The Pretender (50 page)

"Your Majesty," she said.

The Prince regarded her closely for a moment, and Simon could see that he liked what he saw. For a moment, Simon regretted bringing her to the attention of the Royal Rake.

Then the Prince returned his attention to Simon. "I smell a story here. Tell me."

So Simon told him, sparing himself nothing in the telling. From the first clue in the active bank account to the moment outside Parliament when he was forced to walk away, Simon laid out the facts for the Prince. He wanted the Prince to know precisely what Agatha had sacrificed for her country. Perhaps royal favor might protect her even should his petition be rejected.

The Prince listened attentively, apparently fascinated. Agatha listened as well, never losing her serene expression, although Simon did hear one tiny peep of protest when he claimed the blame for seducing her. He ignored it, for the last thing he wanted the lascivious Prince to learn of was Agatha's natural… ah, talents.

When Simon finished, all three were silent for a long moment. Then the Prince turned to Agatha.

"Well? Speak up, woman! You are a lady, born to marry a gentleman and have a life of ease. Will you give it all up for a bastard chimneysweep?"

"I'd prefer a life of adventure, Your Majesty."

"You're willing to marry this man?"

Agatha dimpled and tilted her head. "Yes, Your Majesty. Should I ever be asked."

The Prince turned to Simon. "You haven't asked the woman?" he inquired in surprise. "Have you no romance in your soul, man?"

"I didn't think it wise to marry in my position. Rather dangerous for her."

"Hmm. I know whereof you speak." He turned back to Agatha, clearly fascinated. "So this man, this lowborn chimneysweep without a single romantic bone in his body, this is the man you want?"

"I fear so, Your Majesty. I have never been known for my taste."

"You could do better."

Agatha smiled and batted her long lashes. "Yes, I know. However, inasmuch as Your Majesty is already romantically occupied, I'm afraid I must satisfy myself with second-best."

He liked that, Simon could see. The Prince flicked his gaze to Simon without moving his head. "She's a bit saucy. Are you sure you're man enough?"

"I ask myself that all the time."

The Prince sat back with a chuckle. "It's too amusing. The lady and the chimneysweep. I cannot resist. You're released, Simon Rain, on the condition that you marry this enchantress before she takes on my court."

He turned to his chamberlain with a gesture and nod. The man's eyes widened, but he handed his master a bejeweled sword that had lain alongside the throne.

"As entertaining as it might be to let the two of you tame London on your own terms, I should hate to see the offspring of such a loyal union feel shame in the face of any man. Therefore"—he gestured for Simon to come closer—"kneel, man! Now is not the time to become dense."

Agatha's heart nearly stopped with pride as Simon knelt before the Prince Regent.

"With the powers vested in me as Prince Regent of the British Empire, so on and so forth, I dub thee Sir Rain."

Simon tipped his head up. The Prince scarcely missed lopping off Simon's ear as he jerked the blade up just in time.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but my true name is Simon Montague Raines."

The Prince blinked. "You're French?"

"My mother was."

"Fine, fine, let's get on with it." He cleared his throat and intoned, "I dub thee Sir Simon Montague Raines."

Agatha had no idea that tears were streaming down her face until they dripped on her hands clasped before her.

"Now get thee to a bishop and marry the little madwoman before she gets herself into any more trouble." The Prince gave them a cynical smirk. "I don't think you'll find too many doors in Society closed to the two of you now. These silly fribbles do so love a romantic tale."

Agatha curtsied blindly to the Prince and took Simon's arm. She'd no memory of leaving the audience chamber at all but found herself in the outer hall with Simon and James.

"Oh, Simon!" She threw her arms about him, then kissed him deeply, surrounding guards be damned. Then she hit him in the shoulder with her fist. "I cannot believe you never told me your real name!"

He smiled gently at her and took both her hands in his. "It's not much of a name, but I shall share it with you if you like."

"Hmm. Lady Raines. Has a lovely lilt to it, don't you think? I accept."

