The Secret Life of Lady Julia (26 page)

The drawer popped, and she held the candle over the shadowed contents. The light gleamed on the familiar surface of the red leather folder, and she took it out, laid it on the desk and opened it.

The documents were all there. Thomas picked them up and glanced at them, scanning the contents. “A bill of sale and some love letters?” he asked. “That’s what we came for?”

She nodded. He looked through the rest of the file. “There’s one addressed to you.”

She stared at the sealed envelope, at her name scrawled across the front in Talleyrand’s unmistakable hand.

There was a noise in the hallway, the sound of swords clattering on scabbards.

Thomas grabbed her shoulders, spun her to face him. “Is this a trap, Miss Leighton?” he demanded, his eyes hard and shiny as marble.

“No!” Yet she replayed the consequences of getting caught. The English would disavow any knowledge of her, or Thomas Merritt. She blanched. It was indeed a trap, but not one of her making. They were coming closer now, and in a moment they would see the door was open.

“Kiss me,” Thomas Merritt ordered, pulling her against him.

“This isn’t the time!” she hissed, pressing a hand to his chest to push him away. She could feel his heart beating under the fine linen of his shirt.

“Trust me. Kiss me. You remember how, don’t you?”

His mouth was inches above hers, the soft champagne of his breath on her lips, the scent of his soap surrounding her. She lifted her mouth to his and shut her eyes.

He groaned as he plundered her mouth, kissing her like a man starving—or a man about to hang. His lips slanted over hers, and he pulled her closer still, pressing her back against the desk. It all came flooding back—the desperate, impossible desire she’d felt for him the last time he’d kissed her. She didn’t want to stop. She arched against him, losing herself in the kiss.

“Halt!” said a stern voice, and she snapped back to reality. She turned as the room filled with light and soldiers, stifling the desire to scream. Thomas kept his hand on her back, his touch firm, reassuring.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his tone sheepish.

“What are you doing in here? Fetch His Highness at once.”

Thomas grinned at the captain. “Is that necessary? We were merely seeking a moment’s privacy,” he said in English. “It’s too cold to go out onto the terrace, and the door was open—”

“I wanted to show Thomas—the viscount—His Highness’s paintings,” she said. “You see, he knew several of these ladies in Paris, and—” She realized she was babbling. The soldier glanced at the walls, noticing the art for the first time, obviously unimpressed.

Julia’s heart climbed into her throat. She wondered if it was too late to dive out the window, but there were ornate metal grills in place to prevent that. Pauline Borghese regarded her with mocking sympathy.

Talleyrand arrived. “Intruders, Your Highness,” the captain said, snapping to attention.

Talleyrand’s dark eyes took in the situation at a glance. “The door was unlocked,” she began again. “The paintings—”

“Was it?” he said blandly. “How careless of me.”

She watched his eyes flick over the desk, and waited for him to notice the folder, and the contents scattered over the surface. She looked down, but the desk was empty. She looked up at Thomas in surprise, but his expression was flat, giving nothing away.

Talleyrand tried the desk drawer and found it locked. He looked up at her with a sad smile, as if she’d failed to meet his expectations, and she raised her chin, felt hot blood creeping under her skin.

“What exactly were they doing when you found them, Captain?” the prince asked.

“He was—um, kissing her, Highness. Very passionately.” Talleyrand grinned. “They said they were here to admire ‘the art,’ ” the soldier added, more surprised by that, it appeared.

Talleyrand unlocked the desk and opened the drawer. Julia stifled a gasp of surprise. The red leather folder glowed like accusation in the candlelight. How on earth had Thomas managed that?

It didn’t matter. They’d failed, and they would not get another opportunity. Defeat fell over her like a heavy blanket. Thomas didn’t look at all perturbed. He was watching Talleyrand silently, with a bland expression.

“Will you say nothing,
monsieur le vicomte
?” the prince asked in French. “Will you not deny such a scandalous insult to a lady’s honor?”

