Wed to a Spy

by Sharon Cullen

  “Tristan prints them.”

  She stood quickly, scooting the chair back. “I can’t stay here. I can’t be with people who are plotting against the queen. This is treason, Simon. You will be killed for this.”

  “You can’t leave. I will not let you.”

  She just stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You would do this to me? You would implicate me in this when I had nothing to do with any of it?”

  “Mary told me you were sent to spy on her.”

  The feeling went out of her legs and she dropped back into the chair, suddenly so cold she was shivering.

  Chapter 23

  “What did you say?” Aimee whispered.

  “I went to Mary before the wedding to ask her to rescind her order for us to wed, like I had promised I would. She told me that she feared you’d been sent by Catherine to spy on her. She asked me to find out if it was true.”

  “She asked my soon-to-be husband to spy on me? You? A traitor to the crown?”

  “Yes, although she is not aware that I am a spy.”

  She looked at Simon, her husband, and felt such a deep sense of betrayal that a knife to the gut could not have hurt less. He had been tasked with spying on her. All along he had known, and he had never said anything.

  “And what did you tell her?” she asked with what little breath she could muster. She felt as if she were drowning.

  “I told her I would find out what I could.”

  Aimee tried to draw in a breath, but it got stuck and she struggled to breathe. All along Mary had known? And Simon had suspected? “What does this have to do with the placards that the three of you are disseminating?”

  “Neither Will nor I are disseminating any placards.”

  “Are you to play word games with me now? Why are you bringing up this supposed spying I was accused of doing if not to redirect the conversation away from my discovery today?”

  “Because it’s all connected.”

  Her brows drew together as she tried to figure out how any of this was connected. The thought of Mary asking Simon to spy on her was repulsive and frightening. The queen could easily have Aimee killed for even a suspicion of spying.

  Simon sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The time for silence and prevarication is over. We need to be completely honest with each other right now. Our lives depend on it. Can you do that, Aimee?”

  She nodded, her fear growing.

  “Were you sent to Scotland to spy on Queen Mary?”

  Her gaze darted around the room as if searching for escape. She had no doubt that Will and Tristan were nearby, ready to catch her if she were to flee. And where would she go? Out into the cold, snowy streets in nothing but slippers and an old gown? Who would aid her? Certainly not Mary. At one point Aimee had thought that Mary would take her back in, but now she knew that not to be true. Simon had shown nothing but kindness toward her. It could have been a ruse, but she was going to trust her instincts and hope that it wasn’t.

  “Y-yes,” she said hoarsely. “But I didn’t do it. I tried. I tried every which way I could, but Mary would never tell me anything, and whenever I came close, she always ended our conversations quickly.” Merde, but she was such a fool. Looking back, she saw how obvious it was that Mary had known. How Catherine had even thought Aimee would succeed was laughable.

  She lifted her head and stared at Simon through gathering tears. “She knew.”

  “Mary? She suspected, but she wasn’t certain.”

  “No. Catherine. Catherine knew that I would not succeed. She set me up. She told me I was to spy, and if I did what I was told, I could return to France to…”

  Simon tilted his head. “To?”

  She shook her head. The tears ran down her cheeks as she thought of Pierre waiting for her in France. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said softly.

  “So you never reported to Catherine?”

  “I sent her a few letters about Mary’s activities, mainly that she was keeping with the Catholic traditions and that her marriage did not seem strong. There was not much else that I could pass along, as Mary never confided in me.”

  “But Mary was correct in her suspicion that you were a spy.”

  This was not a question, and so Aimee sat numbly staring at the floor, the tears falling as the betrayal became more and more clear. She wanted to talk to Pierre, to tell him of these revelations and see what he had to say about them. If Catherine could be so devious to Aimee, then what had she done to Pierre? Did he realize what a web of lies they had been caught in? Did he know that Catherine had engineered it so that they would never be together?

  “Aimee?”

  She looked up Simon.

  “You do realize that Mary will never allow you back at court.”

  “She doesn’t know. She only suspects. Just tell her that you have looked into it and there is no reason to suspect me of spying. You will do that for me, yes?”

  His expression softened. “I can’t. I will not be going back to court, either.”

  She twisted her fingers in her lap, barely feeling the pain. “Where will you go?”

  “We are going to England.”

  She stood quickly. “Nay. Not I. I will return to France if I cannot return to Holyrood Palace, but I will not go to England.”

  “You will.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Nay.”

  “You are my wife, and you go where I go.”

  More tears fell. “I want to go home,” she said brokenly. “I want to go back to France.”

  “Why?”

  She looked away.

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head.

  “Tell me, Aimee. Why is France so much more important to you than your own husband?”

  A sob broke loose and she wrapped her arms around her stomach, thinking of Pierre, thinking of her home.

