From there, she pulled herself up, inch by inch, searching for hand and footholds. The undertaking was far more difficult than she had imagined. She should have realized. She had climbed trees and follies on her father’s estate in her childhood. As an adult, she was an avid sportswoman, proficient at archery, competitive at pall-mall, a strong swimmer. None of that made her necessarily capable of holding up her own weight plus that of her winter clothes as she scaled a wall.
The window that was cracked open was a stroke of luck, and Jane tiptoed her way across the narrow ledge, holding desperately on to the fingerholds in the wall. If anyone saw her, her reputation would be gone completely, but this was not Mayfair, it was a respectable neighborhood populated by merchants and solicitors, and apparently assassins. If his neighbors only knew…
Her arms screaming, she lifted herself up, her stomach tight as she pulled over the windowsill and, as silently as possible, into the dark room.
“Who the hell are you?”
The voice that challenged her was not that of Gerard. The sound of the bed creaking and the scrape of something metallic made her freeze in place. She should hide. What if she had entered the wrong apartment? Wrongly deduced which window would be his based on Bohm’s description? The scent of brimstone filled the air and a candle illuminated the room.
In a long white nightshirt was a boy of maybe fourteen, with light brown hair and dark eyes. The angles of his face bore a striking resemblance to Gerard’s. His son? The thought disturbed her, but surely he would have mentioned such a thing? More likely was that this was a brother, although he had not mentioned one in England. But there was a resemblance to Templeton, as well.
“Who are you?”
“Considering you are the one invading my bedroom, I really think you should answer my question first. You don’t look like a thief or a murderer.”
She laughed. “I am here for Gerard.”
Tension lined his youthful form. “Then you’ve found the right rooms and I think it best we find him. Are you armed?”
“Would a murderer tell you if she was?”
A grudging smile lifted his lips and he inched his way toward the door, never turning his back to her.
“He knows me,” she finally said with some exasperation. The last thing she needed was for this boy to sound an alarm and make this daring excursion into a scandal. “And I’m no danger to him, but I’m not about to give you my name because my reputation is at risk. You are his brother?”
He flung open the door. “Gerard!” he called and Jane winced at the loud sound.
A door opened. Feet stomped down the hall. “Thom—”
Gerard was barefoot and bare-chested and a slow heat gathered within her.
“Jane.”
“Is this your mistress? Why doesn’t she use the front door?”
“She’s not my mistress but that is an excellent question. Jane?”
“I was curious about the ivy. It’s an unusual variety.”
Gerard snorted.
“Thomas, meet Lady Jane Langley, your future sister-in-law. Jane, my rapscallion brother, Thomas.”
Despite the urge to deny Gerard’s claim, Jane held her tongue. Arguing with him on the point of marriage would only confuse the issue and draw out this farcical scene longer.
“So I gathered,” she murmured instead.
“You’re getting married?” The accusatory tone in Thomas’s voice made Jane tense.
“Yes, but you aren’t to say a word of it to anyone.”
“You’re eloping?”
“It’s a…secret engagement,” Jane said helpfully.
“You do realize that’s the first time you’ve said yes.” Gerard’s expression was filled with delight.
“I…”
“Say nothing. Let me enjoy the moment.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“This way,” Gerard said roughly, directing her out of the room. “And where is Bohm? How could he let you do something so stupid? How could you let yourself do something so stupid?”
She laughed as she let him forcibly direct her down a short hall and into another, much smaller, room. “It is rather stupid of me, isn’t it? That’s what love does apparently. Eats away at reason. I never understood Shakespeare before, or Austen even. People were so dramatic and unreasonable, but now I know. And Bohm is waiting for me.”
Gerard shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”
In his absence, she looked around the small room. It was sparse, bare of much but a washbasin, set of drawers and a bed, and Gerard’s familiar valise. His boots, too, were standing in the corner as if they were still molded to the man’s calves. She walked to the window, looked out to the street. This room faced the other way, toward the mews.
She felt Gerard’s presence before she heard him.
“I sent Bohm home. I’ll make certain you return safely.”
She turned to him and nodded in acknowledgment, then gestured to the room. “The servant’s quarters?”
Gerard shook his head with a rueful smile. “Yes, indeed. I’ve been ousted by my brother. But be serious, why are you here?”
She threw herself into his arms, clung to him. “What I said this afternoon still stands, Gerard. I don’t want you to mistake what I said in front of your brother, but I could think of nothing but you all day, because if you are to do this thing, then this may truly be a good-bye. I cannot wait powerlessly for you to call on me again, or to never do so again. I want you, I want to hear your cries of pleasure, feel you deep inside of me. I want to have that moment when we are joined so close we might as well be one being, nothing separating us. I want to commune with you in the most physical and spiritual way possible and I wish it to be every night that we may. This is all we have, is it not?”
The little speech cut through Gerard like a dull knife, nothing clean, nothing easily patched up.
“Jane, my love.” He took her face in his hands, stared into her pleading eyes. “This is only the beginning of us. I am done with this life. There is only this one thing left to do and then no more shadows. No more darkness and servitude.”
Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears and it tore at him.
She raised one hand and laid it over his. “I want to believe you.” She looked as if she wanted to say more but she bit her lower lip, her lashes sweeping down over her eyes. Blocking him out.
He wanted to demand she look at him, that she believe him. But how could he make a promise he couldn’t keep? He ran a thumb over her lips, freeing the lower one from the prison of her teeth. She sighed, and he leaned forward to catch the softness of her mouth beneath his. He teased her lips with his tongue, coaxed them open until she was kissing him back, lifting up to press herself against him. Her hand dropped, and he moved his as well, one tangling in her hair, loosening the pins that kept the mass high on her head. The strands came tumbling down, caressing his skin, releasing the scent of her rose-scented bathwater.
He breathed it in. Breathed her in.
“In the dark of night,” he whispered. “I’ve wondered why I love a woman who so rejects my desire to be with her forever. I’ve wondered if I’m fooling myself, if you are right, after all. Love is not enough. That no matter what I do, no matter which way I turn, we cannot be together. I wonder if I am clinging to what you represent, a life that’s brighter than the one I’ve lived.”
She was utterly still in his arms, her arms and body stiff. “And…at what answer do you arrive?”
“You are here, are you not? Seeking me out? Returning to me again? You say one thing but then you come to me. I think perhaps you know as well as I why I keep going, because we can reason away the love if we wish, and yet it is still there, vibrant and true. We both still want something more, something that we’ve only glimpsed in our few moments together.
“But what I wonder most of all,” he said, “is how you can love me. Yet I don’t doubt in any way that you do.”
“I wonder it, too.”
Jane, ever honest, and yet the words cut deep. She wanted him to reject Anche’s request, presented him with an impossible situation, one in which he could never have her. Trade a life for his title and lose her. Forego the title and never have her. At least titled he could still convince her.
“Tonight,” she said softly, “we are still Jane and Gerard. Gerard and Jane. Simple people. This room could be one that we stayed in on the banks of the Rhine as we fell in love in our own world.”
The memories were bittersweet. He had been full of hope. This night, on the cusp of gaining what she had said she wanted, he felt further than ever from achieving the peace he desired.
“I don’t want to think about it,” she said suddenly, and stepped away from him. She unfastened her dress and he watched her shed the first layer, then the rest. As she began to pull off her chemise, he joined her, pulling his loose shirt over his head, his trousers down. When they were both naked, she went to him, placed her hand on his chest and he stared down into her wide-open eyes.
“This thing between us… You are right. It isn’t reasonable. It isn’t safe. But tonight, I want it and I want you and tonight, I don’t care what tomorrow brings.”
He clung to her words as he clung to her. Again and again, she returned to him. A lifetime could be strung together from such moments. A lifetime.
He laid her down on the narrow bed, covered her body with his. He kissed her face as he parted her thighs, as he joined himself to her, needing that connection above all else. Once there, buried inside her warmth, surrounded by her life, melded together, pulse and flesh, he stayed there until the mere throbbing of their pulse grew into a restless desire. Until their limbs intertwined as they arched and writhed. He savored each gasp and moan that escaped her. Urged her with his body to her pleasure, and when she found it, she brought him with her, his release overtaking him until he lost himself inside her, closed his eyes and slept.
When he woke, it was still dark outside. Beneath him, Jane was asleep. He lifted up on his arms and stared down at her.
Elope with me.
But he didn’t say it. Instead, he slipped from her body and went to the washbasin. Cleaned himself with the cool water, dressed. As he did he felt the weight of her regard. She still lay there on the bed, naked where he had left her, legs parted. He could go back to her, slide again into her warmth, pray for the night to last forever. Except, it was time to take her back before light illuminated their actions. Despite the daring stupidity of scaling this building, Jane would not wish to be ruined publically.
He picked her chemise up from the ground and brought it over to her. She rolled to her side and sat up. Just as silently as she had undressed, he helped her to dress, then he took her home, to her father’s home. The next time he saw her he would claim her as his own.
Or—
He had always thought through every situation, contemplated and planned for every eventuality, but this possibility he no longer wished to imagine. The rear door was not open but locks and closed doors had never been a problem for Gerard. He saw her safely back inside and with a kiss as silent as their voices, slipped away. He returned to his rooms. Changed his clothes, his appearance, went back out into the world.
The last known place that Arnold Vesper had lived was in Cornwall, but that had been years ago when the man’s crimes had been primarily limited to smuggling champagne and other goods. A relatively minor crime considering it had been wartime and a man might have loyalty to his country, but needed to eat above all else.
But then Vesper had been charged with sedition, a pamphlet of drawings that spoke of the King’s madness, the Regent’s gluttony, and other sins with the suggestion that the monarchy should be ended.
Sometimes returning to a mark’s childhood and early days was useful to gain insight into the way the man thought, where he might choose to hide. But though he was not English, Gerard knew enough of small rural towns to understand that any questions a stranger asked would find its way to Vesper.
