"What are you doing out here in the garden?" She tried to look affronted and ignore the little leap her heart made at his approach.
"I was listening to the music… watching the dancing."
"You're not supposed to be out here. You're hardly one of the guests."
"True enough." He sauntered toward her, stopped a few feet away. Propping a wide shoulder against the trunk of a tree, he gave her a sweeping perusal, then his dark gaze returned to her breasts. For an instant, she couldn't seem to breathe. When she did, each breath came much too fast and forced her bosom even nearer the top of her dress.
Tanner's eyes went dark. "And, of course, there is always the chance that someone might see me. Lord Andrew would scarcely approve your being out here alone, conversing with one of the servants."
But Caleb Tanner was as far from a servant as she had ever encountered. He was arrogant and impertinent. He was overbearing and at times even rude. In short, he was nothing at all like any man she had ever met and every time she saw him, her attraction to him grew.
It was ridiculous. She was a wealthy woman with a circle of admirers that stretched across the whole of London. She couldn't imagine how it was that he could make her feel so off balance every time they chanced to meet.
He pushed away from the tree and strolled toward her, looking dark and male and unbelievably handsome. Since the day they had spent together at Tattersall's, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him.
"And then there is Wingate," he drawled, moving closer still. "Perhaps he'll be the one to follow you outside. I'm sure the colonel would like nothing better than to catch you alone out here, perhaps convince you to give him a tumble on the cushions in the gazebo. Or perhaps he has already done that. Perhaps he would prefer to take you right here by the fountain."
Anger shot through her, dissolving any of the ridiculous attraction she might have felt for him. "How dare you speak to me that way!" Caleb stood right in front of her, close enough that when her hand swept out, it made a resounding crack across his cheek.
He didn't move, not a muscle. He didn't even flinch. But she could see into his eyes and they had turned as black as pitch.
"My apologies," he said coolly. "More likely it will be Nash who follows, come to check on your welfare. Perhaps he hopes you will reward him for his concern."
The anger mixed with hurt. Was that the way he thought of her? No better than a whore? Her bottom lip threatened to tremble. She reminded herself that she was Vermillion. She didn't tolerate condemnation from a servant, and especially not this one.
"You have two choices, Mr. Tanner. You may remove yourself from my sight this instant, or you may pack your things and leave Parklands for good."
Something flickered in his eyes. Tanner stared down at her for several long moments and there was turmoil in his gaze.
"Why do you do it?" he asked very softly. "You don't need the money. Is it really so exciting? Is it worth the price you pay?"
Why did she pretend to be the most sought after courtesan in London? Why, on the night of her nineteenth birthday, would she meekly accept the life her aunt had so neatly laid out for her?
Because it was what Aunt Gabby wanted. What Gabriella Durant needed as other people needed to breathe.
The years were stealing away her aunt's beauty. Little by little, Gabriella was losing her vaunted position as La Belle, but through Vermillion she could continue the life she loved.
Because Lee owed her everything.
Because Gabriella had saved her from the terrors and loneliness of the orphanage she had been taken to after her mother had died, had brought her instead to London and given her a home. Because she had provided Lee with a brilliant education and set up a trust fund that would protect her as her own mother could not.
Because, should Lee choose another, different sort of future, she would be showing contempt for the life her aunt had chosen, spitting on the woman who had been the only real family she had ever known.
There were a thousand different reasons that Lee had become Vermillion, but none that Caleb Tanner would understand.
"I'm a Durant," she answered softly. "It's what Durant women do."
Caleb said nothing, just stood there in the shadows silently searching her face.
There was something in his expression as he turned and walked out of the garden. Vermillion couldn't tell if it was contempt or if it was pity.
5
« ^ »
"Good afternoon, Captain Tanner."
"Good afternoon, Colonel. I apologize for my appearance. I didn't have time to change." Still wearing his homespun shirt and breeches, Caleb stood in front of Colonel Cox's desk in an office in Whitehall that Cox had commandeered for his use. Two chairs sat on the opposite side, one of them empty, the other occupied by Major Mark Sutton, the third member of this small band of men under special orders from General Sir Arthur Wellesley.
"Yes, well, that is understandable, given the nature of your assignment. We had hoped to hear from you sooner, but perhaps that was a bit optimistic. What have you got to report?"
"I'm sorry to say, Colonel, I haven't learned all that much." Dressed in the clothes of a groom, Caleb felt vaguely uncomfortable in the presence of his direct superiors, but his time away from Parklands without arousing suspicion was limited, as both of them understood. "The potential for collecting information is certainly there. Both of the women keep company with men who are highly connected, either in the military or in the government."
"You're speaking mainly of Nash and Wingate." The colonel was a man in his late fifties, silver-haired and strong-featured, with an air of vitality that seemed almost palpable.
"In Vermillion's case. The Earl of Claymont is also well connected. For the last several years, he has been keeping a close association with Gabriella Durant."
"You mean she is his mistress," the major put in. Sutton was only a few years older than Caleb, perhaps thirty-one or -two, a tall man with curly black hair. He had been studying to become a barrister before his enlistment. No one seemed to know why he'd changed his mind, but he seemed to have a number of interesting—if seemingly illicit—connections that had, on numerous occasions, proved useful in assignments like these.
"From what I've been able to discern," Caleb said, "Claymont and Gabriella Durant share a mutually exclusive relationship."
Colonel Cox plucked a quill pen from the shiny brass holder on his desk. "That would make a certain amount of sense. According to gossip, Claymont's been in love with the woman for years."
"Hardly surprising," Caleb said. "Both the Durant women are highly skilled in the art of pleasing a man."
Cox's paused in the act of dipping the pen into a crystal inkwell and one of his bushy gray eyebrows went up. "Are you speaking from personal experience, Captain?"
Caleb thought of the well-deserved slap he had received in the garden and shook his head. "No, sir. Merely from observation."
"For the present, you should probably keep it that way. You need to remain objective. That might become more difficult if you are bedding one of the wenches."
Major Sutton uncrossed his legs. "On the other hand, it might prove an interesting means of obtaining information. It is, after all, the means we suspect the Durant women may be employing to aid the French."
Cox scratched something on the sheet of foolscap in front of him. "I don't believe seducing a woman falls under the category of Captain Tanner's current duties, though as the major says, it does pose certain possibilities."
Caleb thought of Vermillion as she had looked in her snug boy's breeches and ignored a subtle throbbing in his groin. He fixed his attention firmly on the colonel.
"I was wondering, sir, if perhaps you might know what sort of information Colonel Wingate might have access to that might be valuable to the French."