“Do you want to tell me what this is all about?” she asked quietly.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to deny anything was wrong in the first place. What, him, admit to anyone—let alone a woman—something that had curdled in his heart for years?

  But for some reason, Hugh was saying, “I think I said, once, that I didn’t have a family full of love.”

  Beth’s eyes were filled with concern. “Y-Yes. I wanted to ask about that, actually, but…well. It didn’t seem appropriate.”

  Hugh tried to smile. “My father…he was a harsh man.”

  “Yes, I think most fathers are—”

  “Most men were not like my father,” Hugh said heavily.

  Oh God, every time he thought he’d moved past this, it came back to bite him. When was a man supposed to be free of his father? How many years had to go by before one could live?

  “I…can we walk?” he said, letting go of the tree and stepping forward. Every footstep on solid ground was doing him the world of good. “I…I think I can talk better if I’m moving.”

  Precisely why he thought that, he wasn’t sure. Beth nodded and fell into step alongside him.

  Hugh swallowed. He had never told anyone this. There had never been anyone to tell. “My father was a cruel man.”

  “Cruel?”

  Hugh nodded. He felt better already. Was this like drawing poison from a wound? At the time, it hurt like hell, but afterward, would it leave a clean injury, ready to heal?

  “My father was…he did not wish to have a son who was soft,” he admitted. The road ahead of them was empty, for which he was grateful. “I was discouraged from having any friends; even the governess was sent away when it appeared I had any affection for her. The tutor who replaced her did not have her warmth, or her compassion.”

  Hugh gasped. Beth’s hand had slipped into his. At the same moment, the kitten he had rescued mewed happily.

  The combination allowed him to continue. “When I was nine, I found a…a kitten.”

  He glanced at Beth, who smiled. “A ginger tom, I presume.”

  “You presume correctly,” Hugh said with a laugh. “I managed to hide it for—oh, I don’t know. A week? It wasn’t that long in hindsight, but it felt like a long time when I was that young. A whole week with a creature in the house that seemed pleased to see me. And then…”

  Hugh tightened his fingers around Beth’s, drawing comfort from her presence. He had to continue. He couldn’t just stop there.

  “My father found out. How, I don’t know. Most of the servants tattled on me; he paid them a shilling each time they reported one of my misdemeanors,” he said bitterly. “So they were well-incentivized.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “That is what it was like living in my household. The kitten was brought outside—I was made to come too—and the dogs set on it. Oh, they didn’t catch it,” he added hastily. “The little mite climbed up a tree and the dogs waited at the bottom. I was sent to bed, forbidden from trying to rescue it.”

  His pulse was roaring in his ears again, but Hugh tried to ignore the thump, thump, thump. Or was it her pulse—Beth’s? Could he feel her own passion pouring through her veins, thundering against his fingers as she held his hand?

  “Your father was a cruel man,” she agreed eventually.

  Hugh laughed darkly, shaking his head. “Oh, that incident was the least of—I learned swiftly it was easier to have no attachments, show no weakness. I-I always regretted that moment, wished I had crept out of bed in the middle of the night and tried to…but it wouldn’t have worked. I couldn’t have kept it.”

  Bitterness rose in his chest. Hugh thought he would be overwhelmed with the memories. Of the sense he had not been quite enough.

  “Well, today you did.”

  Hugh looked at Beth, half surprised to still find her alongside him. The kitten was curled up in her arm, and there was a fierce look of something which could be pride in her expression.

  “We’ll give the cat to a farm; he’ll be an excellent mouser. And remember, you are a far better man than that excuse of a man your father was,” she said resolutely. “I hope you know that, Hugh.”

  Hugh hesitated. “You know, I think…I think I’m starting to.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m bored.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. It was a habit Nancy deplored. She decried the way it made absolutely clear what Beth’s thoughts were on a particular subject…or the person they were speaking to.

  Once, accidentally, she had permitted herself the expression when discussing something dull with Lady Romeril. Beth had never been allowed to forget it, though she disagreed with her sister on the consequences.

  Nancy said it was part of the reason why Lady Romeril never invited them to card parties. Beth said she didn’t want to go to Lady Romeril’s card parties anyway.

  “I saw that!”

  “You were meant to,” said Beth with a grin. “What, you think you are the only person who finds it tedious walking down miles and miles of road?”

  Hugh had the decency to look rattled by her reply. “You are very…direct, aren’t you?”

  Beth shrugged, pulling her thin pelisse around her as best she could. “I don’t see any point in hiding my opinion, that’s all.”

  There was what sounded like a muffled snort from the man beside her.

  She glared. “And what was that?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” said Hugh with a grin.

  Beth attempted not to smile in return. She was tired, and as Hugh said, bored. The day had worn on slowly. With every hour, she was certain to hear news of Matthew interrupting the same dull conversations.

  No, no one had seen a man of that description.

  No, no English soldiers had been seen here for months.

  Yes, she was more than welcome to buy a little food…

  Beth sighed and looked around as they walked steadily onward. If she hadn’t known she was in France, she could half believe she was in Kentish countryside. It looked very similar to the fields, woodlands, and little villages she had spotted out of the mail coach window.

