Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (21 page)

“I am still a gentleman, my lady,” he said softly as he reached for the carriage door and opened it. “No matter what anyone thinks.”

She hesitated as if pondering the prudence of entering the vehicle before he did. Then she stepped up and took a place in the carriage. He
followed and settled beside her, pulling the door shut as he did so.

The carriage was dark, but he felt Meredith shift as she pounded the wall behind them to signal their driver to move.

“Would you care to explain?” he asked in the darkness.

A rasp of flint met his question, and the rig filled with dim lamplight. Across from him sat another woman, as different from Meredith as she could be. Her hair was blonde, done in a loose chignon that framed her pretty oval face. Her eyes were blue, but light and icy, not the midnight depths of Meredith’s. The main difference, however, was the utter lack of warmth in her expression. She looked at Tristan like she would kill him in a heartbeat if he gave her cause.

And judging from the pistol she aimed at his heart, that expression was no lie.

Meredith followed Tristan’s line of sight and drew in a sharp breath when she saw her friend’s tiny pistol pointed directly at his chest. She glared at Emily.

“Good God, put that thing away.”

Her friend pursed her lips, but did as she was asked, though Meredith noticed she situated the weapon so it was within easy reach.

“Tell me you didn’t use that on the guard upstairs!”

Emily gasped in disbelief. “Of course not. I simply want his lordship to be absolutely aware of his position.”

Tristan folded his arms with the air of a bored rake. “You could not make it clearer, madam. May I inquire the name of the woman ready to take my life?”

Meredith pulled back the curtain on the carriage window to ensure they weren’t being followed as she answered. “Tristan Archer, this is Emily Redgrave.”

His eyebrows arched. “The Dowager Countess of Allington?” His mouth quirked. “Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t recognize you.”

“You have cheek for a man being threatened on all sides,” Emily said with a cock of her head as she gave Tristan an appraising look. “I’m not sure whether to applaud you for your gall or shoot you for it.”

Tristan let out a bark of laughter. “I vote for the former.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Meredith scowled as she let the curtain fall back into place. “You didn’t have to help me, Emily. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my—my—”

Tristan turned his gaze on her. “Your what, Meredith?”

An interesting question, but one she did not have the time to answer while they were escaping
capture, or the inclination while one of her best friends looked on.

“Ana will be ready for us by now,” she said instead, strumming her fingers on the carriage seat.

She was uncomfortably aware of Tristan’s proximity. His body heat seeped through her silk dress and his leg brushed hers as they rounded a corner. It was maddening to be so close to him yet not be able to do anything about it.

Not yet. Not until they resolved a few things. After that…well, she wasn’t ready to face the future yet.

Tristan seemed unmoved by their closeness. He hardly looked at her as they rode. As she had earlier, she felt the pulse of his anger pounding beneath the surface. It matched her own. They would have to resolve that as well.

She shifted as tension arced between them. Finally, she slanted a glance at Emily, who was staring back at her with an arched brow.

“Do you think we were detected?” Meredith asked to fill the silence.

Emily shook her head. “No. My guard was unconscious before he knew I was a threat. And I’m sure I would have heard if yours put up a struggle.”

“He drank Ana’s brew happily and collapsed into a very large heap,” Meredith said.

“I’m certain if Isley knew I was a free man,
he would be galloping after me already,” Tristan said. “It isn’t often a member of society is caught in a web like this.”

Meredith turned on him. “Do you think that gives Charlie any pleasure? Trust me, it doesn’t. When members of the
ton
are involved, it makes all of our jobs more difficult.”

“But he’s right,” Emily said, though neither looked at her as they glared at each other. “We wouldn’t have been allowed to come so far if we had been seen.”

Meredith hardly heard her. Behind the angry, accusatory fire in Tristan’s stare there was something else. Something that drew her in. Something she wanted desperately.

