Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Standing wasn’t difficult. A little sore, but nothing she couldn’t manage. Her ankle wasn’t swollen and fit easily into her ankle boot, which provided additional support. In case she happened to come across Charlie afterward, she changed the thin muslin overdress for another. She had just settled it into place when the door opened behind her.

  Her muscles tensed. She forced a smile. “I don’t need your help. I managed fine on my own.” When she turned, she stopped short, her jaw hanging open.

  Tristan shut the door behind him as he slipped into the room.

  She stepped closer. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was the barest hiss, in case someone was nearby to overhear.

  “I’m stopping you from making the worst mistake of your life.”

  His gaze lingered on her. He stepped closer, almost coming within arm’s reach. She hadn’t seen him since she’d snuck out of his room this morning. She hadn’t expected the encounter to feel so…natural. She’d expected pain, torture at knowing the pleasure he’d evoked between them. Instead, it felt as though she’d been missing one shoe all day and the moment he arrived she’d finally slipped her foot into it and was whole again.

  She swallowed hard. Did he know the specifics of what she was about to do or was he only guessing? He looked so earnest, so adamant, that she couldn’t know for sure.

  She cocked up her chin. “How do you know what I’m about to do?”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his beige waistcoat. “At a guess, I would say that you’re planning on interrupting the meeting my brother is having with his contact.” Tristan’s gaze sharpened. His eyes never left her face. “Please, Freddie, I implore you. Don’t do it. Don’t go.”

  How could he know? She must have been a little too good at avoiding him today. He must have gotten suspicious. She opened her mouth, but her throat tightened. Her chest burned. She couldn’t bear to lie to him.

  “I have to. If I don’t, Harker will…”

  Tristan’s eyes narrow. “He’ll do what?” His voice was edged with steel.

  She averted her gaze. “He’ll force himself on my sister.”

  “He said that?” Tristan’s sharp, brusque tone punched through the air. He reached out to frame her shoulders with his big palms, preventing her from moving away.

  She pressed her lips together, trying to collect herself. The sting in her eyes told her that she wasn’t far away from becoming a watering pot. Her voice was small when she answered, “Not in so many words, but he hasn’t hidden his wandering eye of late. I know it will happen if I don’t do something to stop it. That’s why I struck the deal with him.”

  “What deal?”

  He already knew. Why not tell him the specifics? “I have to bring him the book. The code book.”

  Tristan said nothing at all. His silence was as ominous as storm clouds.

  She nibbled on her lower lip. She still couldn’t look him in the eye. “I have to stop Harker. I can’t let him hurt my sister.”

  “You don’t understand.” Tristan’s voice was every bit as soft. Almost pained. “You can’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I don’t care.” She lifted her head. Her show of strength evaporated as she met his gaze. His brown eyes were soft, pleading. She shook her head, trying to shake of the effect he had on her. “I’ll do anything to keep my sister safe.”

  His hand tightened on her shoulder, pulling her marginally closer. Not quite into his embrace, but far enough that the heat of his body lured her. How good would it feel to press her cheek against his shoulder and let him hold her up for a moment or two? She was so tired of all this spying.

  But the end was in sight. She had to stay strong.

  “Are you willing to risk your life?” he asked.

  “Of course I am.” The words flew out of her mouth without thought. “Wouldn’t you, for your sister?”

  Dropping his hands, he turned with a muttered curse. When he turned back, running his hands through his hair, he admitted, “Yes, I would.” He lowered his arms to his side. His gaze turned pleading. “If I can’t stop you from doing this, then let me come with you. I can’t let you go alone.”

  She frowned. Was he offering to change his allegiance? Slowly, she said, “We’re on opposite sides, Tristan.”

  He caught her hand. His grip was firm, but not painful. “We don’t have to be.”

  She pulled away. “Yes, we do. Even if Harker wasn’t involved, I would never betray my country.”

  A look of bewilderment crossed Tristan’s face. “How can you say that while you’re working for our enemies?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re working for Harker. He’s a French—”

  Freddie’s stomach threatening to turn itself inside out at the word French.

  “—spy.” Tristan took a small step forward, hands outstretched, though he didn’t touch her. “Didn’t you know that?”

  Her head swam. Her knees turned to gruel. She sank onto the nearest flat surface, the bed. She lowered her head into her hands as her ears roared, for a moment drowning out all other sound.

  When sound returned, and her spotty vision cleared, she heard herself say, “That can’t be.”

  But it could be. In her heart, she’d known Harker was a villain all along. She stared at the toes of her ankle boots.

  Gingerly, Tristan lowered himself beside her. He reached out to caress her knee. She raised her head to look him in the eye.

  “Harker told me you were…”

  Tristan sighed. “I don’t know why I didn’t consider that he might twist my allegiance. No, Freddie. I work for England. Morgan, too.”

  “Can you offer any proof?”

  His lips thinned as he pressed them together. After a moment, he ventured, “No. I’m a covert spy, remember? Any proof I have I am forbidden to show you.”

  He might be lying. After all the time she’d spent with him, she didn’t believe so. She hadn’t been able to reconcile the man she knew with the traitor Harker painted. Her relief at not having mistaken Tristan’s character was palpable.

