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ALICE SAT BACK IN HER carriage seat. She’d been shocked when Pembroke’s valet had removed his mask and she’d recognized him. So many things made sense now― and her instinct that Pembroke was innocent had been right. If only she could have gotten a message to Christian. But with a gun at her back, Alice had to go along with whatever the valet had planned.
Her gaze landed on Pembroke. He was in the corner of the coach, his hands tied and a gag in his mouth. He was moaning and barely conscious.
“What have you done to him?” Alice asked, proud that her voice didn’t waver. She carefully removed her mask and put it next to her leg.
“With the blow to the head and the tincture he was given, he should have been felled like an oak. Obviously my brother should have hit him harder or given him more,” the valet grumbled, wrinkling his nose. Pembroke groaned and his eyes rolled back in his head. His valet just gave him another disdainful look. “Pompous fool.”
Grateful she hadn’t been gagged and tied, she rubbed her arms as gooseflesh appeared over her skin. The night was chilly, and the silk did nothing to protect her against the cold or the fear pricking her heart. Since they’d left the ball, Pembroke’s valet had shot both agents trying to stop them from getting to the stables, then turned the gun toward her. She’d held her hands up in surrender. The valet had collected Pembroke’s nearly unconscious form by the back gate, and then they’d hurried to the stables where the carriage was waiting. She still couldn’t get the smell of blood and gunpowder out of her nose. “Why are you doing this? Are you hoping for ransom?”
“It’s not just about the money. You nobs are always playing with people’s lives, and don’t think about anyone but yourselves. Servants are nothing more than chattel to be used, then thrown away like rubbish.” He scowled at Pembroke, gripping the gun tighter. Alarm was growing in Alice’s heart. Judging from the bloodlust in his eyes, he planned to kill them both.
“If you’re unhappy in your position with Lord Pembroke, I could speak to my father. Perhaps find a place for you at Langdon Park,” she offered.
He let out a bitter laugh. “It’s not about position, you fool! My family, most especially my mother, have suffered every indignity because of people like you.” He turned in the seat, his gun pointing toward her. Alice tried to quell the fear, looking at his face instead of the gun.
“What happened to your family?” She kept her voice soft, hoping to calm his rage, maybe make him see reason.
He stared at her for a moment, pressing a hand to his temple. “My little brother went off to war, proud to serve his country. Wellington himself saw how fleet of foot he was and used him to track enemy troop movements. But my brother wasn’t quick enough and ended up with his throat slit behind enemy lines.” The valet’s voice shook and he lifted the gun to Pembroke’s heart. “All my mother got was a letter of regret from the army and ‘Your country thanks you for your sacrifice’—but they killed him!”
“Your brother died honorably, helping to win the war. Many mothers received the same letter.” The knife was in the hidden sheath at her waist, but it wouldn’t protect her against a gun. But if she could keep him talking until he met with his buyer, there might be a chance to somehow foil the sale of the list. She needed to try.
“My brother was expendable. The son of a gardener. Who would miss a servant? They thought no one would care, but I’m going to make them care,” he snarled.
The coach came to a stop, and the valet looked over at her. “I’m going to escort you into the inn, just the same as we went to the stables. We are helping the Earl of Pembroke in his time of need.” He opened the door. “And if you try to run or ask for help, remember that I have no good will toward British Intelligence Officers or the upper classes at the moment. I will shoot you, then perhaps leave you behind in a field like they did my brother.”
Alice shivered at the image, but inclined her head. “I understand.” She didn’t plan to antagonize him. This was the chance Falcon Group had been waiting for since the moment Thomas had been killed, and she had a chance to finish the mission.
The valet shouldered Pembroke’s weight, as if he were helping his drunk master find his bed, as they made their way across the inn’s courtyard. As they walked toward the entrance of the inn, a man dismounted from his horse and came to them immediately. With his similar features, it was easy to see he was the brother the valet had spoken of who had struck Pembroke and given him a tincture. And since he was wearing an apron and walked like he owned the property, it seemed he was the innkeeper here.
The brother stopped in front of them. “Jasper.” He looked at her, then turned his face and lowered his voice. “I made sure that one of the girls readied your usual bedchamber upstairs for you with a private parlor. Lock them in the chamber for safekeeping, and then you can wait for our . . . um . . . guest, in the parlor. I'll bring you something to drink.”
Ah, the valet’s name was Jasper. Alice filed that information away. Jasper grunted his assent and readjusted Pembroke’s weight before he headed for the stairs, motioning for her to walk in front of him. She could feel several patrons’ eyes on her, but she ducked her head, not wanting to meet their eyes. Alice needed to stay close to Jasper.
“First room on the right,” Jasper said, hauling Pembroke up the stairs none too gently.
Alice opened the door and stepped inside. It was a small room with a bed in the corner and a chair in front of the fireplace. Jasper came in after her and unceremoniously dropped Pembroke on the bed.
