Before he could fully fathom the enormity of that, she stepped away from him. He knew to let her go, even when she began to pace, the overwhelming emotion visible as it bubbled up inside her.
“I was nineteen.” She wrung her hands with every step, still refusing to look at him. “We were living in India at the time, just outside Calcutta. The general had been posted there to work as a liaison with the East India Company’s private army, although he seemed to be there mostly just to remind the Company that the Crown actually rules the empire and that the Company only exists at the pleasure of the king and Parliament.”
Kit could well believe that, knowing how the War Department worked.
“One of the Company’s officers was less than willing to accept my father’s input at first. It took the general months of entreaty to win the man over.” She paused. “It took me far less time to win his heart.”
She stopped in front of the fireplace. As if needing to keep herself busy, she reached to run her trembling fingers across a small music box sitting on the mantelpiece.
“He was handsome and dedicated, with so much ambition and character… How could I not fall in love with him? No one saw it coming, especially not us.” Her head was turned just enough that he could see a sad smile tugging at her lips. “But we did, and my parents approved of him. He was a soldier, after all, with a bright future with the Company. Exactly the kind of man a general’s daughter is meant for. We became engaged and planned to marry the following spring.” Then her smile faded into grief, and she blinked hard. Once. “But he was killed that winter in an accident.”
Kit said nothing, even as his chest tightened in sympathy. And with something else that took him several jarring heartbeats to recognize, because he’d never before been jealous of a dead man.
She whispered, “Six weeks later, I discovered that I was with child.”
She opened the lid of the music box and gazed inside at the delicate brass mechanism, but Kit knew she wasn’t seeing it. She was lost, four years ago and half a world away.
“I didn’t know who to grieve for—John, me, or the baby who would grow up without a father. A baby I could never claim as my own.”
Jesus. The hell that must have descended upon her… To have gone through that and survived—
She was the strongest woman he’d ever met.
“I could never have given my baby to relatives or strangers to raise. Other women have, and I would never criticize their choice to do what they think is best for themselves and their babies. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. To lose both John and my baby…” Her voice trailed off, and she inhaled a deep breath to find the resolve to continue. “It would have ended me.”
He ached to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and soothe away the pain and grief. But he knew better. She had to move through this on her own. And when she was finished, he would be right here for her, with open arms.
“Can you understand?” Finally, she looked over her shoulder at him. She met his gaze for only a moment before turning away again, but the anguish he saw in her eyes sliced into him like a blade. “Every day of my life would have been spent wondering how she was, what games she liked to play, if she looked like me or John…But raising her as my own child would have ruined my father’s career and reputation, destroyed all he’d worked a lifetime to achieve. I could never have done that to him.”
No, she wouldn’t. If there was one thing he knew about her for certain, it was how fiercely Diana protected her family.
He said quietly, “So you pretended that Meri was your sister.”
She nodded and reached up to the music box to trace a fingertip delicately over the little brass plate. “We all agreed…the general, Mama, even Garrett. We would keep secret what happened and raise Meri within our family. They all protected me.” She blinked rapidly, not daring to look at him now. “So many sacrifices! Including the general’s career.”
Four years ago… “That was why the general retired so suddenly.” No one had expected it. He was a man at the height of his career, who could have given another decade of service to England.
“We had to act quickly, you see, before it became apparent that I was increasing. Because I was still grieving for John, Mama and Papa didn’t want to send me away, and where would I have gone? We were in India. Every bit of the place was watched by Company men, all of them looking for any opportunity to shame the general and, by extension, the army. Mama and I couldn’t simply travel to the coast and return with a babe in arms. Everyone would have known that I…” She turned to face him, with a plea in her eyes for sympathy and understanding. “But if Papa resigned his post—well, we were fortunate, because the trip home from India can take up to six months if you go by sea, because ships have to go all the way around the tip of Africa at the Cape of Good Hope.” For a moment, she found the strength to smile in black amusement, before it faded and the grief returned. “The trip was filled with anything but that.”
She reached trembling fingers for the tiny brass key at the back of the music box and gave it a slow twist to wind it. She could just as well been twisting his gut, so viscerally did Kit feel it.
“So we sailed. My growing waist was hidden beneath loose-fitting dresses, and any illness due to the baby was blamed on seasickness.” She lowered her face and placed her hands over her belly, as if feeling for the babe she’d once carried there. “When the baby couldn’t be hidden anymore, we stopped at one of the last ports in Morocco and left the ship, where we rented a little house. And where I gave birth.”
The metallic notes dinged softly and slowly from the music box, one by one, beneath the turning disc.
“When the baby and I were well enough to travel on, we boarded a ship for London. My mother carried the baby in her arms from our rented house to the docks and up the gangway, and just like that, my child had become hers.”
The pain in her voice pierced him, and he fought back the increasing urge to reach for her.
