Finally, Lord Bosworth spoke up. “My wife explained how your late husband near doubled his fortune with shipping during the last war, Lady de Rochefort.”
“He did, indeed,” she replied. “It’s a shame we can’t have another one, don’t you think?”
Everyone laughed, as if it were a joke, but there was a clear note of understanding. They recognized that she was making a bold point.
Lord Bosworth narrowed his gaze at Carver, measuring his opinion on the matter. “What say you, Your Grace? Do you agree with your cousin’s theory of war as an engine for profit?”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Carver thought.
“As we all know, there is not much anyone can do about war once it has begun,” he said. “If someone is clever enough to make a profit off such chaos, then more power to him. Continued wealth is essential to the legacies of Britain’s noble families and I daresay to the stability of our nation as a whole.”
“So, you agree with the idea?” Bosworth asked, looking intrigued.
“I would never disagree with adding to the family legacy,” Carver answered. “I can’t imagine any peer of the realm who would.”
Bosworth and his wife shared a look, then turned to their friends, the Earl and Countess of Hargrove, as if seeking permission or approval. Finally, Bosworth leaned forward in his seat and spoke in a hushed voice. “I think we can share some exciting news then, Your Grace. The winds of change are afoot, as well as the winds of war. We have it on good authority that the Emperor may soon leave Saint Helena and make a triumphant return to Europe. He will need help of course, and I believe a plan is underway. If he does, we may all stand to increase our fortunes, substantially. As you said, Your Grace, people of our rank must seize every opportunity to fortify the family legacy. My wife and I, as well as the Hargroves, would be ready to invest in Lady de Rochefort’s shipping scheme. Of course, the return on investment would have to be agreeable to all parties. I assume you will be investing as well?”
Memories of fallen comrades swirled in Carver’s mind and he wanted nothing more than to land a few punches and throttle the man before him, but he had to focus on the task at hand or risk more lives if he and Juliet failed in their current mission.
“Naturally, I plan to invest,” Carver replied, coolly. “Why else do you think my cousin is here in London? We have been discussing several business matters which concern us both.” He looked at Juliet, playing up their roles for the benefit of those watching. “What say you, Cousin? Would you welcome some more investors?”
She smiled. “How could I refuse? I believe, when people like us work together, we can accomplish ever-so-much more. And more is always better than less. Don’t you agree, Duke?”
“I think you know exactly how I feel, Cousin,” he replied.
Lord Bosworth sat up straighter and nodded. “We shall discuss the idea in more depth…draw up contracts, et cetera. However, we should do so post haste, as our information indicates the climate may change quickly. We wouldn’t want to miss a golden opportunity.”
Carver thought back to his time in the war, before the dukedom, when he’d been a commoner. He and countless others who had fought on the front lines would never describe war as a “golden opportunity.” But for far-removed noblemen like the Marquess of Bosworth and the Earl of Hargrove, that was all it ever would be.
“As you say, Bosworth,” Carver replied, “we shall continue our discussions shortly. But now, we must move along and do our duty to greet others here, or risk being accused of snobbery. Good day to you.”
He steered his phaeton back toward the road, but suddenly, a shot rang out from across the park. Splinters of black lacquered wood erupted into the air.
Lady Bosworth and Lady Hargrove both screamed.
“Someone’s shooting at us. Everyone get down!” Carver shouted at the crowd. “Take cover!”
He and Juliet dropped to the floor of the phaeton, ducking low while people screamed and chaos ensued. A crush of vehicles, horses, and those on foot, moved in all directions at once to escape the danger.
Another shot was fired. Carver peered out of the vehicle and saw a flash from an area covered by greenery. He quickly ducked down and reached for the pistol he kept loaded at all times, hidden under the seat. “You stay here,” he said to Juliet.
“No, I’m coming with you. Do you have another pistol?”
“No, and even if I did, you can’t reveal your true identity. You’re a baroness today, not a spy, remember? Stay low.”
Juliet reluctantly agreed and stayed behind while Carver hopped out on the safe side of the phaeton. He sank into his familiar crouch, made famous by the riflemen known as Grasshoppers in the Peninsula, and waited for the shooter to fire again before he ran toward the sniper’s location, taking cover behind a large oak tree along the way.
Another shot was fired and took off a section of bark next to Carver’s head. He immediately peered out and scanned the target area for any movement, but saw none, so he waited.
Either his rifle is jammed or he’s changed position, Carver thought.
He continued to wait, his ears alert for any sound. There was no movement, no more shots fired. By now this section of the park had been completely abandoned with the exception of two other noblemen with pistols who must have been officers in the war. They, too, had taken cover behind trees. It was eerily quiet.
Carer glanced back at the phaeton where Juliet was still hidden on the floor. Then he heard a sound. A rustling in the bushes.
Quickly peering out from behind the tree, he spotted a figure in the woods, running in the other direction. He took aim with his pistol but knew it was pointless. He was an excellent marksman, but only a rifle could hit a moving target at such a distance. There was no chance of catching him the man on foot either, so Carver lowered the pistol to his side and hurried back to the phaeton.