  But it presented an entirely new horror.

  She lowered her head into her hands. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?” If she didn’t bring Harker the code book, he might do unthinkable things to her mother and sister. If she did… she would be betraying her country, and the man she loved, too. Her stomach swished as she contemplated her options. There was no way to win.

  “I have an idea,” Tristan said. He sidled closer, slipping his hand into hers.

  In wonder, she lifted her gaze to his. He still wanted to help her? She leaned forward, capturing his lips in a fleeting kiss. She poured all her gratitude, all her love into that kiss.

  “I have to save my family. I’ll do anything.”

  When she pulled away, he smiled and tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. He didn’t relinquish his hold on her hand. “Then hear me out,” he said. “I think there’s a way we can trick Harker into exposing himself, but you’re better at thinking ahead than I am. I’ll need your input. Freddie, I love you. I know nobody stronger or smarter. If we work together, I’m sure we can do this. We can do anything.”

  I love you. Her heart sang at the words. We can do anything. Yes. At that moment, she’d never felt like any words contained more truth. She didn’t feel diminished by his help. If anything, he lifted her up. As much as she needed him, he needed her, too.

  Was this what marriage was supposed to be about?

  She tightened her hand on his. “I love you, too. You’re right. We can do anything. What’s your idea?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  This is a bad idea. You’re a horrible liar.

  Unfortunately, Freddie and Tristan’s plan relied on her being able to lie to Harker’s face. If she didn’t convince him, her family would be in an even worse position than they were now. She would die before she let that happen.

  She hovered in the doorway to the drawi
ng room, praying that no one would notice her as she scanned the interior for her prey. There, standing off from everyone else with a glass of amontillado in his hand. His posture was stiff and hostile, a marked contrast from when he entertained in London. His squirrelly friends doted on him, making him the toast of the night. Harker usually soaked up the attention, telling lewd jokes and laughing at his friends’ expense.

  Now, Freddie had to wonder if his friends weren’t all traitors as well. After tonight, she would never have to cross paths with them again. That brought some measure of relief. It had been getting progressively harder to keep Charlie’s presence in the townhouse from being known, now that she’d made her bows.

  She caught Harker’s eye. He frowned, his hairy eyebrows uniting over his eyes. She jerked her chin toward the hall then stepped back before someone else saw her.

  At the moment, the corridor appeared deserted. The servants had recently lit the candles to create their magical effect, even though the sun had not yet kissed the horizon. It would before supper was through.

  Although her nerves jangled in her stomach like discordant bells, Freddie thrust her shoulders back and clasped her hands in front of her waist, the picture of serenity. Down the corridor, in an unused closet, Tristan waited with the door cracked open. If she looked to be about to fail, he would rescue her. Even though she wanted to perform her task without his help, knowing that his support was nearby and unwavering lent her strength.

  Her chest warmed at the idea that soon, this debacle would be over, and they would never be enemies again. She didn’t want to examine what the future held too closely, aside from that.

  Harker squeezed his bulk through the door and stepped away, joining her. “What is this about?” His voice was low, but sharp all the same.

  Her nerves erupted again. She pressed her palms against her abdomen to quell the sensation. “I’ve discovered the rendezvous location to hand off the book you seek. I’ve also gleaned the signal the agent will provide to assure the Graylockes of his identity.”

  Was her voice too high pitched? Was the lie written on her face? Once Tristan had confessed the truth of the situation—that the hand-off was designed to catch a French spy—she couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve as to think that the duke would leave vital information around for her to find. Even if that information had appeared to be dropped during his hasty departure.

  Harker’s lip curled. She nearly flinched. She held herself steady by biting into her inner cheek.

  “Why are you telling me about it? Go get it.”

  She swallowed twice before she could speak. “I can’t.”

  His expression darkened.

  Her heartbeat sped, quickening the words falling out of her mouth. “They’re expecting a man. It has to be you.”

  “The Graylockes already know I’m working for England.”

  You lying fiend. Freddie’s stomach seethed with hatred. She tried not to let it show on her face. “Pretend your allegiances have changed, if you must. So long as you have the signal, they’ll have to accept you. They don’t know who their contact is, only that he is in Tenwick Abbey. You’re the only person who can make the exchange.”

  Although it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention, she held his gaze. He raked it over her skin, leaving her feeling as if she were coated in slime.

  “Very well,” he spat. “I’ll go. Where is the meeting and when?”

  “It’s to be held while the guests are at supper, beneath the big gnarled oak tree on the grounds. The signal is mockingbird, but you must make the hand signal as well.” She demonstrated, hooking her thumbs together and flapping her hands as if they were wings.

  With a disgruntled oath, he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, hopefully on his way outside. When he turned into another hall, she looked toward the door where Tristan hid.

  Did I succeed—or was I too transparent? For some reason, she wanted his reassurance that she hadn’t blundered.

  The door began to open, granting Freddie the glimpse of his profile. As she smiled in welcome, he shut the door again in haste. Why…

  “Freddie, dear, was that Lord Harker?”

