They could hear General Edgerton calling out for Miss Reed, then somewhat of a commotion. Carver and Hackett exchanged a glance.
The general reappeared at the top of the stairs. “She’s gone!”
Then, like something out of a nightmare, all hell broke loose.
A huge explosion, as deafening as cannon, sent the outer wall of the general’s residence caving in. The wooden stairs splintered as they came crashing down, General Edgerton falling with it.
Carver moved to help his commanding officer, but he and Hackett were sent flying by another explosion. Carver landed hard against the far wall and fell to the floor. Hackett landed nearby. As Carver fought to get his bearings, he struggled against the dizzying effects of being thrown.
More thunderous explosions could be heard outside, as well as musket fire, men yelling orders, and townsfolk screaming in terror. An eerie orange glow lit the night sky through the windows.
The town of Villarosa was under fire and it looked to Carver like a sneak attack from within the village walls.
“Captain Adams?” Hackett croaked as he got to his feet. “Are ye alright, sir?”
“For now,” Carver said. “General Edgerton… He fell when the stairs gave way. His wife might be trapped upstairs. We must get them out.” He moved to the pile of rubble where the stairs had collapsed and frantically began to move away the debris, Hackett alongside him.
From above their heads, a woman called out, “Augustus!”
Lady Edgerton stood in what remained of the second storey hall, gaping down at the destruction in horror.
“The general’s been hurt,” Carver called up to her. “But we’ll get you out, my lady. Hackett, figure out a way to help her down. I’ll get the general free.”
Hackett searched for something to stand on, but quickly gave up. He stood below Lady Edgerton and held out his big, beefy arms. “There’s nothing for it. You’ll have to jump, my lady. Come on. Quickly now!”
She gazed about fearfully, then followed Hackett’s orders, coming down in a frothy jumble of lawn and lace. Once on her feet, the formidable woman hurried to Carver’s side to help pull away the debris as best she could.
“Augustus!” she called as her injured husband was uncovered.
Carver grunted and pulled on a heavy beam, freeing it and casting it aside. Beneath, General Edgerton appeared to be unconscious.
As Hackett and Carver rescued the general from the rubble, he moaned and began to move his bloodied head.
“We must get them to safety,” Carver said, knowing that General Edgerton’s residence was most likely a prime target in this attack. Another explosion rocked the house. There was no time to waste.
The young ensign who acted as guard was just now rousing himself from where he’d landed during one of the explosions.
“Here lad, help me with the general!” Hackett barked as they headed for what had previously been the front door. Now, it was a just gaping hole.
Outside in the streets, soldiers fired their muskets, smoke filled the air, fires raged, and families ran for their lives.
Finding a safe place to shelter the injured general and his wife would be a challenge as the town was now engulfed in chaos. More explosions echoed from other locations in the town, and more screams cut through the night.
As Carver tried to find a safe place for the Edgertons, his thoughts turned to Juliet. Where in God’s name was she?
It seemed that she had escaped before the explosions began.
A sinking feeling came over him.
The French had planned a sneak attack, and now Juliet was conveniently missing.
Did she have something to do with this? Had it been her plan all along?
They rounded a corner and another explosion destroyed half of a building directly in front of them. Dust and debris rained down around them as Carver and Hackett shielded the Edgertons in a shallow alcove.
Carver was doing his best to get the general and his wife to safety, but nowhere was safe now. Buildings were collapsing or engulfed in flames. Soldiers were running in different directions, searching for their senior officers, many of whom were buried under rubble. It was utter chaos, in every direction.
He hoped Wellington was safe in all this. If not, they were all doomed, for General Wellington was supposed to meet with Juliet tomorrow morning before she was traded back to the French. He would never learn her secrets now.
As he and Hackett made their way toward Wellington’s headquarters, Carver knew this battle had only just begun. Many men would die, tonight. He might be one of them.
Juliet, if she was still within the city walls, might die, too.
But before that, Carver would fight. He would fight for his life and the lives of his comrades.
He would survive. It was all he was capable of doing now.
PART TWO
LONDON
Chapter 17
Bellamy House
1816
Carver stared at the beautiful face that had haunted him for the past two-and-a half years and fought to control the warring emotions that coursed through his veins.
This woman had tricked him. She had betrayed the people of Villarosa and used him as a pawn in a deadly game. Now she stood only a few feet away.
So, she had survived the war…
He had to admit, that wasn’t exactly a surprise. Along with being known for her great beauty, Lady Blade was a cunning and resourceful spy.
“Excuse me,” Carver said to his friends, making a curt bow. He crossed the distance of the ballroom toward his former adversary and lover, slowing his step as he came near.
Was she aware of his presence here? Or was this pure coincidence?
He was about to find out.
She turned her head and looked at him, full on.
It was like a punch in the gut for Carver, for she was even more beautiful than he remembered. The dusty old cavalry uniform she’d worn during the war had accentuated the curves of her figure, but now, in a finely made ball gown and priceless jewels, she was as regal as a queen.
“Hello, Your Grace,” she said, at last.
So, she knew of his title. He wondered what else she knew, and why she knew it.
