The Wicked Spy

by Mary Lancaster

  *

  At about the same time as Louis and Anna were beginning their homeward journey, Serena was wakened by an all mighty pounding on the front door of the castle. She had no idea how long it had been going on, but she suspected some little time if it had finally managed to penetrate her sleep in a distant part of the castle.

  “It’s the middle of the night!” Tamar exclaimed in annoyance. “Who the devil is that?”

  Serena threw off the bedclothes and reached for the flint to light the bedside candle. “We had better go and find out. We can’t expect the servants to attend to French prisoners and highway robbers or whatever other unsavory characters there are in the vicinity.”

  “Actually,” Tamar said, climbing into his pantaloons as Serena walked across their bedchamber with the candle in her hand, “I had better go. You, my love, are not wearing anything.”

  Serena blushed, more at the memory of why she was wearing nothing, that with any residual modesty at being seen by her husband in such a state.

  “Well, neither were you until an instant ago,” she accused, setting down the candle and picking her night rail off the floor. Tamar strode to the door, still struggling into his shirt, while Serena threw a wrapper over her night rail, and seized a shawl against the cold. She ran after him downstairs and through the freezing cold rooms to the main entrance hall. Paton, in his nightcap and a rather natty dressing gown that she was sure had once been her father’s, had already opened the door. Two footmen, half-dressed and each carrying a branch of candles, flanked him to provide light and moral support, while Mrs. Gaskell and several maids dangled over the staircase bannister with wide-eyed excitement.

  “Lady Anna!” Paton exclaimed in horror.

  Tamar whitened, rushing across the hall with Serena at his heels. She slid to a halt as Anna entered the house with a total stranger. They both looked pale and frozen. Anna, dressed for travelling, was shivering.

  “We are so sorry to disturb the household as this time of night,” Anna exclaimed, with far more apology in her voice than Serena was used. “But we had no idea how long the journey would be and the post boys would not wait…”

  “Post boys?” Serena exclaimed, startled. “Anna, come right in for goodness’ sake, you look utterly frozen. What on earth…?” What on earth are you doing travelling in the middle of the night with a total stranger? She knew Anna was wayward, and the dangers were unthinkable, but it was not her place to scold, and certainly not before the servants. So she bit her tongue.

  “Lady Serena,” Anna said apologetically.

  “How formal,” Serena observed, baffled by this new attitude.

  “Not really,” Tamar said beside her. “It ain’t Anna. It’s my other sister, Christianne.”

  Serena stared in disbelief, for the woman really was Anna—until she smiled, a singularly, sweet, warm smile, far more open than that of the sister Serena knew. And Tamar actually embraced her, which he had never done with Anna, and casually offered the strange man his hand.

  “Doorstep introductions,” Tamar said cheerfully. “Serena, my sister Christianne, and her husband, Mr. Henry Harcourt. Now, can we please go somewhere warmer so you can tell me what the deuce you’re doing here?”

  Mr. Harcourt bowed low over Serena’s hand. “I hope the intrusion is not too great. It was an impulsive decision. My wife was missing her sister and anxious to meet your lady, Tamar, so when I was granted a couple of weeks’ leave, we posted up here. We did not mean to arrive at this unconscionable hour, but—”

  “Impulsive, Henry?” Tamar said skeptically as he led the way upstairs to the drawing room where the remains of last night’s fire still kept the chill at bay. “You?”

  Christianne laughed. “Rupert. You know he came to please me.”

  “Paton, I think perhaps some tea. And hot soup for our weary travelers,” Serena said, recovering enough to remember her duties as hostess. She took the branch of candles from the nearest footman. “Um…I’ll just go and see if Anna is awake.” She couldn’t imagine anyone would have slept through this racket. Her sisters and even Mrs. Elphinstone had joined the maids on the bannisters. “Bed,” she ordered her sisters. “You may meet Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt in the morning!”

  “Lady Serena!” Christianne caught up with her. “Would you mind if I came with you? I can’t imagine Anna is asleep. She’ll know I’m here, and I am so worried about her.”

