Regency Spymasters 01 - Spy Fall

by Diana Quincy

  “Lie with me. I want to hold you.”

  “No, you are injured. It wouldn’t be wise.”

  He stared into her eyes. “Surely it is a small thing to ask. After all, I did take a bullet for you.”

  “You have no shame.”

  One dark brow shot up. “I am a scoundrel, after all.”

  Shaking her head, she smiled. “Very well. I do like to pay my debts.” Rising from her chair, she eased herself onto the bed next to his uninjured side. Snuggling close against the warmth of his big, strong body, she was grateful for the comforting contact.

  Pulling her tighter against him, Cosmo gave a satisfied sigh. “It is the damnedest thing.”

  She pressed a kiss against his lightly furred bare chest. “What is?”

  “Every time we find ourselves in an actual bed together, all we ever do is sleep.”

  Chuckling, she said, “Then you must hurry and get well so I can have my way with you in this bed.”

  His eyes drifted shut. “Far be it from me to deny a lady.” Soon his breathing deepened, and Mari knew he’d fallen asleep. Closing her eyes, she remained awake for a time, comforted by the even rhythm of his breathing.

  She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes again, dawn was already nipping at the window. She glanced over at Cosmo, who remained deep in slumber. Good. He needed his rest after the trauma that had been done to his body. Reluctantly, she shifted away from him and rose from the bed. Someone would be along soon to tend to him and she shouldn’t be discovered here.

  Later that morning, after checking on a sleeping Cosmo, Mari came down the stairs just as Miss Chalcroft arrived with Anna by her side.

  “How is Cosmo?” Rosie asked, her face furrowed with concern.

  Mari darted a cautious glance at Anna. “He is resting.”

  “Miss Chalcroft told me Uncle Cosmo is ill,” Anna chirped, toying with the blue satin ribbon dangling from her cheerful straw hat. It matched the sash of her white muslin gown. The frilled voile of the child’s pantaloons peeked from beneath the hem of her gown. “Is he feeling better?”

  Mari couldn’t help but smile. With her high spirits and crisp attire, little Anna brought much-needed sunshine into the subdued household. “Yes, I do believe he is.” She looked at Rosie. “Does Aldridge know you are here?”

  “He does indeed.” Aldridge’s strained voice said from behind her. She turned toward him, but the marquess had eyes for only his granddaughter. Dressed informally in white shirtsleeves, an awed expression marked his lean face as he stared at the child. “Hello, Susanna.”

  She giggled, her pudgy fingers still fiddling with the hat ribbon. “Hello, Lord Aldridge. Uncle Tristan only ever calls me Susanna when he is angry with me.”

  “Let me assure you that I am not angry with you.” Keeping his eyes fixed on the child, he walked to her, his boots tapping against the weathered parquet floor. “I find Susanna to be a most beautiful name.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Truly?”

  Nodding, he knelt in front of her. “You see, it was also my wife’s name.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Then I suppose it is all right if you call me that as well.”

  “Thank you.” Wonder filled his face as he traced the child’s features with his rapt gaze. “The shape of your eyes, your nose…they’re just like your mother’s.”

  She tilted her head. “Did you know my mother?”

  “I did. I knew her very well indeed. Your mother brought great joy into my life.”

  “Uncle Tristan loved her as well,” she said. “My mother must have been very special.”

  “She was, as is her daughter.” Aldridge’s chin wobbled. “I don’t know how I could have missed the resemblance. In some ways, you are very much like her.”

  “Miss Chalcroft says my nurse is coming and that I am to remain for a visit while Uncle Tristan is away.”

  Appearing unsure of how much to tell the child, he darted a glance at Mari and Rosie before saying carefully, “Miss Chalcroft has the right of it.”

  “Will it be a very long visit?”

  “Yes. I do believe you will be with us for a very long time.”

  “My pony is going to be most unhappy.” Her face wrinkled. “He does not like to be away from me.”

  Rising to his full height, Aldridge smiled fondly. “It is fortunate then that I had your pony delivered here this morning.”

  Her face brightened. “May I go and see him?”

