the florid, self-satisfied face, feeling ice in her veins. Though her opinion of Northwood had never been high, it was still a numbing shock to hear him boast of performing the vicious, cold-blooded act that had had such catastrophic repercussions. He had a genius for low cunning; something said by a man in his cups was far more convincing than a direct slander would have been. No wonder Rafe had come to her that morning half mad with pain and jealousy. His lack of trust was still a betrayal, but a far more understandable one.
Though she felt ill, she daren't give in to it. If she lost her self-possession now, she would be at the mercy of this beast. She shaped her mouth into a pout. "Really, Oliver, that wasn't at all nice of you. It injured him-and believe me, he took it very badly-but you caused all kinds of problems for me, too. If you'd wanted me for yourself, all you would have had to do was wait a decent interval after the wedding."
"You would have been interested in an affair?" Northwood said, skeptical but willing to be convinced.
"Of course I would have." She looked wistful. "Once I had the ring on my finger, I could have done anything I wanted. Candover is far too proud to sully his name with divorce, no matter what his wife did. Oh, I would have given him an heir, of course, fair is fair. But after that…" Her smile was infinitely suggestive.
She stood and poured the rest of the wine into Northwood's glass, careful to give him a good look down the low-cut bodice of her dress. Then she sat again and crossed her legs, exposing a fair amount of shapely calf.
"Before we get down to pleasure, could you satisfy my curiosity? I've been wondering what you and Varenne are up to."
Northwood reached over and roughly squeezed her breast. If she had flinched, it might have roused his doubts, so she gave him a sultry smile instead.
Willing to boast of his cleverness again, he said, "We're blowing up the British embassy this afternoon."
Her eyes widened involuntarily. "Is that possible?Surely it would require an enormous amount of gunpowder."
"Actually we're only blowing up one section, but that is where everyone important will be." He slid his hand down the front of her bodice and pinched her nipple.
It took every hard-won shred of control Maggie had not to hit him. Reminding herself how many lives were at stake, she squeezed his knee, as if being mauled by a swine aroused her. "I've heard that all the important meetings are being held in Castlereagh's bedchamber," she said throatily.
"Exactly, and there is a closet directly below. I filled it with gunpowder, and it will explode this afternoon at four o'clock. Nobody will find it, either. I have the key to the closet right here." He patted his jacket pocket smugly.
"Oh, then you'll have to leave soon! I was hoping you could stay." Then, as if the thought had just struck her, she asked, "Won't it be dangerous for you to set off the powder?"
"That's where cleverness was called for," North-wood boasted. 'I set a candle in the closet. When it burns down, it will hit a trail of gunpowder, ignite the boxes and, Boom! Everyone in Castlereagh's bedchamber will be blown to bloody shreds."
Maggie shuddered, then tried to make it appear that she was excited by the idea. "How splendid! I wish that I could have been involved in something as important."
Northwood's eyes raked her. "Oh, really? I thought that you were quite the loyal little British spy."
"Whatever gave you that idea? If you're a girl of no fortune like me, you have to take what money comes. And I've taken it from everyone."
Now that she had learned what was planned, it was time to act, because if she didn't move quickly she would lose the initiative. She got to her feet and stretched provocatively, her arms over her head. His heated gaze followed the sway of her breasts.
"I've done what's needful for money, Oliver." With a rich bedroom chuckle, she gave him her hand. He took it and tugged her onto his lap, exactly as she had expected.
"But some things I do for myself…"
Breathing heavily, he pulled her gown from one shoulder and grabbed her bare breast. She looked deep into his eyes, and finished, "… and this will be pure pleasure." Bending her head for a kiss, she murmured, "Oh, Oliver…"
Then, as his lips crushed into hers, she lifted the china pitcher that she had carefully positioned on the table and smashed it into his head with all her strength.
The impact made a ghastly sound, pulpiness mixed with shattering china, and water cascaded over both of them. Northwood's eyes showed a flash of incredulity before he pitched over sideways, taking the chair and Maggie with him.
The fall knocked the breath from her, but she scrambled up quickly, equally fearful of having killed him and of not having hit hard enough. To her relief, he was unconscious but alive.