“Miss Reed,” Carver replied, curtly. “Is it still Miss?”
“I have gone by many names in my lifetime,” she said. “At the moment, I am Baroness de Rochefort.”
Carver stared at her, inwardly seething. By all accounts, she looked every bit a baroness. The majority of the guests here tonight would believe her to be so, but only two more knew otherwise—Beckett and Alfred. They had met her briefly when they arrived at Villarosa, although they may not recognize her this evening.
“Baroness de Rochefort?” Carver said. “You’ve moved up in the world, if that is truly your title.”
She shrugged, noncommittally. “You know I’ve never had much use for traditional roles or society’s ranks.”
“No,” he said, “you preferred the ranks of the French army.”
She gave him a warning look with those steely blue eyes he remembered so well. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace.”
“It’s going to be like that, is it? You know that I could have you arrested.”
“For what?” she asked. “Baroness de Rochefort has committed no crime that I am aware of. Besides, I believe, as the night goes on, you may change your mind about that little threat.”
Carver’s gaze narrowed. “Why? You betrayed me and my men at Villarosa. We lost many good soldiers that night. MacAuly, Wilkins, and Lieutenant Pitt, to name a few. Those men befriended you. They shared their meagre rations with you on the journey to Villarosa. And all the while, you were leading them, and me, into a deadly trap.”
“Believe what you will,” she replied in a sharp, cool tone. “But I did not do the things you accuse me of. In time, you may come to see that.”
“The only thing I see, Lady de Rochefort,” he said, “is a woman who is exceedingly ski
lled at deception. Nothing more.”
“Ah, Your Grace,” a gentleman said, approaching Carver and Juliet. “I see you have met the baroness.”
Carver turned to regard his old spymaster, Major Nye, as he came to stand beside them.
Though Carver was now a duke, he had chosen to continue doing important work for the British government. His lofty title was, in actuality, a useful smokescreen, as no one would suspect the Duke of Hawksmoor to be one of England’s most dangerous spies.
Carver was set to meet Major Nye at tonight’s ball to discuss his upcoming mission. And since Nye was well acquainted with Lady Blade, Carver took that to mean he was aware of Baroness de Rochefort’s true identity as a famous French spy.
Carver turned to him. “Yes, the baroness and I are previously acquainted.”
“How fortuitous that you meet once again,” Major Nye remarked.
Carver wanted to say that it remained to be seen, but instead, he played along. “Very fortuitous, indeed. I must confess, I am curious as to what brings the baroness to London, as well as what she has been up to since I saw her last. It is a story I should like to hear.”
“That sounds like a fascinating tale,” Major Nye remarked. “Perhaps, Baroness, you would accompany the duke and me to Lord Ravenwood’s private library. The earl has made it available to me this evening. You could tell us of your adventures.”
“That would be most agreeable, Mr. Nye,” Juliet replied. “As you know, I am in London to review my financial holdings here. I would appreciate your advice in that regard and I would greatly enjoy conversing with the duke again.”
Carver fought to keep his anger in check. She was good, that was certain. Whether she was playing the role of Juliet Reed or Lady Blade or Baroness de Rochefort, the woman effortlessly embodied different characters like a chameleon.
But who was the real woman beneath the beautiful exterior?
There was a time Carver believed he knew the answer to that question, but he’d been tricked by her allure and her razor-sharp mind.
He would not be so easily manipulated again.
Yet, part of him wanted to get to the bottom of this. He wanted to solve the mystery that was Lady Blade, once and for all.
Carver followed Major Nye and Juliet out of the ballroom and down a wide corridor, where Nye led them into Beckett’s private library. The wall sconces were lit. Clearly, the group had been expected.
As soon as the door was closed, Major Nye immediately crossed the room and swished the curtains aside, checking behind each one. Then he closed the long brocade drapes and turned to address his associates.
“We can speak freely here.”
“Good,” said Carver, crossly. “Then you can tell me what the devil is going on.”
“That, Your Grace,” Major Nye replied, “may be exactly what is going on, for the devil himself is back to his old tricks. The Monster may yet free himself from Hell.”
Carver frowned as his blood ran cold. “Napoleon? But he is under guard at Longwood House on Saint Helena. Isn’t he?”
“For now,” the major answered. “But our latest intelligence indicates yet another escape attempt for the deposed emperor. As we all know, after Napoleon escaped from Elba, he was given a hero’s welcome in France. Though we sent him packing at Waterloo, many in Whitehall feared it would not be the last we saw of the Little Tyrant. There is talk of an uprising, and a plan to smuggle Bonaparte away from Saint Helena and back into Europe. He still has many supporters in France, and though they try to remain hidden, there is a growing faction here in England as well.”
“I am aware.” Carver shot an accusing look at Juliet. “I am standing two feet away from one of his supporters right now.”
Juliet’s gaze hardened. “Do not presume to judge me, Your Grace, for you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Thank you, Lady de Rochefort, or whatever your name is,” Carver replied, “for stating what is painfully obvious. I did think I knew you, once. But I was dead wrong.”
“Carver—I mean, Your Grace,” Nye interjected.
“You know I loathe formalities,” he said. “Call me what you always did and let us get to the point.”
The major cleared his throat. “We’ve had reports that this faction—which is dedicated to restoring Napoleon back to power—has penetrated the highest echelons of London society. Though it flies in the face of all that is decent, there are many who have made fortunes off the war, in both England and France. In their eyes, a return to conflict is a return to prosperity for the upper classes, and a good use of the lower ones.”
“Are you saying that the people who want to help Napoleon escape from Saint Helena are English?” Carver asked.
“Yes, that is what we’re hearing,” Nye answered, grimly. “And we have identified a man we believe is behind it all. No one has seen him, but he goes by the name of Le Taureau.”
For all his experience in the war, Carver was momentarily stunned. He’d watched so many of his comrades die—and for what? So that some of the very countrymen they were fighting for would attempt to orchestrate another hellish war—for profit?
Carver narrowed his gaze at the beautiful French spy who stood near the window watching the exchange. “Where does she come into it?”
“As you know, Lady Blade is half French and half English,” Major Nye began. “Though she fought for the French for many years, after Villarosa, she came over to our side.” The major leaned close and spoke softly. “Witnessing the horrors of that battle—many inflicted upon the villagers by the French—changed something in her, I believe.”
“Really?” Carver asked, curtly. “Perhaps it was crippling guilt because she was involved in executing the attack.”
Juliet gave him a terse look.
“We have no proof of that,” Nye pointed out.
“You have no proof yet,” Carver said. “Give me some time. I may be able to get the truth out of her, one way or another.”
“Lady Blade has become a valuable source of information for the British government,” the major insisted. “In fact, she’s been instrumental in several successful missions.”
“Congratulations,” Carver said, sarcastically.
Major Nye ignored Carver and continued, “That is why you will be working with her on this next mission—to seek out Napoleon’s sympathizers and stop them before they can put their plan in motion.”
Carver froze. He wanted to laugh, but there was no humor to be found. This was just like his mission to escort Lady Blade to Villarosa in the first place.
“Miss Reed has had access to major players in French intelligence,” Nye explained. “She may recognize shadowy figures with whom you are unfamiliar. And of course, she speaks French. You aren’t fluent in that language, are you, Carver?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Juliet swung around to face him. “Maybe after this mission, you will be. I would be willing to tutor the duke if you desire, Major. Clearly, he needs to learn a few things.”
“As if you could teach me anything,” Carver shot back.
“You may be surprised,” she replied. “You taught me something about myself once, something I was reluctant to learn. It’s something I’ve never forgotten.”
Suddenly and grudgingly, Carver felt drawn to her. It was obvious that the years of hurt and betrayal had done little to diminish her seductive power. Part of him wanted to believe her, yet he would never forgive himself if he fell into her enticing trap all over again.
“You taught me something back then as well, Juliet,” he replied. “And it’s something I’m not likely to forget, or forgive. But enough of our past reminisces. I should like to hear what Major Nye has in mind for this sensitive mission.”
As Major Nye explained his plan, Carver’s gaze rested on the woman who had left a scar upon his soul from their passionate wartime affair. Now here she was, standing before him in the flesh, looking more beautiful than ever.
The awful trut
h was that he wanted to pull her close, and his mouth ached to claim hers in a wicked, punishing kiss. His body fairly twitched with sexual arousal for her, while his heart yearned to believe that what they’d had together was real.
Forcing his attention back to Major Nye, who was describing the details of the mission, Carver was nevertheless distracted.
God, how he wanted her. Their time apart had not changed that, nor had her duplicitous actions.
Suddenly, a plan began to form in Carver’s mind, and it had nothing to do with preventing Napoleon from world domination.
Perhaps the reappearance of Lady Blade in his life was an unexpected gift from above. If they were forced to work closely together day after day, Carver might be able to determine whether or not she was to be trusted. This time, he would not be so foolish. He would not let down his guard. And he would be the one to teach her something about honor where the heart is concerned.
“Miss Reed will be posing as the recently widowed Baroness de Rochefort,” Major Nye explained, “a distant cousin of yours. Though there is no such person in your family, I am sure you can fudge the answers to any questions that might arise. As part of her faux identity, she will stay with you while she is in London. The baroness is a wealthy woman, but she will need you, her closest male relation, to escort her about town. With your title as Duke of Hawksmoor, you have access to the highest ranks in English society, and that is there you will begin looking for Napoleon’s sympathizers. Our intelligence tells us the group is very well-connected and has access to a vast amount of funds. We must root out the instigators behind this plan and stop them, or we may all face another war with greed at the center of it. I have explained the initial details to you this evening, and I am pleased you are with us, Carver. I can bring Miss Reed around to your residence in Hanover Square tomorrow morning.”
“Why wait until then? Carver asked, his mouth curving into the most wicked of grins. “She can come home with me tonight. I assume Miss Reed forgot to mention something to you, Major. Though it was a well-kept secret during the war, Juliet and I became engaged in a hand-fast wedding. So, in some respects, we are as good as man and wife.”
The Duke's Defiant Bride (Brides of Mayfair Book 4) Page 12