  “Of course.” He looked at her as if he never planned to let her out of his sight. “I shall take you.”

  “Let’s go right away.” Beaming, the girl slipped her tiny hand into her grandfather’s sizable one. “I would like that very much.”

  The marquess appeared surprised, and then dazzled, to be holding his granddaughter’s small hand. “As would I, Susanna.” He guided her through the front door with a gentle, joyous smile that made Mari’s heart ache. “As would I.”

  Watching after them as they stepped onto the lawn, Rosie cleared her throat. “Elinor’s child. It is difficult to believe.”

  Mari swallowed hard. “I did not realize you were well acquainted with the child,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Did you keep her often for Viscount Darling?”

  “No.” Rosie shook her head sadly. “I only learned of her existence a few weeks ago when he brought her by for a surprise visit.”

  “Did you not wonder why he had never brought her to see you before?”

  “I presumed, as did everyone else, that she was his child, born on the wrong side of the blanket,” Rosie said. “Clearly, I was mistaken. Is it true Tristan stole her after Ellie died?”

  “Of course it is true.” Marcel’s voice rang out behind them. Coming from the direction of the kitchen, he strode toward the women with a half-eaten slice of bread in his hand. “Just as I told you yesterday when you stubbornly refused to let me bring the child to her family, where she belongs.”

  Rosie looked heavenward at the sound of Marcel’s voice. “Mr. Lamarre,” she said in a voice totally absent of enthusiasm. “And to think I almost missed seeing you.”

  “You do all men a considerable favor by avoiding us.” He popped the remaining piece of bread into his mouth. “It is no wonder you are a spinster.”

  “Marcel!” Mari said, shocked by his rudeness.

  “Oh, don’t fret, Mari,” Rosie said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Mr. Lamarre doesn’t bother me. Not any more than a mosquito or gnat would, anyway.”

  He stopped chewing; his eyes glowered. “Mademoiselle, are you calling me an insect?”

  “You, sir, and men such as yourself, are precisely why I am pleased to remain an old maid for the remainder of my life.” Turning to Mari, she said, “I shall be on my way. I trust you’ll keep me informed as to how Cosmo fares?”

  “Of course.” Mari accompanied her to the door, promising to send word if his condition changed. Without another glance at a still-scowling Marcel, Rosie marched out the door in long, confident strides.

  “Insufferable woman,” Marcel muttered, keeping his eyes on Rosie’s retreating form.

  “What is the matter with you?” Mari slapped his arm. “Granted, you are not the most amiable person, but I’ve never seen you act so discourteously.”

  He shrugged. “What can I tell you? Something about that woman brings out the worst in me.”

  Mari gazed after her friend, noting the surreptitious backward glance Rosie threw over her shoulder at Marcel. Mari smiled and shut the door. Perhaps Rosie had begun to transfer her affections for Cosmo to a belligerent Frenchman with deplorable manners.

  Later that evening, Mari repeated the ritual of the night before, going to Cosmo long after the rest of the household was abed, surprised again that Aldridge would leave his son and heir unattended at such a precarious time. Cosmo had been waiting for her, and she felt tension drain from his body when she slipped into bed beside him and told him of Aldri
dge’s reunion with Elinor’s daughter.

  On the third night, she pushed the door open to find Aldridge sitting by the bed, running a damp cloth over Cosmo’s face. The marquess appeared unsurprised to see her. “Come in,” he said, waving her to the chair on the opposite side of the bed.

  She hesitated. “I would not want to intrude. The sickroom is for family.”

  “My son put himself in harm’s way for you, Miss Lamarre.” He dropped the cloth in a bowl with a gentle splash. “I would say that makes you a person of significance in his life.”

  Mari ran a concerned gaze over Cosmo’s flushed face. “He’s asleep? Is he unwell?”

  Grief deepened the lines of the older man’s face. “There is an infection.”

  “No.” The word left her mouth before she’d realized she’d formed it. “Where is Dr. Hodges? Why is he not here?”

  “He only just departed. Hodges has cleaned the wound.” He reached for the cloth. Wringing out the liquid, he said, “We are to keep Cosmo cool and comfortable, and keep his dressings clean.”

