by Rue Allyn
Praise for Rue Allyn
Knight Errant
“ . . . an expertly woven tale of intrigue and adventure and suspense. While the characters are fictional save for Edward II, Ms. Allyn creatively weaves medieval history into the plot and the rule of the church in the persecution of women will not be lost on the reader . . . This medieval historical romance is one readers should not miss!”—5 stars, InD’Tale Magazine
Knight Protector
“This story was riveting and kept me on the edge of my seat. If you enjoy historical Highlander and Scottish romance, this is definitely the book for you!”—5 stars, Teatime and Books
“What grabbed me the most [is] this novel was a second chance at first love.”—5 stars, Itsy Bitsy Book Bits
“Knight Protector is a must read if you are a fan of medieval or historical romances. There are a lot of surprises in the story . . . I am looking forward to reading the next book in the series.”—5 stars, Girl With Pen
“I love a good historical romance and I thought this one was great! Delicious knights, secrets, and intrigue kept me on the edge of my seat and reading. Rue weaves a tale of medieval Highland romance that will melt your heart.”—5 stars, Smile, Somebody Loves You
Knight Defender
“Rue Allyn has certainly managed to capture the divide between Scotland and England in this gripping tale of romance, passion, and deceit!”—4 stars, InD’Tale Magazine
“Allyn takes the age old trope of a marriage of duty and makes it all her own with this enticing tale of love and acceptance.”—4 stars, Pure Jonel
The Herald’s Heart
“I can easily recommend this book. Just don’t blame me when you hear Sir Talon’s off-key baritone humming and your toes curl!”—4 stars, Long and Short Reviews
“I hate modern language and anomalies in period pieces, and I watch for them like a hawk. . . . Ms. Allen, you and your editor are to be complimented. The Herald’s Heart is a wonderfully written historical romance with no anomalies to pull me out of the time period or the story.”—5 stars, Roses & Thorns Reviews
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Contents
Cover
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
‘Knight Errant’ Excerpt
Copyright
Guide
Cover
Contents
Start of content
The French Duchess
Rue Allyn
Avon, Massachusetts
My humble gratitude to Georgette Heyer and Jo Beverley for their inspiration.
“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Chapter One
London, March 24, 1814
Captain Sir Richard Campion, second son of Baron Gadleigh, entered General Bruskingly’s home at precisely two minutes before nine in the morning. The footman took his cloak, gloves, and hat then ushered Richard into a well-appointed study. A large desk, an even larger map table, a settee, and a number of wingback chairs populated the spacious room. Three of those chairs were drawn up near the fire, for even though the rain held off, the March day was quite chilly. A pie crust table held a silver salver, a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid, and one matching glass.
Boots extended toward the flames indicated that two of the chairs were occupied. Low voices confirmed the deduction. Richard advanced and was surprised to see the Duke of Margris seated beside the general.
“Good morning, your grace, General Bruskingly, sir.” Richard faced the men, his back to the fire, and stood at attention.
“Sit down, man. Sit down. You know his grace, the Duke of Margris,” the general urged. “No need to stand on ceremony. Have some whisky. His grace brought it with him from Strathnaver in Scotland, and we’re sampling the goods. Need to make certain the stuff’s good enough to give to Prinny.”
The duke met Richard’s eyes and smiled. “I do my part to keep our regent content. When he heard I traveled through Scotland, he requested I bring back the best whisky I could find.”
Richard took a seat and studied the man he knew as friend and advisor to the Prince Regent. His grace was a mite shorter than Richard’s own six feet and of severely lean build. The intelligence in the duke’s shrewd gaze was unmistakable. Richard had seen a similar expression on Wellington’s face when hearing intelligence reports or weighing the various counsel of his subordinates. Margris would rarely do anything—even obtain whisky for the regent—without a thorough understanding of the results. Richard nodded and adopted the blank expression practiced in the ton.
“That was kind of you.”
The general poured whisky into the empty glass and handed it to Richard.
Margris waved a hand at the air. “It was nothing. Always a pleasure to serve the crown, as you and General Bruskingly know, I’m sure.”
Richard inclined his head. Where was all this going?
“To Prinny,” Bruskingly toasted.
“To Prinny,” Margris echoed.
Richard followed suit.
“This whisky is excellent,” Richard remarked.
“Glad you think so,” Margris said. “I’ll give you a cask if you’ll do a small favor for the crown and England. I believe your father may have mentioned what we require.”
Richard shook his head. “I have not visited Gadleigh Park since resuming my duties.” He’d escaped his childhood home and his father’s machinations even before his wounds had completely healed. Could his father have planted ideas in Margris’s head? Wily as his parent might be on occasion, he was no match for Margris. If any idea planting had been done, it was Margris who manipulated Baron Gadleigh, not the other way around.
