The Bed and the Bachelor

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “How badly did he hurt you? You’re covered in blood.” Gently, he smoothed the hair away from her face, seeking the wound.

  “Am I? I didn’t realize,” she said, letting him dab at her injury with a handkerchief. “Once I gave him the cipher, he hit me in the head with his pistol, and I lost consciousness. When I woke, it was dark; he’d taken the candle with him. Thank heavens I’m familiar with the inside of that cave or else I might have wandered around in there forever.”

  She shivered at the thought, remembering her terror and pain and confusion. “I heard your voice, and I followed. I saw the light through the vines and heard you and Vacheau and . . .” Her words tapered off as a new memory awakened.

  “You’re badly bruised and have a gash on your temple,” Drake said, tenderly pressing the cloth against the wound to staunch the last of the bleeding. “I don’t think it’s too serious, but we should get you home.”

  “Did you mean it?” she asked dully.

  “Mean what?”

  “You said you’d come for the cipher and for revenge against me. You told him you’d cozened the information out of me, used me to gain your own objectives. That all you really cared about was keeping the code out of French hands.”

  His hand grew still. “Is that what you think?”

  Gazing up, she met his eyes. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “Why did you save me then if you believe that? Why not let Vacheau and me go to our graves? You’d have been free. You could have taken the writ and the cipher and gone anywhere you pleased.”

  A tear slid down her face. “Because I couldn’t let you die, not when I—”

  “Not when you what?” he asked softly.

  “Not when I love you. And I do, no matter how you may feel about me or what punishment you may have planned. You’re more important to me than my life. You’re the most important thing on this earth to me.“

  She didn’t have a chance to say more as Drake’s mouth came down on her own. He kissed her with a lush ardor that was both tender and tantalizing, careful not to jar her injury as he cradled her face on his shoulder to deepen their embrace even more.

  Her eyes slid closed. Trembling, she sank into a heady sea of pleasure. She wondered if she were still back inside the cave and dreaming, or if she really had plunged over the cliff ledge after all and found her way up to heaven. Never wanting their joining to end, she kissed him back, showing her love in all its depth and splendor.

  Finally, he eased away but kept her tucked close, stroking his fingers over her cheek in wandering, idle caresses. “I love you too,” he said in a thick voice. “I’ve loved you for a while now and nothing you do, not even stealing my bloody secret code and nearly getting both of us killed, can change how I feel. There is nothing that could make me stop loving you.”

  “Drake,” she gasped in wonder, not quite sure how it was possible he was saying such words.

  “So you’re stuck with me, you see, whether you want to be or not. This Englishman loves you, and he isn’t leaving France without you by his side. You and your whole family are coming with me, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  An incredulous laugh escaped her lips. “As you command, my lord, since I wouldn’t dream of objecting.”

  “I should think not,” he said with all the hauteur of a born aristocrat before he ruined the effect with a smile.

  She paused, a tiny bit of the blissful fog in which she’d been drifting, melting away. “What about your government? Might they not object to letting me go without exacting some kind of retribution for my spying?”

  “The cipher is in our possession so there’s no harm done. Besides, they need my testimony to proceed against you, and they won’t have it.”

  “They could compel it, could they not?” she asked, still concerned.

  He shook his head. “Not if I’m your husband, or aren’t you aware that spouses cannot be forced to testify against one another?”

  Her heart thudded like a hammer beneath her ribs. “Spouses? As in married? To each other? But—”

  “But what?” He gave her a penetrating look. “What did you think I meant when I said come back to England with me?”

  “I just assumed . . . that is . . . since you asked before . . . I thought that . . . that—”

  “That?” he prompted.

  “I assumed you wanted me for your mistress.”

  His eyes darkened to the color of a forest. “And you would have said yes this time?”

  She nodded. “A part of me wanted to say yes before, but I couldn’t, not with everything going on—”

  He kissed her again, long and deep, so that she could barely catch her breath when he finally let her come up for air again.

  “You’ll be my wife,” he told her. “I already bought the ring. It’s waiting back in Audley Street.”

  Her heart startled with another shock. “You mean you wanted to marry me before I left England?”

  “I did.” His expression grew deeply serious, as if he were already taking a vow. “I do.”

  She tightened her arms around him. “Oh, Drake. Je t’aime.”

  “Don’t ‘oh, Drake’ me. Just say yes.”

  She laughed, holding back a groan at the ache it caused in her head. “Yes! Oui! I will be your wife if you’re certain you want me.”

  “Didn’t I already say you’re the only woman I want?”

  She nodded, remembering.

  “Now,” he said with clear satisfaction, “I think we should get off this damned cliff and go back home.”

  Nodding again, she let him help her to her feet.

  Nearly an hour later they arrived at the cottage, Sebastianne grateful for the supporting comfort of Drake’s arm around her waist. He’d offered to carry her since her head and bruised face still ached from the blow she’d suffered, but she’d refused.

  “Papa and the boys will be alarmed enough seeing me like this,” she’d told him. “Only imagine what they’ll think if you carry me inside like an invalid. I can walk.”

