The Spy's Revenge

by Nadine Millard

  “From my highway days,” Evelyn had explained rather proudly then suddenly she blushed furiously. “Andrew — well, he likes to relive the adverture every now and then.”

  Gabby decided it was best not to question Evelyn about what she meant, or even think about it overly much and so she chose to ignore the explanation and its connotations. She herself had such attire which she kept with her wherever she went, more out of habit than any real need for them. But she was grateful for them now and would change into them before she galloped off.

  Evelyn reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  “We shall make excellent time to London, and then we will go straight to the townhouse. Andrew will have this all righted in no time.”

  Gabby felt she couldn’t speak past a sudden lump in her throat, so she nodded her understanding.

  “Go,” said Evelyn. “You change, and I shall speak to the staff.”

  Gabby had dashed up the rest of the stairs, feeling grateful that she didn’t have to deal with this alone, but feeling more overwhelmingly terrified that the ride to London would take far too long, and that she would be far too late.

  ANDREW HAD TO remind himself that his wife was a lady who was more than capable of taking care of herself, and that Gabrielle had been one of the finest spies he’d ever worked with. Neither of these things did much to soothe his temper, however.

  When the carriage had arrived from Piers’ estate, carrying his son and Mrs. Bryan, but no Evelyn, he had known immediately what she’d done.

  He adored his wife, but by God, she could be a nuisance.

  Andrew was torn once again. Should he stick with his original plan and break back into headquarters to find out what was really going on? Or should he make the trip back to Norfolk to see what the hell is wife was up to?

  It was already late in the day. The trip to Norfolk would be long, and he must remember that the ladies were under Piers’ protection. He still didn’t know where Jonathan was, and that really needed to be a priority.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Andrew decided to stick with the original plan: find Jonathan and find out what was going on.

  Some hours later, Andrew realised that his retirement had not taken its toll on his body or his reflexes. He had scouted the building of the Home Office and decided that the best point of entry would be the small window just visible above ground level.

  He was a big man, and it would be tight, but if he could get in that window, he should be able to stay relatively undetected, at least until he reached higher floors.

  Sticking to the shadows, he crept along the side of the building to the window. It was, he saw to his consternation, barred over. It was obviously used as a holding cell of some kind.

  Being a field agent, Andrew had never spent that much time at headquarters, and he’d certainly never interrogated any witnesses here.

  Well, this was more than a little annoying.

  He was good, but even he wouldn’t be able to saw away at metal bars in the middle of the night without drawing attention.

  Frustrated at his lack of progress, and worried about his absent wife, Andrew kicked at the bars in frustration. A few choice swear words, said loudly because his sneaking had been for naught anyway, made him feel slightly better.

  He was about to walk away when a voice floated toward him, managing to sound both urgent and relieved.

  “When you’re finished with your tantrum, Drew, do you think you could get me the hell out of here?”

  THIS HAD DEFINITELY been a bad idea.

  Two women travelling on horseback with mere lanterns to light their way, trying to get all the way to London, was not the smartest idea Gabrielle had ever had. The only saving grace was the clear, moonlit sky making the roads more visible.

  She pushed her horse as hard as she dared and prayed that she wouldn’t be too late to save Jonathan. Piers Casings was an important figure in the Home Office and, had he decided to call in favours, it was very likely that Jonathan would hang.

  Gabby would have loved nothing more than to go back and beat the treacherous man to a pulp, but time was getting on, and the priority was to get to Jonathan. She sent up another prayer for his safety, promising to turn her back on all things dangerous and live a sedate, uneventful life as long as she could live it with him.

  Beside her, Evelyn easily kept pace, and Gabrielle thought, not for the first time, that the woman would have made a wonderful spy. They didn’t speak much, each lost in thought, and Gabby remembered that Evelyn wasn’t just Andrew’s wife, but Jonathan’s cousin, as close as any sister, and she would be worried about him too.

  Eventually, stopping became absolutely vital. They had pushed the horses as much as possible.

  Evelyn was worried about them entering an inn dressed as they were and alone. It must be difficult, Gabby thought, being a member of the Peerage and subject to such scrutiny and rules. But Evelyn needn’t have worried. Gabby had plenty of experience disguising herself as a man, and when they came to the most reputable looking inn they could find, she went inside to enquire about a room for her mistress, whom she’d recused from a broken-down carriage. The innkeeper didn’t need to know it was all falsity.

  It was well past midnight when the room was secured and the horses stabled. Evelyn ordered two baths be brought up, and Gabby hid herself away while the innkeeper’s wife and serving girls carried pails of water up and down until the hip baths were filled.

  If they thought it unusual that two baths were requested instead of one, they said nothing about it. One didn’t usually argue with a countess, and Evelyn was capable of acting the snooty aristocrat when she didn’t want questions asked.

  The ladies bathed, a screen between them, then ate a simple repast of cured meat, bread, and cheese with tea, since the kitchen had been closed hours ago, before deciding to try and catch some sleep.

  Sleep for Gabby was impossible, as she had known it would be. In fact, the mere idea of sleeping while she didn’t know whether Jonathan was dead or alive was impossible to her.

