The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five

by Taylor, Erica

  The original plan was to reconvene at Bradstone House, but that was no longer an option if Colette was alive.

  “How was she when you left?” Luke asked. “Was she just knocked out, or…”

  “Or did I kill her?” Vivian met his apologetic gaze. “I don’t think she was dead, but I hit her pretty hard in the head with the porcelain pitcher. Twice. If she got up from that, she didn’t do it quickly.”

  Luke paused on Piccadilly, trying to figure out what to do.

  “Luke, we can’t go back to Bradstone House. And we can’t go to Sandton House either. That would bring the danger too close to your family. Where can we go?”

  He nodded in agreement. “That’s what I’m trying to determine. Quan is awaiting us at Bradstone House, but we’ve no way to contact him. Bradstone House is likely being watched.”

  She looked up and down the street, as though a magic door might appear to whisk them away to safety. “What about the rooms you rented?”

  “A possibility, but we would be defenseless. There is nothing there. It is a great place to hide, but eventually we would need to come out.” He glanced at her, noting her blackened clothes. “We need to get you changed out of this clothing.”

  Vivian’s jaw twitched, understanding the implications. “Our house is the first place they will look after we do not turn up at either Bradstone House or Sandton House.”

  “It’s the best option we have.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “We can only hope to be in and out before anyone else arrives. We can leave word for Quan, or Redley, and….”

  “And be on the run for the rest of our lives?” she asked softly.

  Luke knew that was no life for them. It was no life for her.

  “I’m not sure there is much other option.”

  Vivian’s lips curled into a smirk. “I might have an idea.”

  * * *

  What would have normally been a ten-minute walk to their house in Leicester Square was doubled by the number of people crowded in the streets, eager for news of the royal nuptials.

  The announcement came, in the form of cannon fire from St. James Park.

  They paused on the on the front steps of their still-unnamed house, and turned towards the sound. Relief rushed through Vivian, but was quickly replaced by trepidation. The night was not over, and this was not quite over.

  “You did it.” Luke kissed her cheek.

  Vivian’s eyes drooped at the contact. “We did it.”

  “I wasn’t the one inside Carlton House saving the day. That’s a first for me.”

  “Luckily your wife is more capable than she lets on.”

  “Lucky for me, but unlucky for those who aren’t paying attention.” Luke said and the door opened before them. Mr. Sutton gave a nod as they stepped inside the darkened foyer. Luke passed his hat to the butler and followed Vivian up the black spiraling staircase to the floors above.

  “And are you?” she asked, stopping on the landing, just below where she’d eavesdropped on Luke and Poppins. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Are you paying attention?”

  Luke turned towards her. “I’ve been paying attention since the first moment I saw you.”

  “You thought I was a fairy. I should have known then you were rather ridiculous.”

  His hands came to rest on her hips and she swayed towards him. “Tell me you didn’t love me then, with my arse in a bog.”

  Vivian snickered. “Oh, I certainly didn’t love you then.”

  “Tell me you don’t love me now,” he dared.

  Vivian’s mirth died on her face. This hadn’t been part of the plan. Not their original agreement, nor the one she’d suggested on Piccadilly. Get home, appear as though they thought they’d won and the danger had passed. She hadn’t expected Luke to take the conversation in a direction that was too real. Not now when they were supposed to be pretending.

  She shook her head and broke the contact of his gaze as she stepped out of his arms. “This was not part of our original plan. This isn’t what we agreed to.”

  Luke shrugged. “The plan changed, Vivian. Our expectations can as well. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”

  “You loved Colette,” she reminded him, trying to remind him what was at stake.

  “I am allowed to fall in love more than once. Besides, the part of me that was playacting a role was infatuated with Colette. I doubt I really ever loved her. I didn’t really know her, and she didn’t know me.”

  “How can she be the one behind all this?”

  He shook his head as he answered. “I do not know. I thought she was dead.”

  “You didn’t confirm?”

  “When I last saw her, she was bound and gagged, blood seeping from a wound at her hairline. She was terrified as they dragged her away from me, screaming my name. I saw them fire on her, her body slumping to the ground. After that, I fled. The scene, the country. I never considered it could all have been a ruse.”

  Vivian felt a tinge of guilt for asking about it. “It was the middle of a war, Luke. They showed you enough to convince you she was gone.”

  “Oui, they did,” a voice rang out in the darkness.

  * * *

  The familiarity of the voice sent a shiver of shock down Luke’s spine. Luke had hoped Vivian had been mistaken, that Martin and Poppins had found someone who looked like Colette just to mess with his mind. He realized all those hopes were for naught as Colette stepped from the shadows.

  “Thomas du Becket,” Colette cooed, using the French pronunciation of the name he’d give her, more emphasis on the first syllables. She waved her pistol towards the stairs, indicating they should move downstairs. “Do you not have a kiss for your dead wife?” She spoke the last part in French, but he understood her perfectly.

  She was covered in even more of the black powder than Vivian was. Smudges of it had been wiped from her face, but black streaks remained. She was just as Luke remembered, strikingly beautiful, but her face was more angular. Her eyes held more malice.

  Luke led Vivian down the stairs and into the foyer. Colette followed.

  Jean-Pierre Martin awaited them by the front door, and Adam Poppins moved into a streak of moonlight, blocking their escape towards the back of the house. Both men were armed.

  Luke was impressed with how well Vivian had orchestrated this. They’d sent a message to Bradstone House, assuming it would be intercepted, leading their assailants to their home on Leicester Square. He hoped Mr. Sutton had found the note Luke had left for him in his hat, and had gotten his wife away safely. He’d sent the Suttons to Bradstone House in hopes his brother would send reinforcements. Ian would do, as would Trevor, as both had prior military experience. Quan, at the very least, would come to their aid.

  “I take it you know my brother, Jean-Pierre Martin?” Colette’s accent was heavy, though her choice of language was curious. She’d spoken in English. She wanted everyone to understand. “And of course, our master of duplicity, Monsieur Poppins.” Her voice echoed off the empty walls of the foyer.

  “How did you find me?” Luke asked.

  “It was simple, non? If you want to find an English spy, you need to become one. Jean-Pierre provided an acceptable candidate. Denouncing his country after they killed his beloved sister, he only wanted them to pay for what they’d done to his family.” Colette laughed. “You English dogs ate it up, desperate for anything to use against the French.”

  Luke’s chest tightened as he realized Halcourt had lied to him after all. Halcourt, the man he was supposed to trust with his life, the man he’d relied on for credible information, to send him on missions and not get him killed. He’d asked him specifically if Martin had been related to Colette. Halcourt had insisted there was no connection. Either Halcourt had been fooled, or he’d done a damn good job of convincing Luke that Martin was to be trusted. Neither was a desirable answer.

  “And you?” Luke took a step towards Adam Poppins.

  The traitor leveled the pisto
l at him. “You’re wanting to know why I turned? I never turned; I have always been French. My family was French nobility, forced to flee during the Reign of Terror. They sought refuge in England, began to rebuild their lives. But when they were chased out of England by agents from the Alien Office, I was left behind. A neighbor took me in and raised me as his own, only telling me of my birthright on his deathbed. I joined the Alien Office, vowing to burn the organization to the ground. Meeting Martin proved I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”

  Dammit, was there no one in his life he could trust?

  He felt Vivian shift beside him, but she did not touch him in any way. Her presence lent him a level of comfort he could not fathom. He could trust her, he knew, and he held onto that one thread of sanity in this increasingly mad situation.

  “It seems I’ve been replaced after all.” Colette’s eyes gleamed with interest as her gaze trailed up and down the length of Vivian. He wanted to move to protect Vivian, shield her from Colette in some way, but that would have only pleased Colette further.

