The Duchess and the Spy (27 page)

She had believed him to be an unfeeling selfish cad, and yet, he was the most affectionate husband that a wife could ever hope for.

“I will go downstairs and tell Simmons to have the carriages made ready.” He walked away from the dressing table.

“Wait,” she called out, reaching for her pelisse, and racing toward the door. “I haven’t had a proper tour of the place and if you leave me alone, I could very well find that I am lost.” She slipped into her pelisse and reached for his arm.

“We wouldn’t want that, Isabella. The ghosts of Wyndham Hall might get you, and then, where would we be?” A shiver raced through her at the thought.

“Do not jest about such things. I have enough ghosts in my past that I definitely believe that they may exist.”

“I shall protect you from all of the restless spirits.” He leaned toward her and stared at her with his brilliant blue eyes. She looked away, afraid that she would drown in their depths, and was about to reach for her hastily packed portmanteau, when he noticed what she was doing.

“Leave it. The footmen can attend to it.”

“Of course, silly me,” she sighed, following him out the door.

“You seem unaccustomed to having a houseful of servants.”

“I had a houseful of servants at my Grandmother’s. They seemed to almost come out of the woodwork.” She supplied, not realizing how much information she was giving him. “But in France, I only had Daphne. The other servants were forbidden to interact with me.”

“Daphne,” he sighed. “Yes, I recall her, though vaguely. So I assume that Pierre took her when he snatched you away.”

“Yes.”

“My mother tells me that Daphne helped to keep you safe from the revolutionaries.” He stared over at her, as they walked through the ornate hallways.

“She saved my life, too many times for me to recall. But it was my parents that made the ultimate sacrifice for me.”

“Where is Daphne?” he asked suddenly, causing her to stop walking. He stared behind at her, and then walked back toward her.

“She’s gone,” she murmured heavily, staring up at him, with agonized eyes. Should she tell him the whole story, or would that completely compromise Daphne? He still didn’t completely trust her, because she could tell that he wasn’t telling her everything about his father’s illness.

So, why the bloody hell, should she tell him anything about Daphne?

“Come,” he said softly, taking her gently by the arm. “We shan’t talk of this right now if it upsets you so. I confess that I have had enough upsetting news this morning to last me a lifetime.”

“Upon my word, I do believe that you are right. You are a good man, Christopher. Saving you from the little Corsican was well worth my time and effort. Come to think of it, I haven’t been able to use my magic since I enchanted him—” She clung to him, as he helped her up.

“And, why did you do that? What made you want to help me?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are alive and well, and so am I. We need to live for the moment. We must seize the day!”

“If that’s the way you want play it, I am not going to argue with you. But mark my words, Isabella, I will have the truth someday soon, and when that day comes, you will tell me everything I need to know.”

“I do believe, Christopher, that day might give me a huge amount of relief.”

“Simmons,” he called out, looking for his butler. A kindly elderly man with snow-white hair stepped out into the entryway, and stared appraisingly over at Isabella. Isabella tightened her hold on his hand beneath Simmons penetrating gaze, and then gave him an uncertain smile when he turned to Simmons to make an introduction. “Simmons, this is my wife, Lady Wyndham.”

“Lady Wyndham,” Simmons said softly, bowing to her. She smiled down at him, and chuckled, when she heard the woman that she assumed to be the housekeeper gliding out into the entryway.

“Harold, I thought that we had,” she stopped in mid-sentence, placing her hand over her mouth. “I was not aware, I do apologize, my lord,” she murmured, curtsying to Christopher and then staring over in curiosity at Isabella.

“Mrs. Simmons, I would like you to meet my wife, the new Marchioness of Wyndham.”

She curtsied to Isabella, and then stared approvingly at her.

“Isabella, why don’t you go with Mrs. Simmons? She shall take you into the breakfast room, and you can get something to eat before we leave.”

“Come, my lady,” Mrs. Simmons said, beckoning towards her. She stared over at Isabella, as she hesitantly left Christopher’s side.

“Christopher, do not forget to send out that missive,” she reminded him, causing him to flinch. He sent her a reproving glare, and she smiled serenely over at him.

“Do you know Mrs. Simmons, that my husband, is the kindest man alive,” she murmured affectionately, wrapping her arm through the grandmotherly woman’s arm.

Isabella stared over in longing at the grand sideboard of assembled food, and felt her mouth beginning to water. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, and she was unnaturally hungry. She reached for a plate and then stared over in expectation at Mrs. Simmons. “Will you not sit with me?” she asked, reaching for some scrambled eggs and a slice of ham. She stared over at the muffins, and took one of those also. This wasn’t a normal breakfast for her, but she was ever so hungry, and she knew that she had a long ride ahead of her.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Mrs. Simmons replied, taking a step backward.

