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After the Spy Seduces Page 14
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For one delicious moment, he hadn’t cared about justice for Fitch. He’d simply wanted to make love to her.
“Carlisle!”
As he approached the front portico, General Morgan hurried across the lawn toward him from the stables, tugging off his gloves as he approached. He appeared haggard, with worry putting a crease between his brows and deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes.
“Any word?”
Kit grimly shook his head. After hours of searching, with no sign of the man’s daughter yet found and most likely none now to be uncovered, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he knew in his gut—that they would hear of her only when the kidnapper contacted them.
“They took her because of the diary, didn’t they?” Despite keeping his nerve through some of the bloodiest battles in English history, the general now couldn’t keep his voice from shaking.
“I believe so. Which means they won’t harm her.” To reassure him, Kit explained, keeping his voice low to prevent being overheard by any of the servants, “Most likely she’s still within a five-mile radius of the estate, and they’ll turn her over when we give them the diary.”
The general looked away to keep Kit from seeing any stray emotion on his face. “I’ll give them whatever they want to keep my family safe, and the bastards know it, too.” He looked at the ground, then voiced the thought that had surely been eating at him all afternoon. “Garrett told the French where to find the diary in my study. Did he tell them to come after Meri, as well?”
“No.” That much Kit was certain about. He quietly admitted the nagging suspicion that had been plaguing him since the night at the tavern, “I don’t think your son has anything to do with the diary.”
“But you said he was working with the French.”
“He is.” Nothing about how the French were attempting to gain possession of the diary implicated Garrett Morgan. Especially taking the child. “But if he wanted the French to have the diary, he could have simply given it to them. He wouldn’t have had to fake his own kidnapping to convince Diana to hand it over, or encourage the French to take Meri hostage for it.”
But that information brought the man little comfort. “If anything happens to—”
A shout went up from the dark field to the south. A horse galloped at breakneck speed through the shadows toward the house. As it drew nearer, its rider shouted again.
Paxton.
At the commotion, Diana rushed outside. She ran down the steps and stopped beside them in the glow of the oil lamp hanging over the door.
“What’s the matter?” She clutched at the general’s arm. “Is it Meri?”
Before her father could answer, Paxton’s horse slid to a stop beside them. He jumped to the ground and let his horse trot away toward the stable. He panted as hard as his mount as he strode up to them, a piece of paper clenched in his outstretched hand.
Diana frantically rushed forward. “Did you find Meri?”
The major gave a sharp shake of his head. “I found this.” He breathlessly reached past her to give the note to the general. “It was pinned to the door of one of the abandoned cottages down by the old stone bridge.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed on the man as he far too familiarly put his arm around Diana to comfort her. But her attention was riveted to the note, and she couldn’t seem to have cared less what Paxton did. While Kit wanted to break the man’s arm.
General Morgan stepped onto the porch and held the note up to the lamp to read it. “It’s what we thought.” He kept his face carefully inscrutable, most likely to prevent upsetting Diana any further. “They’ve taken Meri. They’re demanding the diary for her return.”
Diana paled, the whiteness of her face visible even in the shadows. “Then we give it to them. Now.”
“Not so fast,” Kit warned calmly. “We need to discuss this.”
She wheeled on him, a look of such burning betrayal on her face that it sucked the air from his lungs. “I want her back here—with me. I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen.”
“Diana,” Paxton assured her, the pointed use of her given name prickling at Kit, “we will get her back safely and as soon as possible.”
She stared defiantly at Kit, waiting for him to make the same promise. But he remained silent. No good could come of false hope.
“Carlisle’s correct,” her father told her quietly, aware of the servants who were walking back to the house now that darkness had made their search impossible. “Let’s go inside, take a moment to gather ourselves, and plan out what to do next. We don’t want to rush into this.”
“What’s to rush into?” Diana challenged in exasperation. “They have Meri and want the diary, so we give it to them and get her back. That’s all we need to worry about.”
“Not all.” Kit exchanged a concerned glance with the general. “Who took Meri and left that note? No one came on or off the property—”
“You think it was someone from Idlewild?” Paxton spat out in disbelief.
He knew it was. And based on the quality of the plain linen paper on which the printed message was written, a senior member of the household staff at that. The note that had been left for Diana before could have been arranged by anyone, right down to the stable boy. But not this one.
From the way she stepped back from Paxton and folded her arms protectively over her chest like a shield, she realized that, too.
“I think,” Kit answered, “that we have to consider all possibilities.”
Paxton snorted.
The general raised a hand to silence his aide. “Carlisle and I will discus this, and you will be consulted, major, when decisions have been made.”
At her father’s marked defense of him, Diana looked at Kit with a bewildered expression he couldn’t fathom. Was an understanding of his true identity finally beginning to seep into her?
“She will be safely returned,” Kit assured her, doing his damnedest to ignore the way Paxton remained at her side, his arm once more wrapping possessively around her shoulders. “They won’t harm her.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered, her eyes glistening in the lamplight.