  “Worried?” Serena repeated in surprise. “I assure you she is well. Or at least she was three hours or so ago when we went to bed.”

  “I know, but something upset her, just tonight. I felt it.” She gave a small, deprecating laugh. “I know it is bizarre, but we feel each other’s pain.”

  Serena frowned thoughtfully. “Well, I think she has quarreled with Sir Lytton…it might have upset her more than I realized.”

  Christianne fixed her gaze on Serena’s face as they walked. “This Sir Lytton…is he a good man? A kind man?”

  Serena blinked. “He seems so. Rupert believes he is good for Anna, though of course none of us have known him for very long. Did she tell you about him?”

  “She mentioned someone,” Christianne said vaguely, and Serena knew she would never break her sister’s confidence.

  Arriving at Anna’s bedchamber, Serena knocked and went in first, bearing the candles. “Anna? Look who has arrived! Are you awake?” Although she half-expected Anna to be leaping through the bed curtains, they remained closed.

  Serena opened the curtains to reveal the empty bed. It was neatly made and had quite clearly not been slept in at all.

  “She is not here,” Christianne said flatly, before she even looked. She sank on the bed, her fingers curling into the coverlet. “Oh, drat you, Anna, where are you this time?”

  “In the library, perhaps,” Serena said, with much more lightness than she felt. With Christianne trailing after her, she checked in all the likely places on her way back to the drawing room. Christianne said little, but it struck Serena that, considering the obvious tie between the sisters, she was taking the nighttime disappearance much more casually than one might have expected.

  And in the drawing room, Tamar, apprised of the facts, only sighed and shrugged.

  “Should we not organize a search for her?” Serena urged.

  “And have your servants know she is abroad alone at night?” Mr. Harcourt interjected. He looked a little whiter, a little tighter around the mouth than he had on arrival, but he clearly was not anxious enough to do more than try to preserve his sister-in-law’s reputation.

  Serena turned in disbelief from him to Tamar, “Rupert, anything could happen to her!”

  “It could,” Tamar agreed. “But it’s unlikely to. If Anna does not wish to be found, she won’t be. Frankly, it’s highly unlikely someone dragged her from her bed and abducted her. She has gone out of her own free will and no doubt will be back by first light.” He met Serena’s gaze. “It isn’t the first time she’s done such things. Even in London, when she used to give Harcourt palpitations with her starts.”

  “But what on earth can she be doing?” Serena demanded. She paused, staring at her husband. “Oh Rupert, you don’t suppose she has eloped with Sir Lytton?”

  *

  For Anna, the night time journey home was unimaginably intimate. The darkness seemed to isolate them from the rest of the world, with just the glow of the lantern to unite them in their private bubble where even the cold of the December night could not penetrate. Held securely in his arms, she ached with the kind of happiness she had never known before, and she never wanted it to end.

  Not that their conversations were always comfortable or lighthearted, For the first time he told her of the tragedies that had blossomed from Gosselin’s betrayal, the arrests and deaths of the only people Louis had ever called friends, people like him who had lived in the shadows, with constant risk. Some did it for money, some for love, but all were utterly loyal. Until they were gone, he hadn’t realized how much he had cared.<
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  “They were like the children I knew I would never have. And I let them down. I failed to care for them, to keep them safe.”

  “How could you know your own people would turn on them? On you?”

  “I should have known. I was arrogant. It never entered my head I was endangering them by going my own way. I would rather have died than let them.”

  She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I am selfish enough to be glad you didn’t. You have more to do, Louis.”

  He kissed her fingers. “I have had enough. After this, after Gosselin, I want no more of it. I want to live on a farm with you.”

  “Can we have dogs and horses?”

  “Lots.”

  She smiled and rested her cheek on his good shoulder. They talked a lot about such futures, although she was sure neither believed in them. They were fantasies that might come true one day. For now, while their countries were enemies, the present was all they truly had.

  “Why do you trust me?” he asked once. “Knowing what you do about my life, my work, why do you trust me?”

