His Wicked Secret (The League of Rogues Book 8)

by Lauren Smith

  “Ready?” Avery Russell took her hand, escorting her upstairs. Her heart fluttered and nerves tugged at her belly, making her feel a little ill. Tonight she would meet a man that Avery had said would be joining them on their secret mission to France. For the hundredth time that evening, she had wished Jonathan were here. She trusted Avery, trusted in herself, but there was no escaping the fright that comes with being tested for the first time.

  “I believe I am.” She let him lead her inside. Women eyed her jealously, which was no surprise. She was on the arm of a handsomely dressed redhead who gave his elder brother competition in the arena of good looks.

  The elegant interior of the theater was designed to impress. She had been an infant when the previous theater was destroyed in a fire. The Prince of Wales and other wealthy benefactors had donated funds to have the theater rebuilt, and the result was truly grand. She’d been here before, but she hadn’t seen it through the eyes of a woman preparing for an espionage mission.

  Every detail seemed to stand out to her now. The vestibule she and Avery entered had a staircase ascending between two rows of columns. Between each column hung a Grecian lamp, the light illuminating the crowds that milled about below. Audrey almost tumbled into Avery as men and women moved around them. It was a popular play tonight, and they would likely be seen by many people, which Avery had told her was his intention. When she had asked him to explain why, he’d pursed his lips into a frown and said he would only tell her once they were safely out of the theater.

  As they ascended the stairs, they passed by several pilasters and soon came face-to-face with a statue of Shakespeare. The statue was fully costumed in clothing of his period, and he held a roll of paper in his hand, looking more like a barrister than a poet. Avery escorted her into a lower-tier box; the semicircular recess was filled with paintings from various Shakespeare plays in relief.

  Audrey approached the front of the box, allowing her black shawl to drop around her elbows as she leaned over the edge to study the audience below her. From where she stood, she could admire the fretted gold flowers that ran along each theater box. Chandeliers of cut glass hung above the pillars separating them, painting gold rays over the massive theater.

  “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Avery said as he joined her at the box’s edge.

  “It is. I’ve been here a few times since my debut, yet I never tire of the sight.” The stage spread out before them, deep and wide, allowing actors to move about as well as ample space for elaborate scenery to be wheeled in as backdrops.

  The sounds of the crowds in the back of the theater bounced off the walls, and a citrus fragrance lingered in the air. Young women in the galleries and the pit carried messages between parties and sold oranges. Usually the fruit acted as a treat for theatergoers, but sometimes the food would be tossed at the stage along with sticks and apples if a poor actor was put before them. Audrey never liked to see anyone pelted with oranges, but it did happen.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll watch for our guest.” Avery escorted her to the trio of chairs in the box. She adjusted her skirts and took a seat. Avery disappeared, and Audrey tried to prepare her nerves. She wished she knew anything about the man she was going to meet, but Avery had said very little.

  Be brave. You can do this. Avery wouldn’t have brought you here tonight if he didn’t believe you were ready. And you know how to protect yourself, thanks to Jonathan’s lessons. You aren’t helpless.

  She turned when she heard the door open to their box. Avery returned, followed by a tall, handsome man with dark hair and brown eyes. “Miss Sheridan, allow me to present Mr. Daniel Sheffield.”

  The man bowed over her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

  “A pleasure,” he said. His gaze moved over her with a certain intensity.

  “You as well.” She looked between him and Avery, and both men sat. They waited in silence for the play to start. Once it did, the crowds were adequately distracted for the men to lean in toward her and begin their conversation.

  “Our trip to France will be simple,” Avery whispered. “There’s a group of Englishmen who are planning to meet off the coast of Calais. Alias identities have been prepared, and messages vouching for us have been sent. We will infiltrate the reformists to learn what, if anything, they are plotting. Then, if need be, we move on to Paris and determine if they have any powerful political supporters in French society. That is where you come in, Miss Sheridan.”

  “And what must I do?” Audrey was careful not to look at Avery, and she raised her fan, lightly flicking it over her face to hide her lips in case they were being watched.

  “You will pose as Mr. Sheffield’s bride, under an alias of course. The two of you will act as self-imposed exiled English aristocrats who identify more with France’s ideals than England’s. You need to gain the trust of the French court so they will discuss freely with you any activities that threaten England.”

  Audrey froze, her fan hovering about her face. “His bride?” She wondered what would happen if word of such a thing ever came back to London. Even under an alias, one could still be recognized. What would Jonathan think of her? Still, she supposed the whole object of their mission was not to be recognized. There was a moment of silence in their box, broken only by the obnoxious sound of an actor on stage belting out a bawdy song that made the crowd cheer.

  “You need not be concerned,” Avery replied. “Word of such events is not meant to reach public ears. Your alias will protect your reputation here in England. But you cannot travel alone; that would raise too many questions. A newly married couple will not be at all suspicious.”

