Compromised for Christmas

by Jane Charles

lowered her head. “Eleven tonight,” was whispered for only his ears. Lisette whirled around and made her way back to the palace.

  John Phillip Trent unfolded the parchment once he was alone in his room above the stables. He had expected some sort of information as to Napoleon’s movements, not this letter.

  What the hell had she done? Why the hell wasn’t this letter in code? Why did she name me as her husband? Well, not him exactly, but Jean Pierre, and the two were one and the same. The thoughts flew around his mind and he couldn’t settle on one. He never knew her real name was Elizabeth or that she was the granddaughter of the Duke of Danby, just like she had no idea he was John Phillip Trent.

  How the hell did a duke’s granddaughter become a bloody spy? If any of Savary’s men got hold of this letter, she would be hanged, if not beheaded, for spying, and he along with her since apparently he was her husband. Savary wouldn’t care that she was related to a duke and would probably relish the torture all the more. He shuddered at the thought of what type of punishment the Ministry of Police would use before she was put to death.

  John tore the letter into tiny pieces, tossed them into the stove in the corner of his room, and grabbed his coat. Not Lisette, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, the granddaughter of the powerful Duke of Danby and cousin to Jean Pierre’s school chum, Edgeworth. Well, not Jean Pierre’s school chum, but John Philip Trent’s school chum. Just as he had no idea who Elizabeth was until now, she still didn’t know his real name.

  John shook his head in frustration. Clearly Edgeworth had no idea what his cousin was up to because he couldn’t imagine that his old friend he would have allowed such a thing.

  Of course Edgeworth didn’t know, or anyone else in her family. Which again begged the question, how had a duke’s granddaughter become a spy, and how did she remain a spy?

  His anger only grew as he marched towards the orangery where Lisette waited. Why had that letter not been in code? Stupid mistakes like that got spies killed.

  When he entered the building, the musty heat overwhelmed him. John shrugged out of his jacket. Lisette paced the center of the building, her cloak folded on a bench. Her blond hair was pulled back tightly behind her head to make working and cleaning a palace more efficient. Her shoulders were square, tense. Some of his anger dissipated. She hadn’t sent the blasted letter, so he couldn’t fault her for nearly ruining their cover. In fact, her entire body was rigid with either worry or anger, he couldn’t tell.

  She turned and saw him, and her shoulders immediately dropped. Had she been afraid he would not come? Her steps quickened towards him.

  “How am I to manage getting out of Paris, home and back?” The words rushed past her lips.

  “You aren’t.” She was mad to even contemplate the idea. The safety of England and knowing what Napoleon was about were far more important than a family reunion with Danby. If it were possible to leave, he would have visited his own family long ago.

  “I must.”

  “If you go now, you won’t be able to come back.” He paced from her and ran his fingers through his hair. This was the problem with having a female in such a delicate position. One always ran the risk of her becoming too emotional to think the matter through clearly.

  John turned on his heel, stalked forwards and grabbed her shoulders. “You are the only person we have within the household. We never thought it possible to have someone that close to Napoleon. Your position is too valuable.”

  She looked up at him, blue eyes wide.

  “How long do you think it would take to get someone else in your place?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  He threw up his hands and backed away. “No, apparently, you don’t understand. Was this only a game until Grandpapa called you home?”

  Her shoulders straightened and her eyes narrowed in anger. “You know it wasn’t. If that summons had come from anyone else, I would have ignored it.”

  “The old man cannot have so much power.”

  “I fear him more than Savary.” Her words were barely over a whisper.

  John planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “Which reminds me, why wasn’t that letter in code?”

  “I don’t know,” Lisette shrieked and threw up her hands. “I didn’t send it.”

  He knew this but he needed to vent his anger on someone. “And why the hell did you name me as your husband?”

  Her face grew red at the accusation. “It wasn’t my idea. Dolan suggested it when I achieved the position in the palace.”

  He would kill Dolan for this, if the man weren’t already dead. He must have thought it a fine joke at the time.

  “I knew he jested, but I was pinched for time and couldn’t think of another reason why I wouldn’t be returning home.”

  “Where does your family think you have been all this time?”

  “You own a lovely chateaux outside of Sainte-Maxime with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean.”

  He was dumbfounded. Were there other details he should know about? “And children? Have we been blessed with any?”

  Her face grew pink again. “No, which is probably one of the reasons grandfather summoned me home.”

  “He would blame me?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “You are the Frenchman. An Englishman would not neglect such a duty.” A smile pulled at her lips.

  The laughter began in his belly and soon overcame him. “I assume this has been mentioned to you before?”

  She looked down. “Yes, in an earlier letter. Several actually. Grandfather always demands to know if I am increasing.” Her face was a bright pink by the time she finished speaking.

  It would be quite pleasurable to go about the act of creating babes with Lisette.

  John quickly squelched the thought. The last woman he needed to be involved with was her. It was too dangerous and could compromise both of their positions.

  The sudden desire was probably because it had been months since he had been with a woman, and a man could only take so much. He had the younger stable hands believing his thirst for making love was never satisfied, which helped explain the many nights he was away from the stable. They would laugh if they knew the truth, that he hadn’t bedded a woman in well over a year.

  “I hope those were at least coded.” He settled onto a bench underneath one of the many fruit trees.

  Her head whipped up. “Yes. This is the first time any letter has not been, and I don’t understand why.”

  “How was the letter delivered?”

  “By the same boy who has delivered our messages for the past year.”

  This bit of information did help him relax. Had anyone else brought it, the risk of discovery would be higher. “Still, you cannot return home, you know that.” He softened his tone, hoping she understood.

  Lisette settled on the bench beside him. “I suppose so.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I will tell Grandfather though. He is likely to come after me.”

  “I doubt that.” John resisted the urged to put a comforting arm around her.

  “You don’t know my grandfather.”

  A crash reverberated from the back of the orangery and the two stiffened and stood. John placed his fingers to his lips so she would be quiet. Lisette scowled at him. She was right. She had been at this long enough to know when to be quiet. No doubt, he’d just insulted her.

  He pulled a knife from inside of his boot, and she took a similar one from a hidden pocket. With a nod, they both turned in opposite directions and made their way towards the back of the building.

  They didn’t encounter anyone between their spots in the center of the building, and by the time they reached the shattered clay pot, the back door of the orangery stood open.

  Lisette looked up at him. “Who do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know.” Jean Pierre looked out into the dark night and wished there was at least snow or mud on the ground so he could follow footst
eps. As it was, he didn’t know which direction to follow. He closed and locked the door, and escorted Lisette back to where her cloak had been abandoned. “We need to be especially careful.”

  “What do you think they heard?”

  “I am going to assume everything.”

  She fastened her cloak and looked up at Jean Pierre. “What do you think we should do?”

  “Be very cautious. I will let you know what I learn, if anything, and you do the same.”

  “Of course I will.”

  They stepped out into the night and slowly walked back towards the palace. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Had someone been watching and listening? Or had a pair of lovers sneaked out here. It wouldn’t be the first time he had come across a couple of servants wishing to be alone with each other amongst the foliage. It was a popular place for illicit rendezvous. He needed to find out who was in here before it was too late.

  Normally he returned to the stables and let Lisette make her own way back to the house. Tonight he stayed in the shadows to make sure she made it to the safety of the palace before he returned to his own room.

  Lisette leaned against the closed door once she was alone in her small attic room. Her hands shook, and she chastised herself. She was well-trained and knew better than to let a broken pot shake her. They didn’t know if anyone overheard them or what they might have overheard. What she needed to do was proceed with caution but not let this event upset her. Everything must continue as it had been.

  She hung her cloak on the peg before she sank down