Pursuing The Traitor (Scandals and Spies Book 5)

by Leighann Dobbs

  “Why not? Monsieur V is a traitor. Lord Strickland will see him hanged.”

  “After they get information from him. Surely you can see that an enemy spymaster is worth more alive than dead?”

  Swearing something indecipherable under his breath, he strode away. He took no more than two paces, a branch cracking beneath his foot, before he turned back. “He’s a monster. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a gasp. His vehement tone told her that he meant it. He not only would have taken that spy’s life, but he would have enjoyed it.

  “It wasn’t even Monsieur V who arrived.”

  Alex stiffened. “What? Don’t be absurd. Of course it was.”

  She shook her head. “He was a different spy. Or maybe he wasn’t working for Monsieur V at all. We can’t know that now because you’ve gone and scared him off!”

  Alex stepped closer. His breath teased the hair on the top of her head. “I saw his face. That was Monsieur V. Don’t lie to me, Lucy. I saw the sketch in your notebook.”

  “That?” She threw her hands in the air. “When have I ever claimed to be an artist? It’s true, the spy looked similar enough, but you should believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t him.”

  He caught her by the shoulders, holding her in place. She still couldn’t see his expression, nor even his eyes. It bothered her.

  “Swear it. Promise me that you’re telling the truth.”

  Why did he sound a bit desperate? “I swear. I wouldn’t lie about this. I want to catch him, too. Catch him—not kill him.”

  Alex made a disgusted sound and turned away again. This time, when he paced, he stopped several feet away from her, his back turned. He seemed tormented. But why? Did he take his job with the spy network so seriously?

  “What’s come over you? This entire time, you’ve been nagging me about having a partner so I’ll be safe, and yet you nearly got us both killed today.”

  He rounded on her. “I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t jumped into my path! Regardless of whether or not that was Monsieur V, he had to have been a French spy in order to come out to the middle of the forest at this hour of the morning, precisely where you were meant to be waiting. You should have let me kill him.”

  “Why?” She crossed her arms again. “That’s not the way justice is done. Why do you hate Monsieur V so much that you’re willing to cross that line?”

  “Because he killed my family.”

  The words rang in the air between them, resonating as they slowly faded. In their place, the mundane sounds of the forest woke. Distant birds chirping, the buzz of insects and rustle of rodents.

  Was he…serious? “Your father and brother died from—”

  “Poison.” Alex’s sharp voice cut the air. “It was not self-inflicted.”

  Lucy had heard rumors that said otherwise. Though, come to think of it, she had always thought it odd that the marquess and his heir had decided to commit suicide at the same time in the same manner. No money or family scandals had been unearthed upon Alex taking the title, no explanation for their sudden deaths. So why would they both have taken their lives at the same time? It seemed like the sort of thing one did alone, when one had no hope of solace in another’s company.

  He stepped closer, his posture relaxing slightly from his hostile stance when she didn’t try to argue with him. Softly, he admitted, “Camden—my brother—was a spy. I learned after his death that he was one of the spies tasked by your brother to find Monsieur V in London. I don’t know what he found, but it appeared he got too close. Monsieur V killed my father and brother, I’m sure of it.”

  Lucy didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “No one does. Only Morgan and Strickland.”

  “And that’s why you’re so determined to kill Monsieur V.” Even without confirmation, Lucy didn’t need to phrase it as a question.

  “It is.”

  They fell silent again. Lucy pressed her lips together. Could she trust him? They were supposed to be working together, but today he had deviated from the very plan he had set down.

  “He deserves to be killed, for the things he’s done. Not only to my family.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Alex stiffened. He took a step back.

  Lucy grimaced. That hadn’t emerged the way she’d meant it. “I mean, of course he’s a heinous criminal, but he’s worth more alive than dead. Imagine the sort of information he could give to the Crown if only we caught him alive.”

  “I must see him dead, Lucy.”

  She stepped forward, laying her hand on his arm in the hopes of giving him some semblance of comfort. “You will. But it can be done both ways. My brother can get the information and then you can have your revenge.”

  When he made no response, she didn’t know whether to interpret his silence as acquiescence or as an indication that he would go against logic and try another assassination. She still didn’t know how she felt about him being so casual about it. He would kill a man without hesitation. He almost had today. A bad man, but Lucy didn’t know whether or not that made it right.

  What would she do if she discovered that Monsieur V had killed her father? She didn’t know. In fact, she barely remembered her father. She’d been young when he died, and his ducal responsibilities had meant that he hadn’t spent as much time with her as she would have liked. She hoped Morgan wouldn’t be like that with his son.

  What had Alex’s relationship been like with his father? He obviously mourned him, but she doubted they’d been close. Not many peers had as tight-knit families as Lucy’s. Perhaps by avenging his father, Alex hoped to make up for the sins of the past.

  He pulled away. “Why don’t we worry about it if we’re able to find Monsieur V again?”

  Again? They hadn’t found him once. Even though this time, there had been a meeting. Had that spy only been a frontrunner in case Alex laid in wait? Or did Monsieur V have no intention of meeting with her to begin with?

