Be My Bride (26 page)

The maid handed the man another loaf with a hurried curtsey, then turned back to Joanna. “And did you want to pick out the jellies for your wedding breakfast, mum?”

Joanna shook her head and laughed, fairly confident that only those who knew her well would hear how forced it sounded. “My word, where is my mind today? Thank you for reminding me, Maudie. Excuse me, sir.”

He bowed and turned to leave. Joanna stepped up to the counter with mixed emotions. Had she been too obvious? Why didn’t he make another move? Then she shook her head. His next move would be to attack her. Of course he could not do that in public. The woman with her baby was still being waited on by the young apprentice. The baker was waiting with a scowl to help her and Maudie. She had nothing to fear. She spoke confidently to the baker, asking after prices and how he managed deliveries. When he turned away to pick up another batch of pastries to show her, Maudie nudged her elbow.

“You’re doing great,” she whispered to Joanna, who felt as if her limbs were about to turn to apricot jelly. “Now we see whether he takes the bait. Tell me to pay for this, and you start for the door.”

She wanted more than anything to look back and see where the man had gone, but that would have given away the game. “That will be sufficient for now, sir,” she said to the baker. “Pay the man, Maudie. I’ll wait outside.”

Turning, she scanned the dim room. No where did she see the Skull, if that was who the little man really was. She still couldn’t help wondering whether it was all a mistake. Of course, that was probably the part of her that didn’t want to admit she was about to tempt a dangerous criminal to take her life. She made a show of flouncing to the door. When Maudie turned to nod to her, she swept out into the sunshine.

There she paused to blink in the sudden light. Ladies and dandies strolled past. On the street beyond, carriages and lorries vied for space. Street vendors trundled by, shouting the praises of their wares. It was all disgustingly normal. Joanna took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to relax.

“I believe I know your fiancé,” the Skull said quietly beside her.

She jumped, then smiled stiffly, hand to her chest to cover the wild beating of her heart. “Really?” she asked, hoping she did not sound as startled as she felt. “Then perhaps you’d like to accompany me. He is to meet me just down the street to help pick out linens for our new home. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

He smiled sadly. “No, my dear, I’m afraid he won’t.”

What happened next was a blur. Something silver flashed in his hand, and Joanna only had enough time to blink before she was struck from the side and flattened into the building. She braced her fall with her hands, feeling the brick bite through her kid-skin gloves even as a powerful male shape pressed against her back. Around her, cries echoed and footsteps thudded. It would all have been quite alarming if she hadn’t recognized the voice in her ear as Allister’s.

“Don’t move,” he cautioned. “They nearly have him in hand.”

“I wouldn’t dream of moving,” she replied, feeling his strong arms around her. Indeed, if the brick hadn’t been pressed nearly to her nose, she might have enjoyed the touch of his body to hers. She closed her eyes and let her pulse slow to a lazy beat. He released her just as slowly.

“Are you all right?” he demanded as she righted herself. He put his hands on her shoulders and peered into her eyes as if suspecting she had somehow damaged her soul. Funny how she’d never noticed how tender his gaze could be. She could easily lose herself in the depths of his eyes.

“I’ve never been better,” she murmured.

Davis dashed up beside them. “We got him, Trev!” he crowed. “In the act. It’s Newgate for certain, if not the rope.”

Joanna felt chilled suddenly as the reality hit home. Someone had tried to kill her. Yet the little man she had spoken to had disappeared, and the street once more looked normal, save for the curious stares of passersby. It was as if her near brush with death had never been.

Allister was scowling at his friend. “Enough, Davis. I’m taking Joanna home.”

Davis bowed, but he could not seem to contain his enthusiasm. “Yes, yes, of course,” he chattered as he straightened. “Nice job, Miss Lindby. We may call you for the trial.”

“You will not,” Allister informed him icily. “She is out of this, as of now. I’ll see you later at the Office.”

He hustled Joanna away before she could say anything.

Once they were in the carriage, heading for Mayfair, he once more enfolded her in his arms. “What a nightmare,” he said, cuddling her against his chest. “I’ll wager you’re glad it’s over.”

She hated to argue with him when she was in the most satisfactory position of his lap, but she couldn’t stay silent. She had gone through with the deed to prove her valor; negating it now would spoil everything.