Isabella was aware that servants never sat at the table with their employers and she also knew that it was unheard of for the housekeeper to be in the breakfast room with her, but she was afraid to be alone in these new surroundings and for that reason alone, she was going to press the issue with Mrs. Simmons. She’d gotten so used to having Daphne around that it would take her some time to distance herself from the servants.

“Indeed, but I do insist. Since my husband has not come to join me, yet, I must insist that you join me.”

“But it would not do for protocol.”

“Stuff the bloody protocol. I hate being alone, especially when there is such interesting company, and conversation waiting to come about,” she concluded amiably, slipping a piece of succulent ham into her mouth, and reaching for her cup of tea. She just could not start her day without a cup of coffee or tea, though she did prefer tea to coffee.

Her English habits had always annoyed Pierre and she had taken a great amount of enjoyment out of parading the fact in front of him. He hated the English, and she hated him. What more could there be to give her pleasure?

Every time she had aggravated him, she had done an inner dance of victory, realizing that she had somehow managed to win a small battle against the greatest villain in her life.

Mrs. Simmons uncertainly stood behind her, with her arms crossed primly in front of her. Isabella knew that this was the closest she would come to getting Mrs. Simmons to let her guard down, and in a way, it made her heart soften towards the woman.

“Tell me about my husband when he was a child,” she began, reaching to plop a bit of jam onto her muffin.

“Oh, he and his brother were the most agreeable children, even when they were getting into mischief. His grandfather was still alive then, so the family spent a good deal of time here. Ah, these halls nearly echoed with their laughter. It was a great time,” she murmured, sighing happily. “Even then, Lord Wyndham had a penchant for getting into adventures. I do believe that his mother and I had several fits whenever he managed to injure himself. But he grew into a wonderfully kind man, and I couldn’t ask for a better lord. I have been with Lord Wyndham’s family for as long as I can recall.”

“He was a sweet child, then,” she concluded happily, sipping at her tea.

“Sweet, but saucy. He did have airs about him, and I suppose, he still does, but he treats us fairly, and he’s a good, kind man at heart.”

Having Mrs. Simmons smash her preconceived notions about Christopher to bits made her stomach flip-flop.

Isabella looked to the side, and caught Mrs. Simmons staring in amazement at her red hair. “It is from my mother’s side,” she said, self-consciously touching it. “Indeed, I have not seen many other people with my colour of hair, though my grandmother and her mother, who is my namesake had it. Most of my mother’s family is Scottish,” she continued, straightening in her chair. “I confess that I cannot wait until we reach London, because I do hope that my family is gathering there.” She looked around her and turned back to Mrs. Simmons, “Do you think that you could possibly fetch me a basket? I would like to gather together some food for my husband.”

“Of course, my lady,” she answered, “But do not fret, I have already prepared a basket of food for your journey. I gave the instructions to the cook as soon as the rider came here. Lord Wyndham loves his family dearly, so I concluded that he would be destined for London as soon as he heard that he was needed.”

“Right, then.” she heard Christopher saying from the doorway. She glanced over at him, and gave him a brilliant smile. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, aye,” she whispered, admiring his handsome profile like she would admire a beautiful portrait. Her heart was full. She had everything—and she feared that it would be snatched away. She sighed heavily, standing up to walk over to him. “I shall be very pleased to meet your family again,” she murmured envisioning a happy reunion. She was quite confident that his father would survive his illness, for they were on their way, and she had dealt with many illnesses before, and her patients had always lived.

Pierre hadn’t cared about any of his servants, and when they fell ill, he hadn’t given one fig if they lived or died. To him they were replaceable, and one servant was as good as another, he treated them in a most ill fashion. In the way that so many nobles had treated their peasants before the Revolution and yet, it seemed to be all right for Dubois to do so, at least in his little world it was.

They were his servants, and Pierre had ensured that she had no power over them whatsoever. But she wasn’t one to withstand another’s suffering, and therefore had made it a point to care for them when they were sick, and with Daphne’s help, she usually succeeded.

She walked out to the carriage with Christopher, and watched as one of the footmen swung open the carriage door. He reached for the steps and lowered them so Isabella could get in. She stepped up into the carriage, and waved to the servants gathered outside as they drove away.

“You don’t suppose that we will have highwaymen attacking us again, do you?”

“I should think not. I have outriders with us now, and you have me. You needn’t fear.”