  “You’re right. We have to work on finding him again.”

  She turned away and they slowly made their way back to where she’d left the lantern.

  After a moment, Alex asked, “How do you mean to do that?”

  “Simple. We’ll wait until he sends me another message.”

  19

  Several days passed and Monsieur V sent Lucy no letter. She and Alex were vigilant, even though he largely avoided finding himself alone with her. Seeing as Lady Leighton and Mrs. Vale appeared to be keeping a sharp eye on them both, it was for the best. The only thing that mattered was finding the next note from Monsieur V. As a man, Alex had more freedom of movement than she did, so she left him to search the manor and grounds for clues and took what opportunities she could find to do the same. Neither of them found any trace of the French or their schemes.

  Had that been her last chance? Since she didn’t know why Monsieur V had contacted her specifically, she couldn’t be certain that he would leave her another message. With each passing day, she grew more and more frustrated.

  Alex appeared to feel the same. But, as they found little time together unchaperoned, only enough to pass along their lack of progress, she couldn’t be certain that his apparent frustration didn’t stem from something entirely different. Even during the brief moments they found alone together, nothing in Alex’s demeanor indicated that he still thought of her romantically. Then why had he kissed her with such passion? Why had he made a confession of his feelings? She hadn’t known what to say, given the lack of warning. It had been such a shock; his kiss had muddled her thoughts, too. The fact that his feelings seemed to have waned left her no closer to deciphering hers. Except, perhaps, a twinge of disappointment.

  They were spies. Colleagues and allies against the French. Surely they should focus on that mission at such a time? Even if it had been a week since Monsieur V had last attempted to set a meeting.

  Today was the last day of Lady Leighton’s hous
e party. As of tomorrow, Lucy would be on her way back to London, where she would have to begin her search for Monsieur V anew. The problem was that she didn’t know where to look.

  He has to have left some clue here. Whatever it was, she would find it. Today was her last chance.

  She spent the morning before the guests awoke poking her nose where it didn’t belong. The rest of her morning and into the afternoon was spent alongside Charlie and Mrs. Vale. Her dear friend noticed her agitation.

  “Is something the matter? You seem restless today. More than usual.”

  Lucy forced a smile. She was tempted to lie and pretend as though she wasn’t fretting herself to pieces, but she didn’t see the point. Charlie had become more and more suspicious during their stay at Lady Leighton’s manor, even though Lucy barely glanced in Alex’s direction.

  Lucy stifled a sigh. “I suppose I am restless. The weather is mild today. Perhaps a walk to the village would help, if you don’t mind accompanying me?”

  Charlie shrugged. “It sounds like a good diversion. I don’t think Lady Leighton has any games planned, since it’s our last day. Mama?”

  “I’ll fetch our shawls and bonnets,” Mrs. Vale said.

  Although she had been amenable to chaperoning the excursion, Mrs. Vale never took her shrewd gaze off Lucy. With her chaperone in such a snit, Lucy knew better than to try slipping away. Instead, she pretended to be engrossed in what the local shops had to offer. Once they had toured them all, Lucy suggested taking lunch at the inn. She excused herself in mid-meal to use the withdrawing room.

  The moment she slipped into the corridor, she searched for someone who worked at the inn. She was lucky enough to find the innkeeper himself. Smiling, she planted herself in his path before he could return to the common room.

  “Good afternoon, sir. I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”

  The man scratched his mustache as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re the miss who was in here a week or two ago. The one who came in with the lord?”

  Apparently she had a memorable face. She nodded. “Yes, that would be me.”

  The man shrugged. “The chap you want hasn’t come back in. I did find something in his room when it was cleaned, though.”

  Lucy forced herself to breathe evenly. If this man caught wind of how pivotal the information he kept was, he might not part with it—at least, not for less than a considerable sum. “What is it? Do you still have it?” she asked.

  “He left a letter and instructions for it to be franked to London. He left it with more than enough to cover the cost, so I sent the letter.”

  Drat! What would be so important that Monsieur V couldn’t attend to the matter himself? He must not have expected the innkeeper to read the letter or remember its destination.

  “I don’t suppose you recall where in London the letter was being sent? Or happened to glimpse the contents out of curiosity?” Her voice grew weaker as she suggested the latter idea. She pressed her lips together as she waited for a response.

  “Didn’t look at the letter,” the innkeeper denied.

  He deflated her hopes along with it.

  “But I might have the instructions here somewhere. I could part with them, if you’d be willing to compensate the loss. That’s good quality paper, and can still be crosshatched over.”

  Lucy stifled a sigh and emptied her reticule of her pin money. However, the moment the innkeeper returned with the note, she considered it money well spent. The note listed not only the instructions to send the letter, but also the address where it was to be sent.

  Grinning, Lucy jotted down the address at the very end of her notebook, cramming it in shorthand into the last scrap of blank space. Once she returned to London tomorrow, she had someplace to look. Monsieur V couldn’t anticipate that the innkeeper would keep something as mundane as instructions. Finally, she would be one step ahead of him.

