Kissing The Enemy (Scandals and Spies Book 1) (9 page)

* * *

T
he hour must have grown
close to two of the afternoon by now. The guests had begun filtering off the lawn and into the house to change their clothes and search for vittles. Freddie’s arms ached from holding up the racket for so long. Given the beads of sweat on Tristan’s forehead, he was just as uncomfortable beneath the blazing sun, which had departed from its bed of clouds near to an hour ago.

Their tense battle of wits had grown quiet, though neither was willing to surrender. Freddie’s heart throbbed with the urgency to leave the match and make her way to the abandoned chapel in the north of the abbey. If she left soon, she still had a hope of reaching the location before the duke and his spy contact.

Unfortunately, Tristan seemed determined to stop her. His jaw was set, his eyes hard. He focused more on her than he did on the game, though he seemed to have more difficulty hitting the shuttlecock after so long. He was sluggish to respond, though her weaker hits didn’t give much of a challenge. Between volleys, he tugged at his cravat, as if he dearly wanted to remove it.

His single-minded focus on her convinced her that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight long enough to sneeze. She needed a distraction or an excuse even he couldn’t refute.

Arm in arm with Lucy, Charlie approached. Freddie watched her sister from the corner of her eye, but couldn’t greet her without forfeiting the match. She continued to play.

“I’m going to change and sit down to lunch. Will you two be joining us?”

A burst of relief radiated through Freddie as she grasped on the opportunity. She made a half-hearted attempt to catch the next throw, but purposefully let her racket fall short. The shuttlecock buried itself beneath the trampled grass.

“Oh, dear. It looks like I’ve lost.” Dropping her racket on the ground in defeat, she bit her lower lip to keep from smirking. “Charlie, I might as well accompany you.”

Tristan snatched the shuttlecock from the ground and held it aloft. “Wait. I call foul. You missed that on purpose.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Tristan, give the poor woman a break. You’ve been at it for hours.”

“But—”

Freddie linked arms with her sister. As the three women walked away, she wiggled her fingers over her shoulder at Tristan. He stood on the green, his hands clenched around his racket and the shuttlecock.

She expected to feel relieved to finally leave him behind. Instead, her shoulder blades tingled with the weight of his gaze.

And with the urgency of what she had to do next.

T
he moment
the shadow of the abbey fell across Freddie in a cool wave, her heartbeat sped. She’d escaped Tristan’s eye, but now she had to slip away from her sister’s grip. Her mind’s eye wandered to the north side of the abbey, which hadn’t been included in Lucy’s previous tour. How much longer did she have to reach the meeting place?

They entered a side door into a smaller antechamber than the main entrance. Between two doors directly ahead was a grandmother clock. It read a quarter past one of the afternoon. Freddie tried to relax.

Twin staircases climbed the edges of the cavernous room, one leading to the east wing and one to the west. Charlie dropped Lucy’s arm and started to walk toward the east staircase.

“Freddie, might I have a word alone, please?”

Freddie’s grip on her sister’s arm went slack as she met Lucy’s eager gaze. She exchanged a glance with Charlie, who frowned, but shrugged. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

“Of course,” Freddie murmured, an instinctive response.

Lucy’s gaze trailed after Charlie as she mounted the marble steps. The click of her heels echoed in the room. At the top of the stairs, Charlie dawdled. Clearly, her curiosity won out.

Turning her back on the staircase, Lucy leaned close to Freddie and lowered her voice. A furrow of concern deepened in her forehead.

“I hope you’ll forgive my brother. I don’t know what came over him.” She sounded contrite, almost ashamed at Tristan’s competitive behavior.

Freddie couldn’t help but grin. “I believe it was my fault for provoking him.”

Lucy wrung her hands. “Still, he doesn’t have to act like such a boor. He isn’t usually so competitive, not unless he’s pitted against Morgan.”

So the Graylocke brothers had a competitive relationship. Is that why Tristan had joined Morgan and the French, to prove himself a better spy? Freddie chased the notion away. No answer would satisfy her. In her eyes, betraying her country was unforgivable.

“Consider it forgotten.”

“He’s usually a delight to be around.” Her dark brown eyes, so reminiscent of Tristan’s, bored into Freddie’s, as if willing Freddie to believe her.

Delightful…for a French spy.
Freddie managed a thin smile. “I’m sure he is.”

