Elizabeth Boyle (80 page)

“What is this place?” she asked, as Webb held the lamp high in one hand and pulled her forward into the darkness with the other.

“A secret way into the basement of the Foreign Office. It isn’t often used, in fact I don’t think there are many people left who know of its existence. My brother showed it to me years ago when I was just a child and he was a new agent. He left me down here in the dark and told me to find my own way out.”

“That’s terrible,” she whispered.

“Yes, especially when you consider that when the tide comes in, it nearly fills to the top with water.”

Lily came to an abrupt halt. “But you said the tide was coming in.”

“Yes, I did.” He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the brow before continuing their steady march through the shadows and mud. “That means we’ll have to do this quickly.”

After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than a few minutes, the pathway forked. Lily followed Webb to the right, and a few yards later, they came to a ladder.

He held his finger up to his lips and then leaned close enough to whisper in her ear.

“Now for the moment of truth” he said. “Be very quiet, because just above us is one of the junior offices. Hopefully our government official isn’t the dedicated type.”

He held up the light and was about to blow it out, when Lily caught his arm.

The narrow space frightened her, and she couldn’t stand the thought of being without the light, of being caught in this darkness where the water, even now, was starting to flow in around them.

He pulled her close, his lips claiming hers in a long, sweet kiss. When he pulled back from her, his fingers brushed over the wayward strands of her hair. “We can’t have the lamp on.”

She nodded, and then immediately regretted it, as they were cast in complete darkness. Her heart hammered so loudly she thought the noise alone would bring the entire guard down on their heads.

But before she could start to breathe again, Webb was up the ladder and easing open the floorboards that made up the hatch.

The rising water now sloshed around her knees, its bitter cold sending chilblains of panic up her limbs. How had Webb done this for so many years?

If we get through this
, she prayed,
I’ll never wish for adventure again. Never
.

Suddenly a light filled the passageway from above, and Webb was leaning down the hatch, offering her his hand.

“All clear,” he whispered.

Webb had stripped off his muddy boots and bade her do the same. “They’ll leave too many tracks. Dry your feet off on that bit of carpet over there.”

She did as she was told, marveling at his daring skill.

And she’d thought herself an agent. Clearly she was in the presence of a master.

They left the small office and continued through the bowels of the government building. Webb cautioned her to wait for him, and she stayed put as he rounded a corner.

“Hold up there,” a voice called out.

Lily heard Webb skid to a stop.

“Now, what’s this? A river rat,” the man said. “The boss said to be on the lookout for the likes of you, and now I’ll be a hero.”

Lily peeked around the corner and found Webb slowly moving in a circle. Then she surveyed the guard holding him hostage and nearly died.

The man appeared to be a giant. He towered over Webb, his thick limbs and knotty complexion resembling an oak tree sprung to life. “Hold still there,” the man ordered.

She glanced again and realized they were not yards from a cell. Adam stood behind the bars, staring open-mouthed at Webb.

By continuing to circle, Webb had successfully repositioned the guard so that the man’s back was to her.

And then he nodded ever so slightly to her.

She took a deep breath and reached into her pocket to retrieve her pistol. She’d never figured out how to load it, so if it came to a fight, she’d only have her bravado and a good bluff to aid her.

Looking back at Webb’s captor, she knew she needed more. Then out of nowhere, she recalled Amelia’s stance and movements as she’d stolen up behind Armand.

Taking another breath, she grasped the barrel with both hands and crept up behind the man. In one swift motion, she cast a prayer heavenward that once would be enough, and she clouted the mighty guard on the back of his large head as hard as she could.

And like a mighty oak, the man teetered and wavered before he finally gave up his post, falling with a heavy thud between them.

She stared down at her victim open-mouthed. She’d done it. Just as Amelia had done it.

“Really, Lily,” Adam said, his voice full of amusement, “that was hardly sporting.”

Lord Dryden and Cecil sat in a carriage outside the Foreign Office. A veritable army of guards surrounded the building. Cecil smiled to himself as an alarm sounded among the men.

