“Bloody hell.”
“Exactly. Keep an eye on this one. Do not let her convince you to let her go.”
“Her?”
“Yes, it’s a woman, but don’t be fooled. It seems the comelier they are the less trustworthy they are.”
“You’re such a cynic. Anything else?”
“I’ll be over in the next day or two for a full report. McKenzie will be chomping at the bit to find out about this one. You will need to begin questioning her as soon as possible.”
He nodded his understanding. “Why aren’t you taking care of this one?”
“I’m meeting with the prime minister in less than an hour.”
“Enough said. I had better gather up Mikala.”
“Indeed. By the way, see if the prisoner knows what the packet contained. It is being decoded as we speak, but if we can get her to break ranks, it will be a tremendous help,” the Duke finished his last bit of instructions as Mikala Simmons walked up. “Miss Simmons,” Gabe said as he bowed over her outstretched hand, dropping a kiss on her fingers.
“Your Grace,” she responded impishly and a bit breathlessly as she lowered herself into a deep curtsy.
“Kala, we must leave, something urgent has come up.”
“Doesn’t it always?” she replied. “I suppose neither of you are going to let me in on the secret? No, of course not,” she answered when she saw their stony faces. “I will wait for you in the entry hall and say goodnight to our host and hostess. Please excuse me Derek, Your Grace.” With a wistful sigh and a glance at Gabe she walked off.
“You know. . .” Derek hedged.
“No,” the Duke of Hawkescliffe bit out before slipping out the garden doors into the cool evening air. Derek made his way to his sister, leaning heavily on his cane, and escorted her outside to their awaiting carriage. The footman had the door open and the stairs pulled out. Derek helped his sister in then grabbed the doorframe and hauled himself inside wincing slightly.
“Hurting?” Kala inquired as the footman shut the door and climbed onto the carriage.
“The weather.” In response a gust of wind made the carriage sway.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget about your leg.”
“I wish I could. Did you have fun?”
“I suppose.”
“What’s wrong?” Derek queried concerned by the tone of her voice.
“I miss our old life I guess. It seemed so much simpler and friends were truly friends. Even Gabe used to be different,” she sighed petulantly.
Derek grinned and shook his head. Sometimes Kala reminded him of the little ragamuffin that trailed after him and Gabe on their many countryside jaunts during the holidays. “Pest, we all must grow up at some point. I’m just glad to know you are not as trusting of the ton as I believed you to be.”
“Give me a little credit. I am just jealous of you and Gabe. You both left and lived an adventure, but I never went anywhere,” Kala stated abruptly. Derek opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off, “And don’t you dare say life is an adventure. I am sick to death of the adventure of ballrooms, soirees, and musicales. The girls wait until your back is turned to find a juicy tidbit to share with others hoping to ruin your reputation and the mothers are worse. The fathers only care about heirs, money, and ridding themselves of their troublesome daughters.”
“Kala, I would rather you face these adventures than those that Gabe and I faced.” She gave him a mulish look. “And you are just now being introduced to everyone. Once they get to know you it will be better. Besides, the men are attentive,” he continued.
“Of course they are. They just want to get you to the marriage bed without the benefit of marriage,” she huffed.
“Who?”
“No one I can’t handle,” she waved him off.
“I’m sorry you are not having a good time. I truly thought you were.”
“It isn’t your fault. I did have fun in the beginning, but I find there are few people in society that I would trust enough to consider a friend. I miss my friends and I miss home.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “perhaps when it comes time for Elizabeth’s confinement.”
“Think on it. We’re home. I’m just dropping you off.”
“Of course you are. Have fun fighting crime.”
“Kala,” he warned.
“Derek, I’m not stupid. I know that you and Gabe are doing something dangerous, but that’s all right. I will amuse myself with embroidery and painting like all young ladies of the ton should,” she replied as the footman helped her out of the carriage and onto the cobblestones in front of the house in St. James Square. Kala flashed a brilliant smile at the footman as she passed him and then swept into the house. Ramsey, Percival’s old butler, shut and locked the door behind her.
