A Lord's Bargain: Nexus Spymasters, #5

By Tracey Devlyn

In this fifth and final installment of Tracey Devlyn's Nexus Spymasters series, readers will cheer for this forbidden love and opposites attract story between a ballroom spy and a temporary governess who find common ground while taming, er, caring for his surprise daughter.

 

Welcome to Nexus Spymasters, a Regency historical romance series by USA Today Bestselling author Tracey Devlyn. From ballrooms to boudoirs, these daring lord and lady spies will stop at nothing to win the war against Napoleon and fight for the one thing forbidden to them. . . love.

 

A ballroom spy's bleak existence sparks to life after hiring a mysterious governess whose secrets stir his curiosity and whose courage awakens his desire.

 

Marcus Keene, Lord Shevington, leads a life of idleness and indulgence—or so he would have everyone believe. The illusion he has carefully crafted to protect his country no longer holds the same appeal it once did. His life takes a dramatic turn when a scared and angry five-year-old girl—his daughter—appears on his doorstep. After a long search, he finds the perfect governess in Miss Crawford. One look at Shev and the mysterious young woman refuses the position, igniting his insatiable curiosity.

 

Anne Crawford has sworn to never work in a bachelor household again, but circumstances force her to accept the handsome marquess's offer of employment. As she navigates her young charge's turbulent emotions, Anne struggles to conceal her own and risks exposing a decades' old secret to the nobleman's whose every question feels like a forbidden caress.

 

What Anne does not understand is that mysteries are like catnip to Shev. Irresistible. Much like the governess herself. When a powerful French noblewoman arrives to take his daughter away, Shev is faced with the prospect of an empty home once again and his heart's desire slipping from his grasp.

 

First published in 2015 as Shev. This remastered edition published in 2022.

Nexus Spymasters in series order:
A Lady's Revenge
A Lady's Temptation
A Lady's Secret
A Lord's Redemption
A Lord's Bargain

• Language: English
• Publisher: TDC Creations, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781940677132

Book preview

One

Marcus Keene, Lord Shevington, would have preferred standing in a sweltering ballroom full of pompous aristocrats to sitting in the drawing room of his Mayfair town house with his beloved mother, waiting on the latest in a long string of stiff-necked spinsters to arrive.

Somehow, sifting through endless inane chatter by his contemporaries, searching for a morsel of treasonous conversation, seemed far less daunting than selecting a governess for a daughter he’d known only a few short weeks.

Please stop making that dreadful noise, Lady Shevington said. My nerves are quite frayed as it is. To underscore her complaint, she smoothed her hands down her copper-hued skirts and leveled her already-squared shoulders.

Shev halted the gold chain’s rotation around his forefinger with one quick flick of his wrist. She’s late.

Perhaps you should check your timepiece again. Mine indicates she’s not due for another five minutes.

Yours is clearly an inferior product.

I do hate when you’re in these appalling moods. She sent him a withering look. There is no need for nerves. Miss Crawford comes highly recommended by the Hunt Agency. I’ve also been acquainted with Miss Crawford’s aunt for many years, and she only has good things to say about her niece.

Well then, if she has her aunt’s endorsement, I suppose I have nothing to fear.

Mind your sardonic tongue, Marcus. A mother can find innumerable ways to make her child’s life intolerable.

Shev pressed his lips together, having learned a long time ago to heed his mother’s warnings. The Marchioness of Shevington had not entered this life surrounded by the luxuries and privileges of the aristocracy. No, Gemma Barrow had traipsed the back alleys of London for years while her father clawed his way to the top of a shipbuilding empire. Shev knew from experience that his mother had an unusual array of survival skills.

Besides, Lady Shevington said, you know Sydney Hunt would never send an unqualified candidate to you—not in experience or temperament.

True. Sydney specialized in pairing the right individual with the right employer. To his knowledge, she had never made a wrong match. An incredible feat, given the dozens, if not hundreds, of servants she’d placed since opening the agency.

He’d known her for years. A pity he could never view her as anything other than a friend, even before she’d met and bewitched his good friend, Ethan deBeau. Sydney Hunt was a beautiful, spirited, accomplished, and courageous woman. But he was not in search of a wife.

A knock at the door drew their attention. Pardon me, my lady. My lord, the butler said. A Miss Crawford to see you.

Show her in, Stafford, Shev said.

Seconds later, a young lady of average height and build with plain blue eyes and dark brown hair entered the drawing room. She didn’t have a single feature that would entice a gentleman’s attention to linger.

Perfect.

He’d always had an appetite for beautiful women, but he reserved those cravings for outside his household. Inside, he followed a long-standing, unbreakable rule about not bedding members of his staff. It was a lesson he’d learned at the age of thirteen after his father caught him spying on one of the housemaids.

Miss Crawford, Lady Shevington stood, holding out her hands in greeting. So nice to make your acquaintance.

The younger woman took the marchioness’s proffered hands. Thank you for inviting me, my lady.

Despite the disparity in their social status, confidence wove through the young woman’s voice, as if she shared greetings with the upper crust every day.

Please allow me to introduce my son, the Marquess of Shevington.

Miss Crawford performed a well-executed curtsy. Good morning, my lord.

Shev nodded. Please make yourself comfortable.

