Alex collapsed onto the couch behind her as the room spun. “You!”
Mont Trignon strode to her and dropped to his knees, grasping her small hand between his two large ones. “Please understand, chérie, it was not my intent to deceive you. I did not know you when we met at the Lancasters’ assembly, so I could not reveal my identity then. After that, I thought Marie Noielles safely in my past, so I had no reason to mention she and I were one and the same.”
Alex leaned back against the high armrest, put the fingertips of her free hand to her forehead, and stared at him from beneath the shadow of her palm. “But what about Mrs. Montgomery’s tea? Why did you deceive me then?”
“Please believe me when I tell you Marie needed to be there.” He paused when she pulled her hand from his grasp. “I cannot tell you more just yet, but I ask you to trust me on this. I had no idea you would be there as well. When I saw you walk through the door with Angelina, I had no choice but to continue the charade.”
Alex stood and walked to the desk, leaning one hand on the smooth surface for support, her back to him.
“But you came back to my home with me. I invited you in.” A creek in the floorboards told her he had risen, but she could not turn and face him as she spoke. “We shared a glass of sherry, and I confided my deepest secrets to you.” Alex’s cheeks burned as she remembered her deepest secrets had much to do with her feelings for him. “You should have stopped me.”
At least she had been wise enough not to answer him when he had asked if she enjoyed the kiss. If she had told him what she thought of his kiss, he would have thought her wanton.
Good heavens! Alex sniffed and looked to the ceiling as she blinked back tears of shame. She had told him she thought he had enjoyed the kiss. He must find her presumptuousness unpardonable.
“I was weak.” Mont Trignon lay a hand on her shoulder. “You started to tell me of your feelings for me, and I did not wish you to stop. I knew once I revealed myself to you, your feelings might change, and I wanted to hear it all.” His voice cracked. “You would never have told me any of the things you confided to Marie. And without some encouragement from you, I would never have dared hope you could feel something for me. I am a coward when it comes to you, Alexandra.”
Alex spun to look into a pair of misty hazel eyes.
“I trusted you,” Alex whispered, not quite ready to forgive him. “You were my closest friend.”
“Alexandra,” Mont Trignon said, grasping both her hands. “I still can be. I still wish to be if you will allow me.”
Alex regarded him, trying to harden her heart and look at the situation through cold and logical eyes. She despised her tendency to lose herself around him, to see what she wanted to see in the man and in his attentions. Even in Marie, she had seen only what she needed, a friend in whom she could confide her greatest fears and her deepest desires.
She must keep her head, or she would lose her heart forever.
Alex searched Mont Trignon’s pale face, considering his offer. In spite of the sense of betrayal stinging her heart, she wanted his friendship. If she lost it now, it would be like losing her two closest friends. She did not think she could bear losing both Marie and Mont Trignon in one afternoon.
In truth, she wanted more, much more. Faced with this new reality, she realized she had let herself believe, if just a little bit, in the sincerity of his proposal.
Tears stung her eyes anew, and she inhaled a slow breath. She would not lose herself in fantasies of what might be. Happily ever after existed only in fairy tales, not between people with so little in common.
“So is this a…” she waived her hand toward the gown lying crumpled on the floor, “diversion you engage in often?”
“Thankfully, it is not. I am no d’Eon de Beaumont.”
“Who?” Alex asked, trying to recall ever having heard the name.
“Never mind. I will explain later.” He gave her a half smile. “I only became Marie when the marquis needed assistance to escape from France. There were eleven of us in addition to Lafayette, and if he left in the company of too many men, he was sure to be noticed.” He shrugged. “But a Frenchman in the company of women…That is a common enough sight.”
His charming grin tugged at her heart and rekindled the flame of desire still flickering within her.
“Why did the marquis need to escape?” Alex asked.
“The king forbade him to go,” Mont Trignon replied.
“Oh,” Alex couldn’t think what to say, but it made her realize how little of this man and his life she really knew and how simple her world was in comparison.
“Afterward, it became convenient for me to don the guise of Marie to gather information I could not have otherwise.”
Alex narrowed her eyes. “What kind of information and for whom?”
He grasped her elbows in his hands and drew her closer. “You need not worry I am a traitor to your country, chérie. I gathered information of benefit to your General Washington and to my king. Even your brother’s good friend, George Smythe, benefitted from my intelligence.
“Then when I heard Mrs. Montgomery lecturing you, I thought Marie might be better suited to come to your aid than me. Forgive her for taking so long, but it takes forever to get into those things,” he said, waving at the clothing lying in little heaps on the side table and the floor.
“The next time you see Marie, please tell her I am grateful for her assistance,” Alex said.
“So I am forgiven?” He slid his hands down her forearms until he had held her hands in his.
Alex gazed at them. He had beautiful hands. His long tapered fingers were so elegant it was no wonder their size hadn’t tipped her off.
Alex’s heart thumped as she took in the sight of his broad, muscled chest just inches from her nose. She could smell the spicy masculine scent of him.
