The Secret to a Spy’s Heart: A Steamy Victorian Historical Spy Series (Romancing Intrigue Book 4)

by Laura Shipley

  Antione was entering manhood. He was thirteen and apprenticed at a printer’s shop. Danielle did some work as well; being handy with a needle, she took in sewing. Etienne was the youngest at eight. He was a gentle soul and would not have lasted long on the streets of Paris had Colette not rescued him. The boy had been cowering in an alley when she had happened upon him a year ago.

  Colette was determined to give each child a chance at a better life. If she could help it, they would not be counted among the homeless and helpless who littered the streets of Paris. Colette would give anything to ensure they had bright futures.

  Three voices answered her greeting.

  “Antoine, shouldn’t you be off by now? Monsieur Allard does not like you being late.”

  The boy jumped from his chair and raced out the door, calling out over his shoulder, “A bientôt!”

  Colette and Danielle ate breakfast then started on chores for the morning. They had finished sweeping when a knock sounded on the door. Outside stood Luc, one of Jacques’s messengers.

  “He wants to see you at noon.” It was all he said before leaving. Jacques distrusted notes, avoiding any evidence that could be traced back to him. Colette knew what the message meant: another assignment. A heaviness settled in her chest. She had hoped to have a brief reprieve before her next job. Between the house party and the journey to Marseille, she needed a few days to recover, but it was clear she was to have no rest.

  At the appointed time, she left to meet with Jacques. Colette had worked for him the last ten years. The old thief had taken her in and given her a chance at life, even if it was a life of crime. Over the years, she had honed the skills of thievery and deceit from one of the best in Paris. Her success had helped her gain Jacques’s trust, so when his gang of thieves had begun working for the Fox, it had only been natural for Colette to go as well.

  Although her orders came through Jacques, she knew it was the Fox running the operation. He controlled all of Paris and beyond. Nothing was done without his approval. Colette had spent five years trying to discover his identity but had not yet been invited into the inner circle. It was the final step in her plan. Once everything was in place, she would exact her revenge—for Elle and everyone else who had suffered because of the Fox’s treachery.

  Jacques ran his gang from a warehouse a half-block from the docks. She entered his office and saw the middle-aged man bent over a stack of papers. The overwhelming smell of his cologne made her eyes water. After all this time, he still did not know how to present himself as a gentleman of business. You could take a man off the streets, but everyone would still know he was not quality.

  He looked up and motioned for Colette to sit.

  “You made it to Marseille on time?” He asked in his usual scratchy voice.

  “Yes, barely, but all went well.”

  “Good. He will be pleased to hear it. That was the largest cargo we have confiscated.” Jacques sat back in his chair. “Did you enjoy your time in the country? All those ladies and gentlemen with their finery. Were you able to control yourself?”

  Colette rolled her eyes. “You know I would never be foolish enough to steal anything. I did not wish to draw any unwanted attention to myself.”

  “Good girl. You have always had sense—knew it from the first time I set eyes on you.”

  The memory came unbidden into Colette’s mind. She had been sixteen and desperate. Hunger had been the only driving force in her life back then. Colette and her friend, Elle, had run away from the orphanage they had been raised in, thinking to better their circumstances. The cold, unforgiving streets of Paris had quickly taught them there was more to fear than a beating from the headmistress of the orphanage.

  Jacques had come upon them one night just as they were exiting a house from which they had pilfered food. Instead of calling the police, he had offered them congratulations for being so stealthy. That night saw the start of their apprenticeship into further thievery and deceit.

  Now Colette was repaying Jacques with a taste of his own medicine. If he had taught her one thing, it was to save your own skin. Above all else, self-preservation was key, no matter the cost or who you had to step on.

  Colette expelled a loud sigh. “Are you going to tell me why you summoned me, or are we going to reminisce all day?”

  Jacques sat straight in his chair, which creaked under protest. “Our new contact inside the Ministry of Defense informed me that he has access to the ledgers for all the ships departing and docking in France and England. Just imagine it. Knowing every vessel—destination, cargo, tonnage, everything.”

  Alarms went off in her mind, and a feeling of trepidation swept through her. With that information, the tide of the war could change. Without the necessary supplies or manpower, the troops on the front would be powerless against the Russian threat. There had to be way to stop them from succeeding. It would be tricky, but she had to let the Ministry know they had a traitor in their midst. First, she needed more details from Jacques.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “You are to meet this gentleman at a party in the rue Saint Honore in three days. I will get you the exact location in the next day or two. The man’s name is Galle. You are to meet him in the greenhouse on the grounds at ten o’clock.”

  “Will he have the ledgers with him?” The situation would be easier if he could give her the information that night.

  “No. You are to meet him and together come up with a plan to steal the documents.”

  Colette slumped in her chair. Her gaze wandered to the open window. Sounds and smells from the street wafted into the room. The noon-day sun intensified the odor of sewage which seemed to permeate the walls. Outside, people bustled by, shouting and swearing as they made their way. This was no place for children. If she wanted a better life for them, it had to be away from Paris. The only way to leave was to save enough money, and that required working for Jacques. Just a little more and she would have enough. Then she would see them safely away from this wretched city.