  And so, she watched the steady rise of the spring sun as it dawned over the rolling grass fields surrounding the inn and listened as the birds awakened, heralding a new day. Their song sounded so joyful, so positive, that they almost made her hope things would turn out well in the end.

  Almost.

  With a sigh, Gabrielle pushed away her worries. They wouldn’t help her rescue Jonathan.

  THE LADIES TRAVELLED for hours once again, pushing the horses as much as they dared and ignoring the aches and pains that were becoming steadily more noticeable.

  “At this rate, I think we should reach London by nightfall,” Gabrielle commented, watching the sky.

  “Good,” responded Evelyn dryly. “And I do hope you plan on stopping somewhere before we go haring after Jonathan, because I am quite sure I shall have to be bodily removed from this beast. My legs are starting to seize up.”

  Gabby laughed at Evelyn’s faux complaints, but she wasn’t wrong; the stiffness and soreness of relentless riding on hard, rocky ground was enough to make anyone seize up.

  “I think we must, at the very least, collect Andrew on the way,” Gabby said with a smile.

  It was hard to converse properly while the horses were travelling so fast, but they managed well enough.

  Every so often, they would slow the beasts to a trot and preserve their energy. In these moments, Gabrielle found herself confessing her past, her work with the crown, and her feelings about Jonathan to Evelyn. It seemed more than a little futile to try to keep the other lady in the dark now, since she was in the middle of all the chaos. Besides, Gabrielle had no intention of ever working for the Crown again after this debacle, and she dearly hoped she could convince Jonathan of the same, should she be on time.

  But she would be on time, she told herself fiercely.

  She had to be.

  “Hmm. I’m not sure I’m looking forward to a reunion with my husband,” Evelyn sa
id with a grimace. “No doubt he’ll ramble on about my staying behind and putting myself in danger.”

  Gabrielle didn’t think Andrew seemed like the kind to preach to his wife. He appeared to adore the very ground she walked on.

  “Will he be very angry?” she asked.

  Evelyn snorted in a most unladylike manner. “I couldn’t care less if he is,” she said stoutly. “It’s just he does ramble on so,” she complained, then her face split into a wicked grin. “I’ve told him before he sounds dreadfully like my Aunt Millicent.”

  Gabby could well imagine Andrew’s reaction to this, since what she’d heard about Millicent Spencer hadn’t been exactly complimentary. But, as usual, every time she laughed or smiled, she felt a wave of guilt then sheer blind panic before she got her emotions under control once more.

  It was as though her mind rebelled against the idea of thinking of anything except Jonathan and his plight.

  “He will be absolutely fine, you know,” Evelyn said confidently.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Evelyn smiled.

  “It would take more than something like this to keep him away from you, my dear. Trust me.”

  Gabby wanted to trust her. She wanted to trust her heart, which told her he was still alive. She wanted to trust that Jonathan would find a way back to her so they could finally be together.

  She wondered what he was doing now. Whether he was even alive.

  Please, let him be alive, she prayed. I haven’t even told him that I love him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “A SIMPLE ‘Thank you, Andrew’ would be much more appreciated than your lunatic ranting,” Andrew drawled as he and Jonathan sat in the study of Andrew’s Mayfair townhouse.

  Well, Andrew sat.

  Jonathan paced.

  “Thank you, Andrew,” Jonathan said sarcastically. “Thank you for leaving your wife and my future wife in the hands of a murderer.”

  “Technically, she isn’t your future wife yet. You haven’t even proposed.”

  Jonathan could very happily strangle his friend at that moment.

  “How can you be so calm?” he wanted to shout, but clenched his teeth to stop himself from doing so.

  “I am not calm. I am trying to be sensible.”

  “I don’t have time for you to be sensible,” Jonathan retorted. “Piers wants Gabby dead, and he will very likely harm Evelyn in the process if he must. And they are completely unaware of the danger he poses. So, rather than be sensible, I would much rather panic,” he said, his voice getting louder by the second. “Join me, won’t you?” he finished sardonically.

  “We will be with them as soon as possible. The carriage is being readied, and I have already sent men ahead.”

  Jonathan wanted to shoot something, he was feeling so frustrated. More so, because he knew Andrew was correct; they were doing everything the right way. The footmen Andrew had sent would arrive before them, yes. But they were armed and under strict instructions to get the ladies safely out of that house.

  Jonathan had wanted desperately to go with them, but as Andrew had pointed out, Winchester would no doubt be searching for him, and they had a better chance of leaving Town undetected in one of Andrew’s unmarked carriages than they did in full view. Besides, and this part really made his blood run cold, if someone was hurt, they would need the carriage to transport them.

  He tried not to think overly much about that last point.

  Finally, after what seemed like eons, Andrew’s butler informed them the carriage was ready, and Jonathan bounded from the house and into the waiting coach. It was only when they were both settled, and Andrew had rapped on the ceiling to indicate they were ready to move, that Jonathan noticed Andrew’s clenched fists.

  He was just as worried as Jonathan.

  Somehow, it made him feel worse instead of better.