“He’s escaped. The prisoner is gone.” The men began swarming into the building to begin their search.

Lord Dryden leaned out the window and turned toward his ancient driver.

“Bertram,” he said, “take us closer to the river, down there where it bends slightly.”

The driver nodded, and the carriage rolled away from the Foreign Office.

“Are you quite sure about this, m’lord?” Cecil asked.

“Are you?”

For the first time in the history of his employment, Cecil grinned. “Always thought it would be a pip to be a field agent. Just once that is.”

“Well here’s your chance, my boy. Our last day together.”

Lord Dryden tapped on the roof and the carriage slowed to a stop. He climbed down and Cecil joined him. The pair looked out at the city and river, as if they were doing nothing more than enjoying the nighttime vista.

Below them a doorway splashed open. Startled, Cecil peered down as three people emerged waist deep in water. But then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was exactly as Lord Dryden had said things would come about.

After his lordship had summoned all the guards, they’d been dispersed around the perimeter of the building, leaving the interior unguarded.

Then after this unusual order, Lord Dryden had called Cecil into his office and closed the door. Shoving a drink into his hands, his lordship had told Cecil what they were about to do.

And Cecil had listened, stunned by what he heard.

“Cecil, quit wool-gathering over there,” Lord Dryden said, shaking his secretary out of his reverie. “Guide our guests into the carriage, while I give the directions to Bertram. I don’t want anything to go wrong. Not now, the eve of our retirement.”

Retirement
. Cecil didn’t know what to make of it. But if his lordship thought it time for them to hand the leadership of the Foreign Office to his eldest son, James, then Cecil wasn’t about to argue.

“Aye, m’lord,” Cecil said. “I’ve a mind to see a bit of the world after this.” He caught a hold of Lord Dryden’s future daughter-in-law and helped her up the embankment, followed by Viscount Weston, and then the notorious American spy, Adam Saint-Jean.

It was, in Cecil’s estimation, a real slap-up night and a most excellent finish to their careers.

“Father,” Webb Dryden said, the awe and admiration in his voice overwhelming.

“Don’t say a word, my boy,” Lord Dryden warned. “I’m not speaking to you. Not until you truly marry this woman and produce a passel of grandchildren. And don’t try and foist off that phony civil registration from Paris as a license to make this woman your bride. I want banns posted, I want a real ceremony.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be easy since I was planning on leaving the country for a while.”

Lord Dryden looked away, and Cecil gauged the old man didn’t like the idea of his son being exiled. He knew the man had never thought twice about sending his sons on dangerous missions, but this was different. Webb Dryden might never be able to come home after this.

“Well then, have the captain marry you. Just make sure the next time I see you I have grandchildren. Then, maybe I’ll forgive you.” The man slapped his son hard on the back and hustled him off to the carriage.

Cecil turned away, for fear the others would see the sudden rush of tears in his eyes.

“But what about my mother?” the dangerous American was asking.

“We’re off to fetch her next,” Lord Dryden told him. “Now into the carriage, all of you, before one of those idiots over at the office notices us.”

Cecil followed his employer and the others into the carriage.

“I don’t know if Mother will agree to this, a ship voyage in the middle of the night, leaving all her things,” Mr. Saint-Jean said. “She’ll put up a regular fuss.”

Beside him, Mrs. Copeland, soon to be the Viscountess Weston, reached into her pocket and pulled out a small tincture. “Adam, this will keep your mother most agreeable.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Laudanum.” The audacious woman grinned.

“You intend to drug my mother?” he asked.

“Most assuredly,” she told him.

Cecil decided right there and then what he was going to do with his retirement. Lord Dryden may want to spend his remaining days living the life of a quiet country gentlemen, but Cecil had other plans.

He’d find himself a wife as brazen as Webb Dryden’s bride-to-be.