The carriage pulled to a stop and she forced herself to look away as Emily pushed the door open. Tristan climbed down first and surprised Meredith by turning back to offer Emily a hand out. Her friend seemed surprised by the gentlemanly action as well, but took his offering of assistance. Meredith followed.

When their palms touched, her skin all but sizzled. A streak of awareness cut through her, and her entire body felt the aftereffects. The things this man did to her…

He seemed to sense her reaction as he drew her a fraction closer than he had Emily. She fought the nervousness in her chest with a rusty laugh.

“I’m surprised you offer to help us, Tristan. Is that a gentlemanly habit?”

He shrugged as he released her fingers. “Perhaps it’s the knowledge that Lady Allington has a gun and I would wager she knows how to use it. A man would be foolish not to be gentlemanly in such circumstances.” He turned away and called back over his shoulder. “Or perhaps I’m not the scoundrel you and your friends think I am, after all.”

She hesitated, longing to tell him she believed him. Or
wanted
to believe. But she needed something first. A final test of faith. But it wasn’t the time yet.

With a sigh, Meredith looked up at the little house Tristan and Emily had just entered. It was small but tidy, well cared for but not at all fancy. It was simple by design. Drawing attention to themselves in any way could bring her and her friends harm when they stayed here. So when they came, they dressed plainly, did not allow their driver to assist them, and made sure no one in the neighborhood suspected they were anything but lower-middle-class women who occasionally came to town and let this home.

Inside, the apartment was just as unadorned. Meredith welcomed it. In the past few days her extravagant home on St. James Street had seemed stifling in its formality. The simplicity of the small parlor just off the tiny foyer was a welcome change.

Except Tristan seemed to fill the space completely.

Shaking that feeling off, Meredith called out, “Ana? We’re here.”

Anastasia hurried in from the hallway with a smile. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, and the smell of baked goods wafted in behind her.

“I’m so glad you made it unharmed,” she said as she briefly hugged her two friends. Then she folded her arms as she looked Tristan up and down. “This is him, is it?”

Tristan’s lip twitched like he wanted to laugh. “Yes, I am, apparently,
him.
Tristan Archer, Lord Carmichael.”

Immediately, Ana held out her hand. “Anastasia Whittig, a pleasure to meet you.”

“
Lady
Whittig?” he repeated, eyes widening as they had when he realized Emily was titled as well.

She smiled. “Yes. I did not think anyone in Society remembered me.”

He turned to Meredith with a shake of his head. “Please do not tell me that every lady in Society is involved in this group of yours. Are there spies surrounding me daily? Are my sisters secret agents to the Crown?”

Emily was trying to scowl, but Meredith saw her hide a laugh at his comment. She couldn’t hide her own.

“I’m afraid spies are more prevalent than most
people know, yes. But we are lacking in female spies.”

He leaned closer. “And my sisters?”

“Even if they were in our group, I could not tell,” Meredith said with a light laugh as she realized she was
teasing
him. They had just come through an escape from prison, she still wasn’t sure of his intentions, and yet she was engaged in word play with him as if they were flirting at a ball, not in the midst of a serious situation.

Ana and Emily seemed as surprised as she was, for they watched with unreadable expressions. Finally, Ana stepped forward with a tiny shake of her head. “The kitchen is filled with food. The beds are made up. Once you have the—” She glanced at Tristan warily. “—the final information we discussed, send word back to the house with Henderson. He’ll wait with the other carriage. Emily and I will make the final arrangements and meet you tomorrow.”

Tristan’s eyes went wide as the three women said their good-byes and Ana and Emily headed for the door. Meredith ignored his unspoken questions as she followed her friends into the foyer. After Ana hugged her good-bye and moved toward the carriage, Emily looked her up and down.

“Be careful.”

“You still doubt him, then?” Meredith whispered, wrinkling her brow with worry. What if her judgment was wrong?

Emily shook her head. “I don’t doubt he means a great deal to you. And there are more than physical ways to be hurt.”