“Are you all right?” he asked when he found Juliet, still crouched low on the floor.
She rose up on her knees. “Yes. Are you?”
“I am, but he got away. Whoever he was, he was good.”
Soon, they were joined by the other two noblemen with pistols. “Your Grace,” one of them said. “My lady, you were not harmed I hope?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Juliet replied.
They discussed the situation and one of the other men volunteered to report the shooting to the Bow Street Runners.
A few minutes later, they encountered Lord and Lady Bosworth on the road outside the park. They were still sitting atop their carriage, as were the Hargroves. All of them looked suitably shocked as Carver and Juliet approached and pulled their vehicle to a halt.
“What happened?” Bosworth said.
“What happened?” Carver asked. “Someone was shooting at us, Bosworth. Or didn’t you notice that particular detail?”
Lord Bosworth looked slightly put out. “Well, of course I realize someone was shooting. But who?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be sitting here before you,” Carver replied. “I’d have the man by the scruff of the throat.”
Lord Bosworth’s eyes widened with awe. “Right then. After all this excitement, we should take the ladies home for a much-needed rest and restorative. Your Grace, we shall set up a meeting regarding the business matters of which we previously spoke. Lady de Rochefort, a pleasure, as always.”
The two couples took their leave and drove off.
A short while later, Carver and Juliet entered his house where they were greeted by the butler. After the usual niceties, he turned to Juliet. “Madam, a letter came for you while you were out. Shall I have it sent up to your room?”
Juliet glanced at Carver with some unease. “No, I’ll take it immediately in the library, if you please.”
“Very good, madam.”
She and Carver went to pour themselves a drink while they waited for the butler to return. Juliet had just taken a generous sip of her brandy when he walked in carrying a letter upon a si
lver salver.
“Thank you,” she said as she took it from him and settled herself on the sofa.
Carver dismissed the butler and sat down beside her.
She broke the seal and recognized the penmanship immediately. Her eyes lifted to meet Carver’s. “It’s him,” she said with absolute certainty. “It’s from Etienne. He’s here…”
Chapter 26
Juliet read aloud the message concealed in the old secret code:
Lady Blade,
You cannot stop what is coming
The wheels are in set motion
Patriots will be rewarded and traitors punished
Both for old sins and new
Did you think you could escape your past?
Even your duke can’t save you from your fate.
Nor save himself from his….
She folded the note and glanced at Carver.
“You’re sure it’s from your old partner?” he asked as she handed it to him to inspect for himself.
“It has to be,” Juliet replied. “That’s the code Etienne and I used during the war. Colonel Arnaud, the master spy who recruited us, developed it.”
“You’ll have to teach me how it works.” Carver said, perusing the message.
“I will,” Juliet said. “It’s a numeric code based on a thousand-number system with other meaningless figures attached to every second word, just to confuse things.”
“Sounds hard to break,” he said.
“It was,” Juliet replied, as memories of the war swirled in her mind.
Etienne… Colonel Arnaud…
They had once been two of the only people she trusted. Looking back, she saw how blind she had been to their manipulation. They had exploited a young girl’s grief over her mother’s death and turned Juliet into a deadly weapon for their own use.
Theirs, and ultimately Napoleon’s.
But now, Lady Blade had come full circle. It was her destiny, not only to finally conquer her past, but to fight for the future. And that’s exactly what she would do. If her instinct was correct, she might be carrying Carver’s baby. For the sake of her unborn child, and for children everywhere, she had to see this through to the end.
“Though we both know it’s best not to assume anything,” Carver began, “the message suggests that Etienne may have been the one shooting at us today. If so, he could have easily hit you or me. For some reason, the shooter wanted to send a clear message, along with this coded one. Tell me, was Etienne always given to the dramatic?”
Juliet nodded. “Etienne could be very pig-headed. He was from a noble family and was used to getting his own way.”
“Were you ever romantically involved with him?” Carver asked pointedly.
“No,” Juliet replied. “Though he used to say he was going to marry me after the war.”
“Really? I thought I noticed a jealous tone in his threatening note.”
“He said I would make a good wife for him because I was fierce and would give him strong sons,” she continued. “He also said I would never get a better offer, for most men wouldn’t put up with an independent woman such as me.”
“Did he, now?” Carver replied. “He was wrong on all counts. However, I believe that today’s events are actually a good development for our investigation.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Juliet agreed. “At the very least, the fact that someone was shooting at us indicates that we are getting uncomfortably close to the truth. And the note, while threatening, tells us that Etienne may be involved. If we use this to our advantage, we can flush him out, and with him, the others behind the plot to liberate Napoleon. Then maybe we can put all this behind us and go on with our lives.”
While Carver rose from the sofa to pour himself another brandy, Juliet’s thoughts returned to that night in Villarosa, when Etienne had come to rescue her from the English. Only she hadn’t wanted to be rescued. She had wanted to go with Captain Adams and stay with him for the rest of her life.
Was that why Etienne had fired shots at them in the park today? Was it personal? That could very well be the case because something had snapped in Etienne that night in Villarosa. She remembered the unnatural sheen in his eyes as he cursed her and called her a traitor. Even then, she’d known there was something else behind his explosive accusations. It wasn’t simply that she wanted to leave the French army, it was that she wanted to leave him.
