Only a Hero Will Do (The Heart of a Hero Book 2) Read online

  Elizabeth wanted to run after Miss Anjou, but her feet were frozen in place. How could she have made such a mess of things all within the span of a few minutes?

  How was it possible that she could sneak in and out of houses without notice, carry vital documents across the country without raising suspicion, and keep the country’s darkest secrets out of the hands of those who would exploit them for their own evil benefit, and yet she could not control her tongue for a single afternoon with regard to Captain Alexander.

  Oh, what a disaster this is. She wanted to stamp her feet, and yell about what a fool she’d been, but propriety dictated she should act the part of the obedient daughter of a viscount. She drew in a deep breath. Forget propriety; she had no intention of following her mother’s plans.

  She whipped around, prepared to follow Miss Anjou, when the shrill sound of Lady Peck’s voice pierced her ear. “Miss Atwell, oh, Miss Atwell.”

  What now?

  Pasting on her most pleasant smile, she turned to face the other woman. “Lady Peck, how pleasant it is to see you this fine afternoon.”

  “I thought I spied you earlier and here you are.” Lady Peck took Elizabeth’s hands in hers, her smile insincere. “It has been too long. I understand from your mother, you’ve still not married. What do you do with your time?”

  Elizabeth inwardly rolled her eyes. Of course Lady Peck would bring her mother into the conversation. The two had been friends since childhood and constant rivals. The latest competition revolved around who could marry off all their daughters first.

  Pulling her hands away, she smoothed them down the front of her dress to steady her nerves. She was in no mood for this conversation. “Oh, just this and that.” Protect the country, that’s all. “If you will excuse—”

  Lady Peck abruptly cut her off. “I understand you are acquainted with Captain Alexander. He is quite the catch this season.” She looked about the garden. “Is he here? I was thinking he would be an excellent match for my youngest daughter. What do you think, Miss Atwell?”

  “I don’t believe Captain Alexander is looking for a wife.”

  “My dear Miss Atwell, every man is looking for a wife, he just may not realize it.”

  Elizabeth had had enough of this idle chatter. She needed to escape Lady Peck, or she might say or do something entirely inappropriate, and the last thing she needed presently was to earn her mother’s wrath by insulting one of her oldest friends.

  “My mother is probably wondering where I’ve disappeared to.” Elizabeth started to turn away from Lady Peck, when a rather tall man dressed in black strolled over to where several gentlemen, including Lord Baxter, were standing. Who was that? Elizabeth squinted to focus better. He didn’t look familiar.

  “Miss Atwell?” Lady Peck’s high-pitched voice ricocheted across Elizabeth’s back. “Oh, do give Lady Atwell my regards. I should call on her soon and…”

  Elizabeth didn’t wait for Lady Peck to finish talking before she made her escape. Several yards later, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. She looked over toward where she had spied the unknown gentleman, but he was nowhere to be seen, and the group of other gentlemen he’d been strolling toward had dissipated.

  Perhaps she was imagining things. Shrugging off the happening, she went in search of Grant. She needed to speak with him regarding the potential danger for one of Typhon’s men to be at her sister’s soirée. Yes, that was a good excuse as to why she needed to see him. And if Miss Anjou happened to be present, well, then…

  Attempting to not arouse suspicion, she forced herself to stroll casually through the throng of people. Although she tried to avoid conversation, she was constantly stopped by this lady or that, and forced to make casual chit chat about the pleasant weather, not to mention her sister’s highly anticipated soirée. Through it all she kept her eyes open for Grant, but he was nowhere in sight. He was probably is some quiet corner of the garden with Miss Anjou. Oh, just the thought of the two of them together made every muscle in her body tense and her head throb.

  The number of guests seemed to have doubled since she’d arrived, and all were too curious about each other’s business. Not having any success in finding Grant, she decided she needed a quiet moment to relieve her aching head.

