Shana Galen (26 page)

Elinor gasped as the shelf wobbled and teetered. Foncé saw it too, glanced at the splintered door, and ran for the escape passage just as a tower of books tumbled on top of Winn, all but burying him.

“Winn!” Elinor yelled, but the prince was grasping her arm so tightly she could not go to him.

Foncé turned back. “Au revoir, madam. I will not say adieu, because I know we will see each other soon.” He crawled into the passage and vanished.

The door finally came open, and Blue rushed inside. Elinor pointed to the books. “Winn! Help Winn!”

Several guards rushed in after Blue.

“He went through the passage,” she told them. “Hurry!”

The prince finally released her, and she ran to Winn. Blue had managed to uncover his head and arms, and he was pulling books off his legs. “Are you hurt?” she asked. He had a cut on his temple, with a slender trickle of blood running down his face.

“Bruised but not broken,” Winn answered. “Where’s Foncé?”

“The passage.” She pointed.

Winn nodded. “He won’t go far. It’s locked and gated at the end.” He glanced at one of the guards. “Send several armed men to the kitchens, in case he tries to escape that way.”

The guards rushed to do his bidding, and Winn stood. Elinor all but fell into his arms. “I thought he would kill you,” she said.

“You were worried about me?” He laughed. “Madam, I can take care of myself.”

Blue moved away, giving them a moment of privacy.

“I know you were thinking of Crow,” she said, glancing up at him. “I know you were afraid tonight would end the same way.”

“I cannot lose you, Ellie.” He cupped her face with his hands.

“You won’t,” she promised. “I can take care of myself, too. Haven’t I proven that to you yet?” She prayed he was not going to demand she give up the Barbican group now, not after all they’d been through. She would hate to defy him, but if she must…

“You need more training before you take on another mission,” Winn said.

She smiled. “It is a good thing I know an excellent spy who can help with that.”

“Flattery, madam”—he bent and kissed her nose—“is definitely encouraged.”

He took her mouth with his, and her knees went weak. When they parted, she said, “I love you, Winn.”

He grinned. “It’s about time you said it.”

“I take full responsibility for Foncé’s escape,” Blue was saying. “It was my fault entirely.”

Winn wouldn’t have gone quite that far. He and Elinor bore some of the blame as well. The truth of the matter was that Foncé was very, very good. They’d gone through every inch of Carlton House, as well as its grounds, and Foncé appeared to have disappeared entirely. Winn still couldn’t figure out how he’d done it. The gate to the passage had still been secured, but somehow the madman had managed an escape. Foncé had now outwitted four of the Barbican’s agents. This slight was added to the indignity of the man having killed a half-dozen Barbican agents over the years.

Blue approached Melbourne, who was seated at his desk, hands folded, brows low and ominous, and held out an envelope sealed with blue wax. “I hereby tender my resignation.” Blue gave a bow.

Melbourne looked at the envelope then at Blue. “Are you trying to make the situation worse?”

“No, my lord.”

“Then shut up, and sit down.”

Winn blinked. He’d never seen Melbourne so angry, and he’d seen Melbourne rather irate on any number of occasions. He glanced at Wolf and Saint, who both looked surprised. Of course, Saint looked more green than anything else. He frowned. Was she ill?

Blue retreated with the envelope, but Melbourne said, “Leave that on my desk. I may yet need it.”

Blue nodded, left the envelope, and took a seat next to Saint. The couch moved slightly when he sat, and Saint turned even greener. If Blue wasn’t careful, his puce silk coat would be covered in vomit. Winn was prepared to argue the vomit might be an improvement.

Melbourne held up another envelope, and Winn saw the royal seal upon it. “Do you know what this is?”

No one spoke.

“This, my friends, is an irate missive from the Prince of Wales. He has threatened all of us with a holiday in Newgate unless we apprehend Foncé posthaste. To say His Highness is distraught would be an understatement.”

“Can the prince do that?” Elinor whispered to Winn.

“Yes,” Melbourne said, looking directly at her. “He can accuse us of treason.” Melbourne glared at Winn. “I cannot think why.”

Winn studied his hands.

“Furthermore, His Highness claims he suffered a loss of many rare and valuable artifacts, and demands restitution.”

“Should have let Foncé have him,” Winn muttered.

Melbourne looked at Saint and Wolf. “You two were not present, and technically you are retired from the group, but I promise you that if I go down, you go down too.”

“My lord,” Wolf began.

Melbourne lifted a hand. “Not now, Adrian. Since every last one of you has managed to reveal yourself to Foncé, we have completely lost the element of surprise. Even if we knew where Foncé was hiding, he would see us coming.”

“I’m quite good at disguises,” Blue said.

“I am aware of that fact, but what I need now is my very best agent.”