“Yes, you are forgiven,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the question and not on the man. “Actually, I am somewhat relieved to find I am not the only one who has something for which to be forgiven.”
Mont Trignon put his index finger under her chin and tilted her face toward him. “I do not believe you could do anything that would require forgiveness.” His voice caressed her as he spoke.
Alex turned her face just as he was about to settle his lips on hers. “Could you wash the powder off your face? I am not accustomed to kissing someone with softer skin than my own.”
In truth, not even a hint of powder clung on his face. She just couldn’t think with him so near and so naked. She had relived the memory of their last kiss just moments ago, and it still burned in her memory and on her lips. If he kissed her again, she would lose all ability to reason.
Mont Trignon laughed and left to do as she asked.
Alex stood and walked to the window, peering out at the old maple she had climbed not so long ago. The afternoon sunshine shone through a veil of red and gold, and as she looked down to see if any leaves had fallen, her knees threatened to give way. Had she really climbed all that way?
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the sill, watching a light breeze rustle the dry leaves.
A spy? That would explain his secrecy and his interest in her brother and the tavern. Reid could be a useful source of information, and taverns were as good as the post for spreading news.
Had Mont Trignon also been of use to Reid? Was that why her brother tolerated the man in his collection of patriots and rabble-rousers?
It unsettled her a bit to realize Reid knew more about Mont Trignon than she did. He had been hiding something the night she went to his apartment to question him. Why hadn’t he confided in her? Did he think she couldn’t be trusted?
Alex left the windowsill and returned to pacing in front of the hearth.
Of course, Reid wasn’t the only one who hadn’t confided in her. She had little doubt Mont Trignon had seen fit to tell her brother of his mission. Did he also think she couldn’t be trusted? Did they think all women we
re gossips? Who would she have confided in? Marie?
A harsh laugh escaped her.
A soft click as the door to the study opened jolted Alex out of her reverie but not her irritation. Mont Trignon stepped through the threshold dressed in a fresh pair of taupe breeches and a gold coat with a white satin waistcoat beneath. The silver buckles on his polished shoes gleamed.
His finery made her almost as uncomfortable as his nakedness had. While his bare chest had kindled the passion within her, his clothing reminded her just what a poor match she would be for him.
His smile dissolved, and she realized she must have been scowling at him.
“So what did you learn from the marquis?” she asked, softening her expression.
“You knew of my visit to Lafayette?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Reid mentioned it. I understand he was wounded in battle but is recovering.”
“Oui, he is. He will be back on his horse before anyone can stop him.” He paused.
“What are you not telling me?” Alex squinted at him, trying to decipher his enigmatic expression.
Mont Trignon gave a small chuckle. “You say you do not know me, Mademoiselle, but I think you know me too well.” He sunk into the wooden chair at his desk and rubbed his hands over his knees; then he gave a decisive nod. “Très bon. For your own safety you should know the truth.
“The marquis is confident in victory, but he seems less confident it will come without cost. I believe he fears the good people of Philadelphia have grown complacent. He also believes we have many spies in our midst, sharing our plans and our defenses with the English,” he added.
“Do you believe it as well?” Alex asked, perching on the edge of the couch.
“I have reason to, yes,” he said. “But regardless of what limited information I have been able to gather, it has always been my belief one can never be too careful in times such as these.”
“I see,” Alex said. She nibbled on her lower lip, considering his words.
In her mind, she imagined all of the people she knew: friends, neighbors, and regular patrons of the tavern. Some she had known ten years or more. Some she liked more than others, but the idea that anyone of them could be a spy strained credulity.
“Do you have reason to suspect anyone close to us?” she asked.
“For some time now, I have kept an eye on Colonel Montgomery.” Mont Trignon watched her as though gauging her reaction.
“Colonel Montgomery?” Alex asked, sitting up straight. “But he’s just a—”
“Too much of one not to arouse my suspicions at first,” Mont Trignon said, smiling and interrupting her before she could accuse the colonel of being a fool. “But, after weeks of watching him, both through my own eyes and through my network of reliable informants, I have come to the conclusion he is exactly as he appears.”
“A buffoon,” Alex stated, her voice flat.
“Exactement. And a harmless one at that.”
Alex tapped her finger on her lips, tracing the beige and blue patterns in the rug with her gaze as she thought.
“Angelina,” she said in a rush, raising her gaze to his.
“You have come to the same conclusion as I, chérie,” Mont Trignon replied, with an approving nod.
“But I’ve known her since we were children. I always found her annoying, but I confess I was just jealous.”
She had never admitted that to anyone, but it seemed a small sacrifice in order to defend Angelina’s innocence.
“She came from a wealthy family, and she was beautiful even as a child.” Alex’s voice rasped in her dry throat. “She could get Reid’s attention even when I could not. Do you really think she could be a traitor?”
“Well, we must not jump to any conclusions,” Mont Trignon reassured her.
Alex steepled her hands and put her fingertips to her lips. “What should we do?”
Mont Trignon grinned. “Attend a ball.”