“The fool had no idea he was being framed. Just sulked and pouted about being given the cut direct by his supposed friends.” He snorted in disgust. “All he cared about was himself.”
Alice looked at Pembroke, remembering his distress at the rumors besmirching his family name. “He was worried about losing his home and how the rumors were affecting his mother and sister,” she said softly. “Surely you can understand that.”
“No one cared about my mum or sister and how losing Freddie affected them.” Jasper snapped. “We didn't even have a body for a proper Christian burial. Now sit in the chair.”
Alice sat, watching warily as Jasper approached her while taking off his cravat. The gold buttons on the coat winked at her again. That's where she'd seen them before. In Pembroke's dressing room when they’d searched the pockets of his jacket. He obviously felt comfortable in his master’s clothing, and they were of a similar height and build.
“What do you plan to do with me?” she asked, trying to prolong the conversation, hoping he would feel comfortable enough to reveal his plans.
“I’m going to attend a very important meeting that will make me a rich man.” He went around the chair and yanked both arms painfully behind her. Using the cravat, he tied her wrists tightly. “When I’m through making Wellington’s spies pay, I’ll offer you and the earl to the French. Everyone in Britain will think you’ve run off together. I’m sure the French could find a use for a duke’s daughter who has shamed herself by spying, and a useless English noble.” He laughed cruelly. “You know, maybe the French had the right of it in getting rid of all the nobility.”
Alice bowed her head and sniffed as if she were fighting back tears. Jasper pulled on the knot before he straightened. “Now use the manners that every gently bred lady is taught and sit here quietly until I come for you.”
Alice didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes dutifully on the floor until the door was closed and she heard it lock behind him. Then she started working on her bindings. One thing she’d practiced relentlessly had been escaping any sort of bonds. Her father had made it a game to tie her hands in exotic knots as well as serviceable ones, and, while some had taken longer to get free from than others, she’d always managed it. One more talent she could never divulge to her friends.
Pulling her shoulders back, she tried to feel the shape of the knot Jasper had tied. This one was complicated, but she was confident it wouldn’t take long before she was free. She had to get to that parlor.
Pulling and pushing the sides of the knot, testing what tightened and what loosened with each action was painstaking work. Feeling the knots coming loose under her fingers brought a satisfied smile to her face, but getting out of the bindings had still taken a little longer than she had anticipated. She breathed a relieved sigh when she was finally free.
Stretching her fingers and rolling her wrists, she stood and looked over at Pembroke. He had stopped moaning and was now snoring on the bed. There would be no help from him. She was on her own.
Pressing her ear to the door, Alice didn’t hear anything from outside. With a pat of the back of her hair, she took two hairpins out, then fashioned one into an L-shape and used the other as a straight pick. The lock gave way easily and Alice slowly opened the door. The corridor was empty.
Her slippers were quiet on the wood floor, but she still tiptoed to the front of the parlor doors. The voices inside were soft, but one was unmistakably French. The exchange had begun.
Alice took a deep breath. Surely her father and Christian had noticed her absence by now. They would be looking for her, and hopefully the groom or one of the agents could give them clues as to where she’d been taken. Holding onto that hope, she moved forward.
Just stall the proceedings until they get here, she told herself.
Taking a breath, she decided to play the role of a jealous mistress. Hopefully she could keep up the ruse long enough for her father and Christian to arrive. With one last exhale, she quietly opened the door to the parlor.
Both men turned at her entrance. Jasper’s eyes narrowed, and he started toward her. She moved out of his reach toward the Frenchman. “Don’t come near me,” she warned Jasper. “You’re nothing but an oath-breaker.”
“What is the meaning of this?” the Frenchman said, motioning toward her. He looked like a dandy, with lace cuffs and a cravat that boasted an emerald stickpin.
Alice turned to address him. “I came to tell you, monsieur, that you have been betrayed. Jasper has told the English that you are here, and they are coming to arrest you. After your exchange, he means to ply you with food and wine until they arrive.” Alice looked directly at Jasper. “He is a greedy man with his women and his ways. The English pay well.” She gave a delicate shrug.
Jasper’s jaw went slack and he sputtered in shock. “She’s lying! She’s one of them spies. Her name is on the list. You can read it on the first page.”
“Why would you tell me of his plan, mon petite?” The Frenchman moved closer to her, but she stayed just out of his reach. “Though if what he says is true, the English have improved the ranks of their spies.” He gave her an appreciative glance.
Brushing her hands down her hips, she hoped to distract him enough that he wouldn’t think too closely about her words. “I’m an abigail for the daughter of the house, and Jasper caught my eye.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. “I allowed him a few liberties, and for the last few months he’s written me poetry and given me gifts of fine clothing. He promised to marry me and spirit me away, but instead, he played me for the fool.” She glared at Jasper and didn’t have to put on act of anger toward him. It was all too real. “Now I find out he has given two maids the same promises.”