  “Catherine betrayed you. She sent you on a mission doomed to fail. You are not equipped to spy on anyone. You simply do not have it in you to do so. Why would you want to return to that woman?”

  “Because it’s my home.”

  “I can give you a good home. I have money and means. I have a large estate in northern England, bequeathed to me by Queen Elizabeth.”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “The queen has banned you from England. She would not give you land and an estate.”

  His expression was solemn and Aimee sat down suddenly, her stomach turning. “You’re not telling me everything.”

  “I learned while I was out this morning that Queen Mary has been returned to her throne, and those who conspired to kill Rizzio are on the run; some have been arrested.”

  Aimee brightened a bit. “But that is good news. I’m happy for Queen Mary.”

  “It is good news for Mary’s followers but not good news for us.”

  “Surely if you speak to her and swear that I was not spying, then she will allow us to return to the palace.”

  “It goes deeper than that, Aimee. Much deeper. We were there the night of Rizzio’s murder. You were standing beside the queen when it happened.”

  Her back straightened and she looked at Simon in shock. “Surely she does not suspect me.”

  “Everyone present in the room that night is suspect. Soon there will be a decree posted at Mercat Cross with the names of everyone who is to report to the queen for questioning. Both of our names will be on it.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m telling you this to save your life.”

  “You are lying,” she yelled. “Mary knows I would never do such a thing.”

  “Mary believed you were spying on her to begin with, and she is exceptionally angry right now and has to prove herself a capable ruler.”

  This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Aimee’s life was spiraling out of control toward a depth that led only to hell.

  “So we run to England?”

  “We will be safe
in England. Elizabeth will protect us.”

  “Elizabeth?” she asked in disbelief. “The same Elizabeth who forced you to leave your homeland?”

  He reached for her hands, but she snatched them out of the way. A look of hurt crossed his face and he pulled back, putting space between them.

  “I need you to listen to me, Aimee. Let me speak all the way through, and then you can ask me any question you’d like. But you need to listen to me first. What I have to tell you is of utmost secrecy. I’m trusting you with information that could get me, Will, and Tristan killed. They have agreed that I am allowed to tell their story, but if you betray us, our deaths will lie heavy on your soul for eternity.”

  Her hand covered her throat and she swallowed the bile rising. “I don’t want to know,” she whispered. “I don’t believe anything you say to me.”

  He leaned back and contemplated her for a long time. “Who else can you trust?”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. There was no one in her life she could trust except Pierre. But where had Pierre been all these months? She’d had one meager letter from him that said barely anything. He’d recounted court life, making her more homesick than anything. He’d not said anything of his feelings toward her, though she had convinced herself it was because he didn’t want his letter falling into the wrong hands and their relationship exposed.

  “I am all you have,” Simon said. “And I promise you, I am not lying to you. I am telling you things that could get me killed.”

  “Then don’t tell me.”

  “You need to know.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do.”

  She closed her eyes, as if not seeing him would make him go away. It was the ultimate game one played with babies, but she wasn’t naive like a baby. Not anymore.

  “Very well,” she said, defeated.

  “Elizabeth never banished me from England. I am in Elizabeth’s employ.”

  Her eyes flew open.

  “Will, Tristan, and I were sent to Scotland to report Mary’s activities to Elizabeth.” He paused. “Well, Will and Tristan were. I was assigned to Spain and King Philip, but in a strange twist, Philip sent me here.”

  Aimee laughed. It was a strange, almost hysterical laugh. “This is rich. I’m accused of being a spy when you’re actually the spy. Oh, the irony. A spy spying on a spy.”

  Simon’s lips twisted in a grin. “I thought the same thing at the time.”

  “Is the woman daft? She suspects me, and yet there are three real spies in her presence. This is laughable.”

  “I would not call Mary daft. She is actually very smart but has the unfortunate inclination to trust the wrong people.”

  “She would have been better off trusting me than you.”

  “There is much truth to that.”

  “So you have to return to England because you are on the list to be questioned and they can’t discover you’re a spy,” she said.

  “Partly. I’m not overly worried about being discovered. I’m more worried that this questioning is really a ruse to arrest everyone on that list. Including you.”

  She was startled into silence. Would Mary really arrest her?

  “And,” he continued, “I need to report to Elizabeth. Since I was present that night, it is important she get my point of view.”

  “So I have no choice. You will not allow me to return to France, and I cannot return to Mary’s court.”

  “You see now why I can’t go to France. I have to go to England.”

  She’d not thought that he would assume he was going to France with her. “We can part ways here,” she said. In her mind, it was an easy solution, but speaking the words was far more difficult than she had imagined. “No one knows we are married. Not Elizabeth—I am assuming—and not Catherine. No one needs to know.”

  “So you propose that you return to France as if nothing has happened, and I return to England as if nothing has happened.”

  “Y—” She swallowed, the word stuck in her throat. “Yes.”

