To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) (15 page)

“Thank you, Lance, but I will be all right.” She glanced about her sparse sanctuary, given most of her belongings had been moved to the house on Farm Street, and revisited treasured recollections.

“Then let us join our guests and your groom, as Ross appears on the verge of swooning.” Oh so handsome as he favored her with his characteristic boyish smile, Lance chuckled. “And I know exactly how he feels.”

For the last time, she descended the grand staircase as Lady Elaine Prescott. When next she emerged from the drawing room, she would be Mrs. Ross Logan. On the thought, she clutched Lance’s arm, and he gazed at her and winked. A meager handful of steps brought her to her soon-to-be husband’s side, and bathed in the warmth from the hearth, with her extended relations as witnesses, she took her vows during the small and private affair, with the full compliment of the Brethren, attached and single, the wives, and the dowagers, in attendance.

Just before the vicar from St. George’s completed the nuptials, Ross pledged, “My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”

Staid to that point, Elaine fought happy tears, as her secret agent was well and truly hers. Resplendent in black breeches, highly polished Hessians, a crisp white cravat tied in a precise mathematical, a dark green waistcoat, and a coat of grey Bath superfine, her new husband grasped her at the waist and sealed their union with the sweetest kiss.

“How are you, Mrs. Logan?” Ross arched a brow when she squealed with delight.

“Oh, I love the sound of that.” As was her habit, she pinched herself, because she married him countless times in her dreams, only to wake to monumental disappointment. “Now, I am famished, as I was too nervous to break my fast.”

“Then let us savor our wedding feast, my lady wife.” His term of endearment gave her delicious shivers and went far to soothe her frayed nerves and persistent reservations.

The celebratory meal consisted of Bath buns with black butter, gooseberry cheese, brown onion soup, salamongundy, roasted potatoes, green peas, and Chateaubriand, cooked to perfection. When a footman rolled in the trolley bearing a traditional, single-tiered, double frosted Raffald wedding cake, Banks opened a bottle of champagne.

At the head of the table, Admiral Douglas stood with glass in hand. “It is on these joyous occasions that I am reminded of the importance of family relationships and the love that binds us.” As the venerable naval legend studied his wife, his expression softened. “Almost thirty years ago, I was blessed with the good fortune to meet a woman who would forever change my life.” He paused for a series of boisterous concurrences. “Through times of prosperity and the evils of war, my Amanda has steadfastly guarded my heart and hearth, that I might do my duty. While I consider myself a strong man, with my lady at my side I am indomitable, so she claims. So to Ross and Elaine, I encourage you to approach your joined existence with honesty and humility. Trust me, Ross. You will need copious amounts of the latter to maintain your sanity.”

“You can say that again.” Everett snickered, as Trevor nodded.

“Never keep secrets, as your mate can function as your greatest supporter or your most lethal adversary, and never permit anyone to insert themselves between you, as your salvation often depends on your ability to project a united front, even in moments of strife. If you can manage that, you will know the same delight that has distinguished my own blessed union.” The admiral raised high the crystal flute. “Let us toast to Ross and his Elaine.”

After the meal ended, Elaine repaired to her chamber to change into a carriage dress of beige tweed, with a matching pelisse trimmed in ermine.

“Oh, I just had to come up and wish you luck.” Cara tucked a stray curl behind Elaine’s ear. “Remember, just relax, follow Ross’s lead, and everything will be fine.”

“I will try, but I am shaking, already.” And thus Elaine’s thoughts turned to the consummation, as she descended the grand staircase.

In the foyer, Ross shook hands with Lance. “Do not fear, as I will take care of her.” Then her husband—how that shocked her, glanced at her and flicked his fingers. “Are we ready?”

“As ever.” Resting her palm in the crook of his elbow, she departed her childhood home and did not look back.

A brief coach ride, whereupon her new spouse perched opposite her, brought Elaine to 25 Farm Street, in Mayfair. The red brick façade featured a double-door entrance framing, window trim, and cornices of Portland stone, in a refined and elegant design so indicative of its primary occupant, and she loved it the moment she saw it.