“I do. They have nothing to gain in harming her and everything to lose,” he told her quietly, wishing he could reach for her, to console her in his arms. “Take comfort in that.”
Despite her nod, he knew she found no solace in his assurances.
“We’ll deliver the diary as instructed.” General Morgan said that to Kit, now ignoring the major completely. “And hope that the person who took her has enough honor to follow through with his promise to return her safely.”
Kit nodded grimly. “We need to go inside and discuss our options.”
“Options?” Paxton parroted, clearly irritated to be left out of the conversation, and to have the general trusting in Kit more than in him. “What do you know about situations like this? No offense, Carlisle, but I’m a decorated officer in His Majesty’s army.” His lips curled up territorially. “You’re a vicar in training.”
Kit smiled icily. He wanted to smash his fist into the man’s face.
General Morgan’s grim gaze never left Kit. “Paxton, go home.”
Infuriated at being dismissed, the major gestured at Kit. “You would accept his help over mine? I know every inch of Idlewild—”
“Go home, major.” The iciness of the order reverberated through the air.
Paxton clenched his jaw. “Yes, general.”
Kit took Diana’s arm and led her inside, aware the entire way of the major’s enraged gaze on his back.
Chapter 13
Diana sat stiffly on the settee in the drawing room, staring down into the untouched cup of tea that her father had insisted she take, although tea was the last thing she wanted at that moment. All she wanted was Meri back in her arms, safe, where she belonged. Alternating between flashes of numbness and blinding anguish, she forced herself to sit still, somehow choking back the scream building at the back of her
throat.
“The instructions in the note say to take the diary to Bradwell-on-Sea within two days’ time,” the general said quietly as he stood at the fireplace while Christopher paced the room. But Papa’s concerned gaze never left her, which only made the pain inside her grow even more intolerable. So did Christopher’s relentless pacing.
“That makes sense,” he replied between strides. “The French will want to leave English soil as soon as they have the diary. They won’t risk losing it again.” He halted and faced the general. “We will get Meri back unharmed. They’ll return her here as soon as word reaches the kidnappers that their operatives have the diary.”
Diana’s gaze darted up to him. “You mean—they won’t release her to us in Bradwell when we give them the diary?”
His eyes softened with sympathy. He was attempting to reassure her, but his somber expression only made dread pang hollowly in her chest. “Most likely, she’s still within five miles of Idlewild. And that’s exactly where they plan on keeping her until they get the diary.”
Suspicion pricked at the back of her knees. “How do you know that?”
“She’s a little girl with a big voice. They won’t risk that someone will see them carrying her away or that she’ll scream out and bring attention to them. Better to find a hiding place nearby and tuck her away there. And they certainly won’t risk taking her halfway across England for the exchange.”
“How do you know that?” she repeated, anger beginning to rise inside her and replace the fear. She leveled a hard look at him. “What do you know about things like this? Kidnappings, ransom notes, the French—you, of all people?
He didn’t move, not even a tensing of muscles. Not even to utter a single word of explanation or defense.
She slowly rose to her feet, unable to keep seated a heartbeat longer. “The major called you a vicar in training. He wasn’t far from wrong. You’ve been out of the army now—for what?—ten years? And Papa said you were under his command, which means you were part of the infantry. Not in any kind of espionage work.”
Her eyes locked onto his, but she couldn’t read anything in those dark blue depths. For once, the inscrutable mask he wore was impenetrable to her.
“So how do you know all these things?”
“Diana,” her father scolded, while Christopher said nothing to explain himself. “You need to trust him.”
“Trust him?” Fear and worry pulsed inside her. How on earth was she supposed to place her trust—and Meri’s life—into his hands? “A man who spends more time in gambling hells than in pursuing a productive living, who has never attained success at anything in his—”
“Carlisle is a colonel in His Majesty’s army and an agent for the Crown,” Papa interrupted, his own anger and frustration at the situation visible in the tired lines etched into his face. He grimaced, his mouth turning hard as he gazed past her at Christopher. “He’s one of the most lauded men in Whitehall.”
“A colonel?” Bewilderment shot through her. “But—but you said that he was a terrible soldier.”
“I was.” When she wheeled to face Christopher, he shrugged. “But they keep promoting me anyway.”
“Because you deserve it,” the general commented, seeming not at all pleased to be revealing these secrets. He nodded at Christopher and told her, “He’s a Home Office secret operative. Has been all these years, ever since he left my command.”
Christopher added with an uncomfortable smile that did nothing to ease the confusion spiking inside her, “Although I’d appreciate it a great deal if you didn’t tell anyone.”
“But that’s—that’s not…” The ground fell away beneath her, and she sank back down onto the settee before she slipped to the floor. Her brother Garrett, now Christopher Carlisle—was anything in her life the way she thought it to be?
“That’s not the scoundrel you assumed me to be?” he finished, his expression sobering. Despite the harsh accusations she’d just unleashed, there was no anger in him. Simply grudging acceptance. “That’s what I want the world to believe. My job is a lot easier if everyone thinks I’m inconsequential.”