Still Thomas remained silent, and she felt mortification burn through her. She knew exactly what Talleyrand and the captain were thinking.

“Monsieur?”
Talleyrand said again in French. Julia felt her limbs melt.

Would Thomas let them think she was a strumpet?

He shook his head. “I am sorry, sir, but I don’t speak French.”

Talleyrand’s lips twitched. “The captain of my guards has accused the lady of bringing you here to my private office for seduction,” he said in English. “What do you say to that?”

Thomas straightened his shoulders. “I suppose I shall have to call him out and shoot him,” he said. “How do I say that in French?”

Talleyrand’s brows rose. “How very English. Perhaps it would be better to tell him that you and the lady are old friends, and you simply share similar tastes in art.”

“If you wish,” Thomas said.

“In the interest of peace,” Talleyrand said. He shut the drawer and locked it. “All is in order, Captain Dufour. Please escort my guests back to the salon.”

The captain bowed crisply and led the way, with two soldiers in front, two soldiers behind them. Thomas kept his hand under her elbow, and she didn’t dare speak. Had he saved her, or made things worse? Her mouth still tingled from his kiss.
Her whole body tingled
.

They reached the salon, and no one, it seemed, had even realized they were gone. The guards withdrew, and a footman offered them more champagne.

He stood quietly by her side. “It’s over, Julia. You can breathe now.”

She nodded to a lady going past, then turned to him. “How can you say that? We failed!”

He looked amused. “Did we?”

She shut her eyes, and he set his hand on the small of her back to steady her. “We won’t get another chance,” she said. “It will mean disaster—”

He leaned close to her ear. “I have the papers, sweetheart.”

But she wasn’t listening. “And now Lord Talleyrand has branded me as a—”

“I have the papers. They’re in my pocket. I became quite expert at removing my father’s cigars so he wouldn’t know.” He put his finger under her chin. “And Prince de Talleyrand is French. I’d say you’ve probably improved in his estimation. I daresay he wishes he were me, so he could kiss you.”

She blinked at him. He was so close, his mouth inches from her own. Would he kiss her again, here, in the middle of the reception room? He stepped back.

“Your reputation is safe. Why would he spread a tale of anyone breaking into his private office, getting past not one but two locks, to steal secret documents? It would make him look like a fool.”

“He could have arrested us,” she whispered.

He frowned at that. “Yes, he could have indeed. It would have caused a scandal of quite a different sort, made England look—” He stopped. “Let’s concentrate on enjoying the rest of the evening, shall we? We don’t want Talleyrand to think it was anything other than a seduction, do we?” She shook her head. “Good, let’s go in to supper.”

“Stephen is waiting outside, probably freezing,” she reminded him.

He grinned charmingly. “I know. ”

Chapter 45

S
tephen Ives took Julia’s hand and helped her into the coach. His fingers were very cold.

“Well?” he asked when the coach set off.

“We have the documents,” Thomas said. There was silence. “Are you surprised?”

“Frankly, yes. I had imagined that Talleyrand had better security than that. Where are the papers?”

Thomas took them out of his coat pocket, and Stephen put them into a pouch and set it on his lap.

“Aren’t you curious? Aren’t you going to read them?” Thomas asked.

“No, I’m going to place them in Castlereagh’s hands as soon as we return to the embassy. Unread.”

“And tomorrow?” Thomas asked.

“What of it?” Stephen demanded. “Your job is done, Merritt.”

Except for their bargain, Julia thought. Surely Stephen would find a way to pay Thomas. And what of her bargain? Was the kiss enough? She glanced at him in the darkness. If she could kiss him again, do more than that—was he was watching her, thinking the same thing? Her heartbeat tripled, her body vibrated.

It was a relief when the coach pulled up in front of Thomas’s lodgings and he got out.

“Good night, Julia. It was a lovely evening,” he said with formal politeness, as if they hadn’t kissed, hadn’t been through an ordeal in the past few hours. “And Ives—congratulations. I have no doubt you will take the credit for everything, and rise far in the service of His Majesty on it.” Then he was gone.

