The Spy's Revenge

by Nadine Millard

  Jonathan couldn’t help but feel a jolt of smug pleasure at the older man’s words.

  There was something very appealing about the thought of Gabby making an effort for him.

  Though it would, of course, be unnecessary.

  Even in a sack, she would still be the most beautiful woman in any room.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Piers continued, “I know exactly what you’re feeling.”

  Jonathan scoffed and moved to refill the tumbler in his hand.

  Splashing a healthy measure of brandy into his glass, he shook his head slightly.

  “You know how it feels to have your heart ripped out by the loss of the woman you love, only to have her show up again?”

  After a pause, Piers spoke again.

  “Perhaps not quite how you feel then,” he conceded. “But having my heart ripped out by the loss of a woman? That I understand with perfect, agonising clarity.”

  Jonathan turned toward his mentor, a father figure, really, in surprise.

  Piers rarely spoke of his life before the Home Office, and when he did, it was always about assignments whilst in the field.

  He’d never, to Jonathan’s knowledge, spoken of his personal life.

  “You do?” Jonathan asked, because he wasn’t quite sure what to say to such a statement.

  Piers laughed, but there didn’t seem to be any humour in the sound. He rolled his own tumbler between his palms, watching the contents intently, the bleakest of looks upon his face.

  “Oh, yes. I knew a woman once. Loved a woman once. Just like your Gabrielle. Beautiful, smart, spirited. Everything I ever wanted, and I loved her with a passion to rival your own.”

  He stopped talking, and Jonathan wondered whether he meant to stay silent on the subject for good.

  But after a large swallow of his drink, the older man continued. “I lost her, of course. Inevitable, really. She was fickle with her affections, and I was too stupidly in love to notice or care. I have never loved another since, and I have never forgiven her for breaking my heart, though she is long dead.”

  Jonathan felt his jaw drop at the sorry tale.

  Somehow, ridiculous though it seemed, he had never imagined Piers as younger or different than what he was now.

  To hear that the man had his heart broken by an unknown, long-dead woman was unusual enough, but the barely contained fury in Piers’ voice and countenance was something Jonathan had never seen before, and it shocked him.

  “What happened?” Jonathan managed to ask.

  Piers sighed and took a long sip of his brandy.

  “What has happened since the beginning of time with women such as she? Left me for another. Got herself in trouble with some scoundrel or other, fancying herself in love with the bounder. And though I offered to do right by her, marry her and legitimise her bastard, she fled and followed him. Last I heard, they were enjoying wedded bliss until he died, and she followed him some years later.”

  Jonathan had never heard such cold fury in Piers’ voice as he was hearing right then. He wondered how the man could hold onto such anger, such strong emotion after all this time. But then he thought about how he would be if Gabby had told him that she loved the captain, he remembered the lance of furious jealousy he’d felt and how he’d railed against her when he’d seen her and the Captain together.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t still feel fury. But heartache, he was sure, would be his companion for the rest of his days.

  Despite there being so much more that Jonathan wanted to know, any further questioning or discussion, however, was halted by a sound at the door.

  Jonathan turned to see Gabrielle enter, and all thought of Piers and lost love and anything, really, fled.

  GABBY SMOOTHED A hand over the silk folds of her gown, swallowing nervously.

  The truth was, Jonathan had seen her dressed in breeches, dressed in coarse woollen gowns and all manner of cloaks and disguises, but he had rarely, if ever, seen her make an effort to dress as a lady of quality.

  Abovestairs, the pale golden-coloured gown, threaded with seed pearls around the bodice and capped sleeves, had seemed perfect, and she’d been excited to wear it. Especially when Daisy had threaded her chocolate curls with two strings of pearls to match.

  Pearl drop earrings and a string of pearls at her throat were all the adornment she needed, aside from her white satin evening gloves.

  All in all, she had thought she looked rather well. But standing here now, with both gentlemen still yet to speak, Gabby was starting to feel a little self-conscious.

  Before her embarrassment became acute however, Piers moved to clasp her gloved hand and bring it to his lips.

  “My dear, you are exquisite.”

  Gabby made to answer but was brought up short when she met Piers’ gaze. The man looked furious. His blue eyes, dulled with age, were lit with a fierce, angry fire.

  She took an instinctive step back, but within seconds, Piers blinked and was his old self again, his gentle smile looking so natural that Gabby wondered if she’d imagined the look of moments ago.

  “Th-thank you,” she muttered, feeling a little blindsided by the expression she’d seen on Piers’ face. Or thought she’d seen.

  Piers turned toward Jonathan who, aside from sketching a bow when Gabby entered, had yet to move.

  “Told you,” the older man said cryptically.

  Before she could ascertain just what was going on between the two gentlemen, Piers’ butler announced his presence with a gentle “Ahem.”

  “Dinner is served, sir.” The man addressed Piers.

  “Excellent. Thank you, Jeffries,” Piers said to the old man before turning back to his guests.

  “I need to check something with Cook before we sit down to dinner. Jonathan, be so good as to escort Ms. Dumas, won’t you?”