“Take me around to the mews. I will be taking Goliath this evening instead of the carriage.”
“Very well, my lord.” The carriage door shut and the conveyance swayed as the footman once more took his place. As the vehicle lumbered into the mews, Derek heard the shout to ready the lord’s horse. Shortly, a footman brought out a buckskin gelding, saddled and ready.
“Your pistols are in the bags.”
“Well done Riggs.” Derek moved over to Goliath and the mounting block. Once mounted, Derek held out his hand for his cane. “I will be late returning.”
“Someone will be waiting, my lord.” Derek nodded his acceptance of this courtesy and turned Goliath toward Cheapside.
Chapter 2
“Good evening, my lord,” Lieutenant Harding greeted Derek as he arrived at the safe house well past midnight.
“Lieutenant,” Derek nodded curtly. Harding held Goliath while Derek lowered himself to the ground. Derek untied the cane and removed the two pistols. “The prisoner?”
“Upstairs, my lord. She’s a right fetchin’ lass.” Derek nodded, but paused giving Harding a look that had the man looking sheepish. “Pardon me, my lord.” Derek prominently limped as he moved toward the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane. His leg began to throb uncomfortably. He silently reprimanded himself for not taking a carriage.
“Has the physician arrived yet?”
“No, my lord.”
“Show him up as soon as he arrives.”
“Yes, my lord.” Derek climbed the short entrance stairs and saw the guards standing at the far end of the hall. He gave a short nod before entering the chamber where they held the prisoner. The guard opened the door for him and closed it firmly after he entered. A slight figure lay on the bed in the shadows. The fire burned cheerfully in the grate belying the seriousness of the situation. Derek stopped in front of the fire and removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. He knew from experience it would be a long evening and decided to get as comfortable as possible. He wished for a draught for his leg, but needed all his wits for questioning the prisoner.
Derek lit a candle from the fire. The glow showed the cracks in the ceiling and the stained walls. If this were not more of a prison, it would be a slum. He moved towards the bed and noticed the prisoner dressed as if she resided here, her clothes little more than rags. She looked more like a street urchin than a woman with traitor’s secrets.
Her feet and good arm were manacled to the thick bedposts by long chains. Her other arm lay at a slightly odd angle from the shoulder, and her skin looked pasty and covered with perspiration. Her auburn curls caressed her sunken cheeks. She looked to be in desperate need of food. A light blanket covered her, but her teeth still clicked together as if she were freezing. He attributed the action to shock.
Derek lowered the candle to get a better look at the woman’s face. Something familiar tugged at him. He studied her more intently, trying to see past the grime that covered her. His heart picked up an unsteady rhythm. His hands shook and he tried to calm himself, placing the candle on the side table with a thud before he dropped it and caught the whole bloody house on fire.
She turned her eyes away from the candlelight, and a moan escaped her lips. Her hair lay matted at the base of her skull. He lightly touched the area and discovered a huge lump. Upon withdrawing his fingers he found them coated in her blood.
He took out his handkerchief and wiped at the red staining his hand, unable to remove it completely. He lectured himself about look-a-likes and imposters. She could not have survived. No one had. He had been assured over and over. Derek grasped her pointed little chin in his hand and turned her face towards him once more. She cried out at the movement. He focused on the freckles scattered across her upturned nose and the lush bow shape of her lips. Her brow furrowed in pain, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
He noticed a glint of gold on her left ring finger and immediately recognized the signet ring. Auburn hair, the ring, and that familiar spattering of freckles – it could not be, yet the evidence said otherwise. He fell heavily onto the ladder-back chair that sat next to the bed. His heart thundered until he thought it would leave the confines of his chest at any moment. He grasped the hand of her uninjured right arm, not noticing the blood that covered it. He chaffed it gently between his own.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
* * *
She heard the commanding voice and moaned as the pain filtered into her unconsciousness. She heard the command again. I’m trying, she thought. She fought her way out of the darkness to hear the voice she thought lost to her forever. The pounding in her head intensified so much it almost caused her to give up and retreat back into the darkness. She tried to move her hands to her head, hoping to ease the pain only to find one immobile and the other produced such pain when moved, that she cried out. Oh please, just let me die, she thought as the throbbing intensified. No, she would not give in to death, not when so many others had been taken from her.
