Duncan almost admired her defiance.
“Then I promise you that you will be very, very sorry. Not only will I make sure you lose your position, I’ll make sure no one with an ounce of respectability ever hires you again. I can do it, Molly. And I will.”
She yanked her hand away from him. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then go back to the household and wake everyone, and we’ll see what happens.”
She stared at him.
“Go on.” He took a step forward. “Hurry now.”
Molly gave him a last look then started running for the lodge. He could hear her muffled sobs as she made her way back. When they’d faded, he returned to the summerhouse.
Lucy was standing by the window. “Well, that was a side of you I haven’t seen.”
“Do you think I became an agent by being nice?”
She opened her mouth then closed it again. “I don’t know what to think. You scared that poor girl to death.”
“I had to. We can’t have her coming back.”
“What if she wakes Mrs. Cox and the entire household?” Lucy looked through the window again.
Duncan shook his head. “She won’t.” He wasn’t concerned at all that she would either wake the household or cause him any further trouble.
“I rather hated the girl, but I find myself feeling sorry for her now.” Lucy pulled the drapes on the window and went to the cot. She sat heavily, her feet hanging off the edge. Duncan moved toward the window.
“There’s no reason to keep watch now,” Lucy said, pointing to the window. “If anyone had planned to come tonight, they will have been scared away.” She wiped her brow. “It was rather stuffy under the cot.”
“We never opened the windows.” Duncan pushed the front window open then did the same with the rear. Immediately, a cool breeze wafted through the room.
“That’s much better,” she said, lifting her head so a few of the loose tendrils of hair were moved by the breeze. “Come sit down.” She patted the spot beside her.
Duncan didn’t need to be asked twice. He joined her, leaning so his back rested against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what he wanted to be doing with Lucy. She’d said what happened between them before had been a mistake. Duncan didn’t agree, but he could respect her viewpoint and keep his hands to himself.
That didn’t keep his thoughts from wandering, however. His thoughts wandered to the curve of her waist and the swell of her hip and the slope of her gentle neck. He would have liked to press his lips to her neck and inhale the fragrance of cinnamon. Or perhaps she would smell of the soap she used in the bath—rose or lavender or whatever scents ladies preferred these days. Underneath it all would be Lucy, and that was a scent that completely intoxicated Duncan.
He allowed his thoughts to drift and was nodding off when Lucy said, “I can’t quite figure you out.”
“I thought I was the cipher.”
“I like codes too.” She elbowed him gently. “I’m just not very good at them.”
“You’re extremely good at them if we consider the general population.”
“And if we compare me to the spy population?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “Average.” She said something in Italian, which he, of course, didn’t understand. He got the gist of it, though. “Point taken. We all have our strengths.”
“And some of us have hidden strengths.” She’d scooted back on the cot so she could rest against the wall as well. Now she turned to look at him, and her face was surprisingly close to his. “You really were a rake, weren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“A number of things. First of all, the way you dealt with Molly. That’s the sort of dismissal only a man who has rid himself of any number of women can give. And you did it so easily, almost as though it were second nature. Were you that callous? I confess, I can hardly imagine you that way now.”
“Good. I don’t particularly want to be thought of that way. I made mistakes like any man”—he glanced at her—“or woman, I suppose. I like to think I’ve learned from them. I like to think I’ve changed.”
“What changed you? How did you go from notorious rake to respectful gentleman?”
