A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) (29 page)

Gwyneth’s champagne glass fell out of her hand and crashed to the floor. There were gasps while everyone in the ballroom turned to the clatter.

“Everything is going black. It must be in the champagne.” Gwyneth collapsed, folding into a heap. Gabby couldn’t hold up the larger woman who was now limp against her. Gwyneth slid to the floor in a silken muddle.

Gabby bent over her when Ash appeared suddenly and knelt down next to his wife, feeling for her pulse. Gabby was shocked by his appearance since he wasn’t supposed to be attending the ball.

Ash cradled his wife’s head with his arm. “My God, Gwyneth. Wake up.”

Gabby looked for Michael, who stood in a group of gentlemen. A man she didn’t know grabbed Michael’s arm, preventing him from coming to her. Michael shook his head but remained on the other side of the ballroom.

Aunt Euphemia rushed over to Gwyneth. “Thank God, she’s breathing.” Aunt Euphemia briskly rubbed Gwyneth’s hands. “Let’s get her away from this room.”

Aunt Euphemia looked up at Gabby. “What happened?”

“We were talking and sipping the champagne when Gwyneth grabbed her head and said the room was spinning. I started to take her to the ladies’ retiring room, and she collapsed.” Gabby’s knees wobbled at the awful sight of vibrant Gwyneth, pale and listless, lying in her husband’s arms. Was her friend poisoned? Gabby looked at her half-drunk champagne glass.

“Who gave you the champagne?” Aunt Euphemia voice was sharp.

“Lord Weston.”

“I’m going to take him apart piece by piece.” Ash’s quiet threat was made more menacing by the fierce, violent look on his face.

“Not now. Gwyneth needs you. Cord will take care of him. We need to empty Gwyneth’s stomach of the champagne.”

Ash picked Gwyneth into his arms. She was so still, the pallor of her skin in sharp contrast to her black hair, dangling over Ash’s arm.

“Gabby, are you feeling any symptoms?” Aunt Euphemia asked.

Jolts of fear crashed through her, making her unsteady. “No, I feel fine.” The idea that Gwyneth had drunk the champagne that must have been meant for Gabby was too awful to consider. The tremors started in her hands and then moved to her legs before taking over her entire body. She shook uncontrollably.

Aunt Euphemia followed Ash. The crowd parted; the music had stopped and the hushed undertones echoed in Gabby’s head. She started to follow them when Lord Weston took her elbow and whispered down close to her ear. “Come with me, if you want Lady Gwyneth to live.”

He held her elbow tightly, leading her toward the French doors opening to the garden. “I will take you out for a breath of fresh air after the excitement. Fan yourself.”

“Outside?” She couldn’t stop the shaking and it took all her effort to prevent her teeth from chattering.

“There is someone who wants to see you.”

“No, he wants to kill me. Please don’t do this.”

“He will not harm you.” Lord Weston kept a tight grip on her elbow.

“Why would you do this? You don’t even know me.” Gabby started to feel the hysteria mounting and the overwhelming panic to run. Where was Michael? Why wasn’t he stopping Lord Weston?

“Who hired you?” Gabby twisted to look at him.

He led her down the gravel path to the classic Greek grotto overlooking the extensive gardens of the estate.

His gentleman’s façade gone, he spoke in a mocking tone filled with amusement. “You’re too innocent to understand men’s appetites.”

Gabby couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t get air into her lungs. She was alone in the dark garden with Weston, being led away from the party. Were the men following her? Was Michael behind her, waiting for the opportunity to grab the killer? She tried to reassure herself that this was the plan, was what she’d wanted. But her heart pounded against her chest so loudly that she could hear nothing else.

She pulled free of Lord Weston’s arm, refusing to be forced into the role of a victim, and climbed the steps to the hidden grotto. The grotto was surrounded by shrubs and trees on three sides creating the illusion of being in the midst of a forest, with sweeping views of rolling green hills sloping down to a river.