As her friends departed, Meredith shut the door and leaned back against it. “Trust me, Emily. I know that as well as anyone. Perhaps better.”

Straightening up, she moved into the sitting room to face Tristan. To face a night alone with him where nothing would be hidden, nothing would be secret, and everything was at risk.

M
eredith watched Tristan devour another slice of cake. They had barely said two words since she’d offered the food Ana had brought for them. The kitchen table they sat at was old, but sturdy and comfortable. Yet at the small table in the equally small room, there was nowhere to hide.

Tristan looked at her and the point was underscored. She felt cornered by the focus and heat of his stare. Judging from the way he slowly wiped his mouth and folded his napkin, he was ready for discussion.

“Excuse my terrible manners.”

She shook her head. “You were obviously
hungry.” She hesitated as an awful thought occurred to her. “They did feed you while you were in custody, didn’t they?”

One eyebrow came up. “Do you doubt the kindness of your employers?”

She shook her head. “No. Charles Isley is the best of men.”

He looked incredulous. “I was fed. I simply had very little appetite.”

“And now you do?”

“The chance at freedom will do that to a man.” He rose to his feet and warmed his hands over the fire that burned brightly in the kitchen.

She watched his tense back. From the jerky way his muscles moved, she could see he was still angry.

He spun on her with a frown. “We have been avoiding the subject long enough. Certainly at some point we must face it.
Why
did you help me escape? You clearly have some plan for me now involving your friends. What is it?”

She drew in a breath, but willed herself to remain seated. Calm. “It must be obvious to you that I helped you escape because a part of me believes what you told me. Or—Or part of me wishes to believe it.”

His nostrils flared. “And what is your plan?”

“That depends on you.”

He clenched his fists. “Ah, so it comes down to proving myself some more, does it? Giving more
information, explanations, and apologies? Well, my darling, what about you? Where are
your
explanations?”

His tone mocked, his eyes flashed. Accusation was in his every word and gesture. Her own anger bubbling to the surface, she surged to her feet.

“And what have I to explain? I was assigned a duty to protect my country. Your clandestine activities showed you to be a suspect in a treacherous plot. I did my job.”

He moved toward her, heat rolling before him like a dangerous wave, bringing a storm of desire and equally potent rage. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? You not only wormed out the details of my life, but you lied to me. You even lied to my mother.”

She shook her head. “I never lied to Lady Carmichael.”

“You led her to believe you were at her party as a friend, even that you were beginning to care for me. You encouraged her matchmaking…why? So you could use her feelings against me?”

“No!” she protested as pain smashed into her.

He snorted his derision. “I spent an inordinate amount of time in Isley’s prison wondering about your methods of ‘investigation.’ Do you make love to every suspect or is there a criteria they must meet? Where do you draw your lines, my lady?”

Hot blood burned her cheeks, but she forced herself not to turn away. “You know what happened in Carmichael meant more than that.”

“Do I?” He barked out a laugh. “When I touched you, I thought I felt something between us. I thought your emotions were as strong as mine. But now I see what a competent liar you are, and I wonder how many of those emotions were real.”

She opened her mouth in protest, but he continued, as if he could not stop the flow of angry words.

“I applaud you. In some ways, a female spy is preferable. After all, you were able to use my heart and your body as deadly weapons against me in a way no man could have. You came to my bed and had me surrendering without firing a shot.”

“Coming to your bed was never part of my investigation!” Fisting her hands at her sides, she fought tears. “I know you’re angry, but I am putting my life, my position as spy, and my country on the line in order to help you. Can’t you have some faith in me?”

He laughed, just as hollow and ugly as before. “Like the faith you had in me when you gathered evidence against me? When you pretended to care?”

Her tears came now, flowing despite her efforts to hold them back. “I never
pretended
to care. Despite the evidence, despite the suspicion, I fell in love with you. And that is the truth.”

Tristan bit back his next sentence as Meredith’s words sank in. She fell in love with him? Even as
she investigated his every move? Even as she compiled evidence that could send him to his death?