  Without waiting for an answer Piers swept from the room.

  Gabrielle watched him go, smiling at the man’s obviousness.

  Since she’d arrived he had never left to speak to Cook. Not once. Clearly, he was leaving them alone intentionally.

  Gabby would have been grateful if she’d been confident of her reception, but given the fact that Jonathan had yet to speak, or even move, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be alone with him.

  The only sound in the room now was the ticking of the ormolu clock on the mantle and the cheerful crackle of the fire in the hearth.

  Gabrielle couldn’t help but feel rather deflated at the lack of compliment from Jon. Even an insincere platitude would have been preferable to absolute silence.

  “Um, shall we go through?” she asked when it seemed as though he would remain mute. She was only short of extending her arm, for pity’s sake, and escorting him!

  The sound of her voice seemed to propel Jonathan into action.

  He walked purposefully across the room until he was standing mere inches from her.

  “I—”

  “You’re breathtaking,” Jonathan interrupted her, and Gabby felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, feeling more than a little mollified by the intense heat in his gaze.

  “Well, thank you,” she mumbled, feeling suddenly, inexplicably shy. “I—”

  Once again she was interrupted. This time with the press of Jonathan’s lips against her own.

  Before she lost herself completely to the feel of him, Gabby pushed gently at Jonathan’s rock-solid chest.

  “Piers will be waiting,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “I don’t care,” he growled, eliciting a laugh from her.

  “Come now,” she admonished playfully. “Where are your manners?”

  “They’ve been displaced by the other things I’m thinking of right now. None of which involve Piers or dinner or anything but you and me.”

  Gabby licked her suddenly parched lips and started at the pained groan the action elicited from Jonathan. The idea that she affected him so was a pleasant one, she had to admit.

  But, well, they couldn’t very well loc
k themselves away ignoring everyone and everything else. No matter how tempting the idea was.

  “We really should go in,” she tried again, hoping that he would disagree and keep her here.

  “You’re right,” he said, however, and Gabby tried not to feel disappointed. “Let’s go and put me through the torture of sitting across from you and being unable to touch you.”

  Gabrielle did a good job of rolling her eyes and feigning nonchalance at his excessively flirtatious words.

  And if her heart was dancing at the sound of them, well, he didn’t need to know.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IF ANYTHING WAS going to convince Jonathan to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Gabrielle and what had happened to her that night in Paris, it was the exquisite torture of being so near to her and unable to claim her as his own.

  He had no doubt that she knew he still loved her with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming at times, but what good was his love if he couldn’t keep her safe?

  And how could he keep her safe if he didn’t even know what sort of danger she was in and from where?

  It was frustrating to say the least.

  Not only because he wanted more than anything to know that she was safe and not in any danger, but because she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, rendering his notions of romantic rescues rather useless.

  Case in point: the argument they were currently in the midst of.

  “I do not remember asking you to take charge, Jonathan. And I’m fairly certain that my memory is not so lacking as to forget entire conversations. So I must conclude that you are trying to take over, and I shan’t allow it.”

  Jonathan bit back an angry retort. His anger would only inflame hers .

  He could try to charm her out of her black mood, but a very real possibility existed that any attempt to do so would end in bloodshed. Namely his.

  “I’m not trying to take charge, Gabrielle. I’m trying to find a way to get to the bottom of all of this.”

  “And what do you think I’ve been doing? Twiddling my thumbs?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Jonathan cut himself off from any more arguing. It was useless in any case.

  Since their dinner two nights ago, when he’d made the apparently fatal mistake of discussing strategy, they’d been having the same fight over and over again.

  She didn’t know it, of course, but his need to have a solid plan laid stemmed more from his fear of losing her than from thinking she couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to handle this herself.

  The point was, she didn’t have to handle it herself.

  There was nothing for it but to try reasoning with her.

  “Gabby, please. Be reasonable.”

  Damn. Wrong word.

  He could tell by the sudden flame of anger that leapt into her brown eyes.

  Her stance had been bad enough; chin tilted upwards, hands balled against her hips.

  But that flash of emotion in her eyes was enough to tell him that he’d done something very, very wrong.

  “Be reasonable? By reasonable, you, of course, mean allow me to take over and make demands of everyone like an army general.”

  “Sweetheart, please—”

  “Do not sweetheart me, Jonathan Spencer. This is just typical of your behaviour, trying to control every situation, trying to make it seem as though you are superior to everyone else. Why, it is as if you—”

  “My God. Gabrielle?”

  The shocked voice from the doorway brought an immediate end to the argument, and Jonathan spun to see Andrew Carlyle standing in the entrance to the study, his face a picture of surprise.

  “Hello, Andrew.”

  Jonathan turned back to see Gabby smiling nervously in the direction of his oldest friend.

  He could only imagine the havoc on her nerves coming back from the dead twice in one week would cause.

  “How? Where?” Andrew spluttered for a moment or two before pausing for a moment. “What the hell is going on here?” he finally blurted.

  Jonathan strode forward to clasp Andrew’s shoulder.

  “Gabrielle is still alive,” he said rather redundantly, considering she was standing mere feet from them both.