  “I NO LONGER know if my toes are even still attached,” Evelyn said hours later.

  Unfortunately, the heavens had opened earlier, lashing rain and soaking them within moments.

  And still they had pressed on.

  “I cannot believe this is your life, Gabrielle,” Evelyn continued, her voice filled with admiration. “I never thought of myself as one of those soft, weak, simpering misses of the ton, but I am in awe of you. I never want to undertake another journey such as this again.”

  Gabrielle shrugged off the compliment, feeling embarrassed by it.

  “You get used to it,” she muttered.

  But, she had to admit, she took no pleasure in this mission. Oh, of course her worry for Jonathan played a part in that.

  But it felt like more.

  She just didn’t want this life anymore.

  After everything that had happened to her, and then finding out about Piers’ betrayal, she had changed. She wasn’t the woman she had been before. She wanted different things now: love, a life with Jonathan, to bear his children. If this was to be the last time she rode through the night on a desperate mission, that would suit her just fine.

  They rode on in silence, the afternoon melting into evening.

  But their movements were slower.

  Gabby was starting to shiver uncontrollably as the cold, wet garments clung to her skin.

  She was tired, hungry, sore and in very real danger of becoming sick, since she was only just recovered from the fever.

  “Do you think we should stop?” she asked tentatively, hating the feeling that she wasn’t trying hard enough to get to London, but knowing she needed to rest.

  “Lord, I thought you would never ask,” exclaimed Evelyn with obvious relief.

  “The next time we see an inn, we shall stop and feed the horses. And ourselves,” Gabby promised.

  “That sounds marvellous,” agreed Evelyn.

  Their mood lifted somewhat with the promise of food and shelter. Perhaps even dry clothes, if there was a lady there who could help them. By Gabrielle’s reckoning, if they stopped for two hours, they could still travel straight to London tonight, albeit quite late.

  And, to be fair, the darkness of the depths of night could only help her if she needed to be stealthy in her search for Jonathan.

  It wasn’t long before they saw the distinctive bustle of a coaching inn ahead of them on the road. And it was just as well as the overcast sky had opened, and they were becoming drenched yet again.

  “I think it’s time for one final push of the horses!” yelled Evelyn.

  Gabrielle nodded her agreement, and they gave the horses their heads, eating up the yards to the inn.

  Hopefully the time there would pass uneventfully.

  “IT’S ONLY BLOODY rain, Andrew.”

  At this point, Jonathan was feeling as though he’d never be in good spirits again.

  They weren’t long out of London, only a few hours, when the coachman had decided they needed to stop.

  One of the horses was coming up lame, he said, and they would have to either replace it or check any damage.

  And so it was that, rather than rushing to Gabrielle’s rescue, Jonathan was ensconced in a cosy inn, pint of ale sitting untouched in front of him, bemoaning the weather and the horse and anything else he could think of.

  “I realise that, Jon. But I can’t conjure a horse out of thin air. We’ll have to wait until a replacement is found. So we might as well wait indoors.”

  Jonathan rubbed his hands together anxiously.

  “They could be anywhere. Do you realise that? He could have taken them somewhere. He could have killed them already. We could very likely never see them again.”

  “Enough, Jonathan!”

  Jonathan blinked in surprise as Andrew roared at him.

  His first instinct was to yell right back or plant Andrew a facer.

  But as he glared at his friend, he took in the tightness of Andrew’s jaw, the dull look in his eyes, and realised what at utter arse he’d been.

  Andrew had to be feeling everything Jonathan was feeling. But he wasn’t ac
ting like a petulant child.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his deep, golden hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I just — I just want to see her again.”

  The door to the inn burst open, and there was the usual commotion of people entering from such inclement weather.

  Jonathan’s back was to the door, and he couldn’t care less who had walked in, so he didn’t even glance around.

  Andrew, however, was now staring at whoever had entered with a strange, half-startled, half-relieved look on his face.

  “Looks like you got your wish,” he choked out before standing and moving swiftly away.

  Jonathan frowned in confusion and turned to see where Andrew was off to.

  His heart stopped dead before thumping erratically.

  Standing there, half drowned and dressed in breeches, was Gabrielle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  GABBY HAD FELT more elated than ever before in her life when she’d looked up and seen Jonathan.

  It had been like a dream come to life.

  She watched as he frowned at her.

  Then, recognition dawned as his eyes widened in shock, before finally he smiled the most breathtaking smile she’d ever seen, filled with such intense love that Gabby felt a lump forming in her throat.

  And then, it hit her. Properly hit her.

  Jonathan was here. Here and alive and safe.

  Gabby noticed, almost detachedly, Andrew sweeping Evelyn from her feet. Gabby wasn’t much around the haute monde of London, but even she knew that that was no way for an earl and a countess to act in public.

  But she found herself quite envious. Clearly, Andrew and Evelyn cared not a whit about propriety. Plus, they were married, which allowed him to take such liberties.

  Wouldn’t it be nice if—

  Gabby’s rambling thoughts came to a crashing halt as she realised Jonathan had been stalking toward her and now stood mere inches from her. Her heartbeat thundered, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps.