The Duchess and the Spy

by Marly Mathews

  “Your Imperial Majesty, I beg of you a moment of your time…”

  “Mademoiselle, I have been told that you wish to return to England, and if I assist you with that endeavor, you shall relay intelligence to aid us. Now, my dear, what makes you think you can become privy to such information?”

  “Once I arrive in England, I shall head for London, and I have connections there that would lead me to the information you seek.”

  “Ah…I see,” he mulled over what she had said.

  “You are quite lovely. However, I doubt your ability to keep up such a ruse.”

  What he actually meant was that he doubted she was capable of such a feat. He doubted her intellect.

  “I assure you, sir, I can be quite persuasive.”

  “Then, you believe you could become the mistress of someone influential within the War Office or the Foreign Office?”

  “My Uncle used to work for the Foreign Office, and I have no reason to believe that has changed in the four years since I have been gone.”

  “And you would become his mistress? I trust there is no blood relation between you two?”

  “Ah, no, sir. We are related by marriage, but I daresay I would not have to become his mistress…he raised me as his own daughter, and if I were to be reunited with him, he would keep me close.”

  “I see.”

  His tone lacked conviction. She would never get away from Pierre at this rate.

  “And your Uncle Pierre? How would he do without you?”

  “He would be fine. He…” she was about to confess all to him, when one of Pierre’s closest friends came close to them. He was eavesdropping for Pierre, and if she told Napoleon she was in France against her will, Pierre would punish Daphne for her betrayal.

  “As I was saying, sir, my Uncle has influence within the Foreign Office, and he was close with men who worked for the War Office.”

  “Ah, so you were surrounded by those bastards in Whitehall. It is a good thing that Monsieur Dubois rescued you from all of that. Alas, I am sorry, but we shall have to throw you right back into the thick of it, Mademoiselle. I pray you will be able to survive living with those English Dogs until you have completed your objective, and you can return to France.”

  “My Uncle is Scottish, but aye, I shall survive, sir. I am quite certain that as a part of his household, I could fetch you some useful intelligence. He used to like to entertain…and when he did, we were surrounded by men who worked for the Crown.”

  “And you believe that you could become an adept enough spy to procure this information? Men like your uncle are not foolish, and they keep their private and business lives separate, Mademoiselle.”

  “I know, sir, and yet, I have my ways. I firmly believe I can be an asset to you, sir.”

  “You would gladly give all, if necessary, for my Empire?”

  “I would,” she said. Praise God, her voice didn’t tremble with her lie.

  “If you prove to be a valuable asset, you will be well rewarded, Mademoiselle.” She didn’t care about any of that. If she could regain her lands and title, fine, if not…she would be safe in England. She had no intention of returning to France once she set foot in England, no matter how badly she might be tempted.

  And yet, her plans weren’t foolproof. Pierre was a sneaky little bastard, and she suspected he would try to stop her.

  Suddenly, she felt guilty. She was doing no harm. She might be proffering herself as a French Spy, but she would never give the French anything that might hurt Great Britain. No, her loyalties were firmly with the British.

  “I should think I could give your uncle his own title and lands, and remove him as the Guardian of your Estates, and your title. He would no longer have control over anything you inherited from your Papa. You would be free of him, Mademoiselle. You would no longer be his ward. You would be Isabella, Duchess of St. Malo.”

  Guardian? He was a bloody thief! She should have always been known as The Duchess of St. Malo, and Pierre never should have been able to take her birthright away from her! And yet, Napoleon would give her what she coveted. He would free her of Pierre. She would no longer be his prisoner.

  “I should like that greatly, Your Imperial Majesty. You are too kind.”

  “Not at all, Mademoiselle. It does my heart good to see a lovely lady such as yourself so delighted. When you return to France, you shall be rewarded, and I shall officially make it clear far and wide that you are no longer the ward of Pierre Dubois. Now, if your uncle hadn’t been born on the wrong side of the blanket, Mademoiselle, all that you have, would be his, and I would be a bastard to take it from him, and give it to you. Indeed, I feel a little contemptable for doing so and yet, you are the only surviving legitimate heir, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  She attempted to keep her composure. She hated the fact that Pierre was her Uncle, as he was the bastard son of her Grandfather, and had been born while his mother was married to another man. That man had raised Pierre as his own, but Pierre had never been happy as his son…for he hadn’t been a duke.

  “Well, there you have it. You shall reclaim your birthright, once you have proven yourself a valuable asset.”

  “I shall.”

  “Do you know something? I think you will, Mademoiselle. I think you have within you, enough power to bring my Empire and those English Scoundrels to their knees.”

  Oh, if only he knew.

  “I will not disappoint you, sir.”

  “I know you won’t. Now, you shall have be tutored by a man who learned all he knew from one of my top spymasters, Joseph Fouché. Once he is satisfied you know what you need to, you will be sent to England. And as they say, fortune favours the bold. Always remember that, Mademoiselle.”

  “I shall. Thank you.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted into a jubilant grin. “Then, in that case, I wish you a safe journey across the Channel. I hear the waters can be rough this time of the year. You will leave as soon, as you are given permission to do so. Always remember where your true loyalty lies.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat.

  “Ah, yes…I will.”

  “Then, go with my blessings, Mademoiselle.”

  She looked away from him. Searching the crowd, she found The Wolf on the other side of the ballroom. An advisor of Napoleon’s rushed to him and whispered something urgently in his ear.

  “Mademoiselle, it seems our time together is going to be cut short. It would seem that Madame Martine requires your assistance. She has fallen gravely ill…I would appreciate it if you were to hasten to her bedside.”

  Escape. Thank the heavens.

  Madame Martine sometimes warmed Napoleon’s bed.

  “Certainly, I would be more than happy to attend her. A good evening to you, sir.” Standing up, she raced through the ballroom and had almost made her escape when her Wolf moved to block her path. Holding her mask steady over her face, she sighed.

  “Now, my darling duchess, you cannot leave so quickly…why you haven’t graced me with a dance yet, and I did not think you’d go without saying goodbye to me. Why, I am most heartily crushed.” His full lips formed a smug line.

  “I am not running away, you bloody fool. I have been asked to attend to Madame Martine.”

  “Ah.” His demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. “What ails her?”

  “I do not know. They would not tell me. But I am rather well known for my healing skills…so if you wouldn’t mind getting the hell out of my way, I would be most obliged.”

  “You really must try to curb that wayward tongue of yours.”

  “I will consider it.” She tried to dart around him. He rested his hand on her arm.

  “Why don’t I accompany you up to Madame Martine’s chambers?”

  “I really don’t think that is necessary. I can find my way on my own.”

  “I trust you can…but I have reason to believe that someone would like to kill you.”

  Her heart did another dance
.

  “I think you are mistaken, sir.”

  “Someone doesn’t want you to make it back to Great Britain, Duchess.”

  “How…how do you know that?”

  “I don’t think I need to answer that question. Indeed, the less you know, the better off you shall be.”

  “Whom do you work for?”

  He seemed uneasy. “Come now, let us go.” Taking her by the arm, she brushed up against his side. Again, a shock of energy swirled through her. She gasped for air.

  “We are leaving tonight.”

  “Leaving? You speak in riddles, sir.”

  “I am here to take you back to England. I am here to save you. You are a valuable asset to many across the English Channel.”

  “I shan’t go anywhere with you until I know your identity. You are a stranger to me, sir!” He pulled her along. A figure stepped out of the shadows and stepped in front of them. Her hands shook. Could it be?

  “What is it, Philippe?”

  Her muscles relaxed. She let out a disappointed sigh. She had hoped that it had been someone from her past…someone that she’d welcome seeing, but alas, she’d been mistaken.

  “You must take the lady and go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He placed his arm around her waist. He was acting a wee bit too familiar with her. And yet, why didn’t she pull away from him?

  “Be quiet, Duchess.”

  She snorted. Focusing her attention on his arm that rested around her waist, she projected her power. This time…it gained her results.

  “Hot. What the blazes did you just do, Witch?” He tore his hand away from her, and shook it in the air. In his moment of distraction, she ran away from him. “Damnation, come back here!”

  She could hear him running after her. She dashed up the steps. His heavier footsteps thundered after her. She had to escape him. He could read her all too well. She knew one thing, The Wolf was a most dangerous man.

  She had just made it to the top of the steps, when he caught up with her. Before she knew it, he pulled her against him. His hand closed over her mouth. She bit him…but to her chagrin, he didn’t pull away. Her struggles didn’t even gain her any positive results. In her moment of agitation, the arm that held her mask slipped down to fall against her side, to dangle from the silk chord that kept it attached to her wrist.

  Weirdly enough, she wasn’t afraid of him. She wondered at his motivation to take charge of her in such a way….

  His voice broke into her thoughts.

  “This way, Witch.”

  She heard a door open. Before she knew it, she was cast in darkness. He might as well have blindfolded her. She couldn’t see a damn thing. She could, however, feel him slinking in the shadows.

  “Why do you want me?” Her voice trembled with emotion.

  He laughed. “You are putting words in my mouth, Witch, but you are right, I do want you, badly. I just don’t think we shall have time for that kind of merrymaking tonight. Time is of the essence. We must get moving…before…”

  “Before what? I don’t sense any…”

  She jumped. Something or someone crashed against the door. Her breath hitched in her throat. The sound of The Wolf drawing a weapon caught her attention.

  “The man on the other side of that door means to keep us from leaving this room, and he doesn’t intend to be kind about it.”

  Opening her senses, she felt the person’s devious intentions.

  “He must be stopped.” Her voice deadened with the utmost calm. She moved backward, and felt the back of her knees slam against the mattress of the bed. Her heart stopped.

  “Stay here,” his terse command caught her off guard.

  “I don’t think you know who you are dealing with, sir.”

  “Oh, I think I know a great more than you’d warrant. You had better hold your tongue, and stay put until I return, Duchess. Your Saint commands it.”

  Her Saint.