That, he determined, looking over at the beautiful woman—her face aglow as she gazed at her future husband as if they were always meant to be together—would be much more exciting than a field assignment.

Decidedly so.

“A
re you glad to be home, hoyden?” Webb Dryden, the Viscount Weston asked his wife of five years as she snuggled up next to him in the huge carved bed that took up a large portion of the master bedroom in Weston Hall.

“Deliriously so,” Lily told him. “Anywhere I am with you makes me happy.” She laid her head on his chest, his fingers gently toying with the silken strands of her hair.

He laughed at this. “Don’t let Mrs. Miles hear you say that. I think you scandalized the housekeeper by taking half the clothes presses in here for your own gowns and telling her to make up the previous viscountess’s room for guests.”

“Then I’d better not let her see those breeches I’ve got packed away.”

Webb grinned. Even with three children, his lady wife had yet to give up her hoyden ways. He’d caught her more than once pulling on the breeches she’d stolen that long ago night and wearing them for an early morning ride. He had a feeling the neighboring country gentry would be as scandalized as Mrs. Miles, but in the end they would discover that beneath her wild heart was a woman of deep generosity and unquestionable loyalty.

“No, truly, Webb, I’m glad to be back in England,” she said, rolling over and looking at him with those green eyes that still held so many secrets. “I think you were right to accept James’s offer to come back to the Foreign Office. With the peace gone, no country is safe from Bonaparte’s grasp. He must be stopped.”

“We’ll do it. And we’ll do it together,” he said. He almost laughed out loud as he thought of the bride he’d once asked his mother to find for him. He doubted the gentle English miss he’d described then would ever have so completely enraptured him like the woman in his arms.

He pulled her closer, his hands roaming over her naked breasts, marveling that even after all this time, the feel of her skin and the scent of her perfume still sent him reeling with need.

“What say we see if this bed is as comfortable as the one we had in Virginia?” he whispered into her ear.

She laughed. “The last time you made that jest we ended up with a daughter.”

“A hoyden just like her mother,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Adelaide is a Dryden through and through,” she countered. “I caught her demanding that Mr. Reed show her all the secret passageways in the house. I thought the poor butler was going to fall over.”

“And did he?”

Lily nodded. “Your daughter charmed him into showing her the priest’s hole and stairwell in the south wing. We’ll never get her to use the front stairs again.”

Webb leaned back on the pillows, a foolish grin of fatherly pride spreading across his face. “That’s my angel.”

Lily groaned. “Your encouragement doesn’t help.”

“Addie is a Ramsey through and through. She’ll be just like her mother and drive every man to distraction.”

Lily sat up, shaking out the loose strands of her hair, her hands over head, knowing only too well how her naked form tantalized him. “Do I still distract you?”

He nodded and reached for her.

Lily thrilled as his mouth covered hers in a heart-stopping kiss. Five years … five years of passion-filled nights, of this insatiable claiming that brought them together every night. She didn’t know how she would live without him in the coming months as he worked in London, but right now … well right now, she was the one distracted.

His hands caressed her as if he were discovering her body anew. His touch seemed both reverent and hungry.

A hunger she shared avidly.

With both hands on his shoulders, she pushed him down onto his back. Like he had done to her, she took a moment to marvel at his perfect form. How she loved the muscled planes, the tangle of tawny curls that led her down his chest to the one place she loved most about his body.

Straddling him, she smiled as she claimed his manhood with her hands and guided it into her.

His eyes closed as a lazy smile spread across his face. She, too, felt contentment and satisfaction as he filled her. With slow easy movements, she slid up and down on him, guiding his passion and taking hers.

He seemed to know just when she was about to find her release, because he caught a hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, even as she began to softly cry out his name.

I love you, hoyden
, his touch said to her. As it had since the first time he’d made love to her those many years ago and every time since.

Webb caught her hips and she continued to ride through her waves of passion, tightening around him until he was carried along with her.

She collapsed over him, his arms winding around her, pulling her close, their fevered bodies still joined.