The Dowager's Wager (19 page)

Delighted to have someone to do for, the housekeeper
promised a lite but hot dinner within the hour and set the one
regular maid to preparing rooms for the evening. Tristan
smiled his thanks and offered to take Isabella for a walk
down by the pond.

“The last time we walked down by a pond you proposed
marriage,” Isabella teased, taking his arm.

“I will do so until you accept,” Tristan warned, helping
her navigate the uneven ground.

Isabella turned serious. “Let us not talk of such things.
Let’s enjoy this splendid prospect and the beauty that surrounds us” She gestured widely to indicate the lilac and rose
hued sky. “I have not seen such a grand sunset for ages. In
London, it is all fog and darkness for months on end. Oh, how
I miss this!” Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank you for bringing me!”

Tristan laughed with her, enjoying her abandonment for
the moment. “Am I forgiven for dragging you into scandal
yet again?”

“For now.” Isabella dropped her hands and walked a bit
apart from him. “We can’t ignore the gossip, although I wish
we could.” She sighed wistfully. “Life would be much simpler if we could simply be”

“We have the next few days at least,” Tristan offered in consolation, coming to stand beside her and take her hand in his.

Isabella looked at him sternly. “We do have that, and it is
a gift we must not waste by pretending ignorance is bliss.
There are many things we must talk about, Tristan, starting
with your little performance in the cafe this afternoon” She
saw the reluctance creep into his face. “I won’t ask for more
than that tonight,” she promised.

Tristan nodded. He gazed out over the pond, thinking
about where to begin.

“Does it have something to do with your hand?” Isabella
prompted.

Tristan took her offering. “Yes” Unexpectedly, the way
seemed clear to him. The burden he carried seemed less. He
glanced at the sun to gauge how long he had before it
became dark. He wanted to tell Isabella all that he could. If
he had to move the conversation to the house, he’d lose his
momentum. He had enough time, maybe even an hour. His
decision made, Tristan swept off his coat in a gallant manner and spread it on the ground. “Your seat, my lady.”

Isabella sat and looked at him expectantly. He stretched
out beside her, heedless of the damage grass and dirt might
do to his buff breeches and white shirt. His dark hair spilled
over his shoulder and he ineffectually pushed it back only to
have it fall again.

“Leave it,” Isabella whispered patiently when he would
have pushed his hair back one more time.

Tristan opened his left hand, exposing the scar. “The man
who did this ambushed me a few months back on the docks
in Paris. I walked into a trap. There were three men waiting for me. I killed two of them with a sword. The third man was
highly skilled with blades of any sort. My own sword had
been shattered earlier in the fight. I drew my knife, the one
you saw this afternoon. He drew his. We prowled around
each other looking for an opening. I had no wish to kill him,
but I would do whatever was needed to ensure my escape.
He thrust at me several times. I have the scars on my arms
and torso to prove how effective he was. I was tiring and he
was fresh. He sliced my hand. I think he was playing with
me, assuming he’d get another chance to really do some
damage.

“He called me by my name although I did not know him.
That’s when I started to realize just how wrong everything
had gone that evening. I had to end it all very soon, so the
next chance I got, I stabbed hard. It was enough to send him
bleeding into the night. I do not think he has forgiven me for
the injury I did him, although we’re quite even. He has
ruined my hand. Nonetheless, he has followed me to England and seeks me out.”

“Why did he ambush you in the first place? What could
you have done to earn such displeasure?” Isabella’s brow
furrowed in contemplation.

Tristan looked grim. “This is the harder part of the story
to tell, my love, for I fear it will cost me everything I hold
dear, and that is you”

“I would have the truth, Tristan. It cannot be worse than
living with the ambiguity which surrounds you now,”
Isabella encouraged softly.

