by Linda Sole
‘I would never allow that man to capture a woman I admire as I do you, Constance. You can have no idea of what he would do to you – how he would break your fine spirit little by little.’
‘Please do not,’ Constance begged. ‘I am sure it will not happen. Moraven will deal with him. He would never let harm come to me.’
‘If he is alive to prevent it,’ Jonathan replied. ‘I tried to tell him that Renard is planning to kill him but he told me he knew and would not listen to my concerns. I believe he thought me a green youth, but let me assure you I am not.’
‘No, I do not think it,’ Constance said. ‘Oh, do look at those beautiful flowers. May we stop for a moment to admire them? The comtesse used to have flowers all over the house, but they are an extravagance we cannot afford these days.’
The lingered by the woman selling flowers. She had baskets of roses, lilies, scented peonies and other beautiful blooms.
‘Which do you most admire?’ Jonathan asked. Constance had bent to sniff at some long stemmed roses. ‘Allow me to buy you some flowers, Miss Hatherstone.’
‘Oh no…’ she blushed. ‘I did not mean for you to spend your money, sir.’
‘I have lived on the best food I’ve ever eaten for three days and not paid a penny,’ he said and looked at the flower seller. ‘A dozen of your best roses, madame, the same of the lilies and the peonies – and are they violets? I thought it too late.’
‘They grow in a wood near here and flower right through until June because of the soil conditions,’ the woman replied. She beamed at him as he deposited some money into her palm. ‘You have paid enough to purchase all my flowers, lord.’
‘Then we shall have all the best.’ Jonathan scooped them into his arms and then transferred them to Constance. They filled her arms and the scent rose to her nostrils, their perfume a blend of delicate, exotic and strong that she found totally delicious. ‘There, now you may fill your house.’ He smiled and picked up her basket again. ‘A woman as lovely as you should have flowers every day of her life.’
‘You spoil me,’ Constance said. ‘That money would feed a family for days, my lord.’
‘Will you not call me Jonathan? Do not scold me for extravagance, Constance. I know that I come from a privileged background but my family and I do what we can for others. Our tenants never starve and we give to the poor. If the Lord created us unequal what can we do but enjoy what we have and give praise?’
‘I did not mean to scold you,’ she said. ‘I love my gift but I have grown used to being careful with money. There was very little when my father was alive and since the comtesse disappeared I have tried not to spend what does not belong to me.’
‘Yet you were willing to gamble and you gave your winnings to the children?’
‘The people I played with were gamblers and could afford to lose.’
‘What would you have done had you lost all you had?’
‘I never staked more than my fifty guineas. Once that was gone I stopped playing…’ A flush touched her cheeks, because she had not told him how she came to meet Moraven.
‘I think you were brave to risk so much,’ he replied, his blue eyes serious as he looked at her. ‘I do not like to think of you living so dangerously. If I could I would protect you from all harm.’
‘You must not say such things to me, sir. You do not know me. If you did, you might not like me.’
‘Nothing you could ever do would stop me liking you – my feelings are much deeper, as perhaps you have guessed.’
‘Please do not…’
‘I do not mean to embarrass you. I believe there is an understanding between Moraven and you, though he did not tell me it was so. Perhaps I speak out of turn when I say that if he were to disappoint you, I would be there to help and support you. Indeed, it would be my privilege.’
Constance shook her head. ‘You hardly know me. You are young and there are many beautiful women in Paris, many of them far more so than I.’
‘I think you need a new hand mirror,’ he said and laughed softly as she shook her head, her cheeks warm. ‘Believe me, beauty is not all I admire about you, Constance. You have something special but I shall not embarrass you further. Believe me, when I say that I would give all I have to see you look at me the way you do at him.’
Constance hung her head, unable to look at him. She knew that he was sincere and that he had fallen in love with her. It seemed impossible that he should feel so deeply in the space of a few days, but it was so and she believed that he meant all he said to her. However, her heart was given to Moraven and she was a little anxious that her rejection might cause him pain, though of course she could not say it aloud.