  She thought about it. “I don’t know. I suppose it is the same reason I like you—only you—to touch me. I love you.”

  “Love is no protection from betrayal. It must enter your head that I could be lying to you.”

  “Does it enter yours that so could I?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. His smile was rueful as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “But not often enough to stop me.”

  “I am the same,” she said, curling her fingers around his wrist. “It’s as if…I understand you.”

  “I recognized a fellow spirit the first night we met.”

  “How strange life is,” she said, sleepy with contentment.

  “We are nearly at the castle road,” he observed. “You should be able to get back in before the servants are up.”

  “But you will tell me as soon as anyone takes up the hotel rooms?” she said anxiously.

  “I might.”

  She frowned. “I will have to come myself. Take up residence in your dining room and entertain a constant stream of respectable ladies for coffee and luncheon and tea…The trouble is, we don’t know who the enemy is—for either of us!”

  “It is an interesting situation.” Louis allowed. He turned the horse up the road to the castle gates, which stood open as usual, and rode through them.

  Feeling his scrutiny, she twisted round to face him. “What is it?”

  He smiled. “I was wondering about coming right into the castle with you and taking you to bed. Does that appall you, my love?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “But not like it used to. Mostly, it makes me glad.” She reached up and pressed her mouth to his. Her heart thundered with anticipation and excitement and sheer need. There may have been fear in there, too, but she could not find it. “Come with me, then,” she whispered. “Stay until dawn.”

  His breathing quickened. He sank his mouth on hers in a long, sensual kiss that melted her bones. Of its own volition, apparently, the horse moved a little faster, as if sensing its own rest and comfort was close at last.

  They led the horse into the stables as quietly as they could. But they took no more time than to throw a blanket over it, and make sure it had hay and water. And then Anna took Louis’s hand and led him into the castle via the side door. She lit the candle she had left on the table. He took it from her and she led the way through to the main staircase.

  As they walked, his thumb gently stroked the sensitive skin of her trembling hand. Louis had become her all, her one desire.

  As they climbed the staircase, Anna thought she heard a voice, muffled by distance. She cast a quick glance at Louis, to see if he had heard it, too. He raised one eyebrow but did not pause. On the landing, she hesitated, for there was light coming from the long gallery, from under the drawing room door.

  Louis’s breath was hot in her ear, thrilling her. “Come.”

  Smiling, she turned with him toward her bedchamber, just as the drawing room door flew open and someone she had never expected to see bolted out in a sudden blaze of light.

  “’Tianne,” Anna whispered.

  Christianne stopped dead, staring from her to Louis. Behind her, inevitably, came Henry and Tamar and Serena. They all goggled at her, which seemed excessive until she remembered she was wearing boys’ clothes. And now she wanted to laugh.

  “Anna?” Serena said, tearing her gaze from this odd attire to Anna’s face. She sounded faint with relief. “Please tell me it is you this time.”

  “What the devil is going on?” Anna demanded.

  “That was my next question,” Serena said breathlessly. “Are you well?”

  “Come into the drawing room,” Henry said hastily. “We don’t want to rouse the servants.”

  “Again,” Christianne added.

  “Oh dear.” Anna could not look at Louis. Part of her still wanted to laugh, because they had been caught in such a ridiculous way. But mostly, she wanted to scream, because she had so wanted this time with Louis.

  Without releasing her hand, Louis strolled forward, tucking it into his arm in a more respectable manner. They might have been entering a ballroom in glittering evening dress.

  Chapter Sixteen

  His insouciance must have rubbed off on Anna, for as the door closed behind them all, she said carelessly, “Sir, my sister Christianne and her husband, Mr. Harcourt. This is Sir Lytton Lewis.”

  “I believe we know exactly who he is,” Henry said.

  Of course, he would suspect. “Then you’ll know I’m perfectly well and may all go to bed,” Anna said impatiently. “Please don’t tell me you were all waiting up for me?”