“He ambushed me because I had foiled the latest attempt
to engineer Napoleon’s escape” Tristan let the announcement sink into Isabella’s thoughts. He anticipated her questions. “I was, or rather, I am an agent provocateur for the
Crown. During the war, I was part of a secret group charged
with gathering information about the enemy. After the war,
there was still need of my services. The British had learned
from his first escape that Napoleon would stop at nothing.
Months earlier, I infiltrated a circle of people who were secretly devoted to the emperor’s cause. They were English
but they felt there was more to gain by prolonging the war.
When I heard the rumors and found them to be substantiated, I arranged to meet with my English connection and pass
on the plans.”

Isabella picked up the threads of the story. “But your connection was not there that night.”

Tristan nodded his head. “He was dead. His body had
been dumped in the Seine. It was dredged up the next morning. He had been stabbed”

“Being in the cavalry was a lie?” Isabella asked, puzzling
over the various pieces.

“Not entirely. I was in the cavalry for a few months in
Spain. It became apparent I had other talents the Crown
could put to better use.”

Isabella smiled at that. “Better talents than riding a horse?
You’re the finest rider I know, Tristan. You must have been
the most magnificent man on horseback either country had
ever seen” Then she sobered. Tristan could see it all fall into
place for her like so many tumblers on a lock. In a moment
she had it.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I understand now what Mrs.
Smallwood meant about not letting any of the ladies languish. You seduced them for information.”

Tristan winced. It sounded so much worse when she said
it, boiling it down to the least common denominator. “It
wasn’t quite as crass as all that, Bella. In most cases, the
women seduced me. The Crown merely put me in the path
of these women who were either involved in treasonous acts,
or their husbands or lovers were.”

“Mrs. Smallwood told no lies then?” Isabella surmised.
She stood up, brushing her skirts.

Tristan rose immediately. “Bella, let me explain. In many
cases it was nothing more than flirting, some kissing in the
dark.” Good lord, that came out all wrong. Tristan cringed
under the incredulous stare Bella speared him with. “It was
all for king and country!” That sounded even worse. He knew he should stop talking but he couldn’t halt the words
that flooded from his mouth. A long-held dam had burst.

“What was Ito do, Bella? I had a chance to do something
useful with my life. What else was there for me? You were
married to another and from all reports, enjoying life as
Lady Westbrooke. I had to find a way to go on. Serving my
king seemed as good a choice as any.”

“I was Lady Westbrooke because you told me to be! I
married him because you would not have it otherwise. You
spoke of honor and loyalty the day I came to you and I
believed you!” Isabella shouted.

“What would you have had me do? Whisk you off to the
Americas and leave all we knew behind us?”

“You could have asked”

“It would have been pointless. I saw the moment you
made your decision. When you heard about your family’s
finances, you let me go. I could see it in your face. If you had
kissed me one last time, Bella, given me some indication
there was hope. Instead, you walked out the door to embrace
your duty. I did the best I could to embrace mine. One kiss,
Bella, and I would have moved heaven and earth for you”

Isabella laughed bitterly. “I long thought I’d sent you to
your death. Now, I hear that my worries were unfounded.
You were throwing parties and wooing women.”

Tristan was defensive for a moment. “I was in plenty of
danger, Bella. I still am. Mostly, I am in danger of losing
you. I was a covert agent and my last mission was jeopardized. The man who killed my contact is still afoot and determined to have his revenge for my role in keeping Napoleon
on Elba. I have been foolish by letting my feelings for you
be known. I fear that he will try to get to me through you.”

Isabella’s expression soften. “I’m sorry. I should not have
said what I did. You’ve never shirked your duty, whatever
you saw that duty as being.” She sighed and reached for his
hand, tracing the scar with her finger tip. The anger between
them faded. “You told me the truth. I should have reacted
better. No wonder you didn’t want to tell me” She looked up into his face. “How did we get to this, Tristan? You went
away to save me and I married another to save you”

Tristan stepped close. “I should have asked you to run
away and you should have kissed me. We’ve been at cross
purposes, my love.” He drew her into the circle of his arms
and embraced her. The balance between them was restored
and perhaps even more than restored. “Does this mean
you’ll consider my proposal? I can’t erase the rumors
Beatrix started. They are true although exceedingly exaggerated. I can’t tell anyone my true purpose. No one can
know, Isabella. After this assignment, I’ll simply be
Viscount Gresham. I’ve told you the truth” When Isabella
nodded her consent, he tipped her chin up and continued in
a more playful vein.