“Everyone believed the baby was hers. Why wouldn’t they? My parents had a loving marriage, one that would make a pregnancy believable, and my mother was the general’s second wife, much younger than he was. At thirty-seven, she was still young enough to have a child. And because it had been over six months since we’d left Delhi, that was plenty of time for people to believe that she’d discovered en route that she was expecting a surprise baby and then gave birth before arriving in England. No one would ever know the truth.” Her voice cracked. “Not even Meri.”
“Diana,” he whispered hoarsely, breaking his silence.
“I insisted that I would name her. I would give my daughter her name, even though Mama and Papa didn’t want me to.” Her hands drew up into little fists that she jabbed toward the floor in grief and anguish, unintentionally emphasizing the struggle she’d gone through. “I insisted—so that she would be named after her father…Captain John Meredith.”
She clenched and unclenched her fists now at her sides, and Kit resisted the urge to grasp her hands and hold them tightly in his.
“She would never know who her real father was, but at least I could give both of them that gift, no matter how small. The world would never know, but—” She choked off, and she swiped a trembling hand at her eyes. “But the angels in heaven know,” she continued, her quavering voice no louder than a whisper, “which means that John knows. And he knows how much I love her, even if I can never show her.”
With that anguished whisper of loss, he lost the battle to keep away and stepped forward to encircle her in his arms.
He murmured her name and pulled her against him, holding her close. Each tremble and shudder that swept through her as she struggled not to cry swept into him like a tidal wave. He squeezed his eyes closed and whispered soft words of reassurance, although he couldn’t have consciously said what he was murmuring to her, except that he wanted to give her solace. His own heart grieved for her and all she’d lost, burning painfully in his chest.
“From th
e moment Meri was born,” she continued in a soft whisper against his shoulder, needing to exorcise the desolation inside her by telling him everything, “we referred to her as my sister, with my mother and the general as her mama and papa, Garrett as her brother. We’ve never told anyone the truth.”
“Until now,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. The enormity of the trust she and the general were placing in him made him tremble. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“And yours with me.” She slipped her arms around his waist and rose up onto her tiptoes to touch her lips to his. In that kiss, she softly sought absolution and understanding. When she lowered away from him, her expression was one of pure vulnerability. And unqualified trust. “The general and I will leave for Bradwell in the morning, but I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you’re helping us.”
Not nearly enough.
Guilt gnawed at his gut. He could do more. He could take the diary to Bradwell himself. In the end, the French wouldn’t give a damn how they received the diary as long as they got it, Meri would be released, and Diana would be safe.
Yet if he did that, if he handed secrets over to the French, his life would be over. Whitehall wouldn’t give a damn that he’d done it to save a little girl’s life. They would view what he did as a double-cross and declare him a rogue agent. He would be dead before Diana returned to her daughter.
But if he didn’t go with her, if he let Diana and her father walk into danger with Meri’s life hanging in the balance… For God’s sake! A society miss and an old man, being sent to face down the French—
“I’ll deliver it,” he rasped out.
Surprise flared in her eyes, but so did relief. The sight ripped into his heart. Because she trusted him, because she wanted him there with her.
Because he knew then that he would give his life to protect her and her daughter.
“The French will accept the diary from me. They want it badly enough to risk kidnapping a little girl right from her home. They won’t care how they get it as long as they do.” He paused, saying so quietly that he suspected she might not hear him, “Even if it means I’m the one who gives it to them.”
“Enough people I care about are in danger. I won’t put you at risk, too.” She punctuated that soft admission of affection with a tender touch to his cheek.
He kept his face carefully inscrutable as the darkness that had been chasing him for months finally consumed him.
He steeled himself as he made his decision. He placed his lips to her forehead, squeezed his eyes shut, and lied, “I’ll be perfectly fine.”
Chapter 15
The mail coach stopped with a rocking jerk in front of the posting inn. “Bradwell-on-Sea!”
Diana heaved out a long breath. Thank God. After full two days of traveling, including moving through the night to avoid the risks that might come of stopping at an inn, she’d finally arrived just as the sun was sinking behind the horizon. And not a moment too soon. If she were left alone with her thoughts and fears for a minute longer, she might very well go mad.
She’d had nothing to do since leaving Idlewild but stare out the window and try to let the passing scenery distract her. Once darkness fell, she couldn’t even do that because it was impossible to see beyond the glass. All she could do was count the passing miles and worry about Meri.
Thinking about Christopher didn’t help. That man could drive her to distraction, certainly, but thoughts of who he truly was only worked to make her uneasy.
How had she been so wrong about him? How had he managed to hide a secret life from the world, in which he wasn’t at all the scoundrel second son she’d thought him to be but a man dedicated to Crown and country, a government operative who commanded the respect of men like her father? A colonel, for heaven’s sake! She could barely fathom it. Only now, after almost two days of churning it over and over in her head was she able to begin to reconcile the two men.