“A ball? You mean a party?” She dropped her hands and arched a questioning brow at him.
“Yes, the Thortons are throwing a party, as you say.” He shrugged. “Although, in the case of the Thortons, I think it would be safe to call their provincial soirée an actual ball. You will need to dress the part.”
“What do you mean?” Alex crossed her arms over her chest.
He gave her a knowing glance. “No wallpaper-colored gowns.”
“You knew?” Alex couldn’t believe anyone had guessed her secret.
“Mademoiselle, a woman who is trying not to be noticed stands out more than one who is. At least to my eye.”
“Fine. No wallpaper-colored gowns,” she said, returning his grin, “but I think I have just the thing.”
“Shall I have a dressmaker visit you?” he asked, eyeing Alex’s smile with suspicion.
She shook her head. “Oh, no, I assure you that will not be necessary. As you suggest, I will make no more attempts to blend into the background. So what must we do at this ball?” Alex asked, eager to change the subject before he could divine her intentions.
“Listen,” Mont Trignon replied.
“Listen? That’s it?”
“And watch,” he added. “We will watch Angelina and the colonel, every move they make. As the British move closer to Philadelphia, the traitor will feel more secure. As he, or she,” he amended, giving her a meaningful look, “feels more secure, he may let his guard down, and we will have an excellent chance of discovering him.”
“That’s it?” She always thought the spy game a little more active, but it sounded easy enough.
“But, chérie, I must warn you. This is no game,” he said, as though he had read her thoughts. “You must tell no one of our plans.”
“Who would I tell? Marie?” she asked, imitating his nonchalant shrug.
As she said it, she realized she hadn’t completely forgiven him. No matter. He would get a taste of his own medicine soon enough.
Chapter Fifteen
Mont Trignon’s hired coach, a boxy contraption with gaudy, green lacquered doors and two aging horses, stopped in front of Alexandra’s townhouse at precisely nine o’clock. He tossed the skeptical driver a few coins to ensure he would still be at the curb when he returned with Alexandra.
They had agreed they should arrive at the ball together and leave no doubt as to their relationship.
Alexandra had been reluctant at first, as though she had other ideas. However, pointing out to her that she had no invitation, and only through accompanying him would she be considered an invited guest, he put the matter to rest. She then insisted arriving together had been her plan all along even while a trace of disappointment lingered in her eyes.
Did she not want to appear with him in public? Or did she no longer feel for him as she once did, now that she had discovered his deception. Perhaps she found the idea of furthering her relationship to a spy undesirable or even frightening.
He scowled as he took her steps two at a time. Maybe seeing him in that cursed dress had cooled her passion. He would do his best to make her forget Marie.
When the faded door opened, he thought Alexandra must have scraped together the funds to hire a butler, although one of questionable bearing.
He reached into the breast pocket of his coat to withdraw a card, his hand stilling when the little man beckoned him inside. “Ahh, you’re here at last. Hurry and come in before anybody sees me.”
“What have you done?” Mont Trignon asked, stepping into the narrow hallway.
He looked Alexandra over, from the powdered white wig concealing her auburn curls to the long square toes of her red-heeled shoes with pewter buckles.
“You said I must not blend into the wallpaper. I assume this does not blend.” She gave a feminine twirl, contradicting her disguise.
“That it does not,” he agreed, biting back a smile.
Her unfashionable, long mustard-colored coat clashed with her blue waistcoat and faded white cravat. The only item complementing her ensemble were the
white stockings visible below the knees of her chartreuse breeches, but even they had the misfortune to run into her blood red, square-toed men’s shoes with heels that had to be at least three inches high.
She stopped twirling and bit her lower lip. “Well, do you approve?”
“Actually, I do,” he said. Noting the astonishment on her delicate features, he added, “By your audaciousness, I must conclude you have a bit of French in you. I am eager to see if you can pull off your ruse despite those charming eyes and lovely lips of yours.”
Her gaze darted to the floor, and Mont Trignon could have kicked himself for speaking his thoughts aloud. His little doe had not forgiven him yet, but he found her as desirable as ever, even in mismatched men’s clothing twenty years out of date. The way the breeches hugged her thighs and her stockings outlined the shape of her long, sleek calves, had him considering skipping the ball all together.
He gave himself a mental shake. “May I ask where on earth you managed to find that outfit?”
Alexandra plucked at her breeches. “You’d be surprised what people leave behind in a tavern.”
He waggled an eyebrow at her. “I thought you did not allow those kinds of behaviors in your establishment.”
“It’s getting late. We should hurry,” she said, blushing but otherwise ignoring his allusion to the words she had once thrown at him.
She made no move toward the door, and he assumed she waited for him to offer his arm. He chuckled. Had she forgotten her disguise so soon?
“Indeed we shall,” he said, turning his back on her and heading down the steps toward the coach without waiting to see if she followed.
****
“Ah, Chevalier, welcome to our home,” Mrs. Thornton greeted them, as Mont Trignon and Alexandra entered through the French doors leading into the spacious ballroom of the Thornton mansion.
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