  “Fear not, Miss Sheridan. I will maintain the strictest sense of propriety,” Daniel assured her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sheffield,” she whispered, hoping to assure him she was not put off by this new development. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, not only with the mission but the way his dark eyes studied her, as though he was more familiar with her than he should be. But that wasn’t her only concern. “I may be new to the ways of your department, but why are the reformists of any importance to England? It’s France’s problem, not ours, and I can’t imagine it’s out of a sense of charity or good will.”

  The two men exchanged a look, and they even cracked a smile. Whether it was amusement or professional appreciation she had no idea.

  “You’re quite right, Audrey,” said Avery. “But international relations can be a complex matter. For example, we trade heavily with them, and political instability might disrupt that.”

  “Also, there are certain forms of instability that are…contagious,” added Sheffield. “The last thing England wants is a revolution.”

  Audrey nodded her understanding.

  “Very well then,” Avery said. “We leave tomorrow morning. The Lady’s Splendor will set sail at noon. Bring one trunk with any clothes you need and whatever else you require.”

  “The Lady’s Splendor,” she repeated the ship’s name. Part of her couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She was leaving for France on an actual spy mission.

  She stayed for the rest of the play, as did the others, but her mind was miles away. What was Jonathan doing now? Had he cared at all that she’d left the party? Part of her worried that she’d covered her tracks too well. She’d told everyone she was off to help choose a wedding dress for a friend, which was something she certainly would do, but would Jonathan believe it? Or would he be surprised that she’d left after everything that had happened between them? She wished he, not Mr. Sheffield, was the man she would be masquerading with as a married couple. Audrey did not want to think about what would happen if something went wrong on this mission. None of her family or friends would learn what had happened to her until it was too late.

  This is what you wanted, remember? To serve your country. To do something more important than write society columns. To make a difference. To grow up.

  Yet all she could th
ink was that she wanted to be back with Jonathan, back with her family and planning her next Lady Society article. But she was too afraid to give up and walk away now.

  She looked to the stage, at the actors reciting their lines, living different lives twice a day for two or so hours. In a way what she would be doing was no different, only there was no rehearsal, and opening night would have to go off without a hitch. Otherwise the audience would do more to her than throw fruit.

  After the play, Avery escorted her home. She had an upstairs maid assist her in packing a trunk of clothes with instructions to have it taken to the docks at eleven the next morning. They packed a wardrobe fit for a newly married Englishwoman who would be favoring French fashions over those of her own country. It would assist her with any French aristocrats they would run into.

  She settled into her favorite nightgown and wrapped a comfortable dressing gown over herself before she sat in a chair so she could read by the fire. During the house party, she and Jonathan had sat side by side, reading long into the night before finally going to bed. How she missed him already. It felt empty without him beside her, turning the pages of his own book and sliding his fingertips along her arm in sweet little caresses as they sat cuddled in bed.

  She heard some commotion outside the hall and wondered what on earth was the matter.

  “Sir! You must not go in there! She isn’t receiving visitors!” the butler shouted. A second later the door to her bedchamber crashed open.

  The vengeful and beautiful visage of Jonathan stood before her, panting. Two footmen gripped his arms, trying to hold him back. Rather than worry her, it aroused her. He was unstoppable.

  Had there been any doubt in her mind about his feelings, the sight of him here now with footmen dangling off his arms laid them to rest.

  “Send these fools away so that you and I may have a private discussion.”

  “Please, let him go. It’s quite all right,” she told the footmen.

  “Are you sure, miss?” the one hanging off his right arm asked. “He seems a bit put out.”

  She set her book aside and stood up from her chair. “I’m certain. This is a private matter, but I am in no danger.” They released Jonathan, but they both stared hard at him.

  “You say the word, miss, and we’ll toss him out,” the braver of the young men said, though he didn’t seem confident in his ability in carrying out that promise.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” she assured them. After waiting a few seconds for Jonathan to stop seething, the two men finally exited the room.

  Jonathan straightened his coat, which had almost been pulled off during the struggle, and then stomped inside, closing the door behind him. The energy building between them only seemed to intensify now that they were alone. She sat back down in her chair, trying to remain calm and not show him how glad she was he was here.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be helping some young lady shop for a wedding trousseau?” he asked quietly. His green eyes were bright, and his sensuous lips were in a firm line.

  “Don’t be silly. It’s clearly too late for shopping. Shouldn’t you be attending a house party in Kent?” she countered casually and closed the book in her lap and set it aside.

  “My reason for attending seemed to have vanished.” He removed his coat and took a seat close to her, resting his elbows on his knees as he faced her. She was almost giddy about being so close to him again, especially given the way he was looking at her, like he wanted to eat her in the most sinful way possible.

  “Tell me, what are you up to? And don’t spin that story about helping some woman find a trousseau. Lies do not become you.”

  Audrey bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth. He wouldn’t let her go to France. But he was also right. She couldn’t lie to him; it was why she’d written the note and slipped away before he could stop her. If he had seen the truth in her face, he would have found a way to make her stay and forget about her promises to herself to become something more.

  She idly twined her fingers in the fabric of her dressing gown.

  “If I tell you, you will become angry, and I’d rather not endure your outrage at the moment.” She reached for her tea and sipped it while avoiding looking at him directly.