In London, a palm could be crossed with silver or gold with far better results. There were several dozen Evas here, women and men who gathered and sold information.
As he stepped out of the Billingsley, the sun was breaking through the sky in fiery lines. He walked down the street but knew before he turned the corner that he was being followed. Skillfully followed, but nonetheless, Gerard had rarely not been aware when he was being trailed, and at this hour of the day, when the street was near empty, detection was easier.
He kept going, set his trap. And then pounced—upon Herr Bohm who gasped and held up a hand for Gerard to release him. With a disgusted twist of his arm, Gerard did. Bohm coughed and bent over.
“Why are you following me?”
“I told her it was a matter between lovers, but she insisted. Wanted to make certain you were safe. Promised she’d take two footmen everywhere she goes. And I agreed because I was curious. I thought you were giving up the game.”
“I am, I have, but there is one more detail to attend to. Your job is to protect her.”
Bohm shook his head. “I retired, briefly, from intrigue when I met Julia. Returned after her death. Few women want a man who disappears in the middle of the night, or for days at a time, unable to discuss their work, living a life steeped in lies.”
“Many women marry soldiers who go off to war for years.”
Bohm looked him straight in the eye, his gaze full of admonition. “We are not soldiers. Don’t fool yourself for even an instant.”
Gerard ran his hand through his hair again, a habit he tried to break and managed to avoid when he was at work, but he was tired. Bone-deep tired. “I don’t.”
He could repeat the plan, explain that Jane would have him no other way, and yet she would not have him this way, but that was not a confession he wished to share with Bohm. Despite the older man’s attempt at romantic advice, Gerard did not want it. If he sat down with a drink, he might be able to tell it all to himself in any event.
“Do you intend to continue following me?” he asked in frustration, ready to continue before the sky lightened to daylight. “Will I have to disable you to throw you off?”
“Perhaps you need a second pair of hands for a while,” Bohm said.
“I work alone.”
Bohm laughed. “Not if you marry, my friend. Not for very much longer at all.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jane had only ever called on Lord Landsdowne alone once before. Then, as now, she waited in the large, dimly lit sitting room with its portraits of the Landsdowne family. Men and women who resembled Gerard, but there was not, nor would there ever be, an image of him here or in the portrait gallery on the above floor.
“I often imagined that if I had had a daughter, or a granddaughter even, she would have been like you.”
She had expected to hear the creak of Lord Landsdowne’s Bath chair but instead he appeared nearly silently, his cane held in his hand but unused. With each year that he grew older, he continued to surprise her. The man could be feeble and weak when it served him, but show strength when that was his intent, as it apparently was today. Why? She struggled to work through all the possible iterations. The man was Machiavellian. He did nothing without reason.
“I’m not certain I take that as a compliment, my lord.”
He nodded with the faintest smile, one that reminded her sharply of Gerard. “It is a testament to the respect I have for your intellect. Your father always underestimated you because of your sex.” Her stomach clenched and she was torn between repeating Landsdowne’s compliment in her mind and buckling under the raw hurt at the truth of his words. Her father still did not respect her the way Gerard did, the way Lord Landsdowne did.
The earl moved farther into the room, now using his cane, the polished wood tapping heavily upon the floor with each step. He gestured to a chair and she sat, realizing he could not do so politely until she had. He lowered himself into the wingback chair across from her and contin
ued. “When you came to me six years ago and asked me to ruin a man, I was confirmed in my suspicions.”
She flushed. Although she had shared this story of the music tutor with Gerard, he did not know it was his own grandfather who had aided her. But how could she have told him that then and revealed how much she knew? He would never have let her go for reasons entirely different than love.
“We said we would never speak of that again,” she said quickly.
He waved a hand in the air, dismissing her concern even as he spoke. “My apologies. In any event, now you surprise me.”
Irritation started to build. She stared at him and waited for his reason.
“I did try to push Marcus in your direction. I would have been quite happy to unite the Langley and Landsdowne fortunes.”
“Marcus was never a match for me.” Though she had always known marrying well was important, she refused to put herself into the care of a man she could not admire.
“No, but I hoped you would help mold him. Gerard is no match for you either.”
Even as she realized his warning revealed that Gerard had spoken to his grandfather of Jane, everything in her rejected Landsdowne’s statement. Gerard who had tended to her, made love to her, trusted her, was more a match for Jane than anyone she had ever met. He was a man struggling to master the world around him yet held back by one crucial detail outside his control. As was Jane.
“Only because of his birth.”
“An accident of birth is the phrase, but it changes everything.”
“He is determined to overcome that.” It was odd to be defending Gerard when she herself doubted his actions, believed his quest fruitless.
“It won’t be enough.”
She knew that, too, of course. Just as Marcus’s wife nee mistress, the new Lady Templeton, would not be welcomed everywhere, any title Gerard gained would do him little good in society. There would be whispers. And Jane, in turn, would be their recipient. She had never intended to be the champion of outcasts. Nor did Gerard need her to be his champion. He could find a way to achieve his every goal, except for one.
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