“Actually, I rather enjoyed it,” she replied.

He pulled back to stare into her face. “Enjoyed it?”

She traced the paisley pattern on his waistcoat with her finger, suddenly embarrassed to admit it in the face of his surprise. “Yes, Allister, truly. I know that will seem strange to you, but there was a certain thrill knowing that I could best an infamous French spy, that every move and every word counted. It was very much like a game of chess.”

“Not so strange,” he murmured. “I’ve often thought of it as a game. That’s the only way to stay sane sometimes. But the excitement can be a drug, Joanna. You can become addicted or worse: You can come to take the danger for granted and lose your life in the process.”

She swallowed. “Well, neither of us has to worry about that. This is our last case.”

He was silent, and alarm rose in her. “Allister? This
is
our last case, is it not? We’ve caught your Skull. What more must be done?”

He pressed a kiss against her temple before answering. The sweet touch brought her no comfort. “I must go by the Office and interrogate him,” he said soothingly. “Once I know he acted alone, I can be satisfied.”

Somehow, Joanna was afraid neither of them would be satisfied.

* * * *

Once Joanna was safely home, Allister hastened to the War Office. Every time he replayed the scene outside the pastry shop, he grew cold inside. He’d seen the flash of the knife. She had nearly been killed, would have been killed had he not leaped to push her aside. As he strode down the marble halls to Lord Hastings’ office, his fists balled at his sides. The Skull would pay.

Davis glanced up from his questioning as Allister entered. Daremier sat calmly in a high-backed wooden chair, a burly soldier on either side, a bored expression on his cadaverous face. Lord Hastings stood nearby, mouth set in grim lines. Davis hurried to Allister’s side.

“You won’t like this,” he said without preamble.

“He had conspirators,” Allister guessed, feeling his body chill all over again.

“Worse,” Davis replied. “We can’t hold him. He is completely innocent.”

Chapter Nine

Allister stared at Davis. “Are you mad? Since when is threatening a woman with a knife innocent?”

Davis grimaced. “We thought we saw a knife, old chap. But we searched him thoroughly. He carried no weapon.”

“So he threw it away, stuck it in a wall, passed it to a friend,” Allister ranted. “Damn it, Davy, we can’t let him get away again!”

“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Davis replied. “We have no evidence he was armed.”

“We all jolly well saw something flash in the light,” Allister countered.

“What we saw,” his friend said, “was apparently this.” He handed Allister a slender silver case. Allister took it, watching it flash obligingly in the lamp light. Flipping open the lid, he found simple calling cards, black ink on embossed linen. He pulled out several, only to find that each bore a different name. The top card had a small hand-drawn skull in the corner.

“Quite a catch,” Davis commented. “Several of the lads are chasing down those names. We know one belongs to a prominent eastside physician. Explains how the bugger slips in and out so easily. He has dual citizenship.”

“And this isn’t enough?” Allister demanded.

Davis shook his head. “Nothing illegal about using more than one name, Trev. And you know we have no witnesses to his earlier crimes – just supposition. In this case, apparently all he was going to do was give Joanna a calling card, the one with the skull on it. He says he merely wanted her to pass it on to you. The miscreant probably thought to shake you up a bit. Face it – the villain has us.”

“I want to talk to him,” Allister said.

Davis glanced over his shoulder to where Daremier sat with pursed lips. “Are you sure that’s wise? You
are
a bit involved in this case, as his lordship has pointed out.”

Allister didn’t repeat his request. He pushed past Davis to confront his enemy of so many years.

Daremier raised his head to meet his gaze. His black eyes sparkled with malevolent amusement; his thin lips curled in a sneer.

“Good afternoon, Baron Trevithan,” he said in perfect English. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Allister glared down at him. Every other time he’d gotten close to the villain he’d been calm, cool, ready for the deadly game they played. Now his anger boiled within him, clouding his mind, hampering his reasoning. Some part of him recognized the problem and cautioned retreat. The rest of him cried out for blood.

He put his hands on the arms of the chair and bent to put his face within six inches of the Skull’s.

“I want you,” he spat out, “to stay away from Joanna Lindby.”

