"There is something I would know about this night's work."
"And what is that, my lord?" She twined her fingers in the crisp mat of hair on his chest. It was amazing how what they shared together in bed could affect both their moods, she reflected. For example, she was no longer feeling at all belligerent and defensive.
"Why did you not come to me immediately with that note the lad handed you this afternoon? Why did you try to keep such a dangerous rendezvous on your own?"
Augusta sighed. "I doubt that you would understand, Harry."
"Try me."
"Even if you do understand, you will doubtless not approve."
"You have the right of it on that point. But tell me why you did not come to me with that note, Augusta," he ordered gently. "Was it because you feared the information you would be given would be evidence against your brother?"
"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Just the opposite, in fact. I assumed from the note that it would be the proof I needed to remove the cloud of suspicion that hangs over Richard's name."
"Then why did you not confide in me? You knew I would be interested in whatever transpired tonight."
She stopped toying with his chest hair. "I wanted to show you that I could be as useful and helpful in your investigations as your close friends."
"Sally and Sheldrake?" Harry frowned. "That was most foolish, Augusta. They have had a great deal of experience at this kind of thing. They know how to take care of themselves. You know nothing about conducting an investigation."
"But that is just it." She sat up beside him. "I want to learn. I want to be part of your circle of truly close friends, the ones with whom you share your deepest thoughts. I want to have the kind of bond with you that Sally and Peter do."
"Hell, Augusta, you are my wife," Harry muttered, exasperated. "Our bond is far more intimate than any I share with Sally or Peter Sheldrake, I assure you."
"The only time I feel truly close to you is when we are in bed together as we are now. And that is not enough, because even then there is a distance between us."
"There is no distance at all between us at such times, madam." He smiled as he stroked a hand down over her hip. "Or need I remind you?"
She wriggled away from his touch. "But there is a kind of distance because you do not love me. You only feel some physical passion for me. It is not at all the same thing."
His brow rose. "You are an expert on the difference?"
"I expect every woman is an expert on the difference between passion and love," Augusta retorted. " 'Tis no doubt an instinct."
"Are we going to get ourselves mired again in that useless argument with all its confounded feminine logic?"
"No." Augusta leaned forward eagerly. " 'Tis just that I have decided if I cannot have your love, Harry, I would have your friendship. Your close friendship. I want to be a part of your inner circle of companions. The ones with whom you share everything. Do you not understand, my lord?"
"No, I do not understand. You are not making sense."
"I want to feel as though I belong to your special circle of intimates. Do you not see, my lord? It would be like being part of your real family."
"Damnation, Augusta, you are talking a lot of emotional nonsense. Hear me well, wife, you are most certainly a part of this family." He caught hold of her chin, his eyes intent. "And do not ever forget that fact, madam. You are not, however, a trained intelligence agent and I will not have you playing dangerous games the way you did tonight. Is that quite clear?"
"But I did a good job, Harry. Admit it. I brought you some very interesting evidence. Only think, my lord. Someone went to all that trouble just to make us think that the Spider was my brother and has therefore been dead for two whole years. That raises some interesting possibilities, does it not?"
His mouth twisted wryly. "Indeed it does. The most interesting of which is that the Spider is no doubt very much alive and wants everyone to think him dead. Which leads us to the conclusion that he may presently be enjoying a position as an accepted member of Society and wants to continue living his new life. He clearly has a great deal to lose now if the truth about his past should emerge. And that makes him more dangerous than ever."
Augusta considered that closely. "Yes, I see what you mean."
"The more I reflect on tonight's event's, my dear, the more I believe you had a very close brush with disaster. I have only myself to blame."
Augusta grew alarmed. She was learning that whenever Harry got that tone in his voice, he usually started issuing orders. "Oh, pray, do not blame yourself, my lord. It was an accident and will most certainly not happen again. The next time I receive a strange note I shall come straight to you with it, I swear."
He eyed her morosely. "We shall take steps to ensure that you do so, Augusta. You and Meredith are not to leave this house without either myself as an escort or at least two footmen in attendance. I shall choose the servants I wish to accompany you and I shall inform Craddock you are not to go anywhere without them."
"Very well, my lord." Augusta heaved a sigh of relief. It was not as bad as it could have been, she told herself. He could have gone so far as forbidding her to leave the house without him. As he was rarely available these days, that would have meant virtual imprisonment for herself and Meredith. She congratulated herself on a narrow escape.
"Do I make myself clear, madam?"
Augusta inclined her head acquiescently, as a dutiful wife should. "Very clear, my lord."
"And furthermore," Harry added deliberately, "you are not to go out at night, with or without the footmen, unless I am with you."
That was too much. Augusta promptly fought back. "Harry, you go too far. I assure you Meredith and I will take an entire brigade of footmen with us at all times if that is your wish, but you cannot confine us to the house every evening."
"I am sorry, Augusta," he said, not ungently. "But I will not be able to concentrate on my investigations if I am not assured you are safe at home."
"Then you can be the one to tell your daughter that she cannot go to Astley's Amphitheatre tomorrow night," Augusta announced.
"You were planning to take her to Astley's?" Harry frowned. "I am not at all certain that would have been a particularly sound choice of entertainment. Astley's is famous for its silly spectacles and melodrama. Women flying about on horseback and that sort of thing. Not particularly elevating or educational for a young child, do you think?"
"I think," Augusta said bluntly, "that Meredith will enjoy it immensely. And so will I."
"Well, in that case, I believe I can adjust my schedule to allow me to escort the two of you to Astley's tomorrow evening," Harry said smoothly.
Augusta was caught completely off balance by the unexpected capitulation. "You will?"
"Pray do not look so astounded, my dear. As the victor in our duel tonight, I can afford to be generous to the loser."
"Victor? Who named you the victor?" Augusta grabbed the pillow and began pummeling him unmercifully with it.
Harry's laughter was husky and liberally laced with masculine passion.
The entertainment at Astley's was not nearly as dull as Harry had feared. It was not, however, the ladies dashing about on horseback, the music, or the inane melodrama with its fireworks and singing heroes that held his serious attention. What held Harry's gaze was the sight of his wife and daughter leaning precariously out of the box to watch the proceedings below.
Augusta had been right about one thing. Meredith was enjoying herself to the hilt. It struck Harry again just how much his overly serious daughter had blossomed during the past few weeks. It was as if she were discovering the pleasures of childhood for the first time.