Instead, she buried her face in the flowers, inhaling their various perfumes. So many precious blooms! She would fill all the rooms they used with them – but the violets she would keep for herself.
It would serve to take her mind from Moraven for a while. He had not said how long he would be away and with each day that passed her sense of unease grew. What was happening to him – and was he all right? She did not think that he had been wounded or killed, for surely she would know if he were in terrible pain?
Moraven cursed as he rode towards Paris. His journey had been wasted, for though he’d followed all the instructions and gone to the rendezvous alone, nothing had happened. No one had tried to kill him and Renard had not appeared to confront him. Why? He’d been so sure that it was a trap and he’d walked into it with his eyes opened, but he’d wasted his time. He could see no reason why he should have been given false information…unless…they wanted him out of Paris. The King was in the country at one of his many palaces and the guard had been trebled so he was not the object of Renard’s next strike so…
Suddenly, it had come to him. Constance! They wanted him out of the way so that they could get to the woman he cared for. It was like Renard to give pain, to torture and taunt rather than strike a clean blow. What a fool he’d been.
An icy chill crept down his spine. Had he played into their hands by taking Jonathan South to the house to guard her? Supposing he was not with the English government, but instead one of Renard’s men? He might return to the house and find that she had disappeared without trace. She might be dead or…the alternative aroused such pictures in his mind that he cried out in agony at the thought of what might have occurred. And he’d left her with an untried novice. At best, Jonathan would do what he could to save her, but he wasn’t a soldier; he didn’t know what it felt like to shoot to kill your enemy without hesitation. If put to the test he might fail her.
Damn it! He’d been such a fool, falling into their clever trap. He’d believed he was the target but the certainty was mounting that it was Constance they wanted. She had dared to defy him by helping the nuns to steal the children from him, and she’d brought him into the business. Renard could not know that he would have hunted him down anyway, but he did know that she was important to him. He must have been watching and waiting all this time…
He touched his spurs to his horse’s flanks. It was already giving him its best but it could not be fast enough. If she was gone when he arrived he would tear Paris apart to find her…Renard would die before the night was over if he’d harmed one hair of her head.
Constance had just arranged the last of her flowers when she heard the noise behind her. She did not turn at once, thinking that Heloise must have entered, but when no one spoke she felt an odd tingling at the nape of her neck and swung round to look. The man she saw watching her was unknown to her, but her spine tingled, because she knew instinctively that he meant her harm.
‘Who are you? How did you enter my house?’ she demanded.
‘Come with me now, lady,’ the man said. ‘Moraven is in trouble. He has been mortally wounded and lies near death. He is begging for you to come to him.’
‘Moraven wounded?’ Constance’s heart pounded. Her first instinct was to go with him. She had to see the man she loved – and yet something held her
back. Moraven would never have sent a stranger to fetch her. Somehow she knew that this was a ruse to make her go quietly. ‘Where is he?’
‘At the nuns house in the Lombard Square,’ the man replied. ‘You must come quickly, madame.’
Constance felt prickles down her spine. The man was lying, she knew that for sure now, because the nuns no longer had their safe house at the Lombard Square. Clearly Renard did not yet know they had moved to a new location.
She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his bravely. ‘No, sir. I shall not come with you. I do not know your name or how you came to be in my house, but I have friends who will protect me and I suggest you leave without causing a fuss.’
‘Your friends are being taken care of,’ the man said. ‘The old woman was no trouble. The man fought bravely for you, but we have him under guard. If he attempts to come to you we shall kill him and the woman.’
‘You must not harm them,’ Constance cried. ‘They have done nothing to you or your master. Please allow them to go free.’
‘They will go free when you are safely on your way,’ the man said, an unpleasant leer on his face. He reached out and took hold of her arm, his fingers taking a painful grip of her tender flesh. ‘Struggle or cause a fuss and we’ll shoot them like rabid dogs.’
