The Sinister Spinster by Joan Overfield Page B

ferreting out the truth if he even suspected her of dissembling. Realizing she had to say something, she threw Alexi to the wolf without so much as a backward glance.
    "As you wish," she said, feigning a sweet air of submissiveness.
"Sveenya
is one of the few Russian words to bear some semblance to its English counterpart. If one were to think in terms of common livestock and change the
v
to a
w
, one would come closer to the word's true meaning."
    There was a moment of silence as the marquess considered the matter. His eyebrows shot up as comprehension dawned.
    "Then
sveenya
means—?"
    She nodded, trying her best to keep from smirking. "Indeed it does, my lord," she assured him. "I fear his highness was behaving quite poorly. It was very unkind of him."
    "But not altogether untrue, I think," he replied, glaring across the room at Miss Clarvale. "I found her behavior most objectionable, and decidedly piglike at times. Although I do not suppose I should say as much," he added, surprising her with a self-effacing shrug.
    Sensing the perfect means of escape, Elizabeth was quick to make use of it. "Do not concern yourself, my lord," she told him, her lips curving in a teasing smile. "Like you, I promise to be the soul of discretion. Now, if you will excuse me, Mary Queen of Scots has been signaling me for the past few minutes, and it is never wiseto keep royalty waiting. Good evening." And she took her leave with what good grace she could muster.
    What was the little minx about?
Adam's hooded gaze followed Miss Mattingale's progress, his jaw clenched in silent frustration. Since the earl had taken him into his confidence he'd given the matter a great deal of consideration, and he'd come to the reluctant conclusion that out of the entire household there were only two people who had reason to take the missing papers. The first was Prince Bronyeskin, and the second was the enigmatic woman who already commanded far more of his attention than was either proper or wise.
    The prince's reasons for taking the papers were obvious. They might be allies now, but Russia had no more reason to trust England than did England to trust Russia. It was an open secret that both sides employed spies, just as it was an open secret that there was a discreet struggle for power being waged between the Czar and his imperious sister. Given such facts, it made perfect sense that the prince would avail himself of his host's private papers. All that remained was for Adam to recover the papers in such a way as not to endanger the already fragile coalition. Provided, he thought grimly, that it was Bronyeskin who had nabbed the papers. If it was Miss Mattingale who had taken them, matters were far more serious.
    The idea that the pretty companion could betray her country was anathema to Adam. Everything in him rebelled at the thought, and it was because of this that he clung even more tenaciously to the notion. He'd never allowed his emotions to govern his actions in the past, and he couldn't allow them to do so now when the safety of his country was at stake. However painful it might be, he couldn't ignore the facts, and the facts as he saw them were decidedly grim.
    From what Miss Mattingale had let slip, she'd lived abroad for a number of years and was obviously closefriends with the only other suspect. But how close friends were they? She insisted there was nothing intimate between them, and he believed her—to a point. The absence of intimacy didn't necessarily mean an absence of emotion, and if she loved Bronyeskin, what would she be willing to risk for him? Love, or so he had heard, was the most powerful of motivators, and it was entirely possible Miss Mattingale would commit treason to aid the handsome and personable prince.
    Then there was her father to consider. He lived in America, with which his country was now at war. Derring might be fool enough to think his edict would keep her from writing to her father, but Adam wasn't so easily gulled. He'd