  But she couldn’t tell Alex. If he lost his temper again, they might lose Monsieur V for good. The spymaster had already made it clear that he wasn’t going to contact her again. Or worse, Alex might put his life in jeopardy this time.

  So she had only one choice. When she returned back to London, she would follow this lead on her own.

  20

  Lucy Graylocke was hiding something. By this point, Alex would like to think that he was in tune enough with her to know when something was amiss. Earlier that afternoon, when he’d happened to cross paths with her and her chaperones, he had scarcely paid her any attention at all and even cut her off when she’d tried to speak with him. Mrs. Vale had far too keen an eye and Alex feared that his feelings for Lucy were scrawled across his face the moment she came within eyeshot. Later, when they’d had a scant second in the dining room alone as everyone else filed out, Alex had tried to apologize for his curt behavior, only to be gifted with a sunny smile and the flippant dismissal of her hand.

  She was hiding something. Lucy was inquisitive. She liked to know people’s motivations. She was never dismissive. The fact that she was hiding something from him now could mean only one thing. She’d found a clue that might lead to Monsieur V’s whereabouts.

  And she wasn’t going to share it with him.

  Alex burned with indignation over the thought. She knew precisely what catching Monsieur V meant to him, and yet she was going to deny him the opportunity to help? She was in this for the glory, after all. He hadn’t thought so…but why else wouldn’t she accept his help?

  He didn’t know, but he was determined to confront her and find out.

  He waited long after the guests retired to their chambers, keeping the door ajar for sounds of movement. With everyone departing on the morrow, they all retired early tonight. For those with insomnia before midnight, that meant traipsing back and forth to the kitchen or library in some vain attempt to lull themselves to sleep. With every new departure, Alex grew more and more tense.

  Finally, silence descended upon the guest wing of the house, penetrated by faint snores. Alex lingered at the door, listening to be sure. His heartbeat nearly overpowered all other sound. Slipping into the hall, he tiptoed swiftly and silently down to Lucy’s door. He didn’t bother knocking, but let himself in and shut it, pressing his back to the door.

  She lounged beneath the sheets, a book balanced on her knees and pillows cradling her back. Her braided hair was pulled over one shoulder, the color a dark contrast to her white nightgown. As he entered, she gasped.

  He placed his fingers to his lips, urging her to keep silent. Mrs. Vale was placed nearby and not even the loud snores rumbling through the adjoining wall would muffle an exclamation.

  She threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, stuffing the book onto the nightstand next to the candle. Her feet were bare. Her gauzy nightdress flirted with her ankles, the last three or four inches in lace. Her pale skin peeked through the gaps. The gown itself covered her—full length sleeves and a neckline that scooped beneath her collarbone—but the drape of the fabric against her figure made his mouth water. He couldn’t help but imagine her naked body, hidden beneath the cloth.

  She crossed to him, her eyes a bit wild. A stray strand of her hair clung to the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing in here? If you’re found—”

  They would need to be married quickly in order to smother the scandal. He didn’t find that notion as unappealing as it seemed she did.

  “Then you’d do best to keep your voice down,” he whispered.

  She crossed her arms beneath her chest, plumping up her breasts as she frowned. “You didn’t answer my question.” This time, her voice was so soft, he had to strain his ears to hear it.

  He leaned a bit closer. She smelled faintly floral. Rose water, perhaps?

  “You found something today. A clue.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. Her lips parted a fraction of an inch before she pressed them together again. “Don’t you think if I’d found a clue that would lead us to Monsieur V that I would tell you?”

  The qu
estion itself suggested that she would, and yet she wasn’t speaking a word of it. She glanced past him to the writing desk, where her notebook lay next to a paper with scribbled notes on it. Was that paper the clue she had found? When he turned to look at it, she stepped in front of him.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Does this?” She cupped his cheeks between her hands, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him.

  Her body pressed against his in aching detail. Far too few clothes separated them. As she teased at the seam of his lips with her tongue, he opened his mouth to protest. She deepened the kiss instead.

  He was powerless to resist. She hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t even looked to him like she’d wanted to, since he’d confessed his feelings for her. Was she only kissing him now as a distraction? He didn’t care. For this brief moment, he had her in his arms again and he wasn’t about to waste the moment. He kissed her back as if it might be the last time. For all he knew, it might.

  When she pulled away, her voice was breathless. “I didn’t find a clue.”

  His heart was thundering so loud in his ears that he almost believed her. But that kiss…it had to be her distraction tactic, didn’t it?

  “I don’t believe you.” His voice was hoarse.

  She wrinkled her nose as she stepped back. “Well, then, I don’t know how to convince you.”

  Letting me read your notebook would do it…

  “Not kissing me for no blasted reason would be a step in the right direction.”

  A crinkle formed between Lucy’s eyebrows. She touched her fingertips to her lips as she wrapped her other arm around her torso. “It wasn’t for no reason. I wanted to.” Color flushed across her cheekbones as she looked down.

  “Why? More research?” It hadn’t bothered him at first that she was using him as inspiration for her book. But now… He cared for her deeply. He might even love her. Never before had he met a woman as resourceful, resilient, creative. She’d charmed him before he even realized it.