  Sebastianne could tell he’d wanted to argue, and although he made no complaint, she knew he was hurting too from the struggle at the top of the cliff. She knew it would be better for Drake if she returned on her own two feet.

  Before beginning their journey back, however, they had stopped at the base of the cliff where Vacheau’s broken body lay a few yards distant. Not wanting to see him up close, Sebastianne had perched on a conveniently located rock while Drake went on alone. They needed the cipher, and the writ, and unfortunately both were inside Vacheau’s coat pocket.

  “Should I bury him?” Drake had asked her, as she settled on the rock. “I could come back tonight with a shovel and do the job.”

  Sebastianne shook her head. “No, I think it would be better if we just leave him. Someone will find the body soon, and they’ll assume it was an accident. They’ll think he was climbing the cliffs and slipped, which in a way is exactly what happened.”

  After a bit more discussion, Drake agreed. Why risk suspicion regarding the true circumstances of Vacheau’s death? Why take the chance that someone would know they had been involved?

  Once Drake had retrieved the papers and the pistols Vacheau had dropped, he rejoined her, and with his arm looped supportively around her waist, they walked home.

  They were still coming up the path when Julien raced toward them. “What happened? Are you all right?” he said in quick, voluble French. “Sebastianne, you’re hurt. Was it that man? Where is he?”

  Drake shared a look with Julien that struck Sebastianne as being very adult. “Your sister has been through a terrible ordeal today, but she will heal and be well. As for the man, let us just say that he won’t be bothering us again, any of us.”

  Julien nodded, an expression of relief crossing his face that made Sebastianne wonder
once again just how much he knew about Vacheau and the cipher.

  Before she had time to ask, he went on, “There’s something you should know, Monsieur Drake. Two men are here. They . . . um . . . they are waiting in the house. I tried, but I couldn’t convince them to go away.” Julien’s jaw grew stiff with irritation.

  As for Sebastianne, her chest tightened, her nerves stretching tight again.

  Drake scowled. “What men?”

  “I don’t know. They said they know you though. Told me they would wait.”

  Instinctively, Drake withdrew his gun from his pocket, then exchanged a pointed glance with her. “You and Julien wait here,” he said quietly. “I’ll go ahead.”

  “No, I’m not letting you go in there alone,” she argued.

  “Yes, you will,” he stated in a tone that forbade further discussion. “Julien, look after your sister. Where are Luc and your father by the way?”

  He made a face. “Having wine and cheese in the kitchen with those men as if we always entertain uninvited guests. Papa is telling them stories!”

  “Good. Then they’ll be relaxed and distracted when I go inside.”

  “Be careful,” Sebastianne said.

  “I will,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her firmly on the lips, in spite of her brother’s wide-eyed interest.

  Stealthfully, Drake approached the house.

  “Whoever you are, turn around slowly,” Drake ordered as he burst through the door, pistol at the ready.

  One dark golden head twisted around, followed by another, two sets of hazel eyes fixing on him in surprise. “Well, hallo, Drake,” drawled the first man. “I certainly hope you’re not planning on using that on one of us.”

  “No,” remarked the second. “Shabby way to greet one’s brothers, I dare say.”

  With an owl-eyed Luc and a surprised Monsieur Calvière looking on, Drake lowered the pistol to his side. “Leo? Lawrence? What in the bloody hell are you doing here?”

  Identical grins broke out on his brothers’ faces.

  “Came to help, of course,” Leo said.

  “Thought you might need a hand,” Lawrence offered. “We overheard Ned and Cade talking about how you’d raced off to France on some secret mission and that they planned to follow you.”

  “So we offered to go in their stead,” Leo continued.

  “And they let you?” Drake asked skeptically.

  The twins traded looks. “Yes, once they realized we were the most logical choice.”

  Drake crossed his arms. “And what made them decide that?”

  Lawrence smirked. “I believe it had something to do with maintaining domestic harmony and their complete inability to figure out how to sneak off without Claire and Meg finding out what they were up to.”

  “Being murdered in their beds by our sisters-in-law was mentioned a time or two, as I recall.” Leo rose from his chair. “So, we volunteered.”

  Drake put his gun away. “You needn’t have bothered. I have matters well in hand.”

  “Do you?” they said together. “We thought perhaps you could use a bit of help getting back out of the country.”

  “I suppose I could at that since our party seems to keep increasing.” He sent them a pointed glance. “But we can work that out later. What I want to know is how you found me? I took great care not to leave a trail.”

  The twins shared another smile. “You may have been careful, but we’re good at chatting up the right people.”

  “The right people?” Drake asked. “Who are those?”

  “Barmaids,” Lawrence proffered.

  Leo nodded. “They notice everything and everyone. Pass them a bit of coin and few other choice favors, and they’ll tell a man anything.”

  “At least us, anyway,” Lawrence concluded.

  Luc stared between the two, clearly intrigued by the advice. Drake knew he would have to separate the boy from the twins in the future. Bad influences. Very bad.

  “Just a minute, and I’ll be back,” Drake said, striding to the door and back out the way he’d come.