“What favor would you have me do?”
“We’d like you to visit your old friend her grace, the Duchess of Stonegreave.
“Her grace and I have not spoken for several years.” The reasons were his and his alone.
“Then renewing your friendship provides an excellent excuse for your visit,” said the general.
“How will a courtesy visit to a past acquaintance,” he had trouble speaking the jade’s name, “serve crown and country?” She was the last woman on earth he wished to see.
“I’m afraid we need a bit more than a simple courtesy visit, captain,” Margris murmured.
“You seriously expect me to court the French Duchess?”
“You need not marry the woman,” Bruskingly said, “but you require some reason to spend more than a few hours with her.”
Simple friendship was not enough? Of course, there was nothing simple or friendly about his feelings for Marielle Stonegreave. Not since Jennings died.
“The situation is delicate and involves activities that are not, strictly speaking, military in nature,” Margris explained. “You will retain
your commission and rank, of course, but you would be acting as a civilian and thus out of uniform.”
Richard shifted uneasily in his chair. What they said made almost no sense. Add that to the fact that Marielle was somehow involved, and he wished he’d never received Bruskingly’s orders to attend him this morning. “I’m not certain I understand what you are asking of me.”
“You must act in a civilian capacity,” Bruskingly said. “Because a military officer cannot honorably involve himself with spies.”
“Exactly how will I be dealing with spies? Am I to be spying myself or seeking out spies?”
“A little of both.” Margris took over. “We think Her Grace of Stonegreave might be a spy for Napoleon. And your childhood friendship with her makes you the ideal person to determine how greatly she is involved with the French.”
“A spy? For Bonaparte? Her mother was part of an émigré family, the Trouvés, if I recall correctly. Are you sure you mean Marielle Stonegreave and not some other duchess?” Why was he defending her? She’d betrayed Jennings’s trust in the worst possible way, so Richard could imagine her acting dishonorably. But spying?
“Yes, yes, but that business in 1811 raised suspicions, especially since she was supposed to be engaged to Pugh at the time.”
“Well, it certainly ruined her reputation. Malveux is an accomplished rake, and she wouldn’t be the first woman led astray by a skilled seducer. Shame he turned out to be a better shot than her father,” Bruskingly commented.
“However,” Margris remarked, “society has blamed her. With no male heir, she was trained from the cradle to correct and circumspect behavior at all times. She should have known better.”
Richard cared little for the whims of the ton. If the Duchess of Stonegreave had come afoul of the gossips, she had none to blame but herself. His empathy was almost completely with Margris. Marielle was as responsible for his best friend’s death as the French bullet that slew him. “If she were an innocent left alone for too long with an experienced rake, some allowance might be made. However, I’ve known Lady Stonegreave since the cradle, and she was never naïve.”
“Precisely.” Margris nodded. “Regardless of what happened in the duchess’s past, we identified Malveux as a Bonapartist agent years ago. Last year he resumed correspondence with the duchess.”
“At least we think he is exchanging letters with her,” Bruskingly interjected. “All we are truly certain of is that he is sending letters to Stonegreave Priory and letters from the priory are going to him.”
“You’ve had no chance to read any of this correspondence?” Richard asked. It didn’t surprise him that a jade like Marielle had taken up correspondence with the man who ruined her. Who else would communicate with her when society closed ranks against her?
“Sadly, no,” the general responded. “Our man in the duchess’s household has orders to observe only. Anything else might draw suspicion, and we need the information he provides. However, even though he’s notified us of every letter, the couriers always disappear before we can intercept them.”
“We suspect a smuggling ring or a large network of underlings who report to Malveux,” added Margris.
“Where is Malveux now?”
“Last we heard,” the duke said, “he settled at a small estate near a village outside Le Havre. The type of place that would proudly host a minor nobleman like him.”
“Have you thought to take him into custody? He would most likely give up the duchess in exchange for leniency.”
“We tried that. The man is too good a marksman and killed or wounded every agent we sent after him. Those who did not die languish in a French prison.”
“Why come to me now? Has every other avenue failed as well?”
“No, we haven’t tried everything, but the matter is of some urgency,” Bruskingly said. “You are available, and you have an ostensible reason for visiting the duchess.”
“Urgency?”
“You may not have heard, but the Russians are marching on Paris with an enormous force. Much larger than Marmont can handle, and he’s been having trouble with loyalty among his troops. We expect Paris to fall within days. Then Bonaparte will be forced to surrender and most likely abdicate. At which point the Bourbons will return to power,” the general said.
“Napoleon’s situation is that desperate?”
