A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) (6 page)

“My sister doesn’t have a reasonable bone in her body.”

Michael looked back and forth between the two men, trying to grasp the connections. “You’re married to Lord Rathbourne’s sister?”

“Yes, and Cord is married to your sister. Cozy, isn’t it?”

And, struck by their mutual bonds and fueled by the brandy, the men chuckled together—a tentative sense of camaraderie.

When the door opened, all three men jumped to their feet. Michael found it difficult to control his laughter. Exhaustion and brandy might not be the best combination.

A giant of a man, broad-faced, with longish black hair and piercing eyes, stood at the door. “What is so humorous?”

Ashworth said, “These men were cowering because they thought Lady Henrietta had come to give them hell.”

Examining the stranger’s fierce face, Michael tried to remember where they had met.

“Glad to have you back on British soil.” A wide grin spread across the man’s face. He crossed the room and slapped Michael on the back. “You gave me a hell of scare in Paris.”

Michael shook his head in disbelief and pointed. “You’re the man who was hiding behind the tree.”

The giant’s thick eyebrows slashed together. “It’s called ‘covert operations.’”

“It must have been one hell of a big tree,” Ashworth added irreverently.

“If you were on our side, why in the hell did you chase my man and me out of France?” Michael asked.

“I wasn’t after you. I was guarding you. I left a false trail for Fouché and Napoleon’s men to give you time to make your getaway.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“When you were playing a nun?” the amused man asked.

“Then, sir, I’m in your debt.” Michael offered his hand. “As you already know. I’m Kendal.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Brinsley, at your service.”

“Brinsley has shared your daring escape dressed as nuns, but how did you end up wearing religious garb?” Ashworth inquired.

Rathbourne moaned aloud. Obviously his brother-in-law didn’t appreciate how sticky the situation had become in France.

“Both Fouché and Napoleon’s men were after us,” Michael said.

“After you stole the French code book from Le Chiffre, which wasn’t included in your assignment,” Rathbourne added.

“I wasn’t planning on stealing the book, but as you already know, I was shot returning home.”

“Yes, ruined your cover, forcing Fouché and Napoleon to come after you. Then you almost got your sister killed by sending the damn code book to her.” Rathbourne’s sharp voice matched his harsh stare.

Michael jumped out of his chair. “Who tried to kill Hen?”

Rathbourne gestured for Michael to sit back down. “I’ll explain later.”

Michael stared at Rathbourne’s implacable expression. He refused to believe Rathbourne’s hyperbole that his sister had been in danger. This was England, not France. To keep the peace with Rathbourne, Michael kept quiet, but he was growing tired of his brother-in-law’s insinuations about his competency. Henrietta would tell him everything and wouldn’t be judgmental like her husband. After all, Hen had never held his escapades against him.

“Look on the bright side, Cord. You rescued Lady Henrietta, gaining her trust so that she was willing to marry you. I would say it all ended well.”

Cord leaned back in his chair, his face relaxing in pleasurable memories. Michael didn’t want to see the face of a satisfied male reflecting on his sister.

Ashworth drank from his glass. “Now that we’ve put all that behind us, please explain your disguise as nuns. I’ve been in many disguises undercover, but never anything as intriguing as a nun.”

Brinsley effortlessly lifted a heavy mahogany chair that stood in front of the fireplace and placed it next to Ashworth. “Yes, do tell how you got the nuns to cooperate.” Brinsley ambled to the side table and poured himself a glass of brandy. Clearly he was part of the inner circle. “I wanted to go the nunnery and ask them why they assisted you, but with both Fouché’s and Napoleon’s men watching the convent, I couldn’t risk it.”

“Fouché’s men followed Denby from our home. He escaped by hiding behind a statue of the Blessed Virgin in Notre Dame Cathedral. Mother Therese came to his rescue. In exchange for their wimples and dresses, we had to agree to escort a boy, Pierre, out of France.”

“What happened to the lad who was with you?” Brinsley’s enormous hands held the brandy glass to his mouth.

“It turns out that the lad wasn’t a lad, but Mademoiselle Gabrielle escaping the clutches of Napoleon.”

“The boy was not a boy?” Brinsley took a big swallow of his brandy. “You really do get into the most interesting situations.”

“Why is Napoleon after this young woman?” Ash asked.

“He wants to marry her off to his brother and keep her fortune for his war coffers.”

“Well, then, it was a good thing you got her away from France,” Brinsley said. “But what of her family?”

“Very tragic. Her parents were guillotined during the Reign of Terror.”

“An orphan with a large inheritance?” Brinsley asked. “I’m glad I assisted her escape.”

“The Sisters sent Gabby to join her brother in England.”

“Then her brother will protect her from the fortune seekers in England.” Brinsley reclined back in his chair.

Rathbourne cleared his throat. “Unfortunately her brother was the former Comte De Valmont.”

“Valmont’s sister?” Ash sat up straight. “This is the first we’ve heard that he had a sister.”

“I was aware of a sister, but it was assumed she died in the Revolution,” Rathbourne said.

“He hid his sister in a convent,” Michael added.

“Valmont, the French spy?” Brinsley asked.

“Yes, the one who was shot by an unidentified assassin,” Ash added.

