Ace-High Royal Flush Page 5

  “Of course not. And yet you felt the need to hire a taxi.”

  “The truth of the matter is that I’m so rarely in DC that I never bother with a car.”

  “Do you drive?”

  “Certainly, there’s always the need to have that ability on the job.” I held the door open for him, and he stepped out into the chilly February evening.

  “Indeed.”

  “And in addition, my youngest brother has a car I can borrow if the need arises.”

  He smiled at me over his shoulder, stepped to the curb, and whistled shrilly between his teeth while he flagged down a cab.

  “Showoff,” I muttered.

  He gave me one of the most charming grins I’d ever seen. “Come along, Jefferson.” He opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

  * * * *

  “Can you stay for breakfast?” I asked as I rolled off him and tucked him into my side.

  “Who’s doing the cooking?”

  “Me.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Don’t you think I can cook? I’m insulted.”

  “This isn’t going to be one of those times when you promise me breakfast and then renege?”

  “I promise.” I wasn’t in the habit of spending the night with a lover. Well, except for Bart.

  Bart…How was he? It had been some time since I’d last seen him.

  Ludo folded his hands over the hand I rested on his navel, reminding me of who was in my bed.

  I dropped a kiss to the spot beneath his ear, slid my knee through his legs, and began to consider what I’d make Ludo for breakfast.

  Eggs Benedict? French toast? Quiche?

  I fell asleep trying to remember where I’d placed the cookbook Mrs. Plum had given me years ago when I’d moved out on my own.

  * * * *

  The telephone rang a few hours later.

  “Goddamn it!”

  “I knew it was too good to be true,” Ludo mumbled.

  I reached across to the night stand to catch up the receiver. “Sebring,” I growled.

  “Jefferson, it’s Nigel.”

  “What…Portia?” My sister was pregnant for the second time. She’d had that miscarriage a few years earlier when she and Nigel had been working in West Berlin.

  “She’s fine. I think she’s fine.”

  I’d never heard him so shaken, not even when she’d lost that first baby. I would have punched him for his apparently callous attitude if Portia hadn’t assured me otherwise and told me to back off.

  “She went into labor—”

  “Where are you? Do you need a ride to the hospital?” I completely forgot I had no car.

  “We’re already at Baltimore General. They…they won’t let me in with Portia. She’s okay—they promised me she’s okay, but—”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.” His voice broke, and he took a moment to clear his throat. “Would you mind calling the family?”

  “Consider it done. Uh…I don’t have your father’s phone number.”

  “What? Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll inform him…”

  “Nigel.”

  “Yes?”

  “Portia will be fine.”

  “Of course she will. I…I’d better go.”

  “We’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes.” He hung up.

  “Is everything all right?” Ludo asked.

  “Portia’s having her baby. I’m going to be an uncle!” I was grinning so broadly I thought my face would split. I dialed the house in Chevy Chase. Father used it when he had business to deal with in the Capital, and both he and Mother were staying there. With Portia so close to her due date, it was generally more convenient than driving the three plus hours it would take to get to the hospital from Shadow Brook. I was surprised, however, when Mother answered. “I’m sorry to wake you,” I told her, having no doubt she’d recognize my voice, even at two in the morning. “Portia’s in labor.”

  “Your father and I will be there as soon as we can. Who’s calling Anthony and Bryan?”

  “I am.”

  “I’ll leave you to it. Good-bye, Jefferson.”

  “Good-bye, Mother.” I hung up, then dialed first Tony and then Bryan. They were as excited as I was, and Bryan volunteered to pick us all up.

  With everyone notified who needed to be notified, I turned to get underwear from my dresser, only to discover that Ludo, who was dressed, had laid shorts and undershirt out on the bed and was looking through my closet for a shirt and trousers.

  “Thanks, angel eyes.”

  He looked hesitant. “I’d better call for a cab and go.”

  “I promised you breakfast.”

  “Under the circumstances—”

  “I’d like you to come with me. That is, if you don’t mind cafeteria food?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  And while Ludo leaned against the wall, spoke of his own sister’s labor and delivery, and watched, I finished getting dressed.

  Chapter 8

  Mother and Father were already in the waiting room at Baltimore General. Father did tend to drive like a maniac—something we’d gotten from him.

  We kissed Mother’s cheek and shook Father’s hand.

  “Do you have any news?” Tony asked.

  “Nothing yet.”

  I looked around. “Where’s Nigel?”

  “He’s with your sister.”

  “How did he manage that? When I spoke to him, he said they wouldn’t let him in the delivery room.”

  “You know Nigel,” Mother said. “He can be extremely charming.”

  He could. Portia told me of the time she and Nigel were having dinner with Mother and the question of a girl’s name came up, on the off chance my sister and her husband had a daughter. Nigel admitted they hadn’t chosen a name, but if they did have a little girl, they would just name her after the day of the week on which she was born. No one had ever made Mother laugh like that.

  Now she sat leafing through a magazine that had seen better days, while the males of the family paced the floor.

  “I’ll fetch some breakfast, shall I?” Ludo volunteered.