A willowy, lean man with blond curls similar to her own stood at the back of the grotto waiting. The way he jutted his hip to one side in an arrogant fashion was familiar. With only lanterns illuminating the grotto, the light must be playing tricks on her vision. For a minute she thought… No, it couldn’t be possible. She stopped and stared.

“Gabrielle, my dear.”

No, this couldn’t be. Her brother was dead. The killer was playing a trick on her, trying to confuse her. But that voice, with the same arrogant tone, was the voice of Lucien.

She stood frozen. “Lucien?” Her whisper resounded in the grotto. “Is it really you?”

“Come here, my dear.” He opened his arms. “Oh, little one, it is good to see my sister.”

And she ran to him as if in a dream of the past, when he was her laughing, happy older brother. He moved toward her, favoring his left leg, and wrapped her in his strong arms, squeezing her tightly. “This will all be over in a minute.”

“What will be over? And why must we meet here in such a mysterious fashion?”

“Gabrielle, get behind me and don’t move until I say you can,” Lucien commanded in a sharp voice.

“You can come out, Anatole.” Lucien pulled out a gun that was tucked into the back of his breeches.

Gabby peeked around Lucien’s back. A heavyset man with rough, broad features, and with a pistol in his hand, stepped out from one side of the grotto. “You bastard, Valmont. I thought it was you on the scaffolding. You were supposed to die.”

“I was left for dead after you shot me in the back, you coward.”

This was the man who had tried to kill her last night. He had shot her brother? Nothing made sense. Someone wanted to wipe out the Valmonts.

“For trying to kill my sister, you will suffer death a hundred times over, just as I did, lying in a coma, wanting to die.”

Anatole shrugged insolently as if the threat against him was of no consequence. “But before you shoot me, I’ll get one shot off. And once you’re gone…I will finish my mission.”

Anatole was going to shoot Lucien and then kill her. Should she step out and prevent him from shooting Lucien? Where was Michael? And all the men guarding her?

Lucien stiffened and widened his stance, his pistol directly pointed at the man. “You assume you’ll be able to hit your mark when you’ve already failed too many times to count. What an assassin you’ve turned out to be.” Lucien laughed, a dark black laugh that sent chills down Gabby’s spine. “If you survive today, Fouché will rid himself of his inept assassin.”

Anatole stepped closer to Lucien. “You always were a cool bastard.”

“Before I kill you, tell me what other subversive plots Fouché is behind against Talleyrand. This newest plot against the king smells of Fouché’s treason.”

“Go to hell.”

“So that is a yes?”

Anatole started to raise his gun when Gabby heard Michael’s voice.

“Gabby.”

Oh no, Anatole would kill Michael. Gabby screamed, “He’s got a gun.”

Anatole turned halfway toward Michael. A blast rang out. Lucien had fired at Anatole, hitting the man in the back. Lucien muttered as the man fell forward to the ground. “A coward deserves to die a coward’s death.”

Gabby ran out from behind Lucien to go to Michael, but Lucien grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to his side. “Wait. Anatole still has his gun.”

Anatole lay on the floor of the grotto, writhing and moaning while his life blood poured out, saturating the cold, hard floor.

Michael stepped over to Anatole and kicked the gun out of his hand, keeping his gun pointed at Lucien.

“Release her or I’ll shoot you,” Michael commanded.

“Michael, stop. He’s my brother.”

“Your brother is dead,” Michael instructed her as if she had forgotten.

Gabby tried to pry loose to go to Michael, but Lucien kept his arm tightly around her shoulder.

Gabby smiled at Michael. “It seems not. Michael, meet my brother Monsieur Lucien de Valmont.”

Lucien tucked his sister next to his side. “I don’t like him.”

For some inexplicable reason, probably because it was exactly like her brother to make a quick and contrary judgement, Gabby started to laugh and couldn’t stop. The overwhelming fears, the violence, and the relief combusted together into joyous, almost hysterical laughter.

Lucien looked down at her in a mixture of disbelief and shock. “This has been too much for you.”