“At your service, sir,” Blue and Winn said at the same time.

Wolf frowned at them. “He was talking to me.”

“He was probably talking to me,” Saint added, “but I shall have to decline. Excuse me.” With her hand over her mouth, she fled the room, closely followed by her husband.

Winn shook his head. “Is she ill?”

Elinor frowned. “For a spy, you are sometimes remarkably obtuse. She is increasing. Remember?”

Ah. He recalled Elinor’s bouts with nausea when she’d carried Georgiana. “Then Smythe won’t want to leave her side,” he said. “Foncé is mine.”

“No, he is not,” Melbourne said. “You are not my best agent.”

Winn looked at Blue, but Melbourne shook his head.

“Then who is he?” Ellie asked.

“The question,” Melbourne said, “should be: who is
she
? And you will meet her soon enough.”

***

The girls were home again, and Elinor could not stop smiling. It was so good to hear their incessant chatter. The house had been too quiet without them. She knew she would grow weary of their bickering in a few days, but right now they were babbling on about horses and hay and the spring foaling. She supposed they would all have to visit Winn’s mother again soon.

She looked at Winn, and for the first time, when she thought of all of them, she included him. He’d changed. Instead of looking preoccupied by his dinner of mutton and potatoes, he was listening intently, nodding and asking pertinent questions. Both girls loved having his full attention.

Elinor did as well, but that would have to wait.

After dinner, they spent the evening in the drawing room, laughing and reading from books the girls had loved as young children. Finally, Elinor sent them to bed. When she’d kissed both of them, tucked their covers about them, and fluffed their pillows, she went to her room.

Winn was waiting for her. He reclined on her bed, his feet bare, and wearing fitted black trousers and a white shirt open at the throat. Elinor found it very difficult to breathe all of a sudden.

“I dismissed Bridget,” he said. “Do you need her?”

She closed the door and locked it. “I cannot undress myself.”

A slow smile crept over his face. “I believe I can assist with that.”

Elinor went to him, leaning over the bed and taking his mouth with hers. He tasted of the blackberry fool they had eaten for dessert. She wanted to lick the sweetness from his lips. She kissed him more deeply, and he pulled her down on the bed beside him, leaning over her and slanting his lips over hers.

Elinor reached under his shirt to touch his skin, so familiar to her and yet so new. She felt like a new bride with him these past few days. They had discovered a passion neither had known they could possess.

“Hmm. Before we continue,” he said against her lips, “I have something for you.”

He sat and took something from the bedside table. Elinor frowned and levered up on her elbows. The seal had been broken, so she unfolded the parchment and read the words.

“These are orders to report to Melbourne’s office tomorrow morning,” she said. She looked up at him and sat. “They are addressed to… Butterfly.” She shook her head. “Who is that?”

“You.” He grinned. “Your new codename.”

Elinor gasped. She had a codename!

“Do you like it?” he asked. “I think it’s perfect. You are so many things all in one.”

She raised a brow. “Such as?”

“Wife, mother, spy, seductress…”

She laughed.

“My orders were also included.” He handed her a small slip of paper. She read it once, twice, three times.

“You will be training me?”

“Someone has to.”

She punched him in the arm then read both letters again. “I’m really going to be a spy.”

“It appears so.”

“But the girls—how can I leave them?”

Winn looked pained. “You are always hinting that your mother should visit more often.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

He took her face in his hands. “Ellie, I’d do anything for you. In fact”—he tossed the missives aside—“let me show you.”

There were so many people who supported and helped me while I wrote this book—my family, my friends, my agents, my web designer, my editor, and the entire Sourcebooks team. In particular, I want to thank the following people.

Amy and Emily, my running/boot camp buddies

Sharie and Tera, my go-to writer friends

My parents and my mother-in-law

Margo, for your invaluable comments and suggestions on this manuscript

Robyn, Emily, Anne—the rest of the Brainstorm Troopers

Joanna MacKenzie

Tina Hergenrader

Gayle and Alora Cochrane

Maddee and Jen at
xuni.com

I also want to thank you, my readers, for making this book possible. This book was written because you wanted it. Your support means more to me than you will ever know.

Shana Galen is the bestselling author of fast-paced adventurous Regency historicals, including the RT Reviewers’ Choice
The
Making
of
a
Gentleman
. Her books are published all over the world and have been featured in the Rhapsody and Doubleday Book Clubs. She taught English at the middle and high school level off and on for eleven years. Most of those years were spent working in Houston’s inner city. Now she writes full time. She’s happily married and has a daughter who is most definitely a romance heroine in the making. Shana loves to hear from readers: visit her website at
www.shanagalen.com
or see what she’s up to daily on Facebook and Twitter.