At the threshold, the stiff butler, aptly named Wodehouse, loomed at attention, and the staff stood in formation to greet Elaine. So she made her ancestors proud, doffed her outerwear and gloves, and did the pretty, but her heart beat a salvo in her chest.

“Thank you, everyone, for welcoming my bride. You are dismissed.” Ross traced the curve of her cheek and smiled. “Given the late hour, would you care to retire?”

“But I am not sleepy.” Nerves set in with a vengeance, and she bit her lip, as her mind raced. “We could take a brandy in your study.”

“If you wish,” he replied, with uncompromising patience.

All right. She delayed, so she could not quibble when he put up no fuss.

As was the case with the rest of the charming residence, the man’s domain featured appointments neither frivolous nor cheap, and the masculine décor of polished oak with leather inserts, and bereft of ornamentation or spontaneous pops of color, continued from the hall. Then and there, she decided to go shopping at her earliest convenience.

“Admiral Douglas made a lovely toast, do you agree?” A pair of high back chairs welcomed visitors to sit before the fire, and she eased into the plush seat.

“He did, and it shamed me.” Ross poured two glasses of the amber intoxicant and offered her a crystal balloon.

“How so?” A dark tremor of foreboding coursed her spine, but she told herself she made too much of his comment.

“Because I am not the man you think I am, and I should have explained part of my background prior to our nuptials.” After unbuttoning his coat, he untied his cravat, yanked free of the yard-length of linen, stood beside the hearth, and propped a hand on the mantel. “In the interest of honesty, as I will not start our union on a foundation of lies, I must confess I cannot consummate our vows tonight, if ever.”

#

How many wars were won or lost based on inaccurate or incomplete information? When it came to the game of hearts, Ross wagered everything on full disclosure and pledged to accept Elaine’s criticism without complaint. In truth, he deceived her, as he led her to believe he was capable of performing the responsibilities of a husband, when the harsh reality was he had been scarred beyond repair. Studying the flames that flickered in the fireplace, he braced for all manner of hellfire and damnation.

Instead, she simply responded with a one-word whisper. “Why?”

“Would that the answer were equally pedestrian, my dear.” In seconds, he opened the door to his memory, a staccato blast of brutal reflections assailed him, and he flinched. Closing his eyes, as if he could so easily shut out the pain, he faltered and drained his glass of liquid courage.

“Do not be afraid, Ross, as I am here.” How could she read him so well? “Just tell me what troubles you.”

What would he do if she rejected him? While he had endured unspeakable savagery as a member of the Counterintelligence Corps, he doubted his ability to brave her repudiation.

“Did you know I was but eight and ten when I entered the Corps?” And he posited a foolish buffoon.

“So young, but I am not surprised.” The exemplar in grace and deportment, she deserved so much more than half a husband. “You are anything if not dedicated to duty.”

“When I embarked on my service, I was but a naïve and provincial lad, aching to make my mark in this world but upholding a set of beliefs imparted by my father, God rest him.” And he should have heeded his sire’s warnings and never traded in espionage, as it exacted unforeseen costs both tangible and extract.

“Did your mother purchase a commission?” Elaine inquired, with cherubic affability.

“Yes.” He nodded. “She liquidated part of the estate, as my sister was but six and ten, father’s pension was insufficient, and we required steady income to survive.”

“Eileen sent me a copy of
The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy
, by Hannah Glasse, along with a solicitous note, apologizing that she could not attend the wedding.” How innocent she appeared as she studied him. Little did she know he was about to forever spoil her virtuous view of the world—and him. “I am sorry your mother was too ill to join us for our special day, but she invited us to visit, soon. But I digress. Pray, continue.”

“So I began my tenure as a spy, with no real sense of the occupation. For me, it was a game, one I played well for some four years, until I was paired with a new operative and sent on a daring and uniquely dangerous mission.” At that instant, he pressed a clenched fist to his mouth. “It was eighteen-o-four, and the West Indies Campaign dominated the Caribbean, but Napoleon’s usurpation of Switzerland focused the War Department’s efforts on Europe. I was dispatched to Spain, whereupon I was to journey to France, infiltrate the Parisian
beau monde
, and collect information.”