  As soon as he left, Father caught my attention, nodded toward the door, and strode out. He knew I preferred men, although I’d never brought any of my lovers to meet the family. I exchanged glances with my brothers, but they just shrugged.

  I stepped out into the corridor and discovered Father waiting at the far end, where it was fairly private. There was no point in putting this off. I went to him. “Yes, sir?”

  He stared at me broodingly, and I braced myself for…I had no idea what. Being disowned and forbidden to see my siblings seemed the worst of it.

  Finally, he began to speak. “Your sister has always had a mind of her own. Your mother wanted her to marry Lady Portia’s son. I would have preferred she marry young Rivenhall. When neither of those options seemed feasible, I looked for another.”

  “I’d wondered how you came to choose Nigel.” I’d seem him occasionally when I was at Langley, but Bryan had more contact with him. He’d liked him well enough, although his opinion was Nigel Mann was one of the coldest men he’d ever met.

  “Algernon Mann happens to belong to the same club as I do, and one day I chanced to overhear him complaining about his son. Nigel sounded perfect for what I had in mind, and I struck up a conversation with the senior Mann. When he realized I was willing to consider his son for my daughter, he almost had an orgasm in the club’s dining room.”

  “I have to say I’m surprised you were willing to consider a man from that family.”

  “Oh, the family is well enough.”

  I didn’t respond to that beyond raising an eyebrow, and Father gave a sour laugh. Algernon Mann was a pompous, supercilious toady, his second wife was a social climber who Mother avoided as much as she politely could, and as for Nigel’s stepbrother…well, every time I was in his vicinity, I
wanted to punch his nose.

  “All right, I should say the line is well enough,” he conceded. “They don’t go back as far as ours does, but they were awarded commendations without number not only for resourcefulness in dealing with this Country’s enemies, but for bravery and gallantry in the line of fire. However, I didn’t wish to discuss your brother-in-law with you.”

  “No, sir.” Okay, here it comes. I’d relaxed, but now I braced myself once again.

  “Rivenhall comes from a well-looked-upon family. His sisters married well—two barons and a marquis, and all in the House of Lords.” He sounded as satisfied as if he himself had succeeded in getting them their positions.

  “Yes, sir.” I’d never met Ludo’s sisters, although he had spoken warmly of them and their children, and he even seemed to like his brothers-in-law.

  “I know marriage is impossible for men of your sort—”

  I cringed in spite of myself.

  “—however, I would have no objections if you brought young Rivenhall into the family.”

  “You’re too kind, sir.” There was nothing he could do more that would guarantee my walking away from Ludo.

  Father did love to meddle. He had chosen a young woman for Tony who’d broken his heart when she called off the engagement hours before the formal ball to announce it.

  As for Bryan, in order to please our parents, he had recently connected with the young widow of a friend. Father was thrilled and was pushing for an engagement and a wedding set later in the year. She already had two children, and Father foresaw a great many grandchildren with the Sebring surname.

  “If that was all you wished to speak to me about?”

  Without waiting for him to comment, I turned on my heel and stalked back to the waiting room, my spine so stiff it felt as if it would snap in two.

  Mother looked up from her magazine. Her lips tightened when she saw the expression on my face, but all she did was turn the page and resume reading.

  Tony and Bryan both came to me. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Father gave his permission for me to bring a man of my sort into the family.”

  “Ludo?”

  I nodded, and Tony groaned and Bryan sighed. In spite of my red hair, I didn’t have a fiery temper, and they knew it took a good deal of pushing to make me lose it. They both glared at Father when he walked into the waiting room.

  He picked up a Reader’s Digest and sat down beside Mother to read it.

  “Jeff,” Bryan said urgently, “you like Ludovic. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.”

  “How can I continue seeing him, knowing he’s expecting a commitment?”

  “Is he?” Tony asked.

  I scowled at him. “How the hell should I know? He’s said himself we’ve only been on a handful of…of dates.” And those weren’t really dates—more like encounters that led to bed.

  Ludo returned with toasted bagels, packets of butter and jam, and six coffees. “I’m sorry, their tea was horrendous. They use teabags!” He passed around the food.

  “I’m sorry, Ludovic,” I said, more stiffly than I’d intended—my father’s asinine notions weren’t Ludo’s fault, but my temper was still raw. “I’d hoped to give you a better breakfast than this.”

  Father beamed, and I’d have liked nothing better than to throw my coffee in his smug face.

  Ludo gazed from me to Father. “It’s fine.” He realized something was bothering me. I never called him by his full name. “Jefferson, would you mind showing me the way to the gent’s?”

  “Sure.” I put down my coffee cup and led him out of the room. “Do you really need the facilities?”

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  “Father thinks it would be ideal if you became part of the family.”

  “I see. And you don’t like that idea at all?”

  “Jesus, Ludo.” I’d have just preferred if it was my idea to begin with.

  He patted my shoulder. “Don’t let it worry you, pet. As a guest in your country, I have to be careful, and I’m sure you do as well. We’ll continue seeing each other as long as there’s a spark, and when it goes out, we’ll part, still friends, I trust. Everything will be fine.”