  “I am sorry.” Her throat ached. How he must hate her for placing his only surviving child in harm’s way. “You must hold me in such contempt.”

  “To the contrary. My son is injured because I consorted with the enemy.”

  “You were trying to do right by Elinor’s child.”

  His countenance softened. “I had to try. Young Susanna is such a delight. She has been a source of comfort these past days.”

  “May I stay?” she asked, knowing that, in this man’s eyes, she had no right to.

  “Of course. It is my belief that your nightly vigils at my son’s bedside give him comfort.”

  “You are aware that I visit him?” Surprised comprehension rolled through her. “That is why you’ve left him unattended in the evening.”

  Kindness shone in his eyes. “Only he has not been alone, has he?”

  “Thank you.”

  “My dear, it is I who should thank you,” he said. “I owe you every gratitude, not only for the role you played in returning my granddaughter to me, but also for loving my son.”

  His words wrenched through her. As much as she’d tried to hold herself aloof, to protect her heart, it had been of no use. She did love Cosmo with all of her being. Nothing else could explain the despair and agony gripping her. It was worse even than the deep sorrow she’d felt over her father’s unjust killing. And Pascal’s death had not elicited this level of wretchedness.

  “Let me care for him.” She reached for the cloth and wrung water out of it. Cosmo’s skin was flushed and hot to the touch when she drew the damp cloth over it. “You should rest.”

  “I am fatigued.” Aldridge stood. “Perhaps for a short while.”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. “I will demand they wake you if his condition worsens.”

  Thanking her, he quit the room, leaving her alone to tend to Cosmo. She dipped the cloth in water again and ran it over the contours of his strong arms in long soothing strokes, realizing anew that she loved this man with painful intensity.

  She continued the same pattern through the night. At times, Cosmo moaned and tossed around, murmuring to himself, jerking in his restless sleep. She spoke to him in soothing tones, even though he seemed oblivious to everything around him.

  While she battled to keep his fever down, dark thoughts consumed her. A septic wound could be fatal. The idea that this might be the end for him opened a yawning hole in her that she felt sure would never heal. She had always known their time together would be short, but she’d never imagined how fleeting.

  The unsettling sensations reminded her why she’d avoided deep emotional attachments since Pascal and her father died. It hurt too much to lose a loved one. Yet she hadn’t been able to close her heart to this valiant, formidable man who’d charmed his way into her affections.

  Of course, he didn’t share her feelings. Cosmo had enjoyed their liaison, but it was a fleeting amusement for him. There could be no future for a common, half-French spying aeronaut and the wealthy heir to a marquisate. Even if they could marry, Cosmo wasn’t the sort to stay faithful to one woman, and she could never tolerate infidelity. He also abhorred aerostation, which she wouldn’t give up for anyone. One day soon, he would find a noble virgin to make his marchioness. It would all be very orderly and appropriate. She would be a pleasant, distant memory. But she felt the overwhelming need to speak aloud just once what lay in her heart.

  “Je t’aime,” she whispered to his sleeping form, her heart at once both heavy and full. “I will never love anyone as I love you.”

  Only he could never know. When the time came to depart for London to conduct her parachute demonstration, she would leave Langtry—and Cosmo—forever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Blinking his eyes open, Cosmo squinted against the light coming from the window. He swallowed, his mouth dry as sand. He tried to sharpen his groggy mind. What time was it? Hell. What day was it? Shifting in the bed, he let loose a string of curses when pain arrowed through his side.

  “I see you are back to your old self.” Mari moved into view. Despite her amused expression, she appeared weary, with shadows under her eyes and lush dark waves escaping the haphazard knot at the back of her neck. “How do you feel? You gave us a scare.”

  “What time is it?” His voice was hoarse. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Almost two days. You developed sepsis. Do you recall anything?”

  Bits of the past forty-eight hours began to filter into his hazy mind. Memories of heat and pain, of retching into the chamber pot, and of cool hands and a soothing voice through it all. He closed his eyes with a groan. “Please tell me you weren’t tending me when I cast my accounts.”