  She made her way down one of the shaded pathways leading to the grotto. Spotted light filtered through the overlapping branches. The further she strolled, the cooler the air became. It was soothing and quiet, and a welcome change.

  Trying not to think about where Grant had disappeared to, she shifted her focus back to the assignment at hand. Just because there was no obvious sign of Typhon’s men did not mean all was safe. With Lord Baxter and Mr. Ward in attendance, she was certain something was afoot.

  Soft voices emanated from further down the walkway bringing her out of her speculations. She followed the sound, curious as to who else was here. There were no nefarious undertones to the jovial voices she heard, but nonetheless, she was not leaving anything to chance. She crept along, careful not to make a sound.

  Giggles and soft sighs drifted through the grotto. “You must know that I find you immensely attractive.” Elizabeth knew that voice. Miss Anjou. Anger began to rise at the thought of whom those words were meant for.

  She crept closer, the cool rock of the path’s walls a soothing balm beneath her hand. Curiosity and dread collided within. She just knew Grant had succumbed to Miss Anjou’s enticing words and ample bosom. The thought made her even more hot and angry.

  A fork in the pathway halted her progress. She listened for the voices. A soft trickle of water dripping into the reflecting pool drifted through the air from one of the pathways. Holding her breath, she listened for any clue as to where the voices originated. A soft moan wafted towards her.

  With cautious steps, Elizabeth started to edge toward the sound.

  A strong hand whisked out of nowhere and covered her mouth. She was dragged backward, slamming into a wall of firm flesh.

  Elizabeth began to struggle and was just about to kick the knee of her assailant, when a deep voice whispered in her ear. “In trouble again?”

  Grant.

  Elizabeth relaxed against his chest. Was that her heart pounding wildly or his? Her insides were a jumble of nerves. He was so close, yet so far away. That same intoxicating scent of soap and leather, and something else that was entirely far too enticing and dangerous mingled with her inflamed body. With her back still pressed against his chest, she turned her head and looked up into his clear blue eyes that seemed to be reading her thoughts.

  Releasing her and stepping away as if something inappropriate had happened, he started down the opposite pathway, away from Miss Anjou and her latest paramour. Elizabeth followed in silence, knowing better than to demand answers until it was safe. They walked for several minutes before Grant turned down another path. She wasn’t familiar with this part of the grotto.

  “Where are—” she began to whisper, but Grant shook his head, silencing her words.

  He unlocked a narrow wood door and opened it just wide enough for Elizabeth to pass through. He followed, and then secured the door.

  Taking her hand, he guided her up a set of steep stone stairs that looked as if they were part of some ancient ruin. A dozen steps later, the ground leveled off, revealing a small landing surrounded by several trees and a tall hedge with openings overlooking the entire estate. It was private and secluded.

  “It’s beautiful up here,” she whispered, still unsure if she should be speaking.

  “It’s a perfect place to watch the garden party without being seen.” Although Grant kept his voice low, his tone was anything but pleasant. “Would you care to enlighten me as to why you were sneaking off into the grotto by yourself?”

  “I needed a quiet moment, and then I heard voices and…” Her words trailed off. She did not want Grant to suspect she thought he’d been with Miss Anjou, or that she was jealous.

  “So you decided to investigate? On your own, again? We
had a bargain, remember?”

  Grant’s scolding did not sit well with her. She’d thought he was different. After their conversation the other day, she’d thought he understood her desire to do more with her life than marry and provide an heir.

  “You have no need to be so protective. I can take care of myself.” She began to turn away. If she wanted ridicule, she would have a conversation with her mother.

  Grant reached out and grabbed her arm, and swung her into him. “I know you can take care of yourself.” His voice, deep and sensual, sent a ripple of awareness through her. His lips were inches away from hers. “That’s not the point.” His warm breath caressed her cheek, sending a delicious shiver down her body. His gaze was so intense. “Elizabeth…”

  The moment was stolen from them as laughter wafted up from below. He released his hold and went to one of the openings in the hedge. “This is interesting…very interesting.”