Jasper’s face was red, as if he were about to have an apoplexy. “She’s lying. Look at her. She’s not a servant!”
She drew herself up to her full height and shook her finger in Jasper’s direction. “I am what you made me― a scorned woman!”
The Frenchman looked between them, putting a finger underneath his chin. “I cannot decide which one of you is lying, so I will take my leave since our business is concluded.”
Alice nearly gasped at his words. He already had the list! She couldn’t let him go now.
She watched him move toward the door, and pulled her dagger out, but before she could do anything, Jasper was shaking his head and blocking the Frenchman’s way. “I need to make sure all the money is accounted for, Dubois. You’re not leaving until I do.”
Dubois rolled his eyes. “Ah. You English have such terrible manners. You can count it after I leave.”
“No.” Jasper pointed his gun toward Dubois’s abdomen. “You’ll wait. I’ll not be cheated by you.”
In the blink of an eye, Dubois had pinned Jasper to the wall and pounded his head into it until the man slumped to the ground unconscious. Dubois wasn’t large, but he was obviously powerful. Alice wouldn’t underestimate him.
He straightened his lace cuff. “I must say au revoir, my lady,” he told her with a shrewd glance. “Unless you have something else to offer me?”
“I’m afraid I need the list in your possession,” she said firmly, holding her dagger in her hand. Not taking her eyes off him, she pressed her lips together, sizing him up. He was a little taller than her, lean, but sure of himself. That could work to her advantage. “I can’t let you leave with it.”
He glanced at the dagger and let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Cherie, I was hoping you wouldn’t say that. I was moved by your story of broken promises, but they were lies. Now I see that you are, in fact, are a very beautiful spy. Sadly, one that will die tonight.” Pulling his own dagger from his boot, he slowly moved toward her, shaking his head. “I will have you know I won’t enjoy this.”
“But I will.” Her grip on her knife was loose, but ready.
This was it.
His dagger was slightly larger than hers, but that wasn’t what mattered. Knife-fighting was about speed and disabling one’s opponent as quickly as possible. Alice’s heart pounded so hard in her veins that blood was rushing through her ears, making it hard to hear.
Focus. Breathe.
She stayed on the balls of her feet as they circled each other warily. The blade was above her thumb, shining in the firelight. Alice calmed her mind, keeping to her fencing stance, concentrating entirely on Dubois. Her father’s words echoed through her head. “Aim to slice a large muscle to immobilize. Keep your defenses up.”
Dubois feinted toward one side, but Alice matched his steps. Her skirts were a nuisance, but she didn’t have an extra hand to use to sweep them up. He lunged forward and Alice quickly sidestepped him, but had the presence of mind to slice her knife through the air. She made contact.
He drew his forearm back with a hiss, his eyes wide that she’d drawn blood first. “You've been trained well.”
Alice didn’t acknowledge his words. They were still doing a strange dance, moving in a half-circle, staying the same distance apart. Alice had the added difficulty of not tripping over Jasper’s inert form or her gown.
Seeing her dilemma, Dubois’s gaze was distracted and drawn to her feet for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, Alice lunged forward, slashing his thigh. The razor- sharp dagger pierced through fabric and skin, leaving a large gash in his breeches. Blood rushed from the wound.
“Sacre bleu!” he muttered, stumbling toward her.
She tried to move back, but Jasper’s body didn’t give her any space. With her attention diverted, Dubois was on her in a trice, slashing at her right shoulder.
Alice gasped. Pain seared through her and she nearly dropped her dagger, but instead, she gripped it tightly, swept her arm in a small arc for momentum, and plunged her knife into his side.
He groaned and fell to the ground near Dubois. Struggling to rise, he was moving toward the door when Alice grabbed his hair and held her blade to his throat. “It's over,” she said, breathing heavily. “Give me your weapon, or I’ll finish what I’ve started.”
His dagger clattered to the floor. “I never thought an English woman would be talented with a blade.”
She kicked his dagger away, keeping her weapon pressed to his pulse. “The French usually underestimate the English. Now, kneel.” She stayed behind him, with her blade pressed to the artery in his neck― an uncomfortable reminder that with a flick of her wrist, his blood would be all over the floor.
“I’ll take that list now. And then you have an appointment. With the British Foreign Office.” She couldn’t reach into his jacket pocket and get it herself. Her own blood was trickling down her arm, and she didn’t know if she had enough strength to reach for it. She hoped he wouldn’t call her bluff.
“You’ll have to take it from me,” the Frenchman said. “With the honor I have left, I will not freely give it to you.”
She bent close to his ear, the smell of wine and blood permeating his clothing. “You will have everything taken from you. Your name, your operation, everything that identifies you will be made known to the British. But your honor will not be taken.” She shook her head. “We can’t take what you never had.”
The dagger tip pressed deeper into his skin and a drop of blood fell and trickled down his neck. She held his life in her hands. But she would not end it.
Because she knew what true honor was.