  She shivered. Not that she would be thinking of that time again.

  The fields were similar, harvested now, and the cattle and sheep gathered in small fields as the winter winds grew. The trees were similarly green and gold, some trees almost bare, some looking as though they hardly knew it was autumn at all. Swallows circled overhead then flittered down, snatching at the last of the insects before their journey south.

  Beth smiled wistfully. She had only seen swallows once before on a journey to Bath when her mother was still alive. One didn’t see birds like that in London.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Swallows,” Beth replied before she had time to think about it. As she looked over at her companion, she laughed. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

  “Well no, not really,” said Hugh with a lopsided grin.

  Beth permitted herself to return it, and then swiftly looked away. She was spending altogether too much time looking at Hugh Shardlow at the moment. And he knew it.

  The trouble was, he was a man that drew the eye. His handsome features and strong physique were…alluring, Beth thought as her cheeks reddened. Her footsteps crunched the fallen leaves on the path that ran along the road they were following. She tried to focus on them rather than the attractive man walking beside her.

  But she couldn’t. Because Hugh’s lure was more than just his physical looks, it was…his presence, Beth decided. She could think of no other explanation.

  There was something about the way he held himself, a nonchalance that told the world he was perfectly comfortable. Nothing seemed to truly faze him.

  And that, Beth was discovering, was a very alluring quality indeed.

  It wasn’t just her who spotted it. Every time they met someone on the road, or meandered through a village or town, she was asking questions about Matthew. So was Hugh.

  The women they encountered were far more interested in the man before them than the man she was looking for.

  “Beth, I am so bored!”

  “Have you never learned to entertain yourself?” Beth asked, amused.

  Even when she, Nancy, and Matthew had almost nothing, there was always something they could do to amuse.

  Hugh shook his head before pulling a hand through his hair. “You know, I haven’t. Believe it or not, I have always had someone or something to entertain me.”

  Beth snorted. “Of course you have.”

  He shot her a look, and she realized with surprise that she had spoken aloud. Oh, bother! Her tongue was always getting her into trouble with her siblings, but she saw so few other people, it never usually mattered.

  But now Hugh was staring as though she had just cursed loudly.

  Her cheeks burned. “I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” said Hugh, his voice teasing. “You think I’m a primped up popinjay of a gentleman who has never bothered to have more than five minutes of boredom!”

  In truth, Beth did think that. At least, in the main.

  “Not entirely,” she admitted, cheeks still hot. “I more meant…well. You are, were, a spy. I can’t imagine life has been particularly dull.”

  She watched him closely and was not disappointed by his reaction. Hugh colored, his carefree attitude disappearing immediately. He looked away as though unable to meet her gaze.

  What on earth had he done in the king’s service? Beth wondered. It was evidently something of which he could not speak. Though she had only known Hugh a few days, she knew him well enough to know if he could boast of it, he would. He was here in France. Right in the middle of the war. So what had he been doing, sharing secret messages? Watching enemy troop movements?

  Beth’s heart was racing. It was so—so exciting! Far more exciting than staying at home all day while Nancy copied out sheet music for a few shillings a week and Beth did nothing.

  “You can’t tell me about it, of course,” she said lightly.

  Hugh gave a bitter laugh. “There’s a great deal I can’t tell you, Beth.”

  This only piqued her curiosity. As they walked past a hedgerow absolutely bursting with blackberries—Beth helped herself to a handful—she wondered just what Hugh would do after they found Matthew.

  Oh, he evidently wished to get back to England, that much was clear. His sister’s confinement would take up a little of his time…but what then?

  Would he, Beth thought, her heart skipping a beat, come to London? Come to see her?

  “You’re thinking of something pleasant,” Hugh said into the silence.

  Beth looked at her hands, stained by the blackberries, and ate the last one. “Maybe.”

  Admitting the truth of her thoughts to Hugh felt like a dangerous game.

  A game? Now where had that thought come from?

  “So how precisely did you become a spy?” Beth asked airily, as though inquiring about his tailor.

  Hugh shot her a teasing look. “Who says I am?”

  Beth laughed. She felt so…so free with him. There were none of the inhibitions she knew she ought to feel around a gentleman—around any man.

  With Hugh, there was just laughter, and teasing. And arguing. She was certain they would find something else to argue about, but arguing with Hugh did not worry her.

  She would much rather argue with Hugh than converse with anyone else.

  “Fine,” she said, gaze darting at some geese flying across the sky in a ‘v’ formation. “Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that someone is a spy. How would they do it?”

  For some reason, Hugh was uncomfortable. She could see it in the throb of tension along his jaw, the way he resolutely avoided her gaze.

  “Oh, come on, Hugh, it’s just a game,” she said, and did precisely what her instincts told her without any thought for the consequences.

  She slipped her hand through his arm.

  The sudden closeness was not something she could have prepared for. It wasn’t just that her hand was on his arm. It was the warmth spreading through her fingers, the sense of intimacy having her shoulder alongside his own. It was the way he looked at her, so close now, every sparkle of his eyes magnified.