"I should bloody well hope so!"

She rolled her eyes. "Unromantic to the end."

Slowly he drew both her gloves free of her hands. From his pocket he pulled a golden ring adorned with sapphires. Agatha held her breath as he slipped it onto her betrothal finger, then lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each knuckle, gazing deeply into her eyes all the while.

"Marry me, for I love you with everything that I am," he murmured huskily, "and I shall continue to love you until the end of time."

She froze for a moment, her heart expanding until it threatened to spring her ribs. Then she drew a fractured breath. "I take it back. You are romantic."

He grinned swiftly. She raised her fingers to trace the outline of his lips. "Someday, Sir Simon Montague Raines, I vow I will make that smile stay."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." She turned to her brother. "Jamie, I am getting married. Will you do me the honor of giving me away?"

James was grinning, unabashedly watching their intimate exchange. "I'd be delighted, Aggie."

Simon protested. "Wait a moment. I need James to be my best man."

Agatha tilted her head and pursed her lips. "Hmm. This is a pickle. What do you say we draw for him?"

Simon tucked her arm into his and walked her past the bemused guards, James following along. "Very well. But we'll use
my
cards and
I'll
deal."

She smiled sweetly up at her beloved chimneysweep-thief-spy-knight.

"Of course."

The wedding was small but lovely.

The stone chapel was very old, with a simple grace that can only be granted by the centuries. The double doors were left open during the ceremony and the perfume of ripening apples swept down from the orchards, causing all within to reflect upon the harvest, both from the laden trees and from the devotion of two people in love.

The sniffling servants of Carriage Square and Appleby stood to one side for the bride, and on the groom's side there ranged an outrageous mix of openly weeping thieves and assassins.

The groom was accompanied by his good friend, a handsome gentleman who shared the bonds of his work.

And the bride was given away by her brother.

Of course.

Sir Simon Raines sat by the fire in his newly redecorated house reading the day's news over an after-dinner brandy. The fire was delightful against the autumn chill, the news was good, and the brandy was sublime. Simon was extremely comfortable.

He was also extremely bored.

Oh, marriage suited him well, delightfully so. His life with Agatha was so happy that he waited constantly to wake up from his blissful dream. His beloved wife could never be the cause of his current state.

Simon's problem was that he had nothing to
do.
Never in his life had he not worked. From his first memories of pawing through refuse for cloth to sell to the ragman, Simon had earned his keep. Now he was the one being kept.

True, he stuck a hand in with the Liars now and then. But he dared not do too much, for he wanted Dalton to earn the same undying loyalty from the men that he himself had enjoyed. So he kept his presence to a minimum, only offering advice when asked.

Currently the men were fighting over who would foster the little orphaned chimneysweep. Robbie had been absorbed into the Liar's Club without a ripple from the outside world and by all accounts was enjoying the battle in full. Simon's money was on Kurt, with James a close second.

Simon stretched in his luxurious chair, took a sip of magnificent brandy, and contemplated his predicament.

"Hello, darling man." Agatha burst into the room, trailed by her maid, who was trying to gather up her mistress's bonnet and cloak. The fresh air of autumn tinged with coal smoke came with her. Suddenly Simon was no longer bored.

"Shopping again, damsel?"

"Heavens, no. I've just been to the hospital for a meeting." She shuddered theatrically. "After refurbishing every inch of this monastery of yours, I hope I shall never have to shop again."

"Good. I was afraid you were going to try to replace my carpet." Simon gestured in the general direction of their scandalously shared bedchamber, whereupon resided the jewel-toned rug from the house on Carriage Square. It most decidedly did not match the new decor. Simon didn't care one whit.

Agatha sniffed. "That's odd. I thought it was my carpet. I won it from you fair and square."

"You did not. You cheated."

Agatha handed the last of her outerwear to her maid. "Thank you, Nellie. Would you please ask Pearson for a pot of tea? It's gone very brisk out there. And I'm a bit hungry. Would you ask Sarah Cook to send in something light?"