The Price of Pleasure (17 page)

Reed spent the next few weeks trying to find his new place in Society. He even agreed to squire Helen and Violet to a few events, which he found boring in the extreme. It was difficult to reconcile his new position in Society with the exciting life he had led as a spy.

Reed had even begged Porter for a new assignment but had been denied again. According to Porter, Reed was no longer of value to the agency. Reed believed the real problem was that Porter feared going head-to-head with Grandmamma if anything should happen to her grandson.

Violet’s machinations to get Reed to propose were becoming more and more blatant. To avoid her, he began frequenting the gambling hells. When that palled, he tried some of the better houses of pleasure, where he invariably looked over every raven-haired beauty and in the end chose none of them. A few reminded him of Fleur, but none of them was her, and so he left, unsatisfied and wanting.

Reed’s old carousing buddies now seemed like strangers to him. None had gone through what he had. None knew what living in hell felt like, nor had any of them wished for death as fervently as he had. More often than not he felt isolated and alone. No one could understand what he had gone through. No one knew about the demons plaguinghim or the memories that left him deeply disturbed. Only Fleur had understood.

Reed had visited Porter on numerous occasions since his return, each time prodding the director to get Fleur out of France and find the man who had betrayed him. Each time he had been told that Fleur had been contacted but had asked for time to accomplish one more task. As for the traitor, Porter said he and his colleagues were working on it. Dissatisfied with the answer, Reed decided to find the traitor himself.

A few days after his last visit to Whitehall, Reed received a summons from Porter. Reed’s hopes soared. His first thought was that Porter had changed his mind about using Reed’s expertise as a spy. The second was that they had caught the traitor. There was a spring to his step as he was shown into Lord Porter’s office a short time later.

“Thank you for coming so soon,” Porter greeted him.

“Dare I hope you have an assignment for me? I’m bored to distraction.”

Porter stood and paced to the window. He whirled around and said, “I have chosen you for this assignment because of your apparent interest in Fleur Fontaine.”

Reed snapped to attention. “Has something happened to Fleur?”

“Not yet, but I received a frantic message from Peter Weldon. He says it’s time to pull Fleur out, that if we wait any longer it will be too late.”

“When do I leave?” Reed asked, gritting his teeth to stem his frustration. He’d wanted Fleur safely out of France for weeks.

“I’m of the opinion that we shouldn’t delay. Can you be ready to sail on tonight’s tide? Captain Skilling’s ship is provisioned and waiting in London Pool.”

“I’ll be ready as soon as I return home and dress in something more appropriate than the fancy duds I’m wearing. Any other instructions?”

“Captain Skilling has all the details you need to know. Weldon’s message was terse, but his urgency was unmistakable. If Fleur Fontaine’s undercover work for us has been exposed, she needs to get out as fast as possible.”

Reed gave a jerky nod. “I’ll bring her back—you can depend on it.”

The interview over, Reed made straight for his townhouse. Updike met him at the door. “I expect to be gone for a few days, Updike. I’ll be leaving directly.”

Updike nodded and followed Reed to his chamber. “I’ll pack your bag immediately.”

“A few necessities are all I need.”

Updike’s eyebrows shot up. “As you say. Am I to accompany you?”

“No, this is . . . I can’t discuss this with you or anyone else.”

Updike frowned. “Not another assignment, my lord. I thought you were finished with all that.”

Reed began pulling clothes from his wardrobe. “It’s not what you think.”

“May I inquire what you’re looking for in your wardrobe?”

“I’m searching for something nondescript to wear aboard ship. And boots, Updike. Those old ones in the back of my wardrobe will do.”

While Updike rummaged around for the clothing Reed wanted, Reed opened the chest at the foot of his bed and retrieved a variety of weapons, including a pair of dueling pistols, a wicked-looking dagger and a sword.

“My word,” Updike said with a gasp. “I hope you don’t intend to use those weapons.”

“Only if necessary, Updike, only if necessary. Have you found something for me to wear?”

Updike handed Reed a pair of black breeches, a white linen shirt and a black jacket. When he brought forth a snowy white cravat, Reed waved it aside. “I’m not going to a fancy ball.”

Reed shoved his feet into his boots, strapped on his sword and began thrusting the remaining weapons beneath the belt. Before he left, he tossed a black cloak over his shoulders.

Updike shuddered. “You look like a proper pirate, my lord. Dare I hope you’ll be careful?”

“I don’t expect danger at this point, but I want to be ready should it arrive. Take care of things while I’m gone, Updike.”

“You can depend upon me, sir. Be careful,” he called as Reed strode out the door.

Captain Skilling was waiting when Reed arrived aboard his ship. He greeted Reed warmly and led him into his cabin to talk strategy while waiting for the tide to turn.

“Brandy?” Skilling asked as he shut the door behind them.

“I would appreciate it,” Reed answered.

“Take a seat while I fetch our drinks. I could use something bracing myself.”

Reed flopped into a chair, his mind occupied with thoughts of Fleur, wondering what kind of situation she had gotten herself into. Skilling handed Reed a goblet half filled with brandy and pulled a chair up to a desk covered with maps. Reed sipped thoughtfully as he waited for Skilling to speak.

“What did Porter tell you?” Skilling asked.

“Just the basics,” Reed answered. “He said you’d provide the details.”

Skilling nodded. “There’s not much to tell. We’re to set you ashore on the narrow strip of beach close to the cottage and put out to sea until the following night. Then we’ll sail into the cove where we picked you up before and wait offshore for your signal. If you fail to appear, I’ll take the ship to the alternate rendezvous site. If you don’t signal us to send the rowboat for you at either rendezvous site after two consecutive nights, our orders are to return to England. The cliff near the cottage is steep; do you think you can manage? I doubt there is a path. If I set you ashore in the cove where the road is more accessible, you’d have a long walk to the cottage.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way up. And I’ll bring Fleur to the rendezvous if I have to drag her all the way.”