‘No…’ a sobbing breath left her as she looked into his cold eyes. No words of hers would sway him and there was little she could do to resist unless she wanted two deaths on her conscience. ‘If those are your terms I shall come with you.’
‘I thought you would.’ The man grinned his satisfaction at her. ‘He doesn’t want you harmed. He has plans for you this night, lady.’
Constance felt a spasm of fear in her stomach. Jonathan had warned her of her likely fate. He’d promised to shoot her rather than let her be taken, but it seemed these evil men had overpowered him.
Hearing a shot from downstairs, Constance started. Something was going on. Who had fired the shot? Had Moraven returned and discovered what was happening. She tried to run past the man but he grabbed her by the waist, holding her as she kicked and struggled. She screamed three times and then someone burst into the room. Jonathan had blood on his cheek and more blood was running down his arm, but he was holding a pistol.
‘I’ve just killed one of your thugs,’ he told the man. ‘Let go of her, you scum or I’ll kill you, too.’
The man held a knife to Constance’s throat. ‘Drop that pistol or I’ll kill her.’
‘You wouldn’t. Renard would kill you,’ Jonathan said. ‘Let her go – push her away from you. This is between us, Everard.’
‘You traitor. When Renard finds out you were a double agent, he’ll strip the skin from your body while you yet live.’
‘I’ll take my chances if he finds out. You won’t be alive to tell the tale, believe me.’ His finger moved on the hammer. ‘It’s your last chance…’
Everard suddenly thrust Constance to one side. She fell to her knees, still and watchful as she saw his hand go to his pocket.
‘He has a pistol…’ she screamed as Jonathan’s finger moved. The shot rang out and the Frenchman fell, shot through the forehead. Constance remained on her knees, looking at Jonathan. ‘Have you been working with Renard?’
‘I infiltrated their ranks months ago. They thought I wanted to see both the King of England and the Regent dead; they mistook me for a drunken fop, more interested in gambling and wine than anything else but I learned many of their secrets. I know where Renard is now and…’
Before he could finish, another shot rang out and he staggered back, clutching at his shoulder. Constance saw the second ruffian standing in the doorway. As Jonathan slumped to the ground the assassin took aim, his pistol pointing at Jonathan’s head.
‘No!’ Constance screamed and grabbed a footstool, throwing it at his head. It hit him a glancing blow and the man cursed, touching his head and then turning his angry gaze on her.
‘Bitch. I’d kill you where you stand, but Renard has a use for you. You’ll come with me now but first I’ll finish off the traitor…’
Constance screamed again but even as she did so yet another shot rang out and the assassin fell face down. He went down like a felled tree, not even twitching as he hit the floor. Her startled eyes went through the open doorway and then she saw who had saved them. Relief surged through her.
‘You’re back,’ she said. ‘They tried to tell me you were injured and close to death, so that I would go with them, but I knew you would have sent someone I trusted. You would never have sent a stranger to me.’
‘Yet I left you with a man I did not know,’ Moraven growled. ‘I’m a damned fool. Was he one of them?’
‘No, at least, I think they believed he was until he refused to let them take me. He killed two of them but he’s hurt…’ Constance went to the man lying on the floor. She knelt beside him, turning him gently. He was bleeding copiously and his eyes were closed. ‘Jonathan – can you hear me?’
‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, his eyes flickering open. ‘I should have told Moraven the truth. I thought if he knew I was playing a double game he would not trust me – and then he brought me here. I knew they meant to come for you while he was away but I was ready for them. I would have stopped them somehow…’
He tried to sit up, his pistol still in his hand. Then he became aware of Moraven. ‘Forgive me, I should have made you listen – but you thought me a fool straight out of the nursery…’
Moraven knelt on the floor beside him, his mouth tight with restrained anger. ‘We’ll discuss this later. How bad are you? Can you stand or shall I carry you? We need to get you to bed and bind up this wound of yours.’
