The Duchess and the Spy (32 page)

Isabella awoke the following morning, with a deep sense of dread. She felt Christopher beside her, and rolled over so she could face him. Sighing, she caressed the side of his cheek and then, decided to get out of bed and see what the day had in store for her. She wanted to hide from the world, but the world would eventually encroach upon her and she wasn’t free to do as she pleased until she had Daphne back safe and sound. Still, having to confess all to Christopher, as she had promised to do yesterday seemed a terrifying prospect.

“Don’t you dare leave this bed, Isabella,” he said, without even opening his eyes.

She sighed heavily. “You are insufferable.”

“Thank you, dearest,” he murmured. “You need to tell me everything.”

She sighed, closed her eyes for a few minutes, and then sighed again.

“It was Pierre’s doing.”

“I took that, why?”

“He wanted to make it clear to me that he can still reach me. No matter what, he can still hurt me if he wants. He wanted to make a statement and he wanted to tell me that if I do anything he doesn’t like, he shall kill the woman who has seen me through so much in my life. This only tells me that the other blackguards had it wrong. He doesn’t want to kill me, Christopher. He only wants me living in a constant state of fear.”

“That woman being Daphne Trudeau?”

“Aye.”

“And are you spying for him, or for Boney?”

“Neither. They only think I am.”

He regarded her in silence. “Pierre can rot, Isabella. Do you understand? He can’t hurt you. I can’t help Daphne right now, but you mustn’t fear that he will get to you. Never again.”

“I understand.”

She breathed a huge sigh of relief. She finally felt free. She had unburdened herself and he had reacted so sweetly to her. She had married the best man in the world.

“Pierre took me four years ago…and made me his ward. He stole my birthright from me, Christopher.”

“I know,” he said. “So the little bastard wanted to be a duke, eh?”

“That’s why I was bargaining with Bonaparte. I want my birthright restored to me.”

“Devil take your birthright, Isabella. You don’t need anything in France. You have me, you have all that waits for you here in England, isn’t that enough?”

“You don’t understand. I shan’t have my father’s death be in vain. My Papa thought I survived to make certain the De Clermont legacy survived. If I let it fall into that bastard’s hands…if I don’t at least try to fight for it, I spit on my father’s grave…don’t you understand?”

“I understand. But I shan’t have you risk life and limb over it.”

“He’s always been clever enough to use Daphne against me. The day that he took me he had a dirk pressed against Daphne’s throat so I wouldn’t try anything against him, and I didn’t trust my magic enough to save us both. I failed her, Christopher.”

“You did no such thing. You threw your lot in with her to ensure her safety. You were quite heroic, my darling.”

She smiled, as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Daphne would do anything for me…even give her life for me. She wasn’t afraid that day, you see. She had resigned herself to her fate.”

“I…I had no choice. She saved me from the guillotine, and I had to save her from my uncle. I went with him, knowing that my salvation was only minutes away. I lived in hell with him for four years, and when I finally managed to escape him, I was betrayed yet again. After I helped you to escape Boney, I discovered that Pierre discovered my plans to leave France in the guise of a spy for Napoleon, so I was going to do something that didn’t have his blessing. Being the vengeful bastard that he is, he took Daphne from me. After that night, I was sent for my training, and during that time my magic abandoned me. I guess I overdid by using it to make him think he was bedding me. Despite them having Daphne, I did the unthinkable. I left anyway, and I feel damned wretched about it. You risked all to save me yesterday, Christopher.”

“And I would do it again. Don’t you understand?”

She smiled. “I am beginning to.” He kissed her tenderly, and she reveled in their closeness. She felt so safe here with him, and yet, she feared that someday her life would get him killed, and she couldn’t bear that.

“So that’s what the letter said. It was filled with threats and telling you were being watched.”

“Aye. It was most vile.”

“You mentioned your father as being dead, but what about your mother?”

“That’s another reason why I went to France with Pierre. I thought that maybe he knew where she was. He will not tell me if he kept her as his prize, or if he gave her to the guillotine. And for the life of me, I have never been able to divine her fate. Even Grandmamma admits that her fate is shrouded in mists. She doesn’t know if she’s alive or not, either, and yet…I cling to the hope that she did survive, even though I know there is a very slim chance that she did. Not many escaped The Terror.”

“It was a terrible time, indeed. We must have a portrait of us as a couple commissioned shortly.”

“Roselyn could do it, she is quite talented.”

“Aye, perhaps.” He kissed her again, and she allowed him to take her into his arms, and move her so she was beneath him, as they were about to start making love, a knock sounded on their bedchamber door, ruining the moment for them both. It was for the best anyway, she didn’t want to rip open her stitches.

He walked toward the door and opened it. The footman bowed and held out a silver tray with a letter on it. He took it from the man, and shut the door.

He opened it quickly, and then the smile on his face faded as he read it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing of importance.” He glanced over at her and she saw the worry in his eyes. Nothing her foot.

“And what is this?” she asked, holding up the old miniature portrait of hers that had been commissioned before Pierre had taken her.

“Your Grandmother gave it to me, and I shall cherish it.”

“You are a dear.”

“I must away, Isabella. I shall enlist some guards to keep an eye on you while I am gone. Since Pierre has his henchman watching you, I shall make sure I have men watching you. And do not try to fight me on this one.”

“I shan’t.”

“I shall see you tonight.”

“I look forward to it, Christopher. Please be careful.”

“I shall.”

She watched him leave with her heart in her throat. She would worry until she had him back with her. He lived a dangerous life, and she didn’t like it one bit. “Christopher, wait.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, turning back to regard her.

“Shouldn’t you call for your valet, and get dressed before you go out?”