  “Yeah? You’d be okay with that?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  I blew out a relieved breath. “You’re the best, angel eyes.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” He grinned. “Now, where is the gent’s?”

  * * * *

  The door to the waiting room burst open, and Nigel strutted in—there was no other way to describe it. I didn’t say anything, but he looked like hell; his eyes were puffy and bloodshot and his complexion was paler than I’d ever seen it.

  “Portia is fine. They’re getting her settled in her room.” He grinned and handed out blue-banded cigars. “It’s a boy!”

  “Congratulations, Nigel.” Father heaved himself out of his chair. “And his name?”

  “Quinton.”

  Father frowned. Had he expected one of the traditional Sebring names? Nigel was proving to be more of a challenge than Father had anticipated.

  “When can we see Portia?” Mother asked, setting aside the magazine.

  “The doctor wants her to get some rest, but you should be able to visit her during evening visiting hours.”

  “And Quinton?”

  Nigel grinned broadly. “He’s in the nursery. Come. I’ll introduce you to your grandson.”

  Chapter 9

  The baby was gorgeous. According to Father, it was because he had Sebring blood in his veins, so he expected nothing less. He completely dismissed the fact that Nigel was quite good looking.

  The nurses gave us fifteen minutes to admire the newest member of our family and then sent us home.

  “We’ll see you in a few hours,” Bryan said, and he kissed Mother’s cheek.

  “Talk to Johanna about coming with you,” Father suggested. “It will be good for her to join the family.” He gave me a significant glance.

  My temper had cooled down, and I just shook his hand and urged Ludo down the corridor to the elevator.

  We didn’t have to get serious—no one was twisting my arm. We’d have some laughs, and when the time came, we’d go our separate ways, as Ludo had suggested. I’d done it before.

  I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t this time. It would be fine.

  * * * *

  I didn’t know who was most surprised when, a number of years later, Ludo and I still saw each other.

  Of course Father was so fucking vocal in taking the credit for it that I decided this might be a good time to start distancing myself from the man with whom I’d practically been living.

  I ran into Bryan as I strode through the corridors of CIA headquarters, whistling.

  “You’re in a cheerful mood,” he said. “Are you and Ludo planning something special for your anniversary?”

  “What anniversary? Bart Freeman’s in town,” I told him. It had been quite a while since I’d last seen Bart, and I was looking forward to having sex with him. “I’m off to spend the weekend with him.”

  “What about Ludo?”

  “We’re not exclusive.” I shrugged. Ludo was busy at the embassy. Lately he always seemed busy at the embassy. I brushed it aside. As I’d told anyone who asked, we weren’t exclusive; he was free and over twenty-one, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. “Besides, he thinks I’ll be out of town on Company business,” I added smugly. “He’ll never know.”

  Bryan shook his head. “You’re an idiot, but it’s your life.”

  “It is, and I’ll thank you to remember that fact, little brother.”

  “Asshole,” he muttered as he walked away.

  * * * *

  “What’s wrong, mate?”

  “Would you believe I feel guilty?” I rolled off Bart and covered my eyes with my right forearm. “I have never felt guilty before.” I recalled Bryan saying someth
ing on the day our nephew was born about not cutting off my nose to spite my face. I had a nagging suspicion that I had.

  Bart ran his palm up my left arm, over my shoulder, and then down the trail of hair that grew from the center of my body down to my navel, fingering the shallow depression. In spite of myself, I shivered. “I never said anything about you having the toff.”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew.” He sounded insulted. “I work for the Duchess, don’t I? She’d have had my hide if I hadn’t been aware of something like that about someone I had in my life.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The thing was, he didn’t really have me in his life. We just drifted in and out of each other’s lives.

  “Is this going to be the last time, Jeff?”

  “Yeah,” I said again. “I think it is.”

  “Well, no point in drawing it out.” He got off the bed and limped around the room, retrieving articles of clothing and pulling them on.

  “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?” My own brother had thought so.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I can’t keep it in my pants for longer than it takes to get a job done.”

  “That just means you like…liked?…variety.”

  I sighed and sat up myself, catching my shorts when Bart tossed them to me.

  “Listen, mate.” He was more serious than I could remember seeing him. “Just because we won’t be fucking anymore, that don’t mean we ain’t friends. If you need me, just give a holler. I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks, Bart. And the same goes for you, I hope without saying.”

  He patted my shoulder, and I tipped my head back, wondering if he’d finally kiss me after all these years.

  His hand lingered on my shoulder for a moment, gave a squeeze, and then he turned and walked out of the room.

  I finished dressing and went home.

  * * * *

  I opened the door to my apartment and went still. I’d worked for the Central Intelligence Agency for more than twenty years…long enough to know when a place wasn’t empty.

  I reached for the gun I usually carried under my left arm, but of course it wasn’t there—I’d been on my way to screw Bart Freeman, not face off against an enemy agent.

  Still…I knew how to protect myself.