Skilling grinned. “I’m sure you will.”

Reed took a hefty slug of brandy. “No matter what happens, I’m not leaving France without Fleur.”

Before Skilling could reply, there came a knock on the door. “Come,” Skilling called.

The first mate entered. “The tide is turning, Captain.”

“Make preparations to get underway,” Skilling ordered. “I’ll take the wheel myself.”

The first mate took his leave. “We’ll talk later,” Skilling said. “I’m needed on deck.”

“I’ll join you,” Reed replied, rising. Though the captain’s roomy cabin in no way resembled the tiny windowless cabins below deck, Reed would rather be out in the open.

Darkness hovered on the horizon as the ship left its berth and sailed down the Thames. Once into the channel, the schooner scudded before the wind at a fast clip. Reed found a place on an overturned barrel, dozing intermittently as Skilling guided the ship through the channel.

As daylight chased away the night, Reed rose and stretched. Skilling turned the wheel over to his first mate and invited Reed to breakfast with him. Reed followed Skilling into his cabin. Soon after, the cabin boy arrived with a breakfast of eggs, ham, bread and ale. It seemed the schooner was well provisioned for the short voyage.

Reed returned to the deck after breakfast and remained there despite a fine misting of rain and fog. Though he took his meals with the captain, Reed chose to wrap himself in his cloak and sleep on deck with the sailors. The wind was with them. They left the channel and turned south along the French coast, reaching their destination without encountering any French ships well after dark on the third day. The weather had cleared, though the moon was obscured by wispy clouds.

Captain Skilling ordered the sails furled and the anchor dropped. Reed prepared to leave the ship, waiting impatiently for the rowboat to be lowered.

“We’ll be waiting for your signal tomorrow night,” Skilling advised. “Just wave a lantern back and forth, and we’ll launch the rowboat to pick you up. God go with you, Hunthurst.”

Reed clapped Skilling’s shoulder, then clambered down the ladder and into the rocking rowboat. The two sailors accompanying him shoved off and rowed toward the dark crescent of beach.

The moment the rowboat hit the beach, Reed jumped into the surf and waded ashore. The rowboat shoved off and soon disappeared into the darkness.

Reed searched the cliff rising above him, looking for the easiest way to scale it. After careful inspection he decided there was no easy way. He grabbed hold of the nearest tree root and started climbing, inch by careful inch. Loose sand caused him to lose his footing a time or two, but after stopping several times to catch his breath, he finally pulled himself over the crest.

Reed took a few minutes to rest and get his bearings before setting off. He knew exactly where he was. It was but a short walk to the lane that led to the cottage. He almost missed it in the inky darkness but recognized the hedge that lined both sides of the way and started down the rutted road. He had nearly reached the cottage when he heard a noise and drew his pistol. A man stepped out from a break in the hedge.

“Who goes there?”

Reed recognized the voice. “Antoine, is that you? I’ve come to take the countess to safety.”

Antoine approached Reed and stared into his face. “Andre didn’t tell us you would be the one to come for the countess. Thank God you arrived,
monsieur
.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I just relieved Gaston; he’s sleeping in the stables. We take turns patrolling since the countess’s last visit to Devil’s Chateau. If soldiers approach, we can hear their horses before they arrive. A few minutes’ warning is all the countess and Lisette need to hide in the hole beneath the ground.”

Though Reed was boiling inside, he swallowed his rage and asked as calmly as possible, “Why in God’s name would Fleur return to Devil’s Chateau when she knew the consequences? I warned her before I left about her reckless behavior.”

“She returned one last time because of you,
monsieur.
”

“Me?” Reed gasped.

“
Oui, monsieur.
She knew how you hated to leave Doctor Leclair behind and wanted to free him for you.”

“She took Leclair from the prison?”

“
Oui, monsieur.
He is still here and occupies your old chamber.”

“Is he well?”

“He was in better condition than you were when we carried you out.”

Reed glanced at the dark outline of the cottage. “I suppose everyone is sleeping, so I won’t bother him. It’s best that I make my presence known in the morning. Is the front door unlatched? I can sleep on the sofa in the parlor for what’s left of the night. Meanwhile, prepare for a hasty departure. We are to meet the ship in the cove tomorrow night after dark.”

“We will be ready,
monsieur.
The front door has been left unlatched in case Antoine or I need to enter quickly. I will continue to keep watch while you and the others sleep.”

Reed headed toward the cottage. Nothing stirred, not even a breeze. An eerie silence hung in the air, raising the hackles on his neck. He glanced back at Antoine. Nothing seemed amiss, so he climbed the steps to the front door and turned the doorknob. It opened with only one tiny squeak.

Reed heard nothing, saw nothing as he felt his way to the parlor. He knew the layout of the cottage by heart and had no difficulty finding his destination. A chill slithered down his spine. The fire had died, taking its warmth with it. Removing a flint from a pouch in his pocket, he felt around for a candle, found one and struck a light to its wick.

Sighing wearily, Reed slumped down on the sofa and stared into the cold hearth. The thought that Fleur was asleep just down the hall warmed him. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he had left the cottage all those weeks ago. She was everything to admire: passion and courage, temptation and desire, beauty and determination. Reed had to force himself not to tiptoe into her chamber, climb into her bed and make love to her.

Fear settled in Reed’s chest. Despite Antoine’s assurance, he couldn’t help worrying about Fleur’s safety. Anything could happen between now and tomorrow night. Reed removed his weapons, placed them near at hand and blew out the candle. He lay back and closed his eyes, hoping for a couple hours of much needed sleep. He had just started to doze when a light flared before his closed eyelids. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.