  Beth bit her lip. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

  Hugh placed his other hand on hers for just a moment. “A game?”

  Beth swallowed. A game. It sounded so innocent when she said it, but when Hugh did…that man could make anything sound scandalous.

  “Y-Yes,” she said, hating how her voice quavered at the last moment. “Just say I, for example, wanted to be a spy—”

  Hugh snorted. “As though anyone would let you become a spy!”

  His immediate dismissal rankled within Beth’s heart. She may not be the Mead sister who spoke on and on about women’s rights—that was firmly Nancy’s purview—but she had listened to her for so long it was impossible not to agree with her.

  “What, you think I couldn’t do it?”

  “I think you would be far too much of a distraction for other spies,” said Hugh softly.

  Beth’s stomach twisted.

  “You, Beth Mead, are a distraction. And if you want me to win anything, I cannot be distracted.”

  She had assumed he was jesting at the time. That he merely wished to have the space to play. That he didn’t want her breathing over his shoulder as he gambled with her money.

  It had never occurred to her that she was, in actuality, a true distraction. What did he mean?

  She looked up at Hugh’s face and saw just a hint of color along his cheeks. But this was not—this was the sort of thing that happened to other people!

  “I have a great amount of respect for you, Beth, and what you’re doing, and I…I like you.”

  Beth’s heart skipped a beat as she looked swiftly at her shoes, just visible beneath the long skirts of her gown as she walked. This was dangerous territory. Not France, but affection. Desire. Love.

  They had already kissed twice. More than twice, on two occasions. What on earth would Nancy say?

  “Spies,” Beth said firmly. “What does a spy have to be willing to do, do you think? We are just using our imaginations, after all.” She gave him a wry grin as Hugh rolled his eyes. “I promise I will not hold you to any of this.”

  Hugh sighed. For a moment, she thought he would not enter into the spirit of the thing. A chilly autumnal wind rushed through them.

  He shook his head ruefully. “There is no changing your mind about anything, is there, once you have set yourself on it?”

  “Famous for it,” said Beth. “Come on. What must a spy be willing to do? Murder?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Hugh said slowly. “I would imagine—I am guessing, you understand—it would be more like…intercepting letters. Spotting patterns, inconsistencies. Knowing when someone is lying. That sort of thing.”

  A thrill rushed up Beth’s spine. Try as he might, Hugh could not entirely hide his interest in the topic. And he thinks himself such a good spy, she could not help but think. That makes this a double bluff. No, wait. Was it a triple bluff?

  The point was, Hugh thought he was hiding his tracks. Little did he know she was on to him.

  “But I suppose if push came to shove, every duke has his price.”

  Beth looked up. “Every duke?”

  “Spy, I mean,” Hugh said hastily.

  His cheeks were red, and try as she might, Beth could not catch his eye.

  Well, that was interesting. Although he would never admit it, though he tried to hide the truth, Beth was no fool. She could see through him as though he were a pane of glass.

  “You were pretending to be a duke,” she said slowly.

  Hugh jerked his head. “What did you say?”

  “When you were undercover, as a spy,” Beth said. Of course, it all made sense! “You were pretending to be a duke—that must have made it easy to get into places other men cannot go. I mean,” she added hastily, remembering the premise of their conversation, “if you were a spy. Which you are not.”

  He held her gaze for a moment. The moment stretched, and suddenly Beth realized they were no longer walking. They were just standing, alongside a French road in the middle of nowhere, a church spire just visible at the peak of the horizon…

  Looking at each other.

  Beth swallowed. She should probably say something, but what? What could make this moment even better than it already was?

  “I…” she breathed.

  Hugh’s gaze darted to her lips. A rush of warmth cascaded down her chest.

  Oh, she wanted him to look at her like that every day for the rest of her life. What a man! What an adventure this was turning out to be. Nancy would be—

  A swathe of guilt soared through her heart. Beth dropped both Hugh’s gaze and arm.

  “Beth?”

  “We should keep walking,” she said firmly, this time increasing her pace.

  Who was getting distracted now? She was supposed to be looking for her brother; she had come to France to find Matthew, and that was all! She wasn’t supposed to find her heart…

  “What happened just now?” Hugh said, swiftly catching up and matching her speed.

  Beth swallowed. “I don’t know what you—”

  “Yes, you do. We were having a, a moment—”

  A moment! Beth halted, looked at Hugh, knew there was absolutely nothing she could say, and kept walking.

  This was ridiculous, she told herself furiously as desire, anger, and guilt rushed through her veins. She was being ridiculous!

  “Beth, what is it?”

  She had intended to say nothing. She had not even intended to look at him…but that was rather difficult when Hugh grabbed her arm and twisted her about to face him.

  If Beth hadn’t been walking so swiftly, perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. As it was, she was walking so fast her momentum barreled her into Hugh’s arms. He held her there, and as Beth looked at him, she knew precisely what she wanted to say—

  But she couldn’t. So she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

  “I’m a thief!”