A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides

by Diana Quincy

  “How does your destroying your under things assist in that endeavor?”

  The fabric tore away at the seams, and instead of the ivory busk that was normally used to stiffen a lady’s corset, out came tightly rolled pieces of paper, stacked one atop the other, down the length of the pocket.

  He sat up and blinked. “What the devil? Do not tell me―”

  She regarded him with a knowing smile that made his blood heat. “I believe you’ve been looking for these epistles.”

  He bounded up from the berth and reached for them. “They are the contents of Duret’s package.”

  She dropped the letters into his open hand. “Yes.”

  He stared at the missives in his palm and then up at her. “But I searched these garments.”

  She shrugged, an insouciant twinkle in her slate eyes, and reached for her discarded gown, which lay in a heap by her feet. “It seems you are easily distracted when I am disrobed.”

  “I don’t deny that,” he said wryly, thinking back to when he’d examined her clothes. He’d definitely been absorbed by the sight of her bare curves, but…His head shot up. “You minx!”

  She drew her Cleopatra coin from the pocket of her discarded gown and tossed the disk into the air before catching it easily in the same hand. “Yes,” she said, affirming his suspicions. “I decided to add another distraction.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You pretended to drop the coin by accident. You made me believe you were embarrassed for me to know you’d held it dear since I gave it to you.”

  “Oh, that part was true,” she said. “I was embarrassed for you to know the depth of my attachment to your gift. But it was more important for you not to find the packet until I was ready to give it to you. Until I was sure you could be trusted.”

  He grabbed the corset to examine the narrow pocket. “How did you manage to get those missives so deep into this pocket?”

  “Sophie helped. She’s very enterprising.”

  So the maid had been involved. Just not in the way he’d thought. The truth had been right under his nose this entire time. His mouth went slack. He couldn’t believe it. “You outsmarted me.”

  She tilted her chin down, regarding him through lush lashes. “I’ve heard Le Rasoir can be ruthless when crossed. I shudder to think of how he might punish me.”

  He dropped the missives and advanced on her, his blood rushing hot in his veins. “Utterly ruthless,” he said as he swooped down to toss her over his shoulder.

  Delighted laughter erupted from her willowy form as she lay draped over his shoulder, her short chemise laying her creamy bottom bare. He gave it a sharp slap.

  “Ouch,” she yelped. “That hurt.”

  He tossed her facedown onto the berth and leaned over to put his lips to the soft swell of her rump. “My apologies.” He slid his hand to the place between her thighs. “Let me make it better.”

  She sighed and flopped over onto her back, as he settled atop her and entered her with one smooth stroke. “We shall have to fight more often,” she said, her breath coming harder as he rocked into her in long, leisurely motions, “if this is how you choose to make things up to me.”

  He nipped her earlobe. “Do you not worry that Le Rasoir will soon have you begging for mercy?”

  She turned her face to catch his lips in a slow, soulful kiss before whispering in his ear. “I’m counting on it.”

  —

  Much later, Will and Elle sat facing each other on the wooden cabin floor with Duret’s missives spread between them. “Why are you giving these to me now?” he asked.

  She smiled softly, her hair unkempt and tousled around her shoulders, looking so like the young woman who had stolen his heart at the pond. “Because I have no doubt you will take me to my girl and because there have been enough misunderstandings and secrets between us.”

  Warmth welled in him. He felt as if he was seeing Elle, the woman, clearly for the first time. She’d turned out to be even more enchanting than the girl he’d loved. “I won’t let anything or anyone come between you.” And he’d never spoken truer words. He’d do whatever it took, easily giving his own life, to reunite Elle with her child.

  She studied him. “Will, tell me more about your work. Was it always so dangerous, even when you used to visit us at Langtry?”

  He reached for a missive. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m curious. I suppose I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

  “No, it wasn’t dangerous at first. The more precarious missions came later. I was initially recruited into the service while still at university after proving adept at cryptography.”

  Her eyes rounded. “You were a code breaker? Did you enjoy it?”

  “Very much so at first. I was drawn to the challenge.” He couldn’t help but bask in the admiration he detected in her eyes. “The trip to Belgium to help retrieve my colleagues was my first taste of danger. I only went along on that assignment because there was an urgent need for a code breaker.”

  “After that, I suppose you were drawn to the risk.”

  “After I lost you, the challenge of cyphers no longer held the same appeal.” It had been the darkest period of his life. With Elle gone, everything lost meaning. “I couldn’t stay in London. I felt your absence too keenly there. So I sought more and more assignments that took me out of the country. Nothing could fill the void, but the distraction of work helped.”

  She blinked, her eyes bright. “I’m so sorry. I should have had more faith in you.”

  He couldn’t bear to see her upset. “That’s in the past. We should look forward now.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her gently. “And you have shown faith in me by giving me Duret’s package, which we should examine.”

  She sniffed, blinking back tears and offering a watery smile. “Do you think we’ll find anything of interest?”

  He picked up another missive and examined the writing. “Let’s find out, shall we? There’s no time like the present to learn why Duret was making such a fuss.”