Gabby hugged her brother and broke free of his hold. “I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

And then she walked into Michael’s waiting arms. She turned back toward Lucien. “You will have to like him. I love him. And plan to marry him.”

Lucien said in his typical condescending voice, “But he’s English.”

In the meantime, men stormed the grotto, with Lord Rathbourne leading the way. “Valmont?”

Lucien tucked his gun into his breeches and sauntered nonchalantly toward Rathbourne.

“It took your men long enough to find us. I was waiting for you to distract Anatole so I could shoot him. But this impetuous fool came instead.” Lucien nodded toward Michael.

“We had you covered and were waiting to see if he would give up any more useful information. But one gentleman, like his sister, rushes into situations against orders, obviously risking all for love.” Rathbourne smiled at Gabby.

Bending over the fallen Anatole, Rathbourne asked Lucien. “Who is he?”

“Anatole.”

“Anatole Roache? Fouché’s assassin?” Rathbourne stared at the bleeding man. “Get the man a doctor.” Like her brother, Rathbourne was in control of the situation and the men around him.

“Why did Fouché want you and your sister killed?” Rathbourne demanded.

“Anatole was to kill me to prevent Napoleon from discovering that Fouché was blackmailing me to do his dirty work in England. Fouché threated to kill Gabrielle if I didn’t cooperate.”

Gabby wanted to rush back to her brother when she heard that her brother had been shot protecting her. Michael tightened his hold, tucking her next to his side.

“I had her hidden in a convent. But I knew it wouldn’t be long before Fouché found her. I asked Mother Therese to get her out of France.”

“But you told me that I was there to be out of the reach of Napoleon,” Gabby said.

“I did hide you from Napoleon, but Fouché was the more immediate and deadly threat.”

“Lucien, it was Michael who got me out of France.” Gabby smiled at her brother’s scowl.

Lucien glared at Michael while speaking to Gabby. “We will discuss Kendal later.”

Michael released Gabby and walked toward her brother. “I will call on you tomorrow to discuss Gabby and my wedding plans, Monsieur de Valmont.”

“But, Michael.” Gabby followed him.

“Your brother only cares about your happiness. And I will convince him that there is no one who will make you happier.”

Gabby couldn’t stop a wide grin of love spreading across her face. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Michael winked at Gabby then turned to her brother. “Will they stop coming after Gabby?”

“When I make a deal with Talleyrand to spy for him in exchange for my sister’s safety and marriage of my choice.” Lucien glared back at Michael.

After seeing to the body of the assassin, Rathbourne came and stood with the group. “I will look forward to working with you, Valmont, instead of against you.” Rathbourne shook Lucien’s hand. “By surviving, you have made your sister very happy. And your skills as a double agent will help us immensely.”

“But what about Gwyneth?” Gabby interrupted having forgot about her dear friend in the shocking appearance of her brother. “Is she all right? Did they get the poison out of her system?”

“She wasn’t poisoned. And she is sleeping soundly. Weston put a sleeping draught in her champagne to divert our attention. We’ve got Weston. But I have a feeling Weston wasn’t clever enough to come up with the classic spy trick of divert and distract.” Rathbourne tilted his head toward Lucien.

Lucien shrugged his shoulders. “Please tell your sister she owes me after the chase she gave me with her drawn pistol at the opera house.”

Rathbourne grimaced. “She is going to be mad as a hornet to have missed out on all the excitement.”

“Maybe Ashworth should consider sedating his wife more often.” Lucien chuckled.

Gabby was outraged at Lucien’s cavalier attitude. “Lucien, what a terrible thing to say. She has been a wonderful friend to me, and you are going to like her a lot.”

“Dearest sister, although Rathbourne and I’ve come to an agreement that is mutually beneficial, you and I will not be socializing with them.” Lucien emphasized the “them” to make clear how distasteful he found the English.

“But dearest brother, Lord Rathbourne is married to my fiancée’s sister. He and Lady Gwyneth will be family.”

Lucien growled, “Another reason I’ll never agree to this wedding.”