Page 122 of A Perilous Passion

She gave him a searching look.

His eyes hardened and he said coolly, “Don’t worry about sparing my feelings. I’m used to being laughed at.”

She clutched his arm. “I’m not laughing. And I don’t think you’re a coward. It must all be…challenging for you.” She tipped her head in consideration. “My aunt says there’s a visiting doctor in the village. Perhaps he has something that could help? Mama calls him a quack, but Aunt Flora puts great store in his potions and elixirs.”

“I’ve already looked for him, but he’s gone.”

“I see.” She chewed on her lip. “Well, I’ll hunt around under Aunt Flora’s bed. I know she bought several of his remedies. Perhaps there’s a tonic you could take to reduce the effect horses have on you.”

“Honestly, there’s no need. It’s only perhaps one in ten horses that make me sneeze.” He held her gaze and smiled at her.

It was a very disarming smile. It set her heart aflutter, and briefly, she glimpsed the charming aristocrat he must have been before he went incognito. With that devilishly attractive smile, his handsome features, and athletic body, he must have had all the ladies falling at his feet.

A body that was definitely still showing itself to advantage beneath the damp layer of his shirt…

She swallowed against the peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Or perhaps a bit lower… “But none of that explains why you are concealing your true identity,” she reminded him.

After a brief flash of irritation—presumably because she remembered his promise—he gave her a penetrating look. “This is for your ears only, d’ye understand?”

She nodded. “I promise. I don’t want you climbing through my window again to ensure my silence.”

Not entirely true.

“I couldn’t sit idle after I left the army, and I hated the idea of English coin ending up in French pockets. So, I volunteered my services as a spy for the crown.”

She’d guessed it must be something along those lines, but it was good to know for certain. A trickle of rainwater found its way down her neck. She shivered. “Are you just spying in Dorset, or have you operated somewhere else?”

“Such as Essex, perhaps?”

She went cold. How—

What an idiot she was! He’d heard her mention Essex to her friends while eavesdropping, and she’d just piqued his curiosity further.

What would he think if he learned the truth about her?

What would he do? Nothing good, she was sure.

“I was thinking more of East Anglia generally,” she said, hoping she sounded more casual than she felt. “Do they have smugglers in the Fenland? Are the beaches of Suffolk too flat for concealment?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been there.”

She wilted gratefully against the hedge. “Anyway. I appreciate you confiding in me.”

“Can I rely on your discretion?”

“Of course.”

“Then you can rely on mine.”

Her gaze snapped up. There was a peculiar expression on his face—half smile, half frown. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.

“Only that I know your secret.”

Nausea enveloped her. The heat of his body no longer warmed her, and she shuddered, feeling the blood flood from her face.

To her surprise, he reached for her and held her against him, one hand cradling her hair. “Don’t worry, I understand. I won’t tell a soul. Do your friends know about your attempted elopement?”

She fisted a hand in his coat. He knew about Justin. Not Papa. Justin.