  By the time he returned with Sebastianne and Julien, the twins and Monsieur Calvière were laughing, while young Luc sat happily eating his way through a plate of cheese.

  Everyone stared the moment they saw Sebastianne.

  “I’m fine,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall their exclamations of alarm at her battered appearance. “Just a little mishap.” Glancing across the room, she nodded at the twins. “Bonjour, my lords. How good to see you again.”

  The twins stood up from their chairs, mouths hanging open. “Mrs. Greenway, what are you doing here?” Leo said first.

  “It’s Dumont, actually,” she told him in a tired voice, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over her. “If you’ll forgive me, I need to lie down. Your older brother can explain everything. He’s a marvel, you know, and not just at math,” she said, letting all the love she felt shine in her eyes.

  Epilogue

  London, England

  August 1813

  “Do I look all right?” Sebastianne asked as she ran a hand over her carefully coiffured hair, then down the skirt of the elegant new afternoon dress of sky blue sarcenet that Drake had insisted on buying her.

  “You look exquisite,” Drake said soothingly. Taking up her hand, he pressed a kiss against her trembling palm. “You know, for a woman who successfully infiltrated my household, stole a secret code, and outwitted a dangerous spy, you’re remarkably nervous.”

  “Of course I’m nervous,” she hissed, trying her best not to be further intimidated by the elegant surroundings of the Clybourne House drawing room, with its golden silk-lined walls, delicate Chippendale furnishing, or hand-painted ceiling that that looked as if it had been rendered by one of the old masters. “I’m meeting your mother today, aren’t I? Why wouldn’t I be nervous?”

  “But you needn’t be. She’ll love you.”

  “And what if she doesn’t? What if she abhors me and refuses to let us wed? I was your housekeeper, after all. She can’t be terribly overjoyed at the thought of her aristocratic son marrying a servant.”

  “Which you never really were. Besides, you come from a fine lineage, even if your father has been dispossessed of his lands and title. And your maternal grandfather was an English squire, a very respectable heritage.”

  “For ordinary people, perhaps, not for a duchess.” She smoothed her gown again, then clasped her hands together in a death grip. “I may not be completely ignorant of proper manners, but I wasn’t raised to be the wife of a lord. I just don’t want to be a disappointment, most especially to you.”

  Drake took her in his arms, ignoring her hushed concern about wrinkling her finery. “You could never disappoint me,” he said with complete sincerity. “I love you exactly as you are, and by some miracle, you love me too. You know all my foibles and idiosyncrasies, yet somehow you want me regardless.“

  She met his clear green gaze. “Of course I want you. How could I not?”

  “There are a great many other women who wouldn’t, particularly when I bury myself in my work and drift off into my own thoughts at odd moments of the day and night.” Pulling her closer, he kissed her. “What other woman would willingly volunteer for a lifetime of that?”

  “I can think of several, but I suppose I am well versed in the habits of mathematicians.”

  “Yourself included. I look forward to formulating some very interesting theorems with you.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, so is that what we shall be doing together once we are wed—formulating theorems?”

  “Among other things,” he said in a husky voice as he stroked a hand across her hip.

  “None of that, my lord,” she murmured. “Only think if your mother should walk in and catch us.”

  “I suspect she would take it
in stride. After all, she is a mother of eight, so I think she knows a bit about what goes on between a man and a woman.”

  “Drake!” she scolded, trying to be outraged and failing.

  He chuckled. “My mother may be a dowager duchess, but you’ll find that she’s very liberal in her views and not at all puffed-up like some of the nobility. My sister-in-law Grace’s father, for example, is a complete commoner, without so much as a drop of blue blood in the whole family. Mama welcomed Grace with open arms. Frankly, I think she was simply relieved to see Jack married at all. So don’t fret, my love. You’re going to dazzle her.”

  Dazzle her, hah! Sebastianne thought.

  “Mrs. Tremble wasn’t dazzled,” she said sourly, remembering the cook’s reaction to her return.

  Drake’s staff wasn’t privy to all the details of Sebastianne’s life or her real reason for having worked as Drake’s housekeeper, so they were shocked when she arrived back in Audley Street with an elderly father and two young brothers in tow—all of whom spoke rapid French and were clearly not of English origin.

  Nor had the servants forgotten or forgiven Sebastianne for her unexpected disappearance from the house—a slight they took personally since they had been frantic with worry at the time. To make matters worse, Sebastianne had had no choice but to reveal that she was not “Mrs. Greenway” after all, and that she hadn’t been strictly truthful with them about certain other details.

  “Just how old are you then?” Mrs. Tremble had demanded on the day Sebastianne and Drake assembled the servants in the drawing room to explain as much of the truth to them as seemed prudent.

  “I am two-and-twenty years of age, soon to be three-and-twenty,” Sebastianne said honestly.

  “Hah! Well, if I didn’t have the right of it all along,” the older woman said, slapping a hand against her thigh.

  Drake had stared at Sebastianne in astonishment, clearly as unaware of that particular revelation as all the others. Recovering quickly, and giving her a look that said they’d discuss it in more depth later, he’d continued smoothing over Sebastianne’s return by announcing that they were engaged to be married.