  He grabbed another message from the floor and handed it to her. He began to read his own, enjoying the sensation of her presence beside him and the sense of a shared purpose.

  They worked through the dispatches, some of which contained a thread or two of useful information, but nothing worthy of inciting Duret’s excitement.

  A while later, Elle looked up from the latest missive she’d been reading and blew out an exasperated breath. “I fail to see how this information is helpful at all. Why should a list of books Napoléon is asking to be sent from an English bookseller be of any interest to anyone at all?”

  Will gave her his full attention. “Napoléon’s reading list?” He took the missive from her. “Why would he order books from a London bookseller?”

  He scanned the list, his gaze moving over titles having to do with the topography of Ireland, geographical books on various Irish provinces, maps and atlases of Wexford, Gorey, and Enniscorthy on Ireland’s eastern coast.

  “Who is Count Andreossy?” she asked.

  “The French ambassador to London.” Will looked up from the list. “Why do you ask?”

  “Look on the back. That letter is addressed to him.”

  He flipped it over, seeing Andreossy’s name and what appeared to be…“This looks like Napoléon’s seal.”

  Her eyes widened. “Truly? You’d think an ambassador would have more important things to do than acquire a list of books for Boney’s entertainment.”

  He studied the list again. “I should think so.”

  “If one can refer to books on topography and geography as amusing in any way, which I most definitely could not.” She stood and stretched. “Perhaps Napoléon has decided invading Ireland will be decidedly less trouble than invading the English mainland,” she said with a laugh.

  Will shot to his feet. “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?” She stared at him. “I was jesting. You can’t seriously believe Napoléon plans to in
vade Ireland.”

  “Not exactly.” He paced the small cabin, energy sizzling along his limbs. “He’s going to invade England through Ireland.”

  Skepticism filled her face. “Napoléon might be a power-crazed tyrant but he’s not an idiot.”

  “Why else would he want the maps? Why acquaint himself with the topography of the land?”

  “Perhaps he has a purely intellectual interest in Ireland.”

  “I think not.” He warmed to his theory. “It is natural for us to assume that France would invade the coast closest to it. Coming at us from the entirely opposite direction, when we least expect it, could prove to be a brilliant tactical move.”

  “But it would take them forever to reach London from Ireland.”

  “This suggests he is at least considering the possibility.” He waved the list in the air. “With this information, the Crown can fortify its position in Ireland and strengthen its defenses along the western coast. This could explain why Duret put all his resources into running you to ground after you took the package.”

  She gave him a dubious look. “So what happens now?”

  Satisfaction filled his smile. “Now we eat, sleep, make love, and then, once we reach home, we place this information into the correct hands as soon as possible.”

  —

  Salcombe, a bustling port town that had sprung up on the steep west side of an estuary, was Elle’s first view of England since leaving six years ago with a new husband by her side and Will’s child in her womb.

  She and Will stood on the deck of the small vessel as the coastal village came into view. Ships and smaller vessels crowded the waterfront. Cottages and other structures were perched on the mountain cliffs that rose up behind the port.

  “I am returned at last,” she said softly, emotion raw in her chest. This was the closest she’d physically been to Susanna since the girl’s birth. “It won’t be long now.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist and brushed a kiss on her temple. “Welcome home, my love.”

  Her insides glowed at the tenderness in his voice as well as his easy use of the endearment. “Do we leave for Langtry immediately?”

  “No. It will be dark soon. We’ll spend one evening here, and then I will see you safely to Langtry before proceeding back to Town. I sent word from Jersey about your being in possession of Duret’s packet. I expect to receive instructions on how to proceed once we disembark.”

  Her chest knotted at the thought of him leaving her again, but she didn’t speak of it.

  When their vessel pulled into port, the scent of oranges and lemons, cargo from the surrounding ships, mingled with the salty smell of the sea. On leaving the ship, they walked inland, the pounding of hammers renting the air as they passed a shipbuilder’s yard. Sawing sounds came from the sawyer’s shop, where diligent workers transformed timber into planks. They came to a bucolic, brick-fronted inn that Will seemed familiar with. They entered to find a main hall dominated by a staircase, with a dining parlor to the left and a coffee room to the right.

  The innkeeper came forward and greeted Will by name before handing him a packet of letters. “These have come for you, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Taking them, Will arranged for a room, before placing a hand at Elle’s elbow, directing her to a table in the dining parlor. “Come, let us eat, shall we?”

  As they took their seats, she said, “I gather you’ve been here before.”

  “On occasion.” He nodded, his gaze on the letters as he rifled through them. “My work sometimes brings me this way.”

  She darted a look at the missives, her gaze catching on the flowery, feminine writing on one of them. “How would anyone know to send you letters here?”

  “I messaged my brother, Giles, from Jersey and told him we’d be arriving here today.” He gave a wry smile. “Since he learned the true nature of my business, his lordship worries more than a mother hen. I keep him informed of my whereabouts when I can.”

  She eyed the feminine handwriting. “Are all the letters from your brother?”

  “No.” He placed them to the side as their food arrived. “He was kind enough to forward all of my correspondence.”

  She dipped her bread into the steaming bowl of stew before her. Will had made it clear that he never intended to marry, but it never occurred to her before now that he might have someone special in his life. She took a deep breath. “The writing on that one letter seems decidedly feminine.”

  He looked up from his bowl. “Her name is Helena, and she’s an innkeeper’s widow.”

  The mutton stew went sour in her mouth. “And what is she to you?”

  “She is a woman with whom I had formed an acquaintance of sorts.”

  Her grip tightened on her cup of ale. “What sort of acquaintance?”

  “I suppose exactly the kind you suspect. I won’t lie to you, Elle,” he said in even tones. “Helena and I satisfied certain needs for each other.”

  A wave of disappointment crashed over her. “I see.” She swallowed. “How long has this acquaintance been going on?”

  “About three years.”

  Pain stabbed her heart. The innkeeper’s widow was no passing fancy. “I see.”

  “I thought you were dead.” His clear hazel eyes looked into hers. “Surely you didn’t expect me to remain celibate. You most certainly were not.”

  “It is not the same.” She swallowed against the ache in her throat. “Laurent was my husband.” And she’d had no choice but to marry him.

  His probing gaze was intent on her face. “Did you love your vicomte?”

  She looked away. “Laurent was kind and amusing. He cared for me.”

  They finished their meal without further conversation, the knot in Elle’s stomach tightening as the silence dragged on. He said he never intended to wed. But he’d been with this other woman for years. Surely a deep attachment had formed. “Do you intend to marry her eventually?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “No.” He took a long draw of his ale before rising. “Come. Let us walk.”

  Chapter 15

  The sun had begun to set, casting a golden late-afternoon light over the courtyard as they strolled past the mews and turned to walk along a dirt lane that wound past an open field of wildflowers where the calming scent of lavender poppies filled the air.

  She paused to take in the sight, and to inhale the familiar smells of grass and wildflowers and of the verdant hills that stretched beyond the meadow. “It is so good to finally be home.”

  Will turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. “Helena is a friend who warmed my bed from time to time because you were not there,” he said quietly. “I do not intend to see her again.”

  She felt weak with relief. “It’s wrong, I know, but I hate her because she’s had you to herself for all these years.”

  “It was a matter of mutual convenience, and friendship perhaps, but little more.” He paused, as though struggling to put words to his thoughts. “These past few days in your company have been among the happiest of my life.”

  “Mine as well.”

  “I have always held you in very high esteem, particularly so in these last days we’ve spent together.”

  Warmth stirred in her belly as she remembered the intensity of their lovemaking as they’d sailed for home, the gently rocking boat and Will rising over her, his delicious weight pressing into her.

  He took both of her hands into his. The setting sun illuminated the determined angle of his jaw and golden tones in his soft green eyes. “Once we settle this business of Duret and the letters, I hope you will give me leave to court you properly.”

  She blinked. “But I thought you intended never to marry.”

  “I took that vow when I thought you were forever lost to me because you are the only woman I could ever imagine taking to wife.” A muscle in his cheek worked. “However, you are still the daughter of a marquess and I remain a by-blow—”

  “I don’t care—”

&
nbsp; He held up a staying hand. “Allow me to finish. Although the circumstances of our births have not changed, you are now a woman grown. If you make the choice to become my wife, I would be honored.”

  Joy kindled in her heart, but it was quickly extinguished by a blanket of guilt. “There are things you don’t know about me.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on her knuckles with soft, firm lips. “I know everything I need to know.”

  She forced the painful words out. “I am an unnatural person.”

  He frowned. “How do you mean?”

  She pulled her hand away. “What kind of mother wouldn’t know her child was alive?” She turned away from him. “Susanna is almost six years old, and she’s never known a mother’s love.”

  “You were deceived.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to turn her back to face him. “Surely you don’t blame yourself for that.”

  Her gaze traced the rawboned lines of his beloved face, the high forehead and serious gaze, the not-quite-straight nose. “I fear I lack the maternal instincts that come naturally to other women.”

  Will smiled. “Nonsense. You challenged France’s most ruthless general in order to ensure your daughter’s safety. I would say your maternal instincts are quite well honed.”

  She’d never thought of it quite like that. “Any mother in my place would do the same.”

  “Mine would not.”

  She felt a swelling of indignation in her chest. “She’s a fool, then, and it is her great loss that she doesn’t know what a rare and honorable gentleman her son is.”

  He took her into his arms. “Rare and honorable enough for you to consider my suit?”

  Conflicting emotions twisted her insides. She should tell him about his daughter, but this was not the place to have that kind of conversation. “Once we arrive at Langtry and everything is…apparent…if you still want to take me to wife, that would make me the happiest woman in England.”

  He laughed, a low, rumbling sound of unencumbered delight she had not heard from him since they’d become reacquainted, perhaps not since the summers when he’d visited Langtry so long ago. He closed his strong arms around her and their lips met in a sweet, gentle, excruciatingly intimate kiss. He touched his forehead to hers. “I have something for you.”