“Will we see him again?” Julia asked Stephen.

He sighed. “I suppose we must. There is the matter of his reward, the conditions he set.”

“And will you meet them?” she asked.

He stared at Thomas’s retreating back with narrow eyes. “I suppose that remains to be seen.”

Chapter 46

S
tephen came across the coach to sit beside Julia, and drew her into his arms. He turned her face to his, kissed her gently.

“Were you afraid?” he asked her. He could smell her perfume. She shivered, and he draped his coat over her shoulders.

“Yes. We were caught, my lord, but Thomas managed to—talk—his way out.”

“Thomas?” he asked, feeling a flare of jealousy. “You call him Thomas, and still refer to me as ‘my lord’? Call me Stephen, Julia.”

“Stephen,” she said. “Perhaps I
should
take my leave in the morning.”

He put a finger under her chin. “No, my darling girl, you aren’t going anywhere. Castlereagh cannot deny us anything now. You have triumphed, once again. Marry me, Julia.”

She stared at him in the dark. “What? You know that’s impossible.”

“Not now. Merritt was right. These papers will make my name, Julia. I am set for life. We needn’t return to England, at least not very often. I will be posted abroad as an ambassador, and no one will remember that Julia Ives was once—” He felt her stiffen in his arms and stopped. “No, that came out wrong. I want to marry you because I love you. I have never felt like this about any other woman. I don’t think I can live without you.”

She didn’t immediately reply, and he kissed her, tasted the salt of tears on her lips.

“What about Jamie?” she asked softly.

Merritt’s child.
He felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach. “I hope we’ll have children of our own. I want a son to inherit, of course. Perhaps our son will grow up to be an ambassador.”

She was silent.

“Oh, I will care for Jamie,” he said, “see he’s well educated. He’ll lack for nothing, and I’ll raise him to be a good man, decent and honest.” Unlike his father, though he knew he would see Merritt in the child’s face every time he looked at him, remember how he was conceived. He’d try not to let it matter. He would ensure that Julia and the boy never saw Merritt again. It was, after all, for the best. Thomas Merritt didn’t deserve Julia. He squeezed her hand. “Say yes, Julia. Make me the happiest man in the world.”

She drew away from him. “It’s been a very long day, Stephen. I need some sleep, time to think. Can I give you my answer tomorrow?”

He felt the sting of disappointment but forced a smile. “Of course. I must confess I hadn’t planned on proposing to you tonight. I should be down on one knee, ring in one hand, flowers in the other. Isn’t that how it’s usually done?”

She smiled. “I don’t know. My parents called me downstairs to the study on my eighth birthday and introduced David as my future husband. I had very little idea what that meant. There was no ring, no flowers. He did bring me a puppy as a birthday present, but I think it was actually from Nicholas, David’s younger brother. He was such a good friend of James’s, you see. My mother promptly turned the dog over to my brother and told me not to cry, because I would be a duchess someday, which was far better than having a puppy. Only—” She stopped. “I would have rather had the puppy.”

Stephen smiled. “James, Nick, and I were friends in Spain. I seem to recall James rescuing a litter of puppies during a battle. The barn they were in was on fire. It took three trips to get them all. Burnt a hole in his new tunic, but he was a hero that day too.”

“Will you tell me more stories about James?”

He kissed her forehead. “One for every day of our life together,” he promised.

He helped her out of the coach, led her inside, escorted her to the door of her bedroom. “You’re a remarkable lady, Julia Leighton, and you were very brave tonight. Rest and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ve got to go and see Castlereagh before I can find my own bed. Or . . .” He looked hopefully over the threshold.

“Good night, Lor—Stephen,” she said, and firmly closed the door behind her.

H
er bedroom was cold, and the curtains shivered in the icy wind coming through the open window. She hurried across to shut it, and turned to her bed. There, on the pillow, was the letter with her name on it that Talleyrand had left in the folder. She crossed and looked outside, but Thomas Merritt was nowhere to be seen.