“Napoleon is in the south, and he cannot reach the capital with reinforcements in time,” Margris stated. “However, Bonaparte is already preparing a very clever a strategy to maintain power.
“Two days ago, we received a secret communication about a plot to assassinate the Bourbons, leaving France without leadership and giving Napoleon the chance to regain power during the ensuing chaos.”
“All the Bourbons?”
“As many as possible. It is vital that we protect all information about the plans for Louis XVIII and his family to return to Paris. We think Her Grace of Stonegreave will learn of these plans through her family’s connections to the émigré community and send them on to Malveux.”
“Which is why you want me to use my childhood connection with the duchess to romance what she knows out of her.” The whisky he sipped turned bitter in his mouth. Marielle must know dozens upon dozens of émigré families. She’d betrayed Jennings without a thought. A woman that callous would manipulate information from friends without qualm. The girl he’d known would never use others like that. That girl wouldn’t have had an affair and driven her fiancé to take his own life. But he knew for a fact that her liaison with Malveux had cast Jennings into despair.
“Exactly, and not just your shared childhood,” Bruskingly said.
“I gather my father is the source of information that I still have any connection at all with the Duchess of Stonegreave.”
“What matter the source?” the duke queried. “Your country is calling on your service. Because the military must be kept out of the matter, the colonel cannot order you to act. It should be sufficient that the Duchess of Stonegreave is reputably quite easy on the eyes.”
She was incomparable. But that beauty hid a stone-cold heart.
“She could be Mona Lisa come to life, and I would still find filling your request distasteful. You’re asking me to spy on a loyal Englishwoman.”
At least Jennings had believed her loyal as well as beautiful, kind, brave, and generous—a veritable angel on earth. Lovesick nonsense. He’d seen the despair in Jennings’s eyes when news of Marielle’s scandal reached them. What else was the man to do? He had too much pride to admit his choice of fiancée was ill-considered. However, from that day forward, he’d been reckless in battle. Then he’d made that insane bet just to prove her fidelity, so in Richard’s eyes, the duchess’s unfaithfulness had killed his friend.
“Her loyalty is in doubt.” Margris pointed out.
“She’s only been proven guilty of bad judgment, not treason.” He hated that he sounded as if he were defending Marielle. She deserved punishment, but for her sins, not for a crime she might not have committed. “I know her character, and Jennings sang her praises whenever he could.”
“Lord Pugh was young and impulsive. How reliable is the opinion of a starry-eyed lad in love?” Richard’s commanding officer pressed.
Richard shifted, uncomfortable that Bruskingly’s opinion matched his own. He tipped his head at the duke.
“I would think your grace would be a far more acceptable suitor than Baron Gadleigh’s second son.”
The duke nodded acknowledgement. “Had I any believable reason to court the French Duchess, I might take the task on. I do not, however, have such a reason. In addition, I am traveling to Ghent soon to deal with the colonial problem and afterward will be taking a lengthy sea voyage. I would be unable to see the venture through to its end.”
“Richard, you are our only recourse,” the general stated.
“Since the need is so great, I agree to visit the duchess. I cannot in good conscience agree to play the suitor. But I will establis
h a connection and make every attempt to discover her guilt or innocence.”
“I suppose we will have to be satisfied with that,” grumbled Bruskingly.
“Thank you, sir.”
The duke’s expression was inscrutable. “If you are satisfied, General, then I am as well.”
“I have only one request,” Richard announced, keeping his gaze on the duke.
A ducal brow rose. “And that is?”
“When my father asks, as I am sure he will, please convey to him that I refused your request categorically and want nothing to do with any courtship, no matter who the woman may be.”
Margris grinned. “No interest in the parson’s mousetrap?”
“No interest in falsehoods of any sort.” Richard met Margris’s gaze.
“I’m sorry for that. Falsehood and deception are an integral part of spying and the detection of spies.” Margris tapped his knee with the bundle of letters he’d held throughout the conversation. “Are you certain you can carry this off, given your feelings?”
“Have we any alternative?” Richard challenged while continuing to hold the duke’s gaze.
“Harrumph.” The general cleared his throat. “We’ve prepared some letters to help you gain the duchess’s confidence.”
Margris leaned forward, handing the packet to Richard. “Many are in Jennings Pugh’s hand, taken from his effects before they were shipped home to his family. We’ve added one, er, forgery, if you will. The contents of that letter are guaranteed to send the duchess scuttling to LeHavre and Malveux if she’s guilty. If she is innocent, she will not recognize the references to French friends in England for anything more than what it appears to be.”
Richard slipped the packet into a pocket. “I will deliver these as well as do all possible to establish a bond with the duchess. More than that, I cannot promise.”
“More than that, we cannot ask at this time.” Margris stood.