  “Oh, really?” Andrew drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Whatever makes you think so?”

  “You didn’t tell him?” Gabby demanded.

  Jonathan looked back to see Gabrielle frowning at him in confusion.

  Damn. This morning was going from argumentative to downright annoying.

  Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the onset of a sudden headache.

  “All right,” he said with a sigh after a moment of awkward silence. “Gabby…” He walked toward her and reached for her hands. He’d only just gotten her back; he didn’t like wasting their precious time together arguing. “…I didn’t tell him because I didn’t think it was something that could be explained in a quick message jotted off in an emergency, which is what I sent to him.”

  Gabby frowned for a moment longer before her face cleared, and she nodded her understanding.

  Jonathan lifted one of her hands and placed a quick kiss on the back of it before releasing her and turning back to Andrew, who had come farther into the room, but who still looked like a fish out of water.

  “I think we need to talk,” Jonathan said simply.

  Andrew raised a brow. “I think we need to drink,” he responded wryly.

  Jonathan grinned in response, feeling more himself when bantering with his former partner.

  “Excellent idea,” he agreed. “The three of us can sit down now and think this whole thing through. It will be good to get our heads together without any distractions. Just like old times.”

  “Ah, well. About that.” Andrew said, pulling at his cravat. “I don’t think it will be entirely possible for there to be no distractions.”

  “What do you mean?” Jonathan asked, not liking the look of guilt on his friend’s face.

  “Well, you see—”

  “Jonathan!”

  At the sound of yet another voice in the doorway, the three of them turned to see Evelyn Carlyle sweep into the room, looking resplendent in a deep bronze carriage dress.

  “William fell asleep just as we were coming up the drive, so I’ve settled him for a nap. How are you?”

  Jonathan was still getting used to this new Evelyn, the one who could sweep in and command attention in a room, rather than cower in the corner of it. The one who would rush forward and throw her arms around him, rather than wait for someone to notice her, all the while hoping that they wouldn’t.

  Her freedom from his parents and the horrors of the past had been wonderful for her.

  “Hello, Evie.” Jonathan couldn’t help but smile as he used the childhood nickname he knew she hated.

  A playful punch to his arm confirmed that she still wasn’t a fan of it.

  Evelyn turned to face the rest of the room, and Jonathan watched as she spotted Gabrielle, who was strangely quiet, and who looked terribly nervous again.

  Evelyn’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and she glanced quickly between Jon and Gabby before she grinned, and a mischievous light leapt into her dark eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Jon?” she asked with a smile for Gabby.

  Jonathan sighed and threw daggers with his eyes at Andrew over Evelyn’s head.

  Surely Andrew hadn’t been out of the game so long that he’d forgotten an urgent message from Jonathan to come immediately wasn’t a social visit for the whole family.

  Andrew grimaced apologetically but didn’t actually open his mouth, the cad.

  “Jonathan?” Evelyn urged.

  Well, there was nothing for it. They would just pretend she was Piers’ niece or something.

  “Of course.” He stepped between the two ladies. “Evelyn, Countess of Downsbury, may I present to you Miss Gabrielle Dumas?”

  “Oh, my God,” Evelyn
breathed before clamping a hand over her mouth. Countesses didn’t blaspheme, especially in front of strangers.

  However, her reaction told Jonathan that Evelyn knew exactly who Gabby was, which meant Andrew had told her.

  He scowled at Andrew again, who laughed nervously and pulled once more at his cravat.

  Jonathan made a mental note to punch him later.

  “M-my lady,” Gabrielle mumbled, dropping a curtsy.

  “Oh heavens, please don’t curtsy at me,” Evelyn exclaimed, recovering her composure and rushing over to grasp Gabrielle’s hands. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dumas. But—”

  Evelyn stumbled to a halt, looking to her husband in confusion.

  His shrug told her that he hadn’t a clue what was going on either.

  Jonathan wasn’t quite sure where to even begin to explain what was going on. He didn’t know how much Evelyn had been told, and he didn’t know how much Gabby wanted her to know. And so they all stood in an awkward silence, with the tension in the room slowly building. Jonathan wished Piers could have been there to act as a buffer between them all, instead of off visiting tenants that afternoon.

  Finally, when it was starting to become excruciating, Gabby broke the silence.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m not dead,” she said.

  Everyone laughed in relief that she’d brought up the subject they were all afraid to broach.

  “Well, I am,” Evelyn said with a smile.

  “I’m more curious about why the hell I wasn’t told you weren’t dead,” Andrew said, raising Jonathan’s hackles.

  “Oh, really? I’m curious as to why you decided to turn this into a family expedition,” Jonathan snapped.

  Andrew glared at him, but Jonathan glared right back.

  “Er, perhaps we should ring for tea?” Evelyn suggested meekly.

  Jonathan scoffed.

  Bloody tea.

  They never sat and drank tea in the middle of a mission.

  To his surprise, Gabrielle, who could drink both he and Andrew under the table and had even been known to smoke a cigar or two, smiled at Evelyn and moved to ring the bell.