  It took a second for Elizabeth to regain her senses before joining Grant at the hedge. She leaned in, glancing in the direction of laughter. She spied Miss Anjou and Lord Sutton strolling casually back toward the house.

  “Lord Sutton is quite the scoundrel, if the rumors are to be believed.” She let out a giggle. “Miss Anjou did mention she preferred wicked men.” Wicked men. Alarm bells rang in her head.

  “Pardon?” Grant’s blue eyes were wide with shock.

  “Nothing,” Elizabeth replied in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. Edging away from the hedge, she walked back toward the staircase. “I best be going before someone notices my absence.” Plus, something didn’t seem quite right with that pair. She wasn’t going to say anything until she pieced it together.

  In two strides, Grant was at her side, and questioning her. “What do you mean Miss Anjou prefers wicked men, and how would you know?”

  “Women talk, that’s all.” She walked away from him surely leaving him puzzled. “I need to get back to the party.” Perhaps she was just thinking too much, but she wanted to discover what exactly Miss Anjou was doing with Lord Sutton. Something just didn’t feel right and she couldn’t quit place what it was.

  She felt Grant’s heated gaze follow her as she retraced her steps down the stairs. The cool grotto eased the fire in her cheeks.

  Ignoring the pounding of her heart, Elizabeth hurried back toward the house. She didn’t like keeping information from Grant, but knew he would go charging into the situation. A more subtle approach was required in this instance. By the time she reached the terrace, most of the guests had retreated inside. She took a moment to steady her breath and gather her thoughts. She didn’t lie well under pressure.

  “Miss Atwell,” Miss Anjou said as she approached. “You seem flushed. Is anything the matter?” There was an underlying tone to her question that Elizabeth couldn’t quite place but it seemed almost accusatory, as if she knew where Elizabeth had just been, and with whom.

  Holding her fingers to her temple for dramatic effect, Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose I am a little overheated. It is quite a warm day. Otherwise I am quite well.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it’s nothing serious.” Miss Anjou shifted as if to walk away.

  Damn, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. “Are you enjoying the afternoon?” she blurted out.

  “As a matter of fact I am.” Miss Anjou ended her sentence with a half smile that held a wealth of meaning.

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  Miss Anjou stepped in closer. Bright sunlight shimmered across her golden curls. “Remember when I said I liked wicked men?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth feigned in a breathy tone, pretending to be more interested than she really was. There was other information she was after.

  “Well…” Miss Anjou’s words died off, meant to leave Elizabeth in suspense. “No, I shouldn’t.”

  “Oh, please do.”

  “A certain gentleman asked me to meet him after the Duchess of Bolton’s soirée this evening. Just the thought of a clandestine tryst makes me giddy.”

  “But you’ll be ruined if anyone discovers you.” Elizabeth assumed that day had already come and passed for Miss Anjou. Some old man who cared naught for her past would marry her because of her beauty. She would cuckold him without even a second thought.

  Miss Anjou raised one brow and offered an enchanting half smile. “If, Miss Atwell, only if.” This woman was dangerous to men.

  Chapter Seven

  After a long couple of hours at Lady Redgrave’s garden party, the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do was attend one of her sister’s parties. Since Loretta’s marriage to the Duke of Bolton, she’d become quite the hostess throwing some of the most lavish soirées the ton had ever seen.

  Early evening shadows danced across the white walls and cold white marble floors. Soon the austere ballroom would come to life with hundreds of guests, fresh flowers, and music.

  Servants scurried around completing various tasks. Most were too busy to even take notice of Elizabeth’s presence. Tonight’s gathering of some of the finest and most well-connected families in England would certainly bring out some of Typhon’s agents. Sooner or later, one was bound to make a mistake, bringing the Legion one step closer to discovering Typhon’s true identity and extinguishing the threat once and for all.