  He studied her for a long time, those chocolate eyes soaking her in, his expression revealing nothing. “Is that what you want?”

  “Y—” This time she couldn’t force the word out. It was what she wanted, so why couldn’t she tell him that?

  “Is it, Aimee?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried out.

  His shoulders drooped. “If you want me to take you to the French ship and pretend that we were never married, I will do so. If that’s truly what you want. But know this. I may pretend that it is not so, but I will never forget that I am married to you.”

  Chapter 24

  Aimee stared into the fire, shivering from a cold that came from deep inside her. She’d asked Simon to leave her alone for a bit so she could think. She couldn’t think while she was around him. He muddled her mind and confused her.

  Leaning forward, she buried her face in her hands and let herself cry. Her world had come crashing down around her, but truth be told, her world had fallen apart when she was sent to Scotland, she just hadn’t known it. It had been propped up with hopes and dreams that had died without her knowledge. She’d been living a lie this entire time, trying to spy when she didn’t need to, in order to return to a love that had already been lost to her.

  Pierre.

  Oh, Pierre.

  She was so confused by all of it. Had they really experienced this deep love, like she had thought, or were her feelings those of a young, naive girl whose head had been turned by the first boy to pay any attention to her?

  Yet she had promised him she would return to him, and he had promised to wait for her. What if he was still waiting?

  And then there was Simon, who was everything Pierre was not, and Pierre was everything Simon was not. When she’d first met Simon, she had despised his rough ways and had looked down on his muscular frame, thinking she preferred the slight stature of her sophisticated French paramour. But now, when she thought of Simon, she loved that he protected her with that muscular body and brought her such joy in bed—even though it had been only one time. One time was enough to know that Simon could make her feel powerful sensations she had never before imagined or thought possible.

  Yet he was a spy. A traitor to Mary’s court.

  And so are you.

  She was so ashamed of what she’d done to Mary. She’d taken what friendship the queen had offered with every intention of using it against her. Of course, she’d not had an opportunity to do so, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have. The intention had been there, and so she was painted with that sin.

  She didn’t even recognize the person she had been, willing to sell out a queen for the love of a boy. Willing to sacrifice her morals for what she’d thought was love.

  She lifted her head and sniffed back the tears. She was finished crying. She was finished being ashamed of who she was and was ready to become a new person.

  Lady Aimee Marcheford? Was that her destiny?

  Marrying Simon might not have been in her plans, but it had become her reality. She’d been foolish to think that she could return to France and pretend none of this had happened.

  Simon was right. She could pretend, but she could never forget.

  Staring into the dancing flames, she let her decision wash over her, and it felt so right that the deep cold inside her started to warm until she wasn’t shivering anymore.

  Although Mary had ulterior motives, she was right. Simon and Aimee suited. They were two spies, banished from their own countries—although Simon had said that wasn’t true about him. They had a lot more in common than she’d first believed.

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, feeling better about herself than she’d felt in a long while. She shook and smoothed down her skirts.

  Simon was leaning against the opposite wall when she opened the door to the sitting room. He instantly straightened and looked at her expectantly. She wanted to tell him her decision,
but first she had to tell Pierre. The French ship should still be in port. She’d pen a letter to him, tell him the circumstances, and free him from his promise to wait for her forever. It was the least she could do. If he hadn’t waited for her, well, that was fine. But if he was still waiting, he needed to know the truth.

  “I’m tired,” she said. “I’d like to retire.”

  “Of course. I will escort you to your room.”

  “There’s no need. I believe I can find it on my own.”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “Better. I have a lot of thinking to do.”

  “I understand.”

  He seemed disappointed, and she desperately wanted to tell him that everything would turn out fine, but first she needed to tell Pierre.

  Dipping her head, she swept past Simon and up the steps. She felt Simon’s eyes on her as she ascended the stairs, but she didn’t look back.

  She had found paper and ink in her room earlier. When she closed the door, she sat down at the rickety escritoire and took out the ink. It was half hardened, but there was enough that she could pen a quick letter.

  My dearest Pierre,

  Much has happened since I last wrote. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so I will not go into that now. I write this with a heavy heart filled with much guilt. Please know that I had every intention of honoring our promise to each other to remain chaste and true to our love.

  My love for you was pure, Pierre. You were my everything. But time and distance have made me realize that our feelings for each other were youthful flights of fancy. I have since learned that love is more than meeting in a dark hallway to steal a few kisses. It is more than a clandestine touch or a forbidden look.

  Love is warmth in the middle of a frigid night. Love is safety in the face of danger. Love is comfort in times of distress, contentment in times of chaos.

  Queen Mary has forced me to wed. At first I fought it, but he is a good man. A fine man. He is more than I deserve and everything I didn’t know I wanted.

  He is my warmth, my safety, my comfort, and my contentment.

  He is my love.