Daremier didn’t even blink. “Your charming fiancée? Certainly, my lord. And may I wish you every happiness.”

“Don’t wish me anything,” Allister told him. “Don’t come near me, don’t even think about me. From now on, as far as you’re concerned, me and mine cease to exist.”

Daremier smiled. “I could only hope.”

Allister’s fists tightened on the arms of the chair. Lord Hastings stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Trevithan. Let us carry on from here.”

There was nothing left for him. He had no choice. The fact was totally unsatisfying. He forced himself to straighten. Daremier watched him.

“It would give me great pleasure to leave you with your doubts,” the Frenchman said. “But I’ve enjoyed our association over the years. It’s rare one meets a truly worthy gamesman. I offer you this gift to consider. If I am the spy you all think I am, why would I oppose your wedding? You obviously love this woman. Britain’s most talented secret agent, safely married and raising a family? Unable to continue his work? Surely your enemies would only breathe a sigh of relief.”

Allister stared at him, emotions warring. His instincts said the man was right, but how could he fully believe a spy who’d made a career of lying? Was there such a thing as honor among thieves?

“Come on, Trev,” Davis urged at his elbow. “I’ll walk you out.”

Allister turned on his heel and left.

In the corridor, Davis pulled him up short. “Did you hear the arrogance? You can’t let him get away with it, Trev! You can’t leave the Service now. We’ve got to stop him.”

Allister shook his head. “I’m done, Davy. This whole mess proves it. I’ve lost the knack.”

“Nonsense,” Davis argued. “You’re just frustrated. The answer isn’t to relax; it’s to go after the bugger.”

“My heart’s not in it,” Allister replied with a sigh. “I can’t run the risk of anything happening to Joanna.”

“It still could, you know,” Davis reminded him. “Daremier denies sending the note or the scarab. But someone sent them.”

Allister chilled. “You think he’s lying? Or is there someone else?” When Davis did not answer, he ran his hand back through his hair in despair. “Curse it all, Davy, I’m a mess. Look at me – I can’t think, I can’t act. All I know is, if I lose Joanna, I might as well lose my life.”

Davis regarded him fixedly, then he barked out a laugh. “Daremier is right. I don’t know what it is about you, my lad, but I can’t torture you either. I sent the note, Trev.”

Allister started. “What?”

“I sent the note,” Davis repeated, though he had the good sense to avoid Allister’s outraged glare. “I had a friend write it so you wouldn’t recognize the hand.”

“Why?” Allister demanded. “What could you possibly hope to gain by it?”

Davis shrugged. “I knew you admired the chit, but I couldn’t really believe it was love. I thought you were smarting over losing Daremier. I thought if you were presented with a mystery, you’d rise to the occasion. Instead, you just sank deeper. If this is love, old chap, it isn’t very inspiring.”

“On the contrary,” Allister told him, “I find it quite illuminating.” He cocked his head and eyed his partner. “I ought to plant you a facer, but instead I’ll thank you. I wasn’t sure whether I was running away either. Now I know. It’s love, Davy. She knows the truth about me, and she isn’t afraid of it. In fact, I wonder whether she wouldn’t make a better agent than I ever was. She’s sharp and sweet and passionate. I can’t imagine a life without her. The excitement, the adventure, none of this will be worth anything if it costs me Joanna. I’m done for, old man. I’m ready to live a normal life.”

Davis nodded. “So I gathered. Which is why I must remind you of the scarab. Someone sent it, old chap. I know I didn’t, and it looks as if Daremier didn’t either. You haven’t found our villain yet, Trev. You can’t quit.”

* * * *

Joanna wanted so badly to unburden herself to her mother, but she knew she could not do so without giving the game away. Her mother had no idea of her involvement with the Service. She had been careful to make everything appear normal, telling her mother she was going shopping with Allister for household items for their future home. But now that Allister had so much as admitted he was going to continue his dangerous work, she didn’t know what to do.

She had lost. She had tried to show she could be part of his world, but still he shut her out. She had thought she had made progress for a time. Certainly his declaration in the carriage had warmed her heart. Yet he was not willing to leave the excitement behind. She could not compete with the Service after all. The villain had been caught – she had no mystery left to make her attractive. She had fought the battle and lost, and she had no other strategy to help her win the war.