The voice called to her again. Perhaps God had sent him to take her to Heaven. She had always thought it would be her mum to do that, but as long as she had him again, she did not care. Her eyes fluttered open, but the light from the fire and small candle on the bedside table were too much for her to bear. She quickly closed them again, certain she would be sick at any moment.
“No, open your eyes now,” the voice demanded again. Sometimes he could be so intolerably high-handed, she thought. Nevertheless, she obeyed this one final time and opened her eyes. She knew either he would not truly be there or she had expired and entered the afterlife. She had dreamed of him so many times and woken up certain he would be with her, but there had been no one. Therefore, she decided, I must be dead, only I hurt too badly.
Derek watched intently as her emerald eyes shown brightly from behind fluttering lids. They looked feverish, set in a very familiar and dear face. He brought her manacled hand up to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles covered in dry blood.
“Contessa,” he whispered softly.
“I must be in Heaven,” she said hoarsely, “but it feels like Hell.” After uttering those words, the ragamuffin prisoner smiled at her jailer and then let the darkness carry her away once more to blessed oblivion.
Derek stared dumbfounded at the limp hand that he held in his. He reached across her and gently caressed the signet ring gracing her delicate finger. She looked malnourished. What had happened to her in these last ten months? How could Gabe believe her a traitor? What possible causes did he have to even consider it?
He stood painfully and leaned over her letting his lips lightly caress hers. Derek stood watching her and raked his hands through his golden brown hair giving it a decidedly rakish appearance. He paced the room like a caged animal forgetting about his throbbing leg. The Earl of Blackburn alternated between thanking God that He had seen fit to bring her back to him, and cursing the circumstances all in the same breath. He limped to the door and jerked it open. The guard jumped to attention.
“Have you heard from the physician yet?”
“Yes, my lord. He sent the lad back with word ten minutes ago. He will be at least another half hour.”
“Damn,” he paused and rested his head against the hand tightly gripping the door. “Send the lad for Hawkescliffe. Tell him it is an emergency,” Derek barked the order. “Give me the keys to the manacles,” he held out his hand and his tone brooked no argument. The guard handed over the keys reluctantly and Derek slammed the door in his face, having to take his frustration out on someone.
He limped back over to the bed and released the prisoner from her restraints. The chains dropped to the floor with a loud metallic clank. He sat and stared at her, his thoughts chasing each other. How could it be? He had been told everyone perished, except the handful that had been severely wounded. Nearly an entire village had been wiped out. He heard a disturbance outside the door before it flew open.
“All right Blackburn, what’s so damned important that it could not wait until morning?” Hawkescliffe demanded as he strode into the room. Derek had been unaware of the passage of time while he watched her and contemplated the various scenarios. The doctor had not yet arrived, so surely not much time had passed. Derek shushed Hawkescliffe when the woman winced. “Did you just ‘shush’ me?” he asked incredulously.
“As my friend, shut the hell up,” Derek whispered. “Follow me,” he led Gabe to the fireplace.
“Well, what is it? What is so important that I had to leave my conference with the Prime Minister?”
“This woman is not a traitor,” Derek spoke with conviction.
“What makes you so certain? Tell me you have not let an attractive woman turn your head. You are a better man than that. This woman had incriminating evidence on her person. Of course she is a traitor.”
“I swear to you she’s not.”
