Lost Lords: No Longer A Gentleman Part 26

Grey went in search of Peter and found him in the library, which was his brother's particular haunt. Peter looked up from a letter with a beaming smile. "This is from Mr. Burke, the theater manager! He says his company needs a young actor to make the ladies swoon, and since I show signs of acting ability, he'll give me a chance."

"Wonderful!" And now Grey had to destroy his brother's happiness. "But don't tell the parents yet." Grimly he held up his own letter. "I must travel to France. If I don't return, you'll be heir to Costain again."

Chapter 41.

Samuel Johnson said that a man who was tired of London was tired of life. Perhaps that didn't apply to women, because after a fortnight of shopping and socializing, Ca.s.sie was restless. She was used to living a life of purpose. Choosing ribbons for bonnets didn't seem very important compared to working toward Napoleon's end.

It was a relief to receive a message from Kirkland requesting that she pay him a call. She'd visited earlier to chastise him for telling her cousins of her ident.i.ty, but neither of them took her scolding seriously since the results of his meddling were good.

This was different. As she wielded the dragon's head knocker, she remembered the January day when she'd called on Kirkland and been asked to determine if the long-vanished Wyndham was alive. The intervening months had been so eventful that the time seemed much longer.

Once more she was admitted by the butler and made her way back to Kirkland's study. He rose courteously when she entered.

"What do you have for me today, James?" she asked lightly. "Information to be moved from England to France or vice versa? Scouting, a.s.sa.s.sination?"

"I have information for you," he said somberly. "What you choose to do with it is up to you."

She took a seat at his gesture. "This sounds serious."

"It is." He settled back in his chair wearily. "You know that the French and the British governments have hidden ways of communicating with each other?" At her nod, he continued, "I received a message sent by Claude Durand. It came through many hands before reaching me. He has recaptured Pere Laurent, Wyndham's companion in captivity. And he also arrested the people who were sheltering the priest."

"The Boyers." Ca.s.sie's stomach clenched so badly that she was almost physically ill. Bad enough that Durand had recaptured Pere Laurent, but Viole and Romain Boyer as well? "The priest's niece and her family. They gave kindness and shelter when we were in dire need of it. Did Durand arrest their children as well?"

"Apparently. He said he's imprisoned four members of the Boyer family."

Durand probably hadn't bothered with the older married daughter, but that was small comfort. Ca.s.sie swore with words that Catherine St. Ives wouldn't have known. "That devil!" Understanding settled over her in an icy wave. "Durand sent the information to bait a trap, didn't he? He wants Wyndham to return to France."

"It's the only reason why he'd go to the considerable effort of sending this information to the English," Kirkland agreed. "And I'm afraid he's going to get his wish. Wyndham is preparing to leave for France right now."

She gasped. "Why the devil did you tell Wyndham? Rescuing the Boyers would be almost impossible even for trained agents. If he goes to France, he'll be killed!"

"I hope not. As for why I told him about Durand's message ..." Kirkland grimaced. "Despite your not unjustified comments about my meddling, I don't like making decisions for people. How would Wyndham feel if he learned later that Pere Laurent had been recaptured and died in prison? And the Boyers? They sound like good people whose only crime was offering sanctuary to Madame Boyer's uncle."

"You must have known Wyndham would feel compelled to go back to France." She winced. "I can imagine him bargaining with Durand, offering himself in return for the freedom of Pere Laurent and the Boyers."

Kirkland toyed with his quill pen with tense fingers. "It would be devilish unwise to bargain with a snake like Durand, but I can imagine Wyndham doing that if he thought it was the only way."

Calm settled over Ca.s.sie. "You must know that I won't let Grey go alone."

"I considered it likely that you'd insist on going with him," he admitted.

"Do you ever tire of playing G.o.d, James?" she said in an edged voice.

"Frequently." The quill snapped in his hands. "If Wyndham goes alone, he's unlikely to survive, much less succeed in his mission. If you go with him, the odds of success increase, but still aren't good, and I've endangered your life as well. What would you do in my place?"

She considered. "The same as you're doing. But I need to be angry at someone, and you're nearest."

"Feel free to curse me. I'm used to it." He gave her a twisted smile. "Here you are with a new life. A loving family, a fortune, a return to the station you were born to. And I'm dragging you back into the murky and dangerous world of spying."

"If it's any comfort, I was becoming bored with the fas.h.i.+onable life and was ready to return to work." Her eyes narrowed like the Cat of her childhood nickname. "I'm sure you know how I'd react if you let Wyndham go to his doom without telling me."

"I'd be in fear of my life," he said promptly.

"Wise man." She stood, knowing what she must do. "Do you know where Wyndham is?"

"Upstairs in my guest room. I invited him to stay here while he's in London."

She spun on her heel and headed toward the door. Behind her, Kirkland said, "Second floor, all the way to the back."

Not that she needed directions. Now that she knew Grey was near, she'd find him. And G.o.d help anyone who got in her way.

Grey was writing one of several difficult letters that he hoped would never need to be sent when the door to his room opened soundlessly. He glanced up, thinking it was one of Kirkland's soft-footed maids, then froze. Ca.s.sie.