“I believe you, and if anything happens you need only give me a pistol,” she said cheekily, earning a rumble of laughter from him. She glanced out at the breathtaking countryside. She searched the surrounding trees for any movement, and gasped when she saw a rider on horseback move towards them.

“I…I see that Jason is riding alongside us.”

“Ah, yes. Your cousin could not be persuaded to remain in Dover. He was most adamant that he accompany us to London.”

“Are you quite certain that he’s strong enough?”

“Theo cleared him for action. You mustn’t worry.”

“I would still feel more secure if I had a pistol on my person,” she said softly.

Sighing, he gave her a pistol. “Does that suit you?” he asked softly.

“Aye,” she answered with a smile.

He waited a few moments and then reached out for the pistol. “Now, you’ve had your fun. Give it back, sweetheart.”

“You shan’t have it back. I need it to protect myself, and besides, you have two others, and God only knows how many more weapons you have concealed on your body. I daresay you are a walking armoury.”

“Well, that is true,” he admitted sarcastically, winking at her wickedly.

“You are incorrigible,” she murmured, staring in anticipation out the window. She shivered slightly, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, just as he pulled her to him.

“Jason arrived while you were eating breakfast and informed me that he would ride with us back to London. I think he rather doesn’t trust me alone with you despite the fact that we are now married,” he chuckled ruefully.

“Are you trustworthy, sir?” she asked. “And now you have reminded me that you still need to eat something.” She reached for the basket and handing him a piece of cold ham. He chewed on it absent mindedly, and then smiled cheekily over at her.

“Was this your idea or Mrs. Simmons idea?” he asked, as she gave him a flask of water.

“We both thought of it, actually,” she admitted ruefully, wincing as they hit a particularly hard bump. “That was quite painful.”

“We will be in London soon.”

“Do you think that your family will welcome the sight of me?”

“Of course they will. One piece of advice for you, Isabella, don’t kick my mother in the arse the first time you see her.”

She laughed at his cheeky advice, closed her eyes, and fell fast asleep.

Isabella awoke on a strange sofa, and when she glanced furtively around her she realized that she was in her Aunt Mary’s ladies parlor. She nearly screamed with fright when two blue eyes glittered back at her.

“She’s awake, Pippa,” the little girl announced happily, running over to the woman that stood young on the other side of the room. Memories of her other life here in London flooded back to her. She gasped, placing her hand over her amulet. It was warm against her skin, but it wasn’t glowing.

Isabella sat up groggily, and watched the little girl as she ran over to the young woman that stood near the bay window. She turned around at her younger sister’s announcement, and let out a pleased exclamation.

“Oh, Isabella,” she cried, running to her and hugging her tightly. “We’ve missed you so. What those monsters must have done to you, you poor dear.”

“Pippa?” she murmured, staring in fixed confusion at her slightly younger cousin.

“Well, don’t you recognize me?” she said, dismayed at the prospect. “I recognized you, and you have indeed blossomed over the last few years. You look exactly like Grandmamma,” she breathed, fingering her flaming red hair in amazement. “And this,” she remarked, pulling her younger sister on to her lap, “This is Cecilia, you must remember her, though Cecilia admits that she only vaguely remembers you.”

Surprised by the unexpected reunion, she stared open mouthed at her two cousins. She held her arms out for Cecilia, and hugged her tightly. “You have grown considerably. Cecilia, you look just like your brother Will.”

“Mama tells me that all of the time. She misses Will, and says that I give her comfort whenever I’m around her.”

“Where is Aunt Mary?” she asked, kissing Cecilia’s dimpled chubby cheek.

“She is down at Covington House. The situation is quite grave there, and Christopher rushed down there as soon as he dropped you off,” Pippa sighed, and rolled her eyes.

“And he left me here. Well I should have expected that.”

“Do not grow offended, Isabella. Truly, I was not aware that our company was so distasteful.”

“Oh, Pippa, I didn’t mean it that way. I put my foot in it again. I always let my mouth get away from me. I couldn’t wait to get back to London and see all of you. But Christopher’s father is ill, and I might be able to help.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear,” Pippa said, patting her on the hand. “It seems as if every doctor in London has been to see Uncle Julian, and none of them are able to help him. Mama says that his health is growing quite worse, and he only arrived early this morning. She’s been back and forth all day, and by the expression on her face, I can tell that is very unfortunate indeed. She says that we are need of a healer…but we haven’t had one of in our family for many generations.”

The sound of a baby gurgling caught Isabella’s attention, and Margaret, Mary’s eldest daughter walked into the parlour carrying the precious bundle. Obviously, the nursemaids were not needed.