Now it seemed that Etienne had resurfaced in London and was part of the plot to restore Napoleon to power. If he was able to exact revenge upon Juliet and Carver, even better, unless all three goals were equal in Etienne’s grand plan.
Anger flooded Juliet’s senses. It was a mother’s anger—a mother who would fight to the death for her child and that child’s right to a happy and protected life.
Juliet regarded Carver as he returned to sit down beside her. He had once been her captor, then her lover. Now he was her partner in this important mission. He might also be the father of her child. Juliet wished she could share that possibility with him, but it was too early for that. She had no proof, only a woman’s intuition that his seed was growing inside her. She would have to keep her suspicions to herself for now.
One thing was certain, if Etienne thought he could play games and threaten Juliet and her family, he had miscalculated. For Lady Blade was alive and well, and she was ready for a fight.
* * *
The man known as Le Taureau sat beside the crackling fireplace and swirled brandy in an exquisite crystal goblet. He sipped from the glass but it did nothing to improve his dark mood. He was angry with himself.
Today, he had allowed emotion to get the better of him. He had shot at Juliet and her new spying partner, the Duke of Hawksmoor, as they sat atop a phaeton at Hyde Park.
During the war, he wouldn’t have missed, but he had suffered an injury to his left eye during the explosions at Villarosa. His face, which had once been considered quite handsome, was now scarred.
Though he was still unmarried, as the wealthy Comte de Ganot, he could have his pick of noble French brides, but there was only one woman he wanted. The only one he’d ever wanted.
Juliet Reed. Lady Blade. The beautiful, passionate spy who had once been his partner in the war against Wellington.
He chuckled to himself as he took another sip of the brandy, for he’d once thought he could tame her. He thought he could claim her for his own, for he was Etienne Ganot, heir to his father’s vast and prosperous estates. What woman wouldn’t welcome a proposal from a man like him? And she had been a bloody nobody—a half-French, half-English orphan, brought into the fold of spies by Colonel Arnaud.
Back then, Juliet hadn’t even been aware of her own incredible feminine power, though everyone else recognized it. The irony was that Juliet looked down her nose at most men, which only made her more intriguing. Unlike his whiny, spoiled sisters growing up on his father’s estate, Juliet was self-reliant and un-sentimental. She was beautiful, physically strong, and had the tight, lean body to prove it. She was smart—smarter than most of the men in the ranks, and the officers, too.
In Juliet, Colonel Arnaud had discovered a valuable opportunity for the French forces. It was he who had created the persona of Lady Blade, and he who had molded Juliet to match his vision of a skilled female spy. The grieving, passionate young woman had channeled her raw emotions and used them to fuel her newfound calling. She would seek revenge upon the English in retribution for her mother’s loss, and in doing so, would become a deadly weapon for Napoleon Bonaparte’s army.
But to Etienne, she was so much more than that. Amidst the ghastly battles, the endless fields littered with wounded and dying men, there was Juliet. Her beauty shone like a beacon for Etienne and so many others. On more than one occasion, her indomitable strength had inspired him to keep going when he was close to giving up.
Though a skilled fighter in her own right, Juliet had never known how hard Etienne had worked to keep her safe. He’d killed many times for her
, too many to count. The blood had stained not only his hands, but his soul as well.
Even while wounded, Etienne had escaped the English camp and pursued the soldiers who were transporting Juliet to Villarosa. He’d pushed himself each day and night, refusing to give up, because he believed she needed him.
He had never been more wrong.
Etienne thought back to those terrible days, when he had forced himself to focus on his mission and press on to the town of Villarosa. He had important information to deliver to his French contacts there—information regarding the planned attack. He had decided he would deal with Juliet’s betrayal when she arrived.
After Etienne’s rendezvous with others in Villarosa’s spy network, everything was in place for the coming battle. He’d received word that Lady Blade was now inside the city walls, held at the English Colonel’s residence until she could be traded back to the French.
However, given what he’d seen of Juliet’s new affection for the English captain, he had known her secrets were no longer safe. If she decided to turn traitor and share all that she knew with Wellington, the Emperor’s plans in the Peninsula could be severely compromised. The French Colonel Dupont had agreed with him.
Etienne would have to go and collect his duplicitous partner and bring her back to her senses before she could do more damage to the French cause.
But Juliet had refused to go with him. She wanted to put her life as a French spy behind her and live with Captain Adams as his wife.
Anger had burned in Etienne’s chest as he tried to convince Juliet what a fool she was. The Englishman would tire of her, he said. She was a French spy. She would never be accepted into the English ranks, let alone English society.
Juliet would hear none of it. She had made up her mind.
“Stand aside and let me go,” she said.
“You little fool. You would throw everything away for a common English soldier?”
“Throw what away? The killing? The endless battles? I’m tired, Etienne—tired of being just another soldier who is used by the Emperor for his own gain. I want a normal life. Is that so much to ask?”
The Duke's Defiant Bride (Brides of Mayfair Book 4) Page 18