If that was true, it meant she’d gone against her own training. It meant that everything they had shared was real, not some twisted fantasy meant to ensnare him.

But
was
it true? Or just more trickery?

“Why should I believe that?”

With the back of her trembling hand, she swiped at tears. “I can’t tell you why, but I can tell you that every single day, I fought to find evidence to prove you were innocent of the crimes you were accused of committing. I searched for other suspects. I spent a few days praying I could find Philip guilty instead—”

Tristan jolted as he thought of his imprisoned friend. “Philip? You thought
Philip
might be responsible for all this?”

She nodded. “I hoped he was. The pieces were there. He had access to everything required to entrap you, to act on your behalf without your knowledge.” She sighed. “But as hard as I tried, those pieces wouldn’t fit. So I shifted my focus to other explanations of why you became involved in treason. I fought to prove you were being blackmailed by Devlin or misled into doing something you didn’t understand.”

He folded his arms, but the hard shell of his anger was beginning to crack in the face of her
explanation. “I’m pleased you had such faith in my intelligence.”

“I would rather believe you were naïve than a liar and a killer,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “But those hopes were dashed at every turn.”

“And so you turned me over to the authorities?”

She nodded slowly. “For my own sake as much as the investigation. My heart was so involved that I—I—” Her voice broke as she turned away.

Tristan caught her arm and gently pulled her to face him. He couldn’t let her escape. He needed to look into her eyes, see her expression. He needed to judge whether her words were true.

“What did you do?” he asked, loving how she trembled at his touch. He began to hope, once more, that the tremor was real. That she wanted him. Cared for him.

Loved him.

She dipped her head as a flash of something dark and ugly filled her eyes.

“My heart became so involved that I began to disregard the evidence completely. I started to care so much about protecting you from Devlin, from my own superiors, that I tried to ignore what I found. I even wanted—” She shivered. “I wanted to destroy it. Emily and Ana sent me a piece of evidence and I nearly burned it. For a brief moment I considered pretending it didn’t exist and
trying to convince you to run away with me instead.”

Tristan drew back as he realized what the dark emotion on her face was. Shame. Her love for him had driven her to the edge of everything she believed.

Two emotions washed over him. The first was horror. Horror that his drive for revenge had taken her so far. His lies, his plots nearly made Meredith turn against her own conscience.

But a second emotion lurked behind the horror. It was powerful and pure, and it felt better than anything he remembered experiencing since before his brother’s death. Joy.

Meredith had nearly sacrificed everything for him. She had been willing to love him no matter what he’d done.

He cleared his throat and forced himself to press her further. “Why
didn’t
you burn the evidence?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. She shivered and turned her face into his hand. “I knew I couldn’t destroy the evidence and turn against my friends and country. Not if I wanted to be happy. That doubt I felt would have tormented me and destroyed my love after a time.”

He nodded. Though he might have preferred running away with her, what she said was true. The secrets that lay between them would have
become too much to bear after a while. Now they were out in the open, but could the past be overcome?

“I went to your office the night before you were arrested with every intention to tell you my true purpose for being in Carmichael and confront you with the evidence. I planned to offer my help.” She shivered. “But you revealed the stolen painting before I could alert you to my presence. I heard you say you were turning it over.”

She lifted her gaze, and her eyes pleaded for understanding. Tristan was surprised to realize that he did understand. And he loved her all the more for her goodness and honor. With the company he’d kept lately, he’d almost forgotten those things existed.

“I thought of all the pain and death turning over evidence to a known enemy would bring, and I couldn’t allow that to happen,” she whispered. “So I sent emergency word to London and called Isley and his men to collect you before any damage could be done.” She clutched her hands in front of her chest as if the mere memory pained her. “It broke my heart, Tristan.”

He nodded, unable to speak when such powerful emotions tore at him.