“Margaret!” Isabella cried, jumping up, and running over to embrace her other cousin. She kissed the baby, and smiled over at Margaret.

“Would you like to hold her?” Margaret asked, as Isabella stepped back suddenly.

“Oh, no, I haven’t held a baby since I was taken to France. I wouldn’t want to scare her.”

“Oh, nonsense, look at her, she wants you to hold her.” Margaret carefully placed her baby sister in Isabella’s arms, and Isabella, held her close up to her and rested her on her shoulder. “This here is little Adaira. She had the red hair when she was born, so mother thought that it would be fitting to name her after Grandmamma. Oh, by the by, Grandmamma should be arriving in due course. She sent a letter to Mama about a week ago telling her that she was preparing to make the journey. It is good to see you again, Isabella. Will would have loved to see you, but he won’t be back for months.”

“Where is Will?” Isabella felt her heart falling at the thought of him being gone.

“He is at sea.” Margaret looked ill at ease. She knew something about Will that she wasn’t telling her.

Isabella settled herself back on the sofa with baby Adaira snuggled comfortingly in her arms. Adaira had fallen asleep, and the sound of her breathing sent a contented sigh flowing through her body.

“At sea,” she said forlornly, as she felt desperation coming over her. She had relied on the thought of reaching Will, and now he wasn’t here when she needed him the most. “I didn’t know that he had entered The Royal Navy.”

“He entered the navy as soon as you were taken,” Margaret said, as Cecilia walked over to Adaira and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “I think that he thought that he would be able to find you. It was a farfetched idea, but then, you know Will.”

“Yes, Will would do anything for the people that he loves,” Isabella said wistfully, gently caressing the top of Adaira’s head.

“Has anyone here seen Christopher’s father?” she asked, rubbing the baby’s back tenderly. This was exactly what she had been missing, her family. Her Aunt’s chaotic household could be unnerving and loud at times, but it was filled with warmth and understanding. She looked up as a figure of a man wearing a greatcoat walked into the room. He took the greatcoat off, and was just about to drop it on a chair, when Jones hurried in, and took it from him.

“Thank you, Jones,” Henry Ryder said, smiling over at the middle-aged butler. The man bowed to him, and rushed from the room. “Isabella, my dear,” her uncle breathed, staring over at her. “Why you are the image of your grandmother. That is astonishing, I feel like a young buck again looking at you.” He walked over as his daughters jumped up to kiss him, and received a kiss in return. He walked over toward Isabella, kissed his youngest child lightly on the head, and then smiled, as Pippa gently took her sister from her arms.

“I shall go and take Adaira back to her nannies,” Pippa said. “Come along Cecilia.”

“Well, my dear, come and give your old Uncle Henry a kiss,” he said chuckling, opening his arms for Isabella to walk into them. “You are a welcome sight. Your Aunt is about ready to burst she is so excited at the prospect of seeing you again. Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. Christopher and I have come to an understanding of sorts.”

“I wasn’t referring to Christopher, Isabella. He is, as you remember, my sister’s child. I knew that he would treat you with kindness, for the man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. I was inquiring about your time in France.”

“I was taken against my will, and I survived, just as I always do,” she said, looking down, not ready to meet his gaze. She couldn’t confess, even if she wanted to. Her confession would only place him in jeopardy, and he had a family to think about. “My bastard of an uncle that took me treated me well, I suppose. He treated me like an unwanted family member whom he needed to achieve his goals. I can’t suppose why he took me in the first place, he already had all that I owned in France, and since my title goes with my lands, he had that as well. I think he only wanted me as a possession. He never beat me, well, except for the occasional slap across the face, but then I have no lingering scars so I believe that I escaped rather unscathed.”

“That vile bastard, if I ever set eyes upon him, I shall beat him bloody,” Henry promised, his brown eyes glinting furiously. “A man that strikes a woman is weak and cowardly. But other than that terrible fact you are fine?”

“How is my husband? I assume that you just came from Covington House.” She wanted to change the subject. She didn’t like to dwell upon Pierre for long. He was never a good thing for her mood, and right now, her mood was becoming quite dark.

“You, my dear, you are a very observant woman. Jane always did say your tenacity was your best feature. However did you guess?”

“You look extremely fatigued.”

“Julian has a serious malady, and is not expected to recover. As you can well expect, his entire family is heartbroken, and poor Christopher doesn’t know what to do. I fear we shall lose him within the next few hours.”