Lucy’s mouth twisted. “Except when he’s being overprotective.”

The smile came easier to Freddie’s lips. “I can understand that. He loves you.”

Her gaze drifted to the second level, to Charlie. Freddie’s breath stalled as she realized Charlie wasn’t alone. Harker was standing next to her.

When Freddie returned her attention to Lucy, she must have managed to hide her alarm, because Lucy seemed relieved, rather that worried.

“Then you won’t hold it against him?”

Hold what?
Freddie’s head spun as she tried to recollect the conversation. “I promise I won’t hold his competitiveness against him.”

In regards to his allegiance, Freddie made no promises.

Lucy squeezed Freddie’s arm. “Thank you. I’ll see you at lunch.”

Freddie’s ears rang as she returned her attention to the staircase above. Harker still stood with her sister. Even closer, in fact. Charlie’s back was pressed against the wall.

As she mounted the steps, Freddie’s lungs burned like she’d inhaled fire. She stamped down the sensation, hurrying to her sister’s side.

The moment she stepped within earshot, Harker gave an oily smile. “Ah, Frederica. Precisely the woman to whom I’d hoped to speak.”

Charlotte stiffened her back. Her fists balled at her sides, as if she hoped to step in.

Freddie relaxed her shoulders from around her ears and tried her best to appear nonplussed. “Why don’t you hurry to our room and change, Charlie? I’ll be along shortly.” For all Freddie’s efforts, her voice was stiff.

The whites showed around Charlie’s brilliant blue eyes. She cocked up her chin and licked her lips. “Are you sure?”

Harker’s gaze dropped to Charlotte’s pretty mouth.

Freddie’s stomach swished. “Quite sure,” she said, her voice clipped.

Reluctantly, Charlie slinked down the hall. Freddie held herself tall, waiting until her sister was out of sight before she turned to Harker.

“What are you doing here?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know it was a crime to speak with my own ward.”

Freddie’s fingernails bit through her gloves and into her palms. “I’m doing your bidding. You can have nothing to say to her.”

Inspecting his fingers, Harker drawled, “Now that you’ve mentioned it, let’s talk about that.”

Freddie gritted her teeth. “What about it? I put my life on the line last night searching the Graylockes’ quarters. If I’d found anything, you would have it.”

His eyes glinted, like cold, glittering pieces of ice. The temperature in the corridor seemed to cool. Gooseflesh rose on Freddie’s bare arms.

“You seem to be getting yourself acquainted with Tristan Graylocke.”

Freddie made a face. “He…suspects me. I can’t help that.”

Something convinced her to hold her tongue on how Tristan’s supposed ‘suspicions’ had been verified.

Harker leaned closer. He must have eaten beans this morning with his breakfast. His breath reeked of them. “You appear to be getting awfully cozy with him. Almost like lovers.”

Freddie’s hand itched to slap him. She bit the inside of her cheek. Violence wouldn’t help her situation.

“I assure you, that isn’t the case.” Her voice was high and thin. She pressed her lips together, unable to muster another word.

Harker narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you know what’s at stake here. Your future.” His gaze traveled down the hall, where Charlie had escaped. “And your sister’s.”

Freddie stiffened.

Almost as an afterthought, Harker added, “Many more lives hang in the balance, too. This is a matter of national importance.”

Freddie gritted her teeth. “I know that. I’ve been trying to slip away from Lord Graylocke’s side all morning. I know where the book will be at two o’clock this afternoon.”

She expected Harker to demand details. Instead, he waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Then go and retrieve it.”

Retrieve it yourself.
Freddie clenched her fists. “Don’t you want to do that yourself? Of the two of us, you are the trained operative. You have more experience.”

His cheeks puffed out in affront. “I told you, I’m under too much scrutiny while I’m here. It’s the reason I recruited you.”

I’m under scrutiny now, too.
Freddie held her tongue. “Very well. Then I shouldn’t dally any longer.”

Without waiting for Harker’s response, Freddie strode away. She stormed blindly down the hall, soon finding herself in front of the room she shared with Charlie. Mustering some semblance of serenity, she opened the door.

Charotte sat on the plush settee. Lisane must have neatened her appearance, because she wore a fresh placket-front dress in blush pink, patterned with roses no bigger than Freddie’s thumb. The moment Freddie stepped into the room, Charlie jumped to her feet.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Charlie’s expression darkened. She looked murderous. “Harker…”

“Only wanted to ensure our comfort and treatment during our stay here. I assured him all was well.”