Selecting the chair adjacent to Shev’s, she sat on the edge, feet together, back erect, chin set at an attentive angle. His mother resumed her seat on the cream-and-yellow pinstriped sofa, her posture more relaxed than before Miss Crawford’s arrival.

How is Mrs. Kettlestone?

My aunt is quite well, my lady.

Is she still walking a mile a day—rain, sleet, or shine?

Indeed, she is. Aunt is convinced regular exercise and a daily glass of sherry will see her into her nineties.

I couldn’t agree more, Shev said. Except for the exercise part. The very thought exhausts me. His mother’s piercing gaze landed on him, narrowed in warning. Why don’t you begin, Miss Crawford, by detailing your work experience?

The governess took an almost imperceptible deep breath before launching into her credentials. I gained the majority of my experience while caring for the daughters of my first employers, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens.

How long were you with the Stevenses? Lady Shevington asked.

Eight years, my lady.

Your reason for leaving their employ? Shev asked.

The girls reached an age where they no longer required a governess. Miss Crawford opened her reticule, pulled out a sealed missive, and placed it on the side table near her chair. Mrs. Stevens kindly provided a letter of reference.

When did you leave the Stevens household? Shev asked.

Six months ago, my lord.

Where did your next position take you?

She clasped her hands together in her lap. Lord and Lady Whitfield hired me to watch over their young son.

Your tenure with the Whitfields did not last nearly as long. Did young Whitfield place a frog in your boot?

No, my lord.

A mouse in your bed?

No.

Snake in your wardrobe? Manure in your—

Shevington, Lady Shevington scolded. Not all boys are as unruly as you were at a young age.

His lips twitched. What a shame.

Do you have a letter of reference from Lady Whitfield? his mother asked.

I’m afraid not, my lady.

The absence of a reference combined with the small fracture in her confidence awakened Shev’s insatiable curiosity. Those close to him knew of his compulsive need to solve even the smallest mystery. Even now, his mother cast a wary glance in his direction. Why did you leave Whitfield’s employ?

Looking down at her clasped hands, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over her knuckles. I could not perform all the duties Lord Whitfield required of me.

A heavy hush fell over the room. No one needed clarification on her meaning. It was an occurrence that happened all too often in aristocratic households.

Well, my dear, his mother said in a quiet, firm voice. You won’t need to worry about that sort of thing here. Will she, Shevington? She caught—and held—his gaze, a fierce warning burning in her green eyes.

With an exaggerated show of indifference, Shev eyed their guest before turning a devilish grin on his mother. If I’m overcome by desire while in Miss Crawford’s presence, I’ll make haste to Madame Rousseau’s.

Shevington! A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed. His mother shifted her attention back to the governess. Please excuse my son. He does enjoy his shocking comments.

Instead of being appalled as he’d expected, Miss Crawford appeared relieved. Curious. A sudden restlessness had him out of his seat and striding toward the sideboard for a drink. Anyone else?

Lady Shevington glanced uncomfortably at their guest before shaking her head. Perhaps later.

No, thank you, my lord. Miss Crawford turned to his mother. There are a few details I’m not quite clear on, my lady. Miss Hunt assured me this situation would suit me perfectly; however, she seemed hesitant to share any information beyond what was in the advertisement.

My apologies for the secretive nature of our posting, Miss Crawford. I assure you we did so to protect the child, not for any nefarious reasons.

May I ask the child’s age and gender?

Jacqueline turned five years old a little over three weeks ago.

Shev asked, Do you have any experience with children so young?

Miss Crawford considered her bloodless knuckles a moment before subtly unrolling her fingers. Lifting her chin, she said, No, my lord. The Stevens girls were eight and nine when I joined the household.

Do you have any reservations in that regard? Lady Shevington asked.

None, my lady. My cousin has two small children, ages two and four. I find their unconditional love and curiosity enchanting and, if I may be so bold as to say, refreshing.

You may indeed be so bold, Miss Crawford. I too love being around the little ones.

Though he did not sit, Shev returned to stand near his seat and noticed the governess’s shoulders tense. How is your French?

Very good, my lord. I would venture to say teaching the language is one of my strong suits.

Lady Shevington smiled at the news.

What do you think about banshees? he asked.

Caught off guard by his question, the governess raised her eyebrows, revealing a pair of deep blue eyes. Their color was so pure and intense that he found himself staring, searching for one imperfection. He found none. How could he have ever mistaken them as plain?

Pardon, my lord? Miss Crawford asked, snapping him out of his trance.

Banshees. Little screaming terrors of the night.

His mother produced a high, thin laugh. Do not mind my son, Miss Crawford. He is unaccustomed to a child being in the house and is prone to dramatics.

The little girl is yours, my lord?

Shev bolted back the last of his drink. So it would seem.

She glanced around as if looking for clarification. And your wife is…?

Amusement he hadn’t felt since grasping Jacqueline’s trembling hand a fortnight ago resurfaced at the look of concern on the governess’s face. Nonexistent, he said, with an inappropriate amount of relish.

Miss Crawford closed her eyes for a brief moment before she lifted her full lips into an apologetic—and if he wasn’t mistaken, defeated—smile. Thank you for the opportunity to come and speak with you, Lord Shevington. Her voice gained its former strength. I regret to say I’m not the right candidate for this position.

"Because of Jacqueline’s