She looked composed and quietly elegant in a dark blue morning dress. This would be her style as an English lady, he realized. Impeccable tailoring, beautiful fabrics, and a rather conservative cut to balance the sensual magnificence of her flawless figure and bright auburn hair.

She closed the door and leaned back against it, one hand on the k.n.o.b as if she was ready to bolt. Heart pounding, he got to his feet, thinking it was d.a.m.ned unfair of Kirkland to send Ca.s.sie. The atmosphere turned thunderous with tension. He wanted to cross the room and wrap his arms around her and drag her to his bed.

Instead, he forced himself to stay behind the desk. Skipping the preliminaries, he said flatly, "I'm not going to change my mind."

She regarded him with a cool, a.s.sessing gaze. "So you think you can make your way across the channel and through France and rescue five people, at least one of them in poor health, from Castle Durand?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I have to try. I owe Pere Laurent and the Boyers too much not to do what I can."

"You're sure?" she asked. "You spent ten years in h.e.l.l. Now you have regained everything. Your family, your wealth, your station in life. Are you prepared to throw it all away in an impossible quest?"

"I am." Despite his spells of anger and wildness, life had been almost unbearably sweet since Ca.s.sie rescued him. After searching for words, he said haltingly, "I need to do this. I've had so many blessings from the accident of my birth, and I've never been required to do anything difficult in return. I've never risked myself on behalf of anyone else. I ... I need to prove to myself that I'm a man, not a callow boy."

She nodded as if his words confirmed her thoughts. "I'm not here to waste my breath trying to change your mind. I knew you couldn't turn your back on them."

"I have years of frivolousness to make up for. So"-he eyed her warily-"if you aren't going to try to change my mind, why did you come? To tie me up and lock me in a wardrobe so I can't leave London?"

Her brows arched. "To take charge of this mission, of course. Left to your own devices, you'll get yourself killed and waste all the time and effort I put into you."

He was torn between laughing and swearing. "No. You've already risked far too much for me. Pere Laurent and his family are my responsibility, not yours."

"That's arguable since I drove us straight to the Boyers' farm and benefited by their generosity," she retorted. "What isn't arguable is that you haven't the experience and skills needed to make it safely into France and have a chance of coming out alive again."

"You underestimate me," he said shortly, knowing she was right. "I speak French like a native, and having traveled with you across France, I have some idea of how such things are done. Kirkland has also promised me a new set of papers."

"Can you find transportation across the channel? Given that you were suffering from two bullet wounds when we reached England, I suspect you'd have a hard time finding your way back to my English smugglers."

She was right that he'd been hazy from his wounds and seasickness, but he'd thought about this. "Their name is Nash and I have a fair idea of where we landed. I'll find them, and offer to pay so much that it would be bad business to refuse me."

"You might be able do that," she agreed. "You could also probably make your way to Castle Durand, given the right papers, though some people might question a healthy young male who isn't in the army. But what about when you reach the castle? Are you planning a one-man invasion?"

"I'll think of something, and it won't be straightforward a.s.sault. I may be inexperienced, but I'm not stupid."

"Not usually, but refusing my help is profoundly stupid. Together, we have some chance. On your own ..." She shook her head. "You told me that Peter didn't want to inherit the earldom. Are you going to force the t.i.tle on him?"

"Tactfully put," he said with exasperation. He covered the distance between them in two long strides and kissed her with the pa.s.sion that had been building since their last night together.

Touching her simultaneously soothed and inflamed. Her mouth was sweet and hot and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s crushed against him as she responded, her fingers digging into his back. Dimly aware that this wasn't what he'd expected, he broke the kiss and retreated, breathing hard. "Do you seriously think we can travel together and keep our hands off each other?"

"Obviously not." Her face was flushed and auburn hair tumbled to her shoulders. She gave him a ruefully mischievous smile. "That's why we must travel as husband and wife."

Chapter 42.

Grey had to laugh. "Is sharing a bed my reward if I let you come with me?"

"Probably more of a rationalization. We're both mad to attempt a rescue from Castle Durand." She stepped forward and kissed him as she tugged at his cravat. "But I'm serious about the fact that I won't allow you to go alone. If you try, you might find yourself locked in a wardrobe after all."

Reason dissolved as he unfastened her gown, then her corset. He needed to see and touch all of her, to absorb her wonderful Ca.s.sieness into every fiber of his being.

She must have felt the same for she tore at his garments with a fever that equaled his. Though it had been only a fortnight since they'd been together, it seemed like years. He wanted to devour her, to delight in s.h.i.+mmering coppery hair and subtle scents and powerful woman.

When they were finally skin to skin, they fell onto the bed, kissing and touching with frantic need. When he could wait no longer and buried himself in her, he groaned with pleasure and held very still, knowing how quickly this might end. Wanting to prolong their union, he rolled over so she was on top of him.

"Yesss," she breathed as she adjusted, finding a rhythm that suited them both. But she was equally impatient, equally needy, and all too soon she convulsed around him.

He culminated instantly, clutching her tight as he surged into her. Ca.s.sie, Ca.s.sie, Ca.s.sie ...