“That was why, when Charlie arrested you, I pleaded for privacy. And why I helped cover up the truth so your mother wouldn’t find out until the last possible moment. I wanted to protect you,
even though I had proven to my superiors that you were the worst of men. Something in me whispered that you weren’t, that I couldn’t destroy the man I loved.”

“And that is why you helped me tonight,” he said.

It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded. “The story you told in your cell this afternoon…I wanted to believe it.”

Tristan wrinkled his brow. She
wanted
to believe in him, and that meant everything to him. But
did
she believe him? Or was this just her heart leading her when her head told her to have faith in her evidence?

Her mouth drew down. “By setting you free, I’ve probably destroyed my career as a spy. My friends were involved, so I have endangered their futures as well. If the faith you claim I do not have in you is misplaced, I could be walking into a trap. My life could well be forfeit.” Her face hardened. “So please don’t tell me I haven’t given you my trust. It’s a gift I learned early not to give, yet you have it. Whether you acknowledge that or not.”

For the first time, Tristan realized how completely vulnerable she was making herself. On only the strength of his vow that he was innocent, she risked everything. What had he given her in return?

“I understand, Meredith,” he said on a sigh.

She smiled and more hope blossomed in her
expression. But there was still hesitation. She continued to hold something back. “But do you trust me as I have trusted you?”

He thought about that. Yes, she had lied. She had used his heart to obtain evidence. But she had done it without malice. She had done it to protect the things she held dear.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked, longing to draw her into his arms. To take away any lingering doubt with a kiss.

She shivered, but shook her head. “I need more than that. I need something that tells me the faith and trust I’ve put in you are not in vain.”

He cocked his head. “What proof do you need?”

“The evidence you removed from the painting, Tristan,” she said, her voice even. “Tell me where it is.”

The warmth he was beginning to feel froze again and mistrust returned. Doubt. The evidence from the painting was the only leverage he had left, both with the War Department and with Devlin. If he gave it to Meredith, he could very well lose everything.

“Faith, Tristan,” she whispered as she reached out to touch his hand. A spark of desire jolted through his aching body. “Isn’t faith what you demand of me? You have fought this battle alone for a long time. Have faith in me and know my deepest desire is to help you win.”

He let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d
been holding. Meredith was offering to be his partner in the battle he’d waged for so long. She’d given him her trust and her heart. Now she asked for the same in return.

They were things he couldn’t deny her now that the shadow of secrets no longer stood between them.

“The evidence is a collection of battle plans, troop assignments, and arsenal locations,” he found himself saying. Her fingers curled tighter around his hand. “When I removed them from the painting, I sent the information to my town home in London with instructions for them to be hidden in a secret compartment in the stables. My favorite mare’s stall has a false floor in the east corner. The evidence is there. She’s skittish with strangers, so be sure whomever you send is prepared for her sass.”

“You don’t know what this means,” Meredith whispered with a sigh of relief.

He hesitated. “No, I don’t. What will happen? Will you and your friends be solely responsible for Devlin’s future? Or will I be allowed some part in what began the night my brother died?”

Her face softened and she lifted his hand to her lips. “I know how important this is to you, Tristan. I wouldn’t leave you out of the resolution you’ve sought so long. Trust me, you will have your role.” She smiled as she let him go. His fingers tingled where they had been tangled with hers. “I must
send a message to Emily and Ana, but it won’t take a moment.”

He nodded, numb from the emotional exchange. And strangely light, as if the weight he had carried on his shoulders for so long was gone. Telling her the truth was a balm on the burns in his soul.

She hurried from the kitchen. Tristan scrubbed a hand over his face as he made his way into the hall. He climbed the stairs to explore the rest of the home, his heart pounding.

Meredith gave her faith by setting him free. He had returned that faith by telling her the location of the evidence. But there was still a wall between them. Despite her declaration of love, she held back. He felt it. He had felt it in Carmichael too, but now he understood the cause. And he wanted nothing more than to take down that final wall, brick by brick. He wanted to see the future without any impediments.