“Fustian nonsense! He will live,” she retorted firmly, standing up, and staring back down at her uncle. “Uncle Henry, you shall simply have to take me to Christopher. I will not tolerate being separated from him any longer.”

“No, my dear. We shall stay here. My orders were concise and deliberate. I was told to keep you here no matter what you said or did. It is too depressing of an atmosphere.”

“Rubbish. My entire life has been full of tragedy, and yet here I stand, ready to face another day. Uncle Henry, I realize that this is not your idea, so I will simply have to take it upon myself to go down there. I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with the wrath of Wyndham.”

“Oh, no, Isabella. It wasn’t Christopher that told me to keep you here, though he did agree with Mary.”

“My own aunt, and pray tell me, why ever di she want to keep me here?”

“She said that you were far too delicate to deal with such distressing matters.”

“Delicate my eye,” she seethed, marching out into the entryway, and staring challengingly at the befuddled butler. Margaret and Henry followed her.

“Margaret, upon my word, if you tell me to stay here like a good little lady, I shall scream.”

“Mama said that we were to keep you here. She said that you were probably quite exhausted after the long ordeal that you have been through, and I never disobey my mother.”

“I realize you believe Aunt Mary knows best. But you must realize Grandmamma had plenty of time to teach me all of her healing potions and remedies. And unlike other things pertaining to my life here in England and Scotland, I remember those lessons well. Indeed, they have been of great help to me in the last few years. I could be of some help!”

“Hush now, Isabella, you shall upset yourself,” Margaret said softly, trying to lead her back to the ladies parlour.

“I shall not go with you,” Isabella dug her heels into the floor, pulling back on her cousin’s arm in the process.

Margaret let out a surprised shriek, and momentarily lost her grip on Isabella.

“I confess it seems as if the both of you have completely forgotten who you are trying to dissuade.” Isabella impatiently glanced towards the door and the butler and footmen that had slowly moved toward it.

“Isabella, be sensible,” Henry said, moving towards his frustrated daughter.

“I am now Lady Wyndham and as Lord Wyndham is never sensible, I shall follow in his footsteps,” Isabella said, trying to convince her two relatives. “I need to be with my husband in his time of distress.”

“Yes, dearest we know,” Margaret said wearily. “Do not fear, Christopher told us that he would be back to collect you later tonight. He said that he would take you to Wyndham House.” Gathering all of her strength, Isabella charged toward the door pushing past the assembled men, and opening the door before anyone could stop her. She heard her uncle’s angry oath, and Margaret’s surprised cry, before she bolted out onto the sidewalk. Without her magic, getting her own way when it counted, was proving to be extremely difficult.

Taking control of her wits, she immediately headed towards Covington House and prayed that her memory would serve her right, since she hadn’t visited London that much before she had been taken to France. She glanced at the grand mansions, and kept her fast pace, as she heard her uncle and cousin following her closely. She nearly collided with an elderly couple, out walking and quickly made her apologies, before she kept on walking.

The sun would set soon, and she knew that Julian’s time was probably already limited. She stopped in front of a mansion that was larger than all of the rest on the square, and began running up the steps. She heard her uncle shouting her name and glanced only once behind her.

She stopped when she reached the door, and struggled to take control of her breath. She was just about to use the lion headed doorknocker when it swung open. She gratefully, walked inside, and bumped into something large and imposing. She craned her neck to stare up at the rigid man as a large lump formed in her throat.

“Good afternoon, Christopher,” she whispered with dread, as she looked up at him. He wore a stormy look, and she didn’t want to be around if he blew. Christopher reached out to steady her, just as her uncle and cousin made their inopportune entry.

“Upon my soul, Isabella, you can run awfully fast,” Margaret breathed, leaning heavily against her father. “I think…” she sighed, “I think you could beat Will…and he’s the quickest runner in the family.”

“You were running?”  Christopher hissed, staring angrily down at her. “With your weakened leg you were running?”

“My knee feels perfectly fine,” she retorted, mustering a slight smile for him. “And besides, I required a bit of exercise and some fresh air. I used to do a good deal of walking back in France.”

“You’re biting your lip,” he informed her. “Which, if my memory serves me right that means you are in pain.”

“Where is your father?” she asked urgently, clutching onto his coat.

“Didn’t Aunt Mary tell you to keep her at Ryder Hall?” Christopher asked, turning towards Henry and Margaret.

“Yes, Christopher, she did. But though your Isabella claims she is a Brandon, I disagree. She acts far too much like a Murray and a MacLeod. Take my word for it. I live with one,” Henry said cheekily, flashing Christopher a sympathetic smile.