“Lady Wyndham, I shall go out in my dressing gown, if I so desire.”

“In that case, I shall not stop you. Mayhap later on today I will go outside in my dressing gown.”

“Perhaps I shall go and get dressed.”

“I confess that that would be for the best,” she laughed.

After he had wandered into the adjoining room and shut the door, she rushed over to her full-length mirror, lifting her nightdress so that she could inspect her wound for herself. She winced at the long gash across her side, and sighed approvingly as she studied the neat stitches the doctor had done.

She walked gingerly over to her portmanteau, and opened it, as she gasped. Somehow she had packed Maria’s wedding dress, and her mother’s pearls. She had to give them back to Maria at the earliest possibility. She gingerly took the dress out and shook it out as she laid it across her bed. She would need to have it attended to. She reached in for the pearls, and let out a horrified gasp, when she opened the large jewelry box, only to discover that it was heaping with jewels. She closed it, and then briefly shut her eyes, and she slowly opened it again.

None of the jewelry was hers, since none of it had been moved from Murray House or gathered from Castle Moil in Scotland. She cautiously reached inside for the jewels, and felt a dreadful apprehension fill her as she recognized the one necklace. She stumbled away from the jewelry case as the lid slammed down upon it.

She rushed over to her portmanteau, and was just about to take off her nightdress when a timid knock sounded at the door. She went over to the door and opened it. There stood an elfin like little woman, all neatly dressed, with her thick hair piled atop her head. She curtsied to Isabella, and then stared in wonderment at her. Isabella shifted nervously beneath the woman’s stare. She would have to move with care over the next few days so as not to rip her stitches. She was tender, but she was a fast healer, and the wound wasn’t as bad as she’d originally thought.

“What do you want?” she asked, a tad more harshly than she had wanted to.

“I was sent by Lord Wyndham to attend you as your maid, my lady.”

“Indeed.” She waved the woman into the room and stepped aside.

Isabella watched as the young eager woman, walked briskly through the room. “You may have whatever you find in the wardrobe or in any of the closets,” Isabella murmured, walking over to pull a white muslin morning dress with little roses on it from her large portmanteau. She shook it out, and frowned when she saw the slight wrinkles. She didn’t want any of the frocks that were in the room, fearing that they once belonged to Ashley.

“I can go and have that pressed for you, my lady,” the woman offered eagerly rushing toward her.

“What is your name?” Isabella asked softly, as Christopher came back into the room.

“My deepest apologies, my dear,” he said, when he caught sight of her lady’s maid. “I almost forgot this.” He reached for her miniature portrait, and placed it cautiously within his wine colored jacket.

“Think nothing of it Christopher. I shall be ridding this room of any part of your mistress. That means the frocks in the wardrobe, and those jewels shall have to go.”

“Would you excuse us, Kitty?” he asked softly. The maid grabbed the frock she wanted to wear today, and dashed out of the room.

“You expect me to wear the same clothes she wore and the same jewelry she wore? You are too much. Not to mention the fact that I’m probably sleeping in the same bed where you made love to her!” Jealousy seeped through her and she knew she might be acting shrewish, but damnation she couldn’t help it. She loathed the woman.

“First of all, the bed is new,” he explained sighing. “Second of all, she never slept in this room. I used a guest chamber,” he continued. “And lastly, none of these pieces belonged to Ashley.” She scowled at him, opened the box, and irately brandished the sapphire broach that Ashley had been wearing in her portrait.

“What pray is this, then?” she demanded furiously, hanging it in front of his face.

“You, my dear, are being unreasonable,” he declared calmly, trying to placate her.

“And you, Christopher, seem to provoke me into unleashing my displeasure whenever I think that everything is going along splendidly.” He grinned at her. “I do not see the humour in my situation, husband!” He reached for her and she scooted out of his way. “You will not manipulate my emotions. This, this shall have to go.” She tossed the broach at him. He deftly caught it.

“I will eradicate all memory of Ashley, if it suits you.”

“You will?”

“I have made my peace with Ashley, and I confess she definitely didn’t hold a candle to you. I suppose that what I felt for her was a deep infatuation, but I am absolutely besotted with you. You may do whatever you wish. You are my wife. You are the Marchioness of Wyndham, and as such you have great influence and power. Ashley was my lover, nothing more, nothing less.”

“I want to be more than just your wife. I don’t want to feel as if sleeping with you is my duty…”

“You want to be my lover, then,” he concluded happily, catching a hold of her chin, so that she could not tilt her face away from him.

“I want to be your lover and your wife,” she clarified softly. “I want to be everything to you. I won’t have you keeping a mistress in a fancy little house as some husbands do. If you are away from me, you will not be sampling any other woman’s charms, is that quite clear?”

“You want to be everything to me. I like the sound of that. All of those jewels were for my future wife. I never presented any of them to Ashley, and only stupidly put it into the jewelry case when it was found to be the only remaining thing that Ashley left behind. It washed up onto the beach after she drowned, and like a heartbroken fool, I stored it away so that I could pine over it every so often.”

“You have no need to brood anymore?”

“Why would I, my dearest, when I have finally found a wife who wants to be everything to me?” He took her hand and kissed it delicately, and she shivered deliciously.

“Christopher you are a remarkable man. You’d best be off,” she whispered, glancing towards the door. “You had urgent business to attend to remember?”

“Of course. And Isabella, I expect you to take it easy today. I know how you like to push yourself too hard.”

“I shall not overdo.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” 

She sighed, as he left the bedchamber. Kitty timidly knocked on the door a short time later and glided into the room as if she were a breath of fresh air. Isabella watched the woman carefully place the dress out, and then looked over at her. “I could help you to get dressed now, my lady.”