By Charlie’s narrowed eyes, she didn’t believe Freddie. In the corner, Lisane rifled through the wardrobe, pulling out a new dress for Freddie.

Freddie gulped. “Please, Lisane, put that back.”

The thin woman turned her sharp gaze on Freddie. With her high, cutting cheekbones, her expression was all the more potent. “You don’t agree with my choice, Miss Freddie?”

“I’m tired.” That, Freddie didn’t have to feign. A bone-deep weariness swept over her. She kept standing for Charlie’s sake alone. She needed to complete this mission, no matter the cost. She offered her sister a smile, but it felt wan. “It’s been a long morning.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I imagine so. You were already outside by the time I came down to breakfast. What possessed you to play for so long? You don’t normally get so swept away by anything that isn’t a book.”

Freddie shrugged. “Perhaps I needed to exercise away some excess energy.”

Charlie snorted. “All you’ve done is exhaust yourself.” She sighed. “Very well. Come on, Lisane. Let’s leave her in peace. I’ll give your excuses, but even then you’ll have no more than an hour or two before we have to change for dinner.”

“I know.” Freddie snatched Charlie’s hand and squeezed it.
I love you.
She didn’t speak the words, trying to infuse her actions with the truth.

Charlie squeezed her back. “Sleep well, Freddie.” Lisane shut the curtains and they both left the room.

The moment she was alone, Freddie sank onto the vacant settee. Her knees felt like jelly. She lowered her head into her hands. How long could she keep this up?

As long as you must.
Freddie recalled all her reasons for following Harker’s demands. With renewed energy, she thrust herself to her feet. She didn’t have a lot of time to make the rendezvous. She would have to hurry.

* * *

T
he ancient oak door
, as old as the one in front of the portrait hall, loomed in front of Freddie. Black iron scroll hinges held the age-worn wood in place. The handle jutted out, taunting her. It was edged with rust.

You can do this.
Despite the encouraging words, doubts nagged her. She was no spy. If she was caught… She would have the duke to contend with this time, not Tristan. Although she didn’t know what had convinced Tristan to allow her to flee last night, she didn’t believe the duke would be as courteous. Even though she was in the middle of English country at a house party, she couldn’t allow herself to be fooled. This was war.

Mustering her courage, she opened the door. The hinges creaked, the ghastly sound echoing in the room beyond. From deeper in the abbey, a clock chimed. Two o’clock. Freddie gulped. Was she about to step into the middle of a clandestine meeting?

If someone was in the room beyond, they’d undoubtedly noticed the door opening. She had no choice. She had to step in.

Her footsteps resounded along the stone walls. She stepped into a room lit sporadically with daylight streaming in from fallen sections of the roof. The former chapel seemed to soar as high as the heavens. Long, narrow slits high in the walls formed glassless windows. The wall near the peak of one had crumbled away. The rectangular window opened into a jagged hole near the top of the room.

If there had once been a bell in here or pews or any other form of religious artifact, they were long gone. The elements had worn away this room. The only things littering the flagstones were piles of rubble. One towered over her height. Loose pebbles and chunks of stone littered the ground, along with animal droppings, the remnants of nests, and bones that she didn’t care to examine too closely.

Rustles echoing along the walls indicated wildlife, but she couldn’t spot the source. In the distance, bird wings flapped. Not a soul lingered in the room. Her stomach dropped. Had she missed the exchange?

Maybe they’re late.
She squared her shoulders. Her breaths came thickly, threatening to overwhelm her. The only place to sit and watch would be behind one of those piles of rubble. If Morgan and the other French spy were on their way, she didn’t have long to hide. She hurried farther into the room with quick, clipped steps. The debris crunched beneath her shoes.

As she took her fifth step into the room, the door to the chapel slammed shut behind her with a resounding
boom!
The thunderous sound deafened her. She spun. The door was shut.

Panicked, she raced to it and pushed. The inside had no handle. It should have swung outward on its hinges. Instead, the door remained shut. Firm. She threw her shoulder into it. It felt as though a bar had dropped across from the other side.

A flood of emotion swept through her as she turned her back against the door, searching for another way out. The nearest opening in the stone was at least two stories over her head.

She was trapped in the chapel with no hope of rescue. No one knew she was there.