  Elizabeth needed to be on guard tonight and was not going to leave anything to chance. Surveying the ballroom once more, she took her time covering every inch, contemplating every angle an attack might come from. She could not fail in this assignment. She would prove she was as capable as any man, and also prove to Grant that she belonged in his world.

  With the layout of the room fully ingrained in her mind, she strolled to the pair of doors leading out onto the terrace. Pushing them wide open, she was rewarded with the sounds of chirping birds and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. It all seemed so peaceful, but the gnawing in her stomach indicated it was anything but serene.

  She dreaded her role tonight—to distract Mr. Ward with light flirtation in the hope that his tongue would loosen. Although a little sketchy, the rhyme he’d sung and recited during their ride in the park was a goldmine of information. Elizabeth suspected he was key to their investigation. Even still, the flirtation would be no more than that. There would be no moonlight stroll or stolen kisses under the wisteria. Absolutely not. A shudder rippled through her. There were certain things she was definitely not willing to do, not even for the greater good of her country.

  She rested her hands on the cool balustrade, gazing across the lush green landscape. From this vantage point, in the twilight, one could still see across the vast sloping landscape. Once the sun set, therein lay the danger. The trees in the distance were a nest for Typhon’s men. One of them could be lurking in them there right now, watching her every move.

  “Surveying the landscape?” Grant’s deep voice drifted onto the terrace and straight into her body, warming her insides.

  She turned to greet him but was tongue-tied the moment she laid eyes on him. He cut an impressive figure in his blue coat and buff pantaloons. Swallowing hard, she stuttered, “Uh…y—yes.” Her response made her sound like a simpleton, not the able-bodied agent she wanted to be viewed as. She took in a deep breath, but soon realized that whenever Grant was near no amount of deep breathing could possible steady her nerves and racing heart. “You’re early.”

  “It’s best I get the lay of the land before the light goes. Simon is stationed at the south end of the property, and Philson to the east.”

  “And will you be stationed inside the ballroom this evening?” Her heart leaped at the possibility of spending more time with him.

  “I’ll be near, just in case, but I won’t be partaking in any of the merriment tonight.” His words were formal, final.

  “I’m sure you can spare one dance.” She thought to change his mind, but as soon as the words came out, she regretted them. His stern look cooled whatever warmth had entered her body.

  He sucked in his breath and shifted his
gaze, looking in the direction of the large pond. “I don’t dance.”

  “You don’t dance? Why ever not?”

  “It is not something I wish to discuss.”

  The warning in his voice only made her want to challenge him more. “That’s not an acceptable excuse. Why won’t you open up to me? And don’t you dare say it’s because I’m the daughter of a viscount.”

  “Damn it Elizabeth, that’s exactly why. Why must you push?”

  “Because I care.”

  The words lingered in the air, surrounding him, tempting him. Opening up to her about his past suggested a certain amount of intimacy they could never have. He did not want to discuss this with anyone, let alone Elizabeth. Only Simon and Abrams knew the humiliating truth.

  But temptation continued to bubble within. Could he share that part of himself without wanting more? For reasons his mind did not want to fathom, he found himself answering her question.

  “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “You don’t know how to dance?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows creased together and confusion laced her tone. “How is that possible? I thought every gentleman knew how to dance.”

  Grant felt the heat of his embarrassment trail all the way down to his toes. “I was infirm for most of my youth. While the other boys were out slaying dragons, I was ill in bed.”

  “Oh, you—” He saw the flash of pity in her eyes and it didn’t sit well with him.

  “I am not sharing this to incur your sympathy. I’m merely stating facts.” He’d worked hard to overcome his weakness. He’d respected the journey.

  She looked unsure of how to respond. Holding true to form, she probed further. “How long had you been ill?”

  “I’d been weak and sickly since birth.”

  She seemed to struggle with this information. “What changed? I mean, clearly you’re not sickly anymore.” Her sensual gaze ran over him from top to bottom before settling on his eyes. Sympathy had been replaced by a heart-rending tenderness.