  “It seemed a small price to pay, when one considers that you saved my life.”

  He drew the back of his hand over his eyes, humiliated she’d witnessed him in such a state. “I don’t know what to say. You should have let someone else see to such loathsome duties.”

  “Oh, do shut up,” she said without sympathy. “And do not assume I will release you from your promise to let me have my way with you in this bed once you are recovered.”

  He shifted his hand to peer at her. “And on the beach. You promised wet, messy rutting on the beach.”

  “Clearly, you are much improved,” she said wryly. “Now that your fever has broken, Dr. Hodges expects your recovery to be swift.”

  “You’ve given me great incentive to get well.” He sobered. “What of Anna? She fares well I hope.”

  She moved around the bed fussing with his linens. “Your niece already has Aldridge tied around her little finger. He can deny her nothing.”

  “And Darling?” Renewed anger coursed through him. “Susanna must be kept safe from him.”

  She paused, her expression solemn. “Darling won’t be a problem. Will is having him transported to London for a trial by his peers in the Lords.”

  “The swine deserves to swing for stealing Anna and trying to have you killed. What has the child been told?”

  She reached behind him to plump up his pillows. “That he has gone away on a long journey and that she will stay with you and Aldridge.”

  “Mm.” He had so many questions, but his eyelids felt so damned heavy.

  “Sleep,” she said as he closed his eyes. “All is well.”

  The next time he opened his eyes, it was dark, and Aldridge sat beside him.

  “Welcome back,” his father said with a relieved smile.

  He licked his dry lips. “Where is Mari?”

  “Miss Lamarre is taking a long-needed rest. She didn’t leave your side when it appeared the fever might take you.”

  Somehow he knew that. Although his memory remained foggy, he’d felt the strength of her presence during the worst moments of his illness. “Is she going to tell Will about your involvement with the French?”

  “Miss Lamarre has the list.”

  Alarm filtered through
him. “How did she get it?” He tried to haul himself into a sitting position, but paralyzing pain burned in his side, robbing him of breath. “We must retrieve it immediately.”

  “Nonsense.” Aldridge put a gentle hand to Cosmo’s shoulder, helping him to settle back against the pillows. “I gave it to her.”

  “Damn your sense of honor. Why would you give her the evidence to use against you?”

  “Cosmo, the document I was prepared to hand over to the French did not have Miss Lamarre’s name in it.”

  Cosmo frowned. “I don’t follow.”

  “The list of names Napoleon would have gotten from me contained names of agents who are already known to the French, or who have long been dead. I would not compromise or endanger any active agents. In the end, my conscience would not allow me to turn over the real list.”

  Cosmo released a breath. “Then all is resolved.” His limbs felt heavy with fatigue. Damn, but he felt as weak as a kitten.

  “Yes,” Aldridge said. “You’ve done well, son. You must rest now.”

  Cosmo felt strangely light. He realized that the heavy weight that had burdened him since Elinor’s death seemed to have melted away. Instead, he experienced a strong feeling of contentment; Ellie’s child was safe, his father’s reputation and legacy remained intact.

  Closing his eyes, a sense of peace flowed over him. He would always grieve his sister’s loss, but it was time to allow Ellie to rest in peace. She’d chosen her fate, marrying for love and bearing a child—two of life’s most significant experiences. What he could do for his sister now was keep her daughter safe and raise her with all of the love her own parents would have lavished upon her. That he could do. This time he would not fail Ellie.

  He’d wallowed in drink and self-pity long enough. The people of Langtry and all of the Aldridge holdings depended upon him. It was time to put the past where it belonged and step up to his obligations. He’d begin by putting his personal life in order.

  And he knew exactly where, and with whom, to start.

  “You are late.” Cosmo rose from his chair by the window as Mari entered his bedchamber a week later. “Where have you been?”

  The sight of him standing in his dressing gown, appearing moody and impatient, cheered her. It seemed a good sign that he’d regained enough strength to chafe against being confined to the sickroom. His scowl deepened when he spotted Will behind her.