  Freddie’s heart kicked into a gallop at her mother’s voice. She turned, though her smile felt wan. “Indeed it was. I, um, thought it best to let someone know that I wasn’t feeling quite the thing and intended to take my supper in my room.”

  The worried lines in Mama’s forehead deepened. She reached forward to press the back of her hand against Freddie’s cheek. “You don’t feel hot.”

  “I don’t have a fever, Mama. I’m just feeling a trifle out of sorts. A night’s rest will do wonders, I’m sure. Will you be able to give my regrets to the Graylockes? And to Charlie, too, of course.”

  Mama frowned, but she murmured, “Of course.”

  Freddie kissed her on the cheek and bid her goodnight. She watched as Mama slipped back into the room, then breathed a sigh of relief. This time when she turned to the closet door, Tristan had already slipped through.

  Did he look a touch worried? He held out his hand. “Come. We don’t have much time. I need to oversee the exchange, in case something goes awry.”

  “I thought you said the duke will be lying in wait.”

  “He will be, if he can slip away from the gathering in time. But I haven’t had the opportunity to inform him about the change in plan.”

  The lines near his eyes deepened. He took hold of her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

  As he turned to lead her down the deserted corridor, she whispered, “Are you afraid this won’t turn out as we’d planned?”

  The smile he bestowed upon her was blinding. It was also fake. His eyes didn’t twinkle the same way they did when he usually smiled at her.

  “I will turn out fine. It must.”

  She tightened her fingers on his, propriety be damned, and let him lead her through the abbey.

  When they reached the open twilight, he reluctantly let her slip her hand away and follow him instead. His hand flexed on the empty air before he thrust it into his pocket. He didn’t speak until they reached the bottom of the low rise leading to the tree. A portly figure paced beneath the shadow of the branches, too far away to make out his features.

  Harker. It has to be.

  The constriction of worry around Freddie’s chest loosened somewhat. At least until Tristan turned to her.

  “I’ll have to leave you here.”

  “What?” She reached out, hoping to grasp his hand and keep him nearby, but he was too far away. “Why?”

  “I have to meet with my brother and explain. He’ll be on the north side of the hill.” Tristan’s dark gaze latched onto Freddie’s face, his expression etched with concern. “There’s a deer trail almost hidden in the brush on the south side. Take that to the fallen branch at the top and hide there. That will be close enough for you to witness the proceedings.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it without a word. She nodded. He could easily have insisted she wait out the debacle elsewhere. At least this way, she got to see this through.

  To what end, she didn’t yet know.

  She swallowed hard and nibbled on her lower lip. “Goodbye, then.”

  He grinned. “Don’t make it sound like you’re off to the gallows. I’ll see you again shortly.”

  Her heart leapt as he captured her hand and laid his lips against her knuckles. She warmed. She would rather have his lips elsewhere, but now wasn’t the time. She and Tristan had to save her family.

  As he slipped away to the north, she turned south. It didn’t take long to find the trail he spoke of, wedged between the thorny bushes climbing the south side of the rise. They shielded her approach, at least, so long as she crouched.

  It took entirely too long to navigate that trail. After ripping one of her few netted over-gowns, Freddie didn’t want to ruin another. Waddling from bush to bush didn’t help. She must have looked ridiculous if anyone spot
ted her climbing the hill. Luckily, the south side faced away from Tenwick Abbey.

  Eventually, she met the fallen branch. At least a foot in diameter, she would have called it a tree, rather than a branch. It must have parted ways from the tree overhead quite some time ago, because there were no gaps in the nearly-leafless canopy overhead. Moss crept up its sides. She laid flat on her belly behind the earthy-smelling branch and peeked her head over to see the proceedings. It was a good thing her hair was brown, unlikely to be noticed.

  Harker paused in his pacing at someone else’s approach. A needle-thin man with a weak chin, utterly forgettable in his modest attire and meek deportment, crested the rise to stand in front of the tree.

  “You.” The man’s nasal voice sounded surprised. Likely he had been expecting someone else—Freddie.

  She scanned the far side of the tree. Where was Tristan? Unlike the south side, the north side had no cover to shield him. Harker’s back was turned to him, but if he had been there, Freddie should have seen him. Had he been delayed? Did Harker have another agent left behind to do harm to anyone who approached?

  Freddie’s stomach lurched at the notion. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Tristan was still engaged in relaying the situation to his brother. If so, he’d best hurry, or he would miss the exchange.

  The thin man—who must be in the duke’s employ, if not a spy for England—said in a timid voice, “My lord, I believe all the guests are to be seated at supper shortly. You’ll have to hurry, if you don’t want your gracious hosts to take offense.”

  Freddie marveled over the tone of his voice, coupled with his demeanor. His shoulders hunched forward, as if to make himself smaller. In a few words and a gesture of his hand, he made his idea sound like the best in the world, almost as though Harker had suggested it himself. Could Freddie learn to do that?

  Fortunately, Harker was unmoved. He smiled, showing his teeth. “I’m not merely a guest. Trust me when I say you’ll want to meet with me.” With an almost comical rendition of the hand signal, he spoke the code word.