“I’ve told you my secret. Now, you tell me yours or else
I’ll have a bit of blackmail to urge you to the altar with.”

Isabella looked at him quizzically. “Whatever are you
talking about?”

Tristan reached into a pocket. “I’m talking about a black
glove a secret admirer left.” He dangled the glove in front
of her.

“Left? You stole it.” Isabella flushed with embarrassment.
“When did you know it was me? I thought I’d disguised
myself quite well.”

Tristan smiled. “It wasn’t until the second meeting. You
couldn’t quite cover up your scent of roses and you used a
gesture that you’d used with me down at the duck pond.”

“I wanted answers and since none were forthcoming from
you, I decided to try and get them another way,” Isabella
confessed. “It was your undoing though. I could hardly
countenance the rakish man who met with me. He was so
different than the friend who humbly begged me to help him
find a wife.”

“I only took Alain’s suggestion that you help me find a
wife so that I had an excuse to be in your company. It’s you
I’ve wanted all along, Bella.” Tristan bent down to retrieve
his coat and give it a quick brush with his hand. “Come along, it’s getting too dark to be out here and dinner should
be ready by now.”

Hands linked, they strolled back to the manor, silently
enjoying the quiet evening descending around them.

Tristan’s prediction was correct. They had two weeks of
idyllic peace. They had their routine. They rode in the mornings and spent time in the stables acquainting themselves
with the few horses still there. In the afternoons, Isabella
went over household accounts and talked with the housekeeper about preparations for the house party. Tristan looked
over estate business and rode out to see his tenants. In the
evenings they played cards or reminisced over old times at
Summer Hill.

For Isabella, this was a glorious time suspended from reality. Tristan loved her; she had her answers to the myriad of
riddles surrounding him. She would have to come to grips
with the scandal. Tristan could not dispute the rumors without
exposing himself as an agent and even then, the kernels of
truth embedded in the rumors would only make arguing them
worse. The important thing was that she was now free to love
him. He had trusted her with the truth. She would trust him
with her heart. She was beginning to realize she’d wagered
more than a horse on Valentine’s day. She’d bet her very soul.

As the days wore on, Tristan began to believe he could
persuade her, that Isabella could come to terms with his past
and his motivations. The Isabella who dressed in his mother’s old gowns and rode recklessly with her hair down loved
him. He was sure of it. At some point, who he’d been and
who he’d become had ceased to be important to her. All that
mattered was who he was now. Tristan’s heart soared. Joy
was within his grasp. There were still some things to tell her,
but they could wait until the intrigue of the house party was
put to rest and they could get on with their life together.

The day of the house party dawned bright and clear for the
end of March. Last minute preparations for the guests who would arrive late in the afternoon kept Isabella running pillar
to post until the first carriage wheels were heard crunching on
the gravel drive. She preferred it that way, otherwise she’d
think too much about the impending events. If all went well
and the informant was caught, she could look forward to having her betrothal to Tristan announced at the hunt ball. She
dared not think about the consequences of not catching the informant and what that would imply. Just as she dared not ponder the news Alain had brought when he arrived earlier. Avery
Driscoll had asked permission to seek her hand in marriage.

As luck would have it, Beatrix Smallwood was among the
first to arrive. “Gresham! I am so glad to see you” Her
unmistakable voice rang out as she exited gracefully from
her traveling coach.

Isabella noted the guarded expression that came over
Tristan’s face. She had not been invited and clearly Tristan
had not expected her attendance. She’d ridden down with the
earl of Middleton, whom Isabella had invited in hopes that
he’d bring Hellion along with him.

Tristan performed his duties as best he could. “Lady
Westbrooke, you recall Mrs. Smallwood. Mrs. Smallwood,
Lady Westbrooke is acting as hostess for me”