But the outcome was so much worse than before, when he was merely a scapegrace. Because now she knew him to be dependable, successful, even admirable. Because now he knew the truth about Meri and neither condemned her nor pitied her for it, instead insisting on helping her bring her daughter safely home. Because now she had no good reason to keep him at arm’s length.
But she also had no possible future with him.
One of the coachmen flung open the door as he hurried past on his way to help unload the trunks and bags. As Diana left the compartment, pins and needles shot up her leg, which had been asleep from the last hour’s cramped ride, and it buckled beneath her. She lost her balance and stumbled forward.
Strong arms caught her. They lifted her into the air and swung her in a circle before lowering her lightly to the ground. The front of her body brushed down the hard planes of a man’s chest, the accidental contact electrifying. She knew even without seeing the face hidden beneath the brim of the beaver hat—
“Christopher,” she whispered.
In the deepening shadows of the sunset, he grinned at her. “Throwing yourself into my arms already?” He tsked his tongue disapprovingly. “Please, darling, control yourself.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. Then it snapped closed. Oh, that arrogant—
“Normally, I’m all for holding you in my arms.” Although he teased, and most likely only to distract her from her worries about Meri, a darker preoccupation colored his voice. “But watch yourself, will you? I already have one Morgan miss to worry about. I don’t need a second.”
Before she could give him the set-down he deserved, he snatched up her bag, took her arm, and led her away, out of the coaching yard and down the plank footpath lining the street. Night was falling quickly, and lamps were being lit across the little port village. Yet lots of people still strolled through the streets, and they weaved their way through them down High Street in the direction of the docks.
“Have you been here long?” she asked quietly, careful not to be overheard by anyone.
“Since this morning.” He’d ridden his saddle horse, and so had made better time than she.
Her chest tightened with dread, and she forced herself to ask, fearing the answer, “Any word about Meri?”
“It’s still too early for the French to make contact. But I’m certain she’s safe.” He squeezed her arm to reassure her, then swiftly changed topics. “I secured a room for us at the hotel. Since we don’t know how long we’ll be here, it seemed better to have the comfort and privacy of a hotel rather than a shared room with five others in the coaching inn.”
Appreciation at his thoughtfulness warmed her chest. “I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted.
He smiled down at her. “You, too.”
Well, that was a lie, if ever she heard one. If he’d had his way, she’d be locked up in Idlewild, and he’d be here alone to hand over the diary.
He hadn’t been pleased that she’d insisted on coming here, or with the story they’d had to concoct for the servants and tenants to explain her sudden departure. That Christopher had brought a message from Garrett, claiming that her brother had gone to the seaside to visit friends and invited her to join him. That knowing all the demands of planning and hosting the party she would be exhausted and could use a bit of rest by the sea. But then Meri had gone missing, and he’d stayed to help in the search. They’d told the household that Meri had been found after midnight, after wandering away and becoming lost. That Diana had left to collect the girl and take her on to their family physician in London, then would send Meri back to Idlewild while she continued onward to meet up with Garrett at the seaside. And because of the suddenness of all that had happened, she wouldn’t be taking her maid with her.
The story was a good one, though, she had to admit. That pretense helped to protect her even here, halfway across the country. There wouldn’t be anyone she knew in Bradwell, of that she was certain. But if anyone did happen to see her with Christopher when she was supposed to have been with Garrett, thanks to their story she co
uld claim that the person was mistaken, that she truly was with her brother, even if all her thoughts about Christopher were far from sisterly.
“How was your trip?” he asked.
“Long.” She pulled in a deep, steadying breath. “And the diary?”
“Safely stowed in my breast pocket.”
When she darted a glance to his chest, he grinned at her.
She rolled her eyes. “You did that on purpose.”
“To have a beautiful woman look at my chest? You bet I did.”
Imp. Despite her fatigue and fears over Meri, a small smile curled at her lips. He was attempting to distract her from worrying about her daughter, if only temporarily. His plan wasn’t working—she wouldn’t feel better until she knew Meri was safe—yet she appreciated the attempt.
A thought struck her. “How do the French know that I don’t have it? Why didn’t they try to stop me on the way here to take it?”
“Because they know that I would never endanger you by letting you carry it.” There was absolutely no teasing in that.
All the tiny muscles in her belly had been a tangled mess since Meri was taken, and his comment only cinched the knot tighter. She murmured, “I was simply hoping that they didn’t know where I was.”
“Believe me, they know where you’ve been every minute of the past three days, and they’ve watched you every step of the way from Idlewild.” He smiled grimly and casually glanced around the dark street, the shadows long as the last red streaks of sunset faded in the west. “They’re watching us even now.”
A chill swirled down her spine. “They’re watching us?”
“If you wanted documents so important that men were willing to kill for them, wouldn’t you be watching the people you’ve tasked with delivering them?” Another squeeze of her arm, but this one did little to comfort her. “Don’t worry, Diana. We will bring Meri home safely, I promise you.”
After the Spy Seduces Page 15