‘It’s deep,’ Jonathan said and coughed, blood mixed in his spittle. ‘I’ll be lucky if I survive this one…’
‘Try not to talk,’ Moraven replied. He offered the pistol to Constance. I think my men have taken care of the rest of the vipers but if anyone tries to grab you, shoot.’
‘Yes.’ Constance felt sick and faint but she gritted her teeth. ‘How bad is he? Shall I send for a doctor?’
‘One of my men will go. Ask Dodds. He knows what to do – but you can put the kettles on if you will. He’ll need the ball extracted and it isn’t going to be easy by the looks of it. A fraction of an inch lower and he would already be dead.’
‘Oh no…’ Tears filled Constance’s eyes as Moraven picked the unconscious man up. Jonathan had held out for a few minutes but the pain had overtaken him and he was no longer aware of what was going on. ‘He wasn’t at all what you thought him, Moraven – but he was good at heart and he meant to give his life to protect me.’
‘Let’s hope that he hasn’t.’ Moraven said. ‘Send one of my men up to me – and start those kettles boiling.’
‘Yes, of course.’
He was so angry. Constance could hardly hold back the tears as she went down the stairs to the kitchen. She could hear Heloise grumbling as she opened the door and saw her friend apparently none the worse for her ordeal and berating the men in her kitchen for tramping all over it and making a mess.
‘It isn’t their fault,’ Constance said as she saw the overturned stools and the pots scattered over the floor. ‘Moraven wants someone to help him upstairs – and Dodds is to fetch a doctor. Lord South has been injured badly.’
‘Right, I’ll go to the captain,’ one of the men said. ‘I’m Jim, miss. I’ve done a bit of patching folk up in my time, though I’m no doctor. I’ll do what I can for your friend.’
Constance was about to say that Lord South was not her friend and then she realised that it was true. She’d known him only a few days and he’d lied to her – or at least he hadn’t told her the whole truth. He’d let her believe he’d been working in intelligence at home, when all the time he’d been doing something far more dangerous. She wondered why he’d chosen this moment to come out into the open and risk Renard’s wrath.
Shaking her head, she began to fill kettles and prepare linen clothes
and basins. When the doctor arrived he would need someone to help him. If allowed she would do what she could, but Moraven was in charge.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. What would have happened to her, had he not arrived when he did? Why had he come back at this moment – and what had been happening to him while he was away?
Chapter Nine
‘What did the surgeon say?’ Constance asked when Moraven came down the stairs later that day. ‘Is he still with Lord South?’
‘It was difficult to get at the ball without damaging internal organs. The ball had travelled on a diagonal and buried itself deep in his chest. Doctor Frances is very concerned. He fears that his lungs may have been damaged.’
‘Oh no…’ Constance caught her breath. ‘He is so young and full of life. If he should die for my sake….’
‘None of this was your fault,’ Moraven said grimly. ‘If anyone is to blame it is I – for allowing myself to believe that I was Renard’s prime objective. He outwitted me, sending me on a wild goose chase while he made his plans. I sent a young untried fool to take care of you.’ His eyes were dark with anguish. ‘Had they succeeded, I should not have forgiven myself. I cannot even ask you to forgive me…’
‘There is truly nothing to forgive,’ Constance’s throat felt tight. ‘I was involved long before I met you. Had I not taken your purse that night Renard might have killed me at any time – or used me, as he will…’
‘Until I came into your life the nuns were a mere irritant,’ Moraven replied. ‘Jonathan managed to tell me where to find him in one of his lucid moments. I must deal with this business once and for all…’
‘Please…’ Constance caught at his arm. He seemed so remote and angry, unlike the man she’d fallen in love with. ‘Take care, Moraven. I think they meant to use me to draw you into a trap.’
‘Possibly. However, I now have the advantage. Save your tears, Constance. There is a man upstairs that needs them more than I.’
‘What do you mean?’