“I am in awe of you.” And her expression conveyed the sentiment, which damn near broke him, as she would sing another tune when he revealed his secret. “And what of your colleague? I should dearly love to meet him, as I imagine he has a great deal of stories to share.”

“Her name was Caridad.” The foreign designation fell from his lips as easily as if he welcomed an old friend, but the utterance cut him like the sharpest dagger.

“A woman?” With her mouth agape, Elaine toyed with the cameo at her throat.

“Indeed, Rebecca was not the first female to enlist in the Corps.” He recalled the day he met the elegant noblewoman and smiled. “Caridad Castillo was a vibrant, spirited Spaniard with an equally fervent dedication to duty, and she heralded a fledgling initiative that employed Spanish ladies to secure intelligence by any means necessary.”

“And you loved her.” At Elaine’s pronouncement, he met her stare.

“Yes, I did.” While he anticipated disapproval, she offered none. “She was three years my senior, but it mattered not in the grand scheme. I will not attempt to relay the details in their entirety, as we would be here a sennight. Rather, I will explain the end of our assignment.” He refilled his glass, as he needed a drink and the numbing effects of alcohol. “In some respects, what happened with Colin and Rebecca mirrored my experience, except Rebecca eluded capture. Enamored, Caridad and I grew careless, and we were taken prisoner by Boney’s
la Garde imperiale
.”

“How awful.” She hugged herself. “Did they harm you?”

“They harmed us both.” Hideous cries for mercy echoed in his ears, and he winced.

“Did they torture you?” That was the operative query.

“They tortured her. They beat her. They destroyed her hands with a hammer, in an attempt to make me talk, but I resisted, as I was trained.” Gripping the mantel for support, Ross gritted his teeth. “So they tried a different tactic with me.” The room seemed to spin out of control, and he gasped for air. “They humiliated me in front of Caridad.”

Furrowing her brow, Elaine cast an expression of utter confusion. “But—how?”

It was his moment of truth.

“They unmanned me.” He almost vomited. “They violated me and forced Caridad to watch.”

“But, I do not understand.” She blinked. “How is that possible—
oh
.”

Clutching her throat, she slid from the chair and strolled to a spot, face to face. Expecting pity and profuse demonstrations of sympathy, he was surprised to discover neither in her countenance, and the silence slayed him.

“Say something, please.” When she cupped his cheek, he covered her hand with his and pressed his lips to her palm. Then he waited for some sign of repugnance.

“I once called you the bravest man of my acquaintance, but I was wrong.” And with that, she plunged deep the knife in his chest. “But brave is too pale a word to convey the heights of my admiration or the breadth of your heroism, and I am so fortunate and humbled you took me to wife. Now I have only to endeavor to deserve you, for the rest of my life.”

Ross had composed a reply, and he had rehearsed it, at length. But in the heat of the exchange, his well-thought out speech eluded him. Instead, he pulled Elaine into his arms and hugged her. And kept hugging her.

Spearing her fingers through his hair, she sighed and rubbed his back, but she never pushed him away or posed polite remarks. No, not Elaine. She held him. In that simple gesture, Ross found comfort unlike any he had known. Was it possible? Could he love again?

“Are you so forgiving?” Nuzzling the gentle curve of her neck, he fought tears. “Are you not ashamed of me?”

“What is there to forgive? And I could never be ashamed of you.” She kissed his ear. “I hate war. I hate it. While I am so proud of your service, I am angry with those who wounded you. You, my cherished husband, are not to blame for what happened. You are strong and courageous, and I caution you not to let one act of unspeakable horror define you, as there is so much more to you than that.”

“You really believe in me that much?” Stunned by her unequivocal acceptance of what he deemed an unpardonable flaw in his character, Ross knew not how to proceed.

“Yes.” Shifting in his grasp, she framed his face and smiled. “I have always had faith in you, and I understand why you cannot come to me, tonight. We can wait, as long as I know you will eventually make me your wife, not only on paper but also in deed.”

The prospect well nigh terrified him, and he swallowed hard. “I will try.”