  But upon closer inspection, there was a cut above Colette’s left eye, and on her cheek. The half circles below her eyes were darkening, and her nose sported a decent cut. Vivian, it seemed, had held her own.

  Colette tilted her head. “She’s rather pretty, this new wife of yours.”

  “I see her handiwork upon your face.”

  “Hazards of the occupation, non? And I’m not the only one injured in our scuffle.” For emphasis, she moved her hand to trace the scratch along Vivian’s face, but Vivian’s hand snapped up from her side and grabbed Colette’s wrist tightly.

  “His wife can speak for herself,” Vivian snapped. “And you will not touch me.”

  Colette’s dark brows rose above her blue eyes in surprise, and she smiled. “Such splendid fire from one so innocent.” Her grin fell to a condescending smirk. “It’s a miracle you can keep him entertained, ma cherie.”

  Vivian’s chin lifted in challenge. “You and I are not friends. Do not presume to be so familiar. I have no intention of discussing the satisfactions of my husband.”

  Colette laughed again, and Luke resisted the undying urge to pull Vivian slowly away from the likely insane Frenchwoman, but he didn’t move.

  “You know, you were never really married to him,” Vivian taunted.

  “You don’t need to be married to someone to truly know them.” Colette’s gaze shifted to Luke. Heat pooled in her eyes as she held his gaze, before her gaze trailed down the length of him. “And I know our Thomas quite well.”

  “His name is Luke. Not Thomas du Becket or whatever silly archbishop name he pretended was his own.” Vivian took a threatening step towards Colette. “You might think you knew him, but you were simply an asset, a contact. You were a job.” Vivian’s lips pulled into a smirk. “I bet you thought you were the center of his world. He told you all sorts of lies you ate up like pudding on Christmas morning. I wonder, Colette, how much have you thought of him? Because I can assure you, he’s not thought much about you in some time.”

  The truth of Vivian’s words washed over him, twisting around his heart. What he felt for Colette paled in comparison to what he felt for Vivian. Had he truly loved her, loved her as Luke and not Thomas du Becket, he would have been thrilled to see her alive. He would feel some conflict in his heart, pulling him in two directions. But he felt no conflict. His love for Vivian was secure and strong as ever before.

  He had been a different person as Thomas du Becket, and if Colette had truly fallen in love with him then, she never knew the real him. And he likely never knew the real her.

  Colette’s eyes flared. “Why you little—”

  “I think it’s time you were on your way. I’m growing weary of this nonsense. I want it out of my home and out of my life. That starts with you.”

  “I am happy to leave. Once I get what I came for.”

  “And that is?” Luke ventured to ask. He needed to keep her talking, keep her distracted long enough for help to arrive. Quan had to be on his way, hopefully more. It was coming, the unavoidable skirmish between the five of them. It hummed in the air.

  Colette glared at him. “You took everything I had. For King and Country.”

  “France has a king and a government. Napoleon was nothing but a monster.”

  “Napoleon was my king, mon empereur!”

  “In an act of vengeance, you tried to kill my king, my country,” Luke stated. “That I will not allow.”

  “It does not matter. I am done with it all. You, mon cher, are my ticket off this godforsaken island.”

  “You want to leave? Just like that?”

  “My emperor is off to an island I cannot reach. I will need ample support to free him. We will sail to the new America, rally the Frenchmen there, those with any sense of loyalty. Napoleon will return.”

  Luke shook his head, wondering if she’d been this batty when he’d married her.

  Martin watched his sister, his eyes lit with glee. Something caught Luke’s eye, behind where Colette preened in the foyer.

  Quan.

  Careful to control his features, Luke glanced at Colette, who still ranted about the injustice done to her country because of the English and their allies, and how Napoleon was the true emperor of France.

  Good, she was distracted.

  He could barely make out Quan’s features in the darkness, as he was well submerged in the shadows, but Luke could see the outline of his form. He’d know him anywhere. Three against three were much better odds. With such tight space, it would be more difficult to protect Vivian. There was no carriage for her to hide under this time. He knew she was a crack shot, but at such close distances, it was much easier to catch a stray bullet.

