ARC Review: The Lady And Mr. Jones by Alyssa Alexander (A Spy In The Ton)

Title: The Lady And Mr. Jones

          (A Spy In The Ton)

Author: Alyssa Alexander

Release Date: November 27, 2017 (ARC)

Publisher: Entangled ~ Amara

Category: Historical Romance

Type: Digital

Click Here To Buy NOW!

Alyssa Alexander Website

Blurb:

Born in the rookeries, the hard life is something Jones is all too familiar with. Saved as a young boy, he was trained to be a spy, one of the best--elite, in fact. He now spends his days serving His Majesty in espionage, hunting rogue spies. His latest assignment, though, has him tracking a fellow spy...

Cat Ashdown is a baroness. Nothing is more important than protecting five hundred years of heritage. She knows every detail of every estate that commands the largest income in Britain— yet her father placed her inheritance in trust to her uncle who is forcing her to marry a man she has no desire for. The baroness’s battle against law and convention leads her to Jones and results that are surprising ... and possibly unwanted.

Each book in the Spy in the Ton series is STANDALONE.
* A Dance with Seduction
* The Lady and Mr. Jones

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

Favorite Line(s):

“Where you come from is important, but only in so far as where it sends you.”  ~  Cat

Excerpt:

“My lady.”

He looked at her upturned face, at the cheekbones highlighted by the glow of the coals. Authority and dignity angled her chin. Lady and haute ton were all but visible in the baroness’s flawless skin. Her hair, though tied at the nape with a ribbon, was free to riot down her back.

He had been right. Banked flames.

“Why are you here? I am not so foolish as to believe in coincidence.” Baroness Worthington whispered her question into the semi-darkness beneath the desk, accusation rather than fear edging her words.

“Neither am I.” He raised his brows. “It is interesting to make your acquaintance again under these circumstances.”

“Mm.” The sound she made was combined irritation and disbelief, but she did not argue. She might not have revealed his presence to Wycomb, but she was also hiding.

Which begged the question, why?

As silence spread its quiet, waiting wings around them, Jones slid his gaze to the nearby fireplace. Delicate ash clung to burnt wood, lightly waving in the air as though some unseen breath moved it.

Disappointment gathered beneath his breastbone, then faded away. The document was lost, and there was no benefit to dwelling on its contents. It was enough to know Wycomb would enter his study in the early hours of the morning to burn it.

“Are we finished under the desk? I would like to stand, please. My legs are aching. ”There was a dry humor to her words, and he wondered if she were amused by their situation. Certainly the two of them hiding beneath a desk, one after the other in order to avoid discovery, would be comical to witness.

“It’s probably safe.” Etiquette warred with protection in his mind, as he debated allowing her to leave the cubbyhole in advance as a lady should, or leaving before to ensure her safety.

She did not wait for his direction. She solved the dilemma by shifting to her hands and knees amid the swish of linen.

“This is so odd,” the baroness muttered as she crawled from beneath the desk. Her nightshift caught beneath her knees and she wrestled to free the fabric. He was treated to the most delightful pulling and stretching of thin linen over her bottom. “It’s also embarrassing,” she finished.

“I’m finding the view enjoyable.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. It was the most ungentlemanly comment he could make. Surely she would see, with a single statement, that he was nothing but a boy from the streets.

“I beg your pardon?” On her hands and knees, the baroness turned to look over her shoulder at him. She narrowed her eyes, but did not move. That lovely bottom stayed in front of him. Taunting him.

“My apologies, my lady.”

She scooted out from beneath the desk, movements quick and sharp.

“My words were inexcusable.” He did not look anywhere but into her eyes as he crawled from beneath the desk, refusing to allow his gaze to stray to any other part of her anatomy.

He hoped it would put her at ease and make him feel less like a clod.

“It was.” But she did not sound panicked or prudish, only drew in a long breath and let it out again. “You should not say such things.”

“No, my lady.”

But time mattered, so he unfolded himself to his full standing height, leaving her sitting on the study floor and looking up at him. She hesitated, then began to struggle to her feet.

“Please, allow me.” He spoke softly, holding out a hand and hoping she would not be so disappointed by his lack of finesse as to refuse his offer of assistance.

She stared at his hand with an expression he could not read. He looked down, expecting to see something frightening or strange attached to him, but he saw only his hand, gloveless to ease his search. It was not smooth or elegant as a man of her station’s would be, but wide, with blunt fingers and calluses.