  “The only thing that upsets me is you putting your life in danger.” He said this slowly and deliberately, as though puzzling his way through her deception. “That means you must be up to something risky. Is it that spy nonsense?”

  She smacked her teacup back into its saucer as anger rose up fast and hard inside her. “It isn’t nonsense.”

  “It is.” He stood up abruptly and started to pace in front of her. “It’s dangerous, foolish nonsense.”

  She leapt up in front of him. “Because I’m a woman?”

  “No.” He towered over her, hands on his hips. “Because you haven’t been trained properly. Men like Avery Russell have spent years learning the art of espionage. You haven’t.”

  “I have been trained by Avery Russell. If he thinks I am ready, then who are you to argue?”

  “Because you could get yourself killed!”

  Her eyes burned with tears. She wasn’t ready, was she? In that moment she hated him, hated him for being right and hated him for crushing her dreams. No, worse, crushing her belief in herself.

  “You don’t care about me, so why don’t you let me go off and get killed?” she shouted at him, keeping her tears at bay.

  Jonathan grasped her wrists and gave her a shake. “By God, woman, you drive me bloody mad!” He bent, shoved her over his shoulder, and carried her to the bed. She gasped as she tried to brace herself against his back and wriggle free. It didn’t work. She was dumped back onto her bed. For a second, they stared at each other, both of them panting before he gripped the edges of her dressing gown and wrenched it open, leaving her only in her nightgown. She twisted around as he pulled it off her as she crawled deeper into the center of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, but she knew. Any woman would know. Finally, he was acting the way she wanted, like a man who had to have her.

  “I’m proving that I care. Do you object?” he snapped. His blond hair fell over his eyes as he reached for the buttons on his green silk waistcoat.

  Object? No, she would object if he stopped.

  Rather than answer him with words, she sat up on her knees and gripped his waistcoat at the top where the buttons began, and she jerked, breaking the fabric open and scattering the buttons on the floor.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  He crushed her to his chest, and she freed her hands to fist them in his hair, tugging on the strands as their mouths collided in a mix of anger and passion. Raw, wild need flowed between them. He groaned against her as she raked her nails on the back of his neck and he cupped her body, his large hands clenching her buttocks tight, the whisper of pain and shout of pleasure too exquisite for words.

  Audrey couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t get enough of the taste of his kiss, which made her moan. This was a desperate dance of the flesh that she didn’t ever want to stop. Heat coiled tight in her abdomen as she abandoned herself to the primal surge of desire that took her over.

  Their kiss broke apart as he shrugged out of his waistcoat and tugged his shirt out of his trousers, pulling it off over his head. She touched her lips with the back of her hand, breathing hard enough that she couldn’t hear anything but the roar of her blood in her ears. He faced her bare-chested, and she scooted farther back on the bed. She knew what she wanted. Him. And she knew how to get him. She licked her lips, not caring that the room suddenly seemed too hot. It was only going to get more so.

  “Take what you want, if you can,” she challenged, her body humming with a violent hunger. Only this man could provoke such a primal response from her. She wanted him, and she wanted to rake her nails down his back and bite him like a wildcat.

  He unfastened the placket at the front of his trousers and
jerked her back up on the bed so she was close to him, their faces inch apart. Then he spread her legs and shoved up her nightgown. She gripped his shoulders, her eyes locked on his as he lifted her up. She inhaled sharply at the sudden sensation of him pressing into her core.

  “You are sure?” His voice was hard, guttural.

  “Y-yes.”

  He thrust up inside her, and it felt like she was stabbed clear through with a hot poker. She cried out and tried to relax. The fire inside her soon overtook her, and all she could think about was how good he felt and how much she wanted him inside her. She wanted to claim every inch of him. Her mouth sought his, and his broad shoulders heaved as he continued to hold her up. Her legs curled around his narrow hips, holding him to her.

  That dark, exotic scent that was uniquely his enveloped her. The urgency of his lips left her with little to think about except how good he felt and the hot tightness of being filled completely by him. She’d never felt this close to anyone in her entire life. There was no part of him that ended where she did not begin. Her blood sang in her veins, and her heart surged with a flood of emotions, too many to sort out. He lifted her up, his shaft withdrawing from her, but before she could protest, he pushed back into her.

  Suddenly she was falling, the soft feather mattress catching her as he dropped her on the bed and came down on top of her. He captured her hands, pinning them to the bed on either side of her head, lacing his fingers through hers. Her body trembled with an inner fire as he thrust into her over and over, sometimes hard and fast, sometimes slow and gentle. It was as though he was setting some caged part of her free in a way she didn’t fully understand. They were flesh against flesh, man and woman, sharing in a pleasure that built like a roaring fire. The world spun around her and she cried out, throwing her head back.

  “Audrey.” Jonathan gasped against her lips as he went rigid above her. She opened her eyes as he looked down at her, and she knew she loved him, that she would never love another, come what may. He had awakened more than just her body, but her heart and soul as well. And in that moment she saw the same in his eyes.