  “Are you not even paying attention?” came Colette’s shrill voice.

  Luke sighed. “Honestly, Colette, not particularly. I don’t care what you have to say. This whole endeavor has become exhausting. What is it you want? If you’re not going to kill us, please just get to the end of whatever this is. I’d like to get some sleep.”

  Anger burned through Colette’s blue eyes, as he had expected it to. She raised her weapon and took a step closer to him.

  Vivian moved at the same time Colette did, pulling the pistol she’d tucked into her skirts and stepped in front of Luke. Another part of Vivian’s plan, and he’d happily handed over one of his pistols to her before they’d entered the house.

  There was a shout, and a scuffle as something— or someone— dropped from the floor above into the darkened foyer.

  Redley was there and he swung at Martin, who stumbled backwards. Quan moved out of the shadows and disarmed Poppins who looked stunned to see Quan and Redley. He recovered as Martin fell into Quan, and Poppins dove for his weapon. He scrambled to his feet, pointing the pistol at Quan. At the same time, Martin turned to draw on Redley, but Redly pulled his weapon, fixed on Martin.

  Luke had drawn his weapon on Colette, but he, Vivian and Colette had barely moved during the scuffle behind them. Luke dared not with Colette’s aim this close to his chest, and he did not want Vivian harmed either.

  No one moved, as nearly everyone held a weapon on someone, or had one aimed at them. Slowly, Colette turned her head to see her brother and Poppins in a stalemate between Quan and Redley.

  “It seems you will have an island for a prison, the same fate as votre empereur,” Vivian pointed out.

  Luke looked at Vivian and love for this woman surged through him. The one person he wanted to protect stood between him and Colette. She’d protected him.

  “Vivian, you can’t shoot her. She tried to kill the Prince Regent.”

  The two ladies stared each other down.

  Colette shook her head. “You will have to kill me.” Her hard gaze turned into a sneer. “And I doubt she could even pull that trigger without injuring herself.”

  “I have no intention of killing you,” Vivian stated. “I think I’d like to watch you hang.”

&
nbsp; Vivian readjusted her weight, which moved her aim off Colette for a fraction of a second. But as pleasure raced through Colette’s gaze at Vivian’s perceived blunder, Vivian fired, the blast of the pistol near Colette’s ear. Luke pulled Vivian to the ground, as the shot hit the plaster across the room in a puff of white dust.

  Martin dove for Colette, who had dropped to the floor. She hadn’t even fired her own shot. Quan caught Poppins on the back of his head with the butt of his pistol and he collapsed onto the floor. Redley pulled Martin away from Colette, who had moved to sit up. Quan kicked their weapons out of reach, and they skittered across the marble floors.

  Quan pulled Colette to her feet as Luke helped Vivian to hers, checking frantically to make sure she was uninjured.

  Vivian shook her head, and her face broke into a brilliant smile. “Shooting her seemed like an unnecessary mess. Besides, she doesn’t need her hearing to be able to stand for her crimes.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  It shouldn’t have taken an entire day for Luke to be alone with his wife, but it did.

  Within moments of the disarmament of Colette and her cohorts, the backup Luke had hoped for from Bradstone House arrived. Ian came swarming in with a handful of men, including Halcourt.

  Norah was there, pulling Vivian into her arms, as they laughed over the events of the evening.

  “Come, let us get you out of this mess,” Norah said, looking Vivian up and down.

  Vivian’s gaze met Luke’s and though he didn’t want her out of his sight, he also knew she would need some time. Before he could suggest it, Vivian turned and found Quan in the mass of people. Luke watched as Quan acknowledged her silent query with a reassuring smile and followed her to the door.

  “I will find you when this is over,” Luke told her.

  Vivian nodded, and slipped out the door on Norah’s arm.

  Quan paused at the door, watching Luke.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Luke told Quan in Cantonese.