  She felt weak. Her mind whirled, as memories of another lifetime flooded over here.

  “Saint Christopher?” she said weakly. How…how could he be here? It couldn’t be true…it was too good to be true. She had been saved. She was safe with him. She was with a trusted friend of her family. Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t quite believe it. She moved forward, and pinched him rather hard.

  “Bloody hell. Was there a reason for that, Duchess?”

  “I…” she stammered. “I had to make quite certain that you were not a figment of my imagination.”

  “I assure you, Duchess, I am quite real.”

  “I know…” she said. Her heart continued to race. She couldn’t let him put himself in harm’s way to save her.

  “Pray, keep your voice down. I do not want anyone here to know of my true identity.”

  “I understand,” her voice trembled. “I…I can’t believe you are here.”

  “Hush,” he whispered.

  The door rattled again. By the sounds of it, the infernal blackguard was trying to break the bloody thing down.

  She tensed.

  “Look, you don’t have to act as my protector. You should slip out. There is a secret passageway in the wall over there.” She knew he’d shoved them into her chambers. She didn’t know where Daphne was…but foreboding gnawed at her.

  She sidled over to her escritoire, and quickly lit a candle, before he could stop her.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Duchess. Now they will be able to see us when they break down that door.”

  “I do not like the dark, and you keep me from Madame Martine.” She shivered. His facial features were still obscured by his bloody mask. Her own mask still hung limply from her wrist.

  “A witch should embrace the darkness, and forget about Madame Martine—I doubt she needs you. She is most likely in a bed servicing one of Napoleon’s best.” His voice made her shiver.

  “My apologies. Alas, I am not that sort of a witch. If you would like to meet one, I can direct you to the right source. I am witch who only works with white magic.” Another shudder rippled through her.

  His gaze locked with hers for the briefest moment.

  “Indeed. Everything about you, Duchess, screams love and light.” He grinned, and pulled her to his side.

  “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

  He blew the candle out, gripping her hand tightly. “You said there’s a secret passageway…take me to it—now.” It was an order, not a request.

  “Why did you have to blow out the candle? You annoying man.” She tried to pull her wrist out of his viselike grip. His fingers would leave an imprint on her wrist, if he held her like this for much longer.

  “You used to worship me.”

  “The lass I was, no longer exists.”

  “I can see that, I have eyes, Duchess. You have turned into quite a beautiful young woman.”

  His compliments made her blush, and suddenly, she was happy they were in the dark.

  “Beautiful though you might be, you are a stranger when it comes to this kind of danger, Duchess. You shall follow my lead, is that understood?”

  The tone of his voice changed. Her intuition told her to relent…for now at least…but if he thought he was the one in charge…he could think again.

  “You shall have to let me lead the way.”

  He sighed. “Of course…I shall protect you from the rear.”

  “You do that.” Reaching for the gold candlestick holder, she held it firmly. The passages would be pitch black. The candlelight would be needed, whether he liked it or not. She didn’t want to point out to him that she could sense the people outside of her chambers. They worked for her uncle. And, her Saint was right. They did want to kill her. Pierre thought she’d double-crossed him with Boney, when he found out otherwise he would rethink his orders to have her killed. She knew for a fact that he intended to usurp the little usurper.

  But then, as long as she was out of the country…she couldn’t give a tinker’s far
t what Pierre tried. He might think he was a match for Napoleon…but then, he was blinded by ambition—and greed. Men like Napoleon didn’t get ousted from power easily. When the man that wanted to claim his power was a bloody idiot—it lessened the odds somewhat.

  “I don’t know why you wanted to keep that candle lit. With the moonlight spilling into the Chateau we can still see our way.” She listened to his mutterings with a frown on her face. He had changed considerably since last she knew him. “Your flaming red hair is like a torch. I would be able to spot you in a darkened room with a blindfold across my eyes.”

  “I doubt that,” she laughed. “Though I’d warrant, you’d be able to feel me.”

  She stopped suddenly. The force of their connecting bodies made both of them jolt.

  “What are you stopping for, Duchess?”

  “We are at the passageway, and we’re going to need this candle lit to see our way.” She looked at the unlit candle, and with a spark of her magic it was lit, and ready to guide them out of the Chateau.

  “Ah. Much better,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “I would make haste if I were you. Make your retreat, and I shall stall for you, until you can reach a safe haven.”

  “I am not going anywhere without you,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You have to leave now. I will see you safe.”

  “I am here to take you to safety, Duchess. Don’t get our roles confused. I won’t let you stay here, you’ve been a courtesan long enough. It ends tonight.”

  “Tonight, sir, you will listen to me. You are in grave danger, I am not.”

  If he wanted to think she was no better than a common courtesan, than she’d let him delude himself. The truth of the matter was…her reputation was the only thing of value she had left in this unforgiving life.

  “I am here to collect you and take you back to England. Do you think I will go back without you?”

  “You must. It’s the only way. They are closing in on us. We must part now, Christopher.”

  He shook his head, and his eyes blazed. “No.”

  “You just won’t listen to sense, will you?”