  Alas, she could not go with them. Her life was here, among the criminals. Besides, if she left, the Fox would have her killed. She knew too much. No, she was in this game to the bitter end.

  Colette turned her eyes toward Jacques. “Very well. I will meet this Galle and devise a plan. Is there anything else?”

  “No.” Jacques went back to reading the correspondence in front of him.

  The discussion over, Colette took her leave. She had three days until the meeting; three days to decide what to do. Perhaps Monsieur Galle could be persuaded to join in her quest to bring down the Fox. He must be high up in the ranks to have access to the shipping manifests. Perhaps he would have allies who could help. Colette prided herself on being able to read other people and size them up in a short period of time. She would wait and see when they met.

  Colette left Jacques’s place and went straight home. At the age of twenty-six, she had no friends or family to visit, like other girls her age might on a crisp, clear day. She was an orphan and knew nothing of her family. The nuns at the orphanage had named her, and Elle had been Colette’s only true friend, from early memory until her death. They had entered the criminal underbelly of Paris with open eyes, together. They had known the risks, and Elle had paid the ultimate price. After that, Colette had vowed never to trust anyone or put another person’s life unnecessarily at risk. Even the children did not know her true occupation. The less they knew, the better. Her secrets were her own.

  The sound of a carriage racing by brought Colette out of her melancholy thoughts. She had three days to plan. Once Jacques gave her the address of the party, she would inspect the premises. It was important to know the layout before entering the house so she would not be taken by surprise on the night of the rendezvous. Colette always planned alternate escape routes, if necessary. In her line of work, it paid to be prepared.

  She also needed to get a proper dress. Even though she would be paid for the assignment she had just comple
ted, the money would not be enough for the expensive gown she would need to blend in at the party. I suppose I shall have to borrow a dress from one of the shops, she said to herself. That meant breaking in at night and stealing the necessary garment and accessories. A pang of guilt hit her in the gut. It is all a means to an end, she reminded herself. No person or thing would get in her way.

  CHAPTER 5

  The carriage made its way down the rue Saint Honore to the home of Monsieur Flaubert, a prominent politician and the host of the party tonight. Louis wore his best formal wear. Not a speck of dust marred his appearance, and not a hair was out of place. The crème de la crème of Paris would be at this event. Both friends and foes would be in attendance.

  Much to his disappointment, Louis was here on business, not pleasure. He was scheduled to meet one of the Fox’ s associates tonight and nothing must go wrong.

  Earlier in the week, Galle had come to him with a letter he had received instructing him to obtain information regarding ports, both in France and England. The writer requested the locations, ship schedules, the cargoes they would be carrying and their final destinations. Louis was not certain what the Fox intended to do with the information. Would he simply steal the goods and sell them to their enemies, or was there another plot afoot?

  Louis had Galle respond that he could get the ledgers with the specified information but required a rendezvous in person. A reply had come back that one of the Fox’s most trusted associates would meet Galle at the party tonight, in the greenhouse at ten. Louis would take Galle’s place.

  Switching identities was a risk. There was no way of knowing how many people within the Fox’s circle were familiar with Galle. Louis prayed the man he was meeting tonight did not know what Galle looked like or he would have a serious problem. The plan was for him to pass himself off as Galle and try to infiltrate the Fox’s den.

  Henri rode in the carriage with Louis. He would be watching the house while Louis was inside.

  “Do the men know their orders?” Louis asked.

  “Yes. Once you drop me off, I will take half of the men and secure the garden walls. The rest will spread out around the house. We have all possible exits marked in case something goes wrong. We will have you covered.”

  “Let’s just hope this all goes as planned.”

  A block before they reached Monsieur Flaubert’s house, the carriage stopped, and Henri exited. He would meet their hired agents at the designated rendezvous point, then head through the back alley to Flaubert’s residence and set up a perimeter.

  With the meeting in a public place, Louis hoped it would go off without a hitch. There was the possibility of unexpected interference by other guests or any number of other variables that Louis could not predict. That was why he had brought Henri to watch his back. Right now, he had to steady his features and prepare himself to be the debonair gentleman all society adored.

  The carriage pulled up to the steps of the mansion. Louis stepped out and joined the throng of guests as they ascended the steps. The house seemed to take up the entire block. Carriages lined up and down the street, waiting to let out their charges.

  Louis stepped into the elaborate ballroom and took a quick survey. Three large chandeliers blazed with light along with sconces on both sides of the room, bathing the dancers in the candlelit glow. Servants wove through the crowd with their trays of refreshments. The strong aroma from the guest’s perfumes and colognes nearly overpowered Louis. Perhaps it would be best to walk on the outskirts of the crowd, he thought. He made his way around the periphery of the room, smiling and acknowledging those of his acquaintance. It was eight o’clock—plenty of time to make himself seen for a few dances.