  “Of course, we were,” Serena exclaimed. “You weren’t in your bed!”

  “We went for a moonlight ride,” Anna said brazenly, ignoring the almost total absence of moon that night. “What I don’t understand is why Christianne and Henry are here. Did you arrive in the middle of the night?”

  “I’m afraid we did,” Christianne admitted. She seemed to have difficulty taking her eyes off Louis. “But Lady Serena has been most kind and understanding.”

  Anna glanced a little ruefully at Serena. “You must find us all very odd guests.”

  “I find very little odd since I met Tamar,” Serena retorted. “But I do think, Sir Lytton, you have behaved badly.”

  “Nonsense,” Anna said at once. “He merely brought me home.”

  “And felt unable to leave you at the door?” Henry said, scowling. But he was playing a part. His gaze was speculative rather than truly angry. If anything annoyed him, it was Anna allowing herself to be caught.

  Serena had come right up to Anna, searching her face. “Are you truly well?”

  “I am truly well,” Anna said. She couldn’t help the smile that flickered across her lips. “In fact, I have never been better.”

  A moment longer, Serena gazed into her eyes, then she nodded and turned away. “Then I think we should say goodnight to Sir Lytton and go to bed.”

  Louis inclined his head but looked at Anna.

  Reluctantly, she slid her hand free of his arm. “It is probably best. Good night.”

  His smile was warm, feeding her longing. “Good night.”

  He bowed civilly to the others. No one would have guessed from his manner that he had just been caught by her family sneaking with her into the house at dead of night. Tamar and Serena conducted him to the door, waiting to see him off the premises.

  Anna wanted to laugh, especially when he cast a wicked glance over his shoulder, sharing his humor.

  Serena led the way, Tamar following Louis. Although, a moment later, Tamar stuck his head back in the door, frowning at Henry. “Don’t you go reading her the riot act. It won’t wash. She don’t know what’s proper.” His lips twisted. “And if she did, she wouldn’t care,” he admitted, and closed the door before hurrying after his wife and Louis.

  “Is that him?” Christianne asked, low, sli
pping her hand into Anna’s.

  Anna squeezed her fingers. “Yes.”

  “His manners,” Henry said with distaste, “seem quite French.”

  “There’s no need to insult him, Henry,” Christianne admonished, floating back to the sofa by the fireplace. “If Anna likes him, he is a gentleman.”

  Henry stood beside Anna, watching his wife. “Your sister has some very strange ideas about you,” he murmured.

  “No. You just don’t understand our definitions.”

  “And this Lytton Lewis? Is he Delon?”

  “You know he is.”

  Henry’s lips twisted. “Of course. If he weren’t, you would not be with him. Have you won him over?”

  “Up to a point,” Anna said carefully. “There are some things he will help us with. Did you really come all this way to satisfy yourself as to my progress?”

  “Of course not,” Henry said contemptuously.

  “I needed to see you,” Christianne said sleepily, stretching out on the sofa.

  Anna waited for a few moments before she said low, “You, however, had no need to see me.”

  “On the contrary, I had to know what you were doing with your spy, because I have just pursued Lord Castlereagh to Blackhaven.”

  Anna’s lips fell open. “Castlereagh? The foreign secretary? My God, he is here to see Talleyrand.”

  Henry’s eyes widened. “Talleyrand? I thought he was falling into Delon’s trap, wanted to be sure you knew, and could find a way to prevent it. He is meeting Talleyrand? Why? How do you know.”

  “I’ve seen him.”

  “But you cannot know that unless…Delon identified him. Anna—”

  “Let her sleep, Henry,” Christianne said faintly from the sofa. “We all need to sleep.”

  “Didn’t Serena give you a bedchamber? They seem always to be prepared for guests.”

  “Yes,” Henry affirmed. “But it seems to be too late for Christianne. I shall stay with her.”

  It was, probably, the only reason Anna tolerated him—his devotion to Christianne. Well, that and the “work” which had given Anna’s life purpose and had led her in the end to Louis. She nodded and walked toward the door.