"Spying on your wife again?"

Marcus turned from the window overlooking the garden to give his friend Gabriel Winter an annoyed look. Watching Rain had become a habit of his since returning home. Like the rest of her family, his wife loved the outdoors, and she would spend a lot of time out in the garden. She'd even set up a little outside parlour with seats and a table so she could take her tea there. As was often the case, she was out there now, tending to the rose bushes.

Winter put away some of the files they had been going through for the Rose Agency with a look of amusement on his face. Marcus did not appreciate it. The previous night had put him in a rather foul mood. Accompanying his wife to a ball had been a tiring endeavour. Their kiss, however, had been pleasant. More than pleasant. Which was a problem. How was he to seduce his wife if he turned into an uncouth youth in her presence, shaking in his breeches at the thought of touching her?

Sitting down in his chair, he pushed the papers he'd been working on to the side. Maybe it had been too long since he'd been with a woman. That could explain his reaction to Rain last night. He had never been a rake or even close to it, preferring to keep to himself, but he was not celibate. In the past, he had kept a mistress, but the moment he had decided to find himself a wife, he had ended their arrangement, and she had moved on to her next patron. He believed in the sanctity of marriage and would never seek relief outside of the marriage bed. Even if he was not allowed in said bed. He had seen enough of that behaviour from his father, and he refused to follow in the previous duke's footsteps.

After the late duke's passing, he had found evidence of payments to various mistresses and establishments. His father, the man who had preached about their duties and the weight of their responsibilities, about how Marcus must act properly at all times, had been nothing but an adulterer and spendthrift. No, he would never be that. He was careful both with his money and his relations.

"Winterbourne?"

He looked up to see his friend watching him and he realised he had missed something. "Yes?"

"Have you heard anything more from Thomson at the War Office?" Winter asked.

"He came by yesterday upon my request. They have a lead. It appears someone may have seen the traitor in a village a day's ride from here. He will update us once they have investigated."

Winter leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I cannot believe they have been this careless. To allow an agent to make off with a list of spies. It beggars belief."

"It is odd, indeed."

"Do you think perhaps he wasn't alone?"

Marcus frowned as he ran through the details they knew so far, which admittedly weren't many. As they were no longer employed with the War Office, Thomson only offered as much as he absolutely had to. "Possibly," he finally said. "If no one noticed anything off about him, perhaps he was not the one in contact with the seller. Someone else may have been the go-between."

"I will feel much better once the man is apprehended and can be questioned. And the list returned. If that list ends up in the wrong hands..."

Winter didn't need to finish the sentence, they both knew what might happen. Their former colleagues would be in imminent danger if their covers were blown. On a personal level, if their past involvement was revealed, people seeking revenge could target them or their families. Marcus had been a key person in cracking many of the enemy's coded messages that had given them significant advantages, and they had uncovered a handful of enemy spies because of his findings.

"We must assume the War Office is doing everything they can," he said. "There is nothing we can do at this point."

"I hate feeling like my hands are tied behind my back," Winter grumbled.

"Indeed." Marcus stood and walked over to the window again, unable to stay seated. His skin crawled with the knowledge that his wife could be made a target if the list ended up in the wrong hands. Outside, a young blonde woman had joined Rain in the garden. "Nicola Howerty is here."

Winter sat up straighter in his chair. "Nick is here?"

"That is what I said."

His wife's younger sister was currently engaged to Winter. It was a fake engagement to keep another man from blackmailing her into marriage. She had hired the agency to help with the case, and somehow it had led to the fake engagement. Marcus didn't know the particulars, but where Nick Howerty was involved, he had learned to expect the unexpected.

"What is she doing here?" Winter mused.

"I suspect she is visiting her sister," Marcus replied dryly, earning him a glare from his friend.

"Let us join them. I have some news to share about her case."