“Have you questioned her? Did she give you reason to believe that she isn’t?”
“No, I have not had the opportunity to question her.”
“Then give me one good reason why she is not, and,” he cut him off before he spoke, “I assure you it had better be one bloody good reason.”
“Because she’s my wife, dammit!”
Chapter 3
“Your what?” Gabe asked dumbfounded. All the wind had been sucked from his ducal sails.
“You heard me,” he stated bleakly. At that time the doctor entered followed by a matronly looking woman.
“Good evening Your Grace, my lord.”
“Dr. McGregor,” both men greeted in unison.
“The soldier said the prisoner was a female and I thought to bring my bride along,” the physician stated. Mistaking the startled look on the duke’s face as concern over secrecy, the doctor went on, “I assure you, she may be trusted completely. I take her to all my calls involving female patients. Relieves some of their worries, I have found,” Dr. McGregor confided.
“Do not mind us sir,” Gabe replied. “It is more than understandable that you brought her along. Please excuse us. We have a very volatile matter to discuss and will be down in the office when you are finished.” Gabe left the room with that damn lordly demeanor he had come to wrap himself in.
“Dr. McGregor, please be gentle with her,” Derek said on a raspy, choked voice. He quit the room looking over his shoulder. McGregor had a slightly befuddled look on his face as he watched Derek leave.
“Bess, lass, let’s see to this young lady.”
“Let’s get to it and head home, because I have plans for ye tonight old man,” she winked and gave him a lusty chuckle.
* * *
“What the hell do you mean she is your wife?” Gabe bellowed as soon as the door to the sparsely furnished office closed.
“How can I make it clearer?” Derek retorted. His hands shook terribly. He could desperately use something to ease his unsteady nerves. He walked to the whisky decanter kept for meetings and attempted twice to pour some into a glass. Before he could attempt a third time, Gabe stomped over and took the decanter from his trembling fingers.
“Oh bloody hell, let me do that. You’re liable to pour the who
le damned thing out and I know I need some.” He poured two healthy measures for each of them and they both quickly downed them. “Now, how did you end up with a wife and no one the wiser? Does Kala know?”
“No one knows,” Derek replied limping to one of the chairs in the room and falling heavily onto it.
“Well?” Gabe grew impatient waiting for an explanation.
“Young and stupid?” Derek dryly joked.
“Try again.”
“You know that my great-uncle helped me purchase my commission and after paying my dues, they decided to try me as an agent.” Derek paused to look at Gabe who nodded for him to continue. “Dammit Gabe, you know basically everything.”
“Evidently not.”
“When the Captain and I crossed paths in Portugal again after all those years ago when he mentored me, I met his daughter. His wife had died a couple of years earlier and he had his daughter delivered to his side to act as camouflage. He wanted people to believe he would be escorting her to a distant relative in Italy.”
“Yes, but that had been merely an excuse,” he paused thinking for a moment. Derek watched his eyes widen in understanding. “Holy mother of... You mean to tell me that the daughter of one of England’s greatest spies is lying in that bed and could be a traitor? And she is your wife?”
“She is not a traitor,” Derek growled.
“I need another bloody drink,” Gabe declared and poured a healthier amount this time, downing it quickly. He lowered himself across from Derek. “So you met her when you were sent with that packet to assist the Captain?”
“Yes.”
“And then?” he prompted.
“Circumstances,” Derek shrugged. “There were plenty of exotically beautiful women, but Tessa had a wholesome nature about her that I greatly appreciated. We were forced to live under the same roof, and the Captain had not been too keen on that.”
“I can see that.”
“I had just received word regarding my inheritance and newly gained title, and a moment of weakness overtook me. This charming, smart, kind woman stood before me and I found myself very fond of her. The same woman could very well save me from the mamas and daughters of the ton. I talked to the Captain, and he agreed, happy to no longer have to be the only one to worry about her safety.”
A Traitorous Heart Page 2