  As he made a round of greetings, Louis caught sight of a familiar head of auburn hair. It was Monsieur Bisset’s alleged niece, Colette Durand, the woman he had met at the house party—the woman who had suddenly vanished. His interest piqued, he watched her from across the room. She looked distracted. Her gaze darted back and forth, as if waiting for someone.

  Louis danced for the next hour. Each time the music ended he immediately sought out the red-headed beauty. Her presence here could be no mere coincidence. Louis had no doubt which side she was on. Each person she conversed with was a known or suspected enemy of France. Louis wanted to follow her, but it was nearing ten, and he needed to make his approach to the greenhouse.

  The garden was empty. The cool night air kept the guests indoors. All the better, Louis thought. The moonlight outlined the spire of the greenhouse. Louis proceeded cautiously. Once inside, he saw that he was alone, which gave him a chance to check for any other exits or surprises which might be lurking before the meeting took place.

  In the distance, the church bell tolled ten. Louis waited in the corner, hidden in the shadows. At the first sign of any trouble, he wanted the upper hand. It also helped that a half dozen of his agents were surrounding the garden along the perimeter.

  The door creaked open and footsteps crunched on the gravel. Louis took a step forward. He stopped in mid-stride when he saw who had entered: Mademoiselle Durand. What the devil was she doing here? He had to get rid of her before she ruined his plans. As much as he would love an interlude with the young lady, now was not the time.

  Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out of the shadows. The lady’s hand went to her mouth when she saw him. “You startled me, monsieur. Not a very gentlemanly thing to do, sulking in the shadows.”

  Louis bowed. “My apologies, mademoiselle. May I ask what you are doing out here? Are you following me? I remember you from the house party at Monsieur Laurent’s. Were you hoping for a continuation of our acquaintance?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I thought I recognized you. Monsieur de Coligny, I believe? Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but no, I am meeting someone here.”

  Louis arched an eyebrow, and smirked. “Ah, so I have interrupted a private interlude. Well, again, my apologies, but you will have to meet your lover elsewhere. I, too, am waiting for my companion.”

  “I wonder which of the lovely ladies has caught your eye?”

  “Unfortunately, you will not be here to see. Now again, I must ask you to leave.”

  Louis had to get rid of the infuriating woman. If his contact saw her, he might turn tail and run. He could not let that happen. This was the closest he had come to getting a solid lead on the Fox, and he would not let some pig-headed woman stop him.

  “Well, I am sorry Monsieur de Coligny, but I promised my friend, Monsieur Galle, that I would meet him here. I am sure whichever society lady you enticed into joining you will not mind having your tryst elsewhere.”

  The mention of Galle’s name gave Louis pause. Good God, was she the agent? It made sense. She had been at Laurent’s house party, then had suddenly left. Now, here she was again, in the right place at the right time. It was genius, if he stopped to think about it. Most people would not pay much heed to a woman, which made her even more lethal. He of all people should know.

  He would have to tread carefully. This could be a trap. Louis straightened his jacket and approached Colette. On closer inspection, she was older than what he had first suspected at Laurent’s. She appeared to be closer to his age, approaching thirty. The suspicious glint in her green eyes was no doubt borne of a hard life. If she worked for the Fox, she would be cunning—he would have to watch himself.

  Very well. He would have to do the best he could with the present situation. “I am Galle.”

  She did not flinch at the remark, except to blink. “You are Galle? But you said at Laurent’s that your name was de Coligny. All of the guests knew who you were. How do you explain that?”

  He had to think of an excuse. “In polite society I go by my family name, de Coligny. In my other endeavors, I require a certain amount of anonymity. I’m sure you understand.” Hopefully she would fall for his explanation.

  She stood for a moment, considering him. “What is the purpose of your meeting here tonight?”

/>   So, she was not convinced by his story. Smart woman, but he would ease her doubts. “We are here to discuss the ledgers which contain the shipping information your organization requires.”

  Colette narrowed her gaze, scrutinizing him. Louis’s pulse hammered in his ears. If she did not believe him, she would bolt for sure. He should be able to catch her if she decided to run, but he hoped she would believe his story about his false identity.

  “Do you have the ledgers?” Colette inquired.

  “Not with me. It would look odd to carry ledgers to a party.” He grinned, showing his teeth. She did not look pleased with his response, judging by her scowl.

  “You have access to them? My superior told me you work at the Ministry of Defense.”

  For now, Louis would play the role. “I can get them for you. What do you need? I have to be careful, or someone will notice they are missing.”

  “For now, my employer requires a sign of good faith. He wants all the details, including the contents of all the shipments, leaving from Paris for Constantinople in the coming month.”

  Good God, the Fox was not playing around. The bastard must be insane. There had to be another way to establish his good faith without giving away so much information. He would have to speak with General Lochte. For now, he had to make his companion believe he would do what was asked.

  “I can get the information. When do you need it?”

  “My employer is not a patient man. The sooner the better.”

  Louis nodded his head. “May I ask you a question?”

  Her posture relaxed, but her expression was remained wary. “Very well.”

  “What is your name?”

  “I told you at Laurent’s, it is Colette.”

  “Why are you doing this, Colette?”