Still, she set her hand in his and let him assist her to stand. Soft and smooth skin moved against his hand with none of the roughness marking his own flesh. He wondered if she could feel his base birth through his very skin.

Then she was standing and he let go of her hand.

“Does your uncle often burn items in the fireplace?”

“No. Yes.” A long, heavy sigh filled the space between them. “I can’t be certain. Why is it important?”

“Mm.” He squinted at the fireplace and saw that a corner of the paper Wycomb had dropped into it had fallen well outside the coals. There would likely be nothing of note on such a scrap, but he could not ignore it. He bent over the coals, searching between flame and shadows.

From behind him, he heard a soft voice full of command. “I have waited quite long enough for an explanation, Mr. Jones, considering our previous encounters.”

“There is no need to call me Mr. Jones. Just Jones will be acceptable.”

“Very well, Jones, I would like the truth.” She sounded more suspicious than she had before, but she bent over as well so they stared at the fireplace in tandem.

He turned only once from his task to study the curve of her cheek and the long, slim line of her neck as she looked into the fireplace. Setting aside any thought of how the light glowed on her skin, he went back to his task. Reaching toward the edge of the hearth, he retrieved what was left of the document and studied the charred edge.

She peered at the small scrap in his hand. “What does it say?”

“Nothing. It is blank.” Jones slipped the fragile paper into his pocket to examine carefully later. He looked down into her pretty face, at the arched brows and serious mouth. “What now, my lady?”

She did not move but stood before him, face drawn and concerned, body taut with worry. “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

When she inhaled and straightened, he did the same. They simply stared at each other, with nothing but the hiss of coals and sound of breathing between them.

Finally, the baroness said softly, “You aren’t a very good thief.

”“Apparently not.” A smile tugged at his lips, though he chose not to free it. “Neither are you. I wasn’t the only person caught.”

“True, I suppose.” The baroness shifted uncomfortably, drawing her shoulders in. He imagined the creamy skin over her cheekbones would be beautifully flushed. “It cannot be coincidence that you are on Park Lane, then again on the street to rescue me, and now here in my home. I know my uncle, Lord Wycomb, is involved in something dishonest—or at least suspicious—or I would not have been almost abducted. But leaving me with no information places me at risk. I cannot allow that.”

It was possible she was an ally of her uncle’s, or perhaps a pawn. Perhaps she was innocent. Circumspection, then.

“I’m looking for information about your uncle’s activity.” He cocked his head and gestured to the desk, with its drawers she had searched not long before. “Much like yourself, I believe.”

“‘Information’sounds ominous.” Curiosity rang in her tone along with a certain satisfaction, as though her own thoughts were proved correct. But there was no surprise on her face or in her voice. “What kind of information?”

“About your uncle. I believe he may be”—Jones paused, searching for words that would not overly alarm her, nor provide too many details—“experiencing some difficulties. I would like to know what they are.”

“Why?” The baroness breathed in slowly, then out again. Her nightshift swirled about her ankles so that it came alive in the half light.

“I work for a group of gentlemen who have an interest in determining whether your uncle is acting within the confines of the law.” He chose his words carefully. “Though occasionally unorthodox, they are within the confines of the law themselves so there is nothing to fear from them.”

“Hm.” Her eyes narrowed, displeasure at his answer clear on her face.

“What were you doing in here?” he asked, flicking his gaze toward the desk. “What were you searching for?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything that might indicate what he was doing and if the barony is at risk.”

She let out a frustrated sound, then gestured toward the fire, then the drawers. “I have a feeling you are better at this than I. Don’t let me stop you.”

He paused, considered her words. “Well played, my lady,” he said softly. He could not force her to leave while he concluded his search, and if he left now she would certainly continue hers and might find evidence he needed.

“I rather thought so.” The smile she flashed was satisfied and well pleased.

Dialogue Highlight:

The earth ceased to spin.

Then it all started again as he reached her.

“Jones?” Her breath puffed out in shock.

“Baroness.” No doubt he should not growl at a lady, but it was too late. “This is no place for you.”

“I would not be here, but it is an urgent matter.” She bristled, shoulders tightening beneath the expensive cloak, chin tilting up. Her eyes narrowed, the iridescent blue taking on a sheen of anger. “I found something on Wycomb’s desk this afternoon. It was only indentations on paper, as if someone wrote on the page above it. I believe it said ‘7pm, Anna Louisa.’ Someone needed to be here, and you had not found the note yet—so I came.”