She pressed her hand to her forehead as the room began to spin. Dear God, she was going to be sick!
As she pulled in deep, even breaths to calm herself, she struggled to sort through everything she thought she knew about him. She couldn’t reconcile what they were both telling her with the stories she’d heard about his behavior from his cousin Robert, the gossip she’d heard about him from behind flitting fans at society soirees, and what she’d seen of him over the years with her own eyes, including when he saved her life. And now, when he was helping to save Meri’s.
He began carefully, “I know it’s a bit of shock—”
A strangled laugh fell from her lips. Oh, he had no idea!
“—but you need to trust that I can help you with your sister.” He slowly approached her, then knelt down beside the settee, his troubled eyes fixed on hers. “I am very well trained when it comes to situations like this.” He rested his hand reassuringly on her knee, and his voice roughened as he promised, “I will bring her back to you.”
Holding her breath as his face blurred beneath her gathering tears, she nodded, unable to choke out any words.
“I’ll deliver the diary,” the general interrupted quietly. But his shoulders sagged, and at that moment, he looked older than she’d ever seen him. “I’ll take my saddle horse and leave at dawn for the coast.”
“You can’t,” Christopher countered grimly, setting the note onto the tea table in front of her. “They want Diana to deliver it.”
Her heart stuttered, so forcefully that she winced. Steeling herself, she took the note in her trembling hand and quickly read it. With every word, the fear and dread bubbling inside her only boiled harder.
“Of course.” She set down the note. But even as she whispered her agreement, she felt the blood drain from her face. “Whatever they want.”
“No.” Her father strode toward her. “Absolutely not.”
“They want me to deliver it, so I will deliver it. And Meri will be safely back here with you by the time I return.” She set down her tea before her shaking hand could spill it. Dear God, what she wanted was whisky! A bottle of the stuff, until she was numb to her soul.
“You are not leaving this farm,” the general ordered. “I will not let you put yourself into danger.”
Exasperation poured through her. “General, we don’t have a choice! They have Meredith.” Her voice quavered, although she couldn’t have said whether from fear or rage. “And I will do anything they ask of me to bring her back unharmed. I will not put her life at risk by not doing what they want.”
Unable to win the argument against her, her father turned toward Christopher. “But why ask for Diana? Why not me or one of the servants?”
“Not one of the servants because that would give away who’s been working with the French.” Pulling himself to his full height, Christopher took the note and read it again, frowning deeply as he scoured the message, as if hoping to find overlooked answers. “Not you because you’re a former soldier who knows how to fight and defend himself.” He grimly looked down at her. “But Diana is a small, young woman whom they can easily intimidate and overpower physically and who is willing to do anything to save her sister.”
“They don’t know me very well,” she reminded him, a tight smile curling at her lips. “I’m much fiercer than they give me credit for.” Ignoring the admiration shining in Christopher’s eyes at her declaration, she turned toward her father. “General, would you please fetch the diary? I’m leaving in the morning for Bradwell.”
For a long moment, her father stood still, unmoving. Then he finally acquiesced. “All right.” His expression softened on her with love. And sympathy. “But you need to tell Carlisle the truth. It’s time.”
The electric jolt that shot through her came so fiercely that she flinched.
“I can’t,” she whispered pleadingly,
climbing to her feet because it was impossible to sit still. She blinked hard to clear her eyes of the stinging tears that instantly heated them. “You know that.”
“He’s putting himself in danger to help us. He deserves to know.” He came forward and took her shoulders in his hands, then placed a reassuring kiss to her forehead to temper his order. “Tell him, sergeant.”
But the old, endearing nickname only constricted her chest until she couldn’t breathe.
“You can trust him with your life.” He took her chin and tilted up her face, until she couldn’t ignore what he was asking of her. But, oh God, how much panic swirled inside her at the idea! Her hand pressed against her belly as her stomach pitched sickeningly. “And with Meri’s.”
Then he left the room and closed the door, sealing her inside with Christopher.
Silence stretched between them, and she kept her gaze firmly pinned to the carpet in front of her. But she could feel the heat of his gaze, patiently waiting for the explanation she’d never wanted to give him.
“You don’t have to do this, Diana. We’ll find another way.” His deep voice twined through her as he came up slowly behind her and took her upper arms in his hands. “I know how hard this is for you. I’d do anything to protect my own brother. But you don’t need to risk your life like this for your sister.”
“Yes, I do,” she breathed out. “Because she isn’t my sister.” A tear finally broke free and slid down her cheek. “Meri’s my child.”
Chapter 14
Kit froze. He couldn’t have possibly heard correctly. Her…child?
But when she drew in a shaking breath and turned to face him, the raw anguish in her blue eyes told him the truth.
Good God. He’d had no idea…
“That’s what the general meant.” She lowered her gaze to his chest and fixed it there, as if afraid to look him directly in the eyes for fear of what accusations she might see. “What he wanted me to tell you.” Her voice emerged so softly from her trembling lips that he had to lean in closer to hear her. “Meri is my daughter.”