With pa.s.sion exhausted, he stroked her back as he struggled for breath. When he could speak coherently, he said, "I'd considered traveling as a priest, but I don't think that will work."

"Definitely not," Ca.s.sie said with a choke of laughter. She slid off him and lay on her side along his left flank, her hand resting warmly on his midriff.

"Any moment, you'll explain to me that this doesn't alter the long-term situation and we have no future," he murmured. "But that if we're traveling together, it's more sensible to behave as husband and wife than to try to keep apart."

"Sensible," she mused as she traced a finger around his navel. "That's us."

He grinned as he toyed with a glossy lock of hair. "Maybe that's not quite the right word."

"Probably not." Voice sober, she said, "Our chances of successfully rescuing Pere Laurent and his family are even odds at best. That makes the pleasures of the moment worth the possible pain of the future."

"So if we fail, we won't be alive to endure the pain of separation? That's sensible, in a morbid sort of way." He caressed her bare shoulder, thinking this intimacy was worth a very high price. Even years of his life.

She cuddled under his arm, all warm, soft curves. "How were you doing at Summerhill?"

"I've taken up running for amus.e.m.e.nt since it feels good and it's healthy. I've also been riding out to visit tenants to remind them who I am and a.s.sure them I'm reliable." He chuckled. "There are still some doubts, but I've been pretending to be gentlemanly with some success. My mother has also been inviting the gentry over one family at a time so I can renew my acquaintance with the neighbors."

"Wise of her to keep the entertainments small," Ca.s.sie observed.

"Her first event was a tea where she invited about two dozen guests despite my request to avoid large groups," he said dryly. "When I walked in the door and saw the number of people in the drawing room, I bowed politely and left. That convinced her I was serious in my request."

"But overall, you're feeling better?"

Hearing the concern in her voice, he said rea.s.suringly, "Much better. I might be up for the autumn social season in London." If he was alive and back in England then. "What about you? Were your aunt and uncle as welcoming as your cousins?"

"Oh, yes. My Aunt Patience always wanted a daughter. I was a tomboy as a child, but now I rather enjoy being a surrogate daughter."

And having a surrogate mother, he suspected. "Ca.s.sie, you asked if I was really sure I wanted to risk losing so much. I have to ask you the same question. You have rediscovered a life that you thought was gone forever. Are you really sure you want to risk losing it for a cause that isn't really your own?"

"I'm sure." She rested her forehead against his arm. "One rule I've lived by is that you don't abandon people who helped you. The Boyers helped us. It's d.a.m.nable of Durand to use them to lure you back to France. I can no more stand back and say, 'How unfortunate, but it's no matter of mine' than you can."

He'd made the decision to go to France knowing the chance of success was negligible, but with Ca.s.sie at his side, he felt a stirring of optimism. "Since you're the expert agent, how do you think we should proceed?"

"I started thinking as soon as Kirkland told me of your mad scheme." She pulled the covers over them, which improved their comfort and reduced distractions. "How far had you gone with your ideas?"

"I was planning on coloring my hair and maybe growing a moustache to disguise my features, but that takes time. Can I attach a convincing false moustache?"

"False moustaches look false and they're hard to attach for any length of time." She ran a light fingertip along his upper lip, feeling the almost invisible pale hairs growing there. "In a couple more days, this hair can be colored. It will be a short moustache, but enough to distract attention from the rest of your face."

"What about you? Will you be a gray old lady again?"

"I need to look different from before. Besides, I don't think you can be made to look like a gray old man who would be a convincing mate." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "We should travel as a boring middle-aged couple of modest income. You can be a clerk or a low-grade government official. I will be prim and humorless. Monsieur and Madame Harel. People will avoid us."

He studied her lovely face. "I'm having trouble remembering that I thought you old and plain at first, but if you did it once, you can do it again."

She gave him a flat stare and ... faded away. She hadn't moved, her features and coloring were the same, but she was duller and less interesting. "How do you do that?" he exclaimed. "It's like you had a candle burning inside, and then you pinched it out."

"I can't really describe how. I just think myself plain." She gave a half smile. "I've spent most of my adult life as a plain woman unworthy of any man's notice. It comes naturally to me."

"I shall want you just as much even if you're disguised as the drab wife of a boring off icial." He chuckled. "Think how amusing it will be to peel away the drab layers to reveal the delicious mysteries hidden beneath."

She smiled agreement. "Just remember that in public, we need to look like we haven't touched each other since our wedding night."

"Difficult, but I'll try my best." Having settled that, he moved to the next question. "How shall we travel once we reach France? A cart like you had before?"

"As boring Monsieur and Madame Harel, we can travel by public coaches, which will be much faster. We'll take a different route, too. Come at Castle Durand from a different direction."

"Shall we get a couple of good riding hacks when we get close?" he asked. "We'll need transportation of our own, and horses can go places carriages can't."

She nodded. "I hope we don't have to spirit the whole lot of them out of France, though. That would be much, much more difficult. We'll need to arrange some sort of safe house before we move in. Kirkland will also need to get his fine forger to make papers for the whole family, just in case."