“In a cloak anyone from the docks would steal off your back.” Panic clawed in his chest. He reached out, gripped her narrow, graceful shoulder. “When they see what is beneath the cloak, you will be lucky to have your body intact when you leave this place. If you leave.”

“I don’t intend to risk everything I hold dear because I am afraid.” Her words were quiet but forceful. Her chin tipped up, though he had not believed it possible to lift it higher. “Wycomb should be here at seven o’clock, and I intend to find out what he is doing.”

She shrugged her shoulder to dislodge his hand. He gripped harder, trying not to hurt her with the force of his fingers, but wanting to keep her safely in place.

“Let me determine why Wycomb will be here,” he said. “Hire another hackney and return to Park Lane.”

He looked down at her face, the lines of it shadowed by the hood. She was magnificent—a red-haired siren risen from the sea to lure men on the docks. He leaned forward, closer, to block her from view of anyone that might be passing by. Water sluiced from the roof, falling into the gap between his collar and neck to chill his skin, but he maintained his position.

“No, I—”

“My lady. Baroness.” He gentled his tone. Perhaps he had been too harsh. “It’s not safe here for a lady, and Wycomb might recognize you. Please.”

She breathed deep, a slow inhale that held as much consideration as her gaze. Droplets of water clung to her lashes like so many diamonds, and a light flush moved over the delicate line of her cheekbone. She pursed her lips, and he knew a man would have to be dead not to find her beautiful.

Beautiful and unattainable and a thousand times removed from his life.

Frantic fingers scrabbled at his waist, tugging at the edge of his coat.

“Sir.” Rupert’s insistent whisper layered with the patter of rain. Jones looked down, saw freckles stark against skin that had lost all color.

“’E’s ’ere, sir. The carriage.” Rupert jerked his head to the right.

Jones whipped his head to the side, the baroness doing the same. They stared at the carriage not fifteen feet away and the man exiting it. He moved carefully down the steps of the hackney, hat pulled low to avoid the rain and greatcoat swirling around him. There was no mistaking him for anyone but Wycomb, not with the dark hair edged with the silver, elegant clothing and handsome features.

He was so close Jones heard the click of his boots as they touched the stone street and the swish of his greatcoat as he spun around to pay the jarvey.

The baroness sucked in a breath, her hand vising around Jones’s upper arm, fingers digging sharply into muscles. “It’s him,” she said, words almost unintelligible.

“Turn away!” Jones whispered, angling his body so his back was to Wycomb. He had no greatcoat to cover her with, no method of blocking her entirely from Wycomb, so his body would have to do.

She did as he asked, spinning away so her back was pressed against his chest. He put his arms around her, set his hands on her forearms. He could not feel the heat of her body, nor even the shape of it through the fabric of his coat.

But he wanted to, as much as he wanted to breathe.

“Rupert, go,” he whispered to the boy, who scampered off almost before Jones finished speaking, footsteps scuffing on the stones. He would be safe enough, being accustomed to navigating worse than the docks.

Jones kept his body angled, shielding the baroness from Wycomb’s view as best he could. She had bent her head and pulled the cloak around her, so there was little Wycomb would see beyond the hem of her skirts.

But they did not look as if they belonged. As if they had a reason to be there.

He set his hands on the baroness’s shoulders, turning her so she was pressed against the side of the building. Then he shifted so he was in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“Attempting to make us look ordinary.” He leaned in, trying to make his body appear amorous.

He did not have to try hard. With her face turned up to his, those butterfly-blue eyes wide and her lips rosy and parted, he did not have to try at all.

“Jones.” Her hands gripped his forearms tightly. “What is ordinary? Who are we trying to be?”

A crystalline droplet fell from the edge of her hood onto her cheek, tracking down the pale skin to the corner of her mouth. The tip of her tongue darted out to claim it, and his belly clutched in reaction.

“Lovers.” He could barely say the word. It did not pass easily through a throat tight with need. “A sailor and his lover. I don’t know how else to make you indiscernible from other ladies here, and indiscernible is all that is required.”

“Yes, of course. Ordinary lovers on the docks.” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder briefly before focusing again on his face. “I can’t see him well. The carriage is beginning to move away, but my uncle is looking around—for someone, I would expect.”