Marcus wasn't sure he was ready to face his wife yet. Last night he had tried to keep their first kiss chaste and proper, not wanting to scare her off from allowing him to continue their deal. It should have been easy, but the moment his lips brushed against hers, he had realised it would be anything but. The alluring scent of violets had drawn him in for another kiss, desperate to taste her again, however briefly. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to stop, when all he wanted to do was to pull her closer and kiss her properly. Deeply. With all the fervour and passion he kept locked up deep inside.

"What is the matter with you today?" Winter asked, as he still had not replied.

"Let us go outside," he said, not willing to share his inner turmoil.

Knowing better than to push after years as his friend, Winter nodded and followed him out of the study. As they turned a corner to reach the doors to the garden, they nearly collided with a maid carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

"Your Grace!" she gasped, and somehow managed to curtsy while balancing the tray in her hands. "I beg your pardon, I did not see you!"

"Not to worry, Nora." He gently steered her towards the garden. "However, once you've delivered this to my wife, would you mind fetching some more? Mr Winter and I will join them."

The young woman tried to hide her surprise but wasn't quite able to. He supposed he couldn't blame her. It was an unusual sight to have him and his wife take tea together. She bobbed another curtsy. "Of course, Your Grace."

They followed her out to the garden to where Rain and her sister sat at a table in a spot shaded by a tall apple tree. He could see exactly when his wife caught sight of him as her smile faded and her posture stiffened. The afternoon sun seeping in between the leaves of the tree painted her in a soft light, belying the hardness in her gaze as she stared at him.

"I asked them to bring us some extra tea and biscuits," he said to Rain as the maid hurriedly set everything up on the table. "I hope you don't mind us joining you."

It wasn't exactly a question. She could hardly deny them to sit at a table in his own garden, and yet he found himself waiting for her answer. She watched him silently for a moment, possibly debating how rude she would appear if she said no, before she finally nodded. Relieved, he sat down and motioned for Winter to do the same.

He watched as Rain leaned forward to pour the tea as the maid scurried inside for two more teacups and some biscuits. His wife was beautiful in a simple white dress with a pattern of dark blue violets. While she always looked amazing when she dressed up for balls and social events, he had to admit he especially enjoyed her like this. At home and comfortable. If only she could be at home and comfortable with him.

"Isn't the weather lovely today?" she mumbled as she offered him a cup of tea.

"Splendid." Taking the cup, their fingers touched for a brief moment and she pulled away so quickly one might have thought he was a leper.

"Really?" Nick Howerty burst out, never one to hold her piece. "We're discussing the weather? Is there truly nothing more interesting we can talk about?"

It was the first time she would have seen the two of them together since the wedding. Since then he had only met her when she was with his brother, Dash. If one didn't count the time she had approached him after the wedding to ask him why he had made her sister miserable.

Most people were afraid of him, if not because of his sheer size and haughty demeanour, then because they respected his title. Nick feared none of it, and in her tenacity, she had endeared herself to him. It might be why he had felt it was his duty to ensure she got help with whatever had her seeking out the Rose Agency. He'd made sure she'd gone straight to Winter rather than dealing with their agents. He would not have his wife's sister risk anyone finding out about her private life.

He realised he'd not been paying attention to the conversation. Nick had said something about being caught in the rain. "Oh?" he said, trying to sound remotely interested. "I hope you didn't catch a chill."

"No, I managed to stay warm enough."

His eyes drifted back to his wife, who was watching her sister with interest. As the shadow of a smile played across her lips, he recalled the way they had felt underneath his own the other night, and how much he wanted to kiss her again. Not even the knowledge of who else had tasted those lips could dull his desire. Rain had been a fever in his blood since the first time he met her, and none of the things that had happened between them since then had come even close to curtailing his urge to pull her back into his arms.

What he had done to her was unforgivable. He knew that. But even knowing he probably deserved it couldn't ease the sting of having found her in the arms of another man in the early mornings of their wedding night. And not just any man. His brother. Anthony Dashcombe.

~~~~~~