“Good.” Jones resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, knowing better than to even hint they were focused on their quarry. He would have to rely on the baroness’s limited view for information. “Good,” he said again, searching the lines of her face for some knowledge she might not have put into words.

Her hands clutched at him, a quick, involuntary spasm. “He’s looking this way.” Her panicked whisper was accompanied by tensed shoulders and she began to move, prey scenting danger and bracing to run.

Jones did the only thing he could think of to hold her in place and shield her from Wycomb, though it was not a new thought. He had been thinking of it for minutes already, hours, days. At that moment, it seemed he’d been dreaming of it the whole of his life.

He kissed her.

Review:

Mary Elizabeth (Cat) Ashdown has been running her estates for years at her father’s side – the 500 year-old legacy something she takes pride in, building relationships with tenants, keeping their best interests at heart. But when her father passes away, she finds out that she is trapped by a trust in which she either has to marry to gain control of her lands, or reach her 35^th year. With no suitor in mind and many years away from 35, she can’t see a way out of this predicament. A couple of unlikely run-ins with Jones, and now she suspects a lot more happening with her Uncle, who controls her estates and dictates to her trustees. They have ever been at odds over every decision, but it seems now that he has headed down a dark path – a path that has put Cat in very real danger. Jones quickly becomes and ally, protector and so much more.

Jones – a spy among spies, called upon to investigate those who have crossed lines. He started out in life with nothing, but was given a chance as a young boy, leading him to his career as a spy. He has never forgotten where he came from and is steadfast in his rules of engagement within his dangerous lifestyle. Until Cat. She shakes him up and before too long, words are slipping from his mouth, an electric attraction crackles, and she becomes everything. They dream of what could be, but with his background and her future, they can never be. But the heart knows what it wants and Cat vows to show Jones the endless possibilities for their future together – just as soon as they uncover the plot against her.

I almost wish I would have read the first book in this series prior to the second simply because I enjoyed these characters so much. I do not believe any great secrets were revealed that would ruin the first book for anyone nor is it necessary to read the first in order to understand the second. However, this is one of those books in which you want as much time with the characters as possible, and with that as much knowledge with them as you can gather. Jones is a bit of an enigma, even within his own story, and given the appearance of other members of his team, I am sure he was a part of the first book in some way. Oddly enough, I do not believe we are ever given a first name. He is Jones and never anything else. Perhaps, given his rough start in life, it is the only name he ever knew. And his lifestyle would account for the lack of personal information so I understand it, but you’d think Cat would be privy to some extra bit of intelligence regarding Jones’ past that others would not given their intimacy. And that is my only complaint with this story.

I cannot explain how much I enjoyed my time spent with these characters and their lives. Cat is an out-of-the-box, breaker of expectations. She runs her estates and makes decisions that are commonly left to men. And her father’s choice to place the estate in trust sends her reeling. At one point it was hinted that he wished for her to find true love and that was a reason for his action, but it was never fully explained, merely hinted at. I had believed at some point she would discover a letter or clause placed in his will that her Uncle had hidden from her, but nothing ever came of it. Her unconventional ways, stubborn persistence, and quick wit are what draw Jones to her initially. Every quality the true match should possess. Cat’s acceptance of Jones and love for him are difficult for him to believe. Watching this master of spies come unhinged is fantastic to behold. Always calm and in control, Cat well and truly knocks Jones on his ass. But his knowledge of where he comes from and that he has risen as far as possible from those depths nearly destroys them – his inability to think himself anything close to what Cat deserves almost shattering their irrefutable connection.

This book is beautiful and heart-breaking seeing each yearn for the other, knowing how impossible a life together would be. Suspenseful and enraging as the treachery is uncovered. Enchanting with the addition of Jones’ spy family – as it were – adds another dimension to this story. They care for one another and would cover each other’s back whenever needed, but it is almost a distant love they demonstrate. Possibly the best they can do given their perilous lifestyles; which is why when one of them finds love, it is such a catalyst within their lives. But most of all this book is whimsical with all of the unlikely scenarios that occur, but somehow meld together perfectly to create this wonderful love story, undeniable even in the storm it begins in. Those who adore historical romance with strong, complementing characters and a dash of mystery thrown in are sure to be pleased with Ms. Alexander and her captivating characters.

Kindle version provided by Entangled/NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.