“Gabby knows nothing about her brother’s activities in England. She is an innocent. And I will honor my promise to Mother Therese to help her get situated in England,” Michael said.

“How can we be sure?” Brinsley asked.

“We cannot assume. We’ll have to keep her under surveillance,” Ashworth said.

Michael watched all three men nod in agreement.

“For God’s sake, she’s been in a convent. She’s not a spy.”

“He does have a good point.” Ashworth looked at Rathbourne and shrugged his shoulders. “I think we’ve been in this spy business too long, Cord. We suspect everyone.”

“When it comes to the secrecy of my wife’s work, I will not take any risks. Mademoiselle De Valmont can’t stay in this house.”

Discovery of Hen and his secret work could cost British lives. Their work as code breakers needed to be carefully guarded. He took a big gulp of his brandy. What a conundrum. Rathbourne’s concerns about Gabby were legitimate. But his brother-in-law didn’t know Gabby like Michael did. She was not a mastermind spy. “She is going to be devastated to learn about her brother. She knows no one else in England.”

“My wife is very savvy about guarding the secrecy of her work, but I worry more about Charles letting something slip.” Rathbourne rubbed his jaw with one finger. “His discretion is questionable.”

Michael sat up. “Be careful what you say about my uncle.”

Rathbourne gave him a compassionate look. “Your uncle has changed. Once you see him again, you’ll understand. I mean no disrespect to the old gentleman.”

Michael hated to admit that Rathbourne was correct about Uncle Charles’s lack of discretion with the change in his mental status.

“She’ll move in with Ash and Gwyneth. Ash can keep an eye on her,” Rathbourne announced.

Ash laughed. “You’re not worried about my wife’s safety? She is your sister.”

Michael protested. “My God, she is a twenty-two-year-old woman, not some French assassin.”

“What say you, Ash?” Rathbourne looked at his friend. “This will give us a perfect chance to discover if she has been sent here by Talleyrand, her brother’s handler.”

“This is ridiculous. She is escaping France. The nuns brought her to my home in Paris and asked me to help her escape. She’s not working for anyone,” Michael protested.

Rathbourne shrugged his shoulder. “Then it won’t be a problem if she stays with Ash.”

“Gwyneth will be delighted to have the mademoiselle stay with us. I know Gwyneth misses all the activity of the Rathbourne household.”

“I would also like to ask my Aunt Euphemia to stay with you as an added precaution,” Rathbourne added.

A strange, combustible mix of outrage by Rathbourne’s overbearing plans and fear for Gabby left Michael taut with emotion. “Gabby will not be treated like a traitor because her brother was a spy. She has done nothing wrong.”

“My God, man. Have you considered that her life might be in danger? Napoleon wants her back in France. You don’t think he’ll give up a fortune that easily? He probably has men looking for her in London at this very moment,” Rathbourne said.

Michael hadn’t had time to consider the possibility, having been hell-bent in getting them all out of France. “You really think that Napoleon would come after her here?”

“I think Cord has a valid point. What prevents Napoleon from kidnapping her in England?” Ashworth asked.

Rathbourne stood, dismissing them. “Tomorrow she’ll be moved to Ashworth House. Tonight she can rest before learning of her brother’s demise.”

Michael’s gut churned with unfamiliar feelings of protectiveness and tenderness. In her short life, Gabby had suffered and now she was left alone. And she wasn’t safe, not even in England. He’d do anything to protect her. Unfortunately, he couldn’t protect her from the trauma of tomorrow’s terrible news.

Chapter Eight

The next afternoon Michael pulled his horses to a halt in the circular driveway at Rathbourne House. Still unable to sit comfortably in a saddle, he had driven his curricle. Inhaling the warm summer air filled with the scent of freshly mown grass revived him after his fitful sleep. After returning to an empty Kendal House last night, he wandered the halls and the bedrooms alone, lost in his own home. The task of informing Gabby of her brother’s demise weighed heavily on him.

“Hen.” He shouted across the sloping grass hill to his sister, bent over her garden on the south side of the house.

Henrietta stood and waved, her face relaxed and bright in what he hoped was anticipation of seeing him.

He picked up his pace, his mood lightened by the sight of his sister’s smiling face.

“Aren’t you industrious this morning?” he teased. His sister, like their mother, spent a great deal of time in the garden.

“Morning? It’s afternoon.” Henrietta pulled her gardening gloves off and dropped them into the basket at her feet before she hugged him. “I’ll stop hugging you soon. I promise.”

He gave his sister one last embrace before releasing her. “I’m sorry I’m so late, but I had a rough time of it last night. I couldn’t sleep, knowing…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m going to shatter Gabby’s happiness.”

“The poor woman. And I can’t help but feel a bit guilty for my happiness at your safe return.”

He understood Hen’s feelings. He also was glad to have returned home to his family—a joy that Gabby would never enjoy. “She has been so blasted happy, anticipating her reunion with her brother.”

“She is a very gentle woman.” Hen patted his arm. “Exactly as you said.”

“Not a French spy plotting to extract secrets from you?”

“With the war heating up, Cord is correct to be cautious. But after last night’s interactions, I don’t believe she is a risk to our work. And I like her.”

“I told Gabby that you would enjoy each other’s company.”

“If there weren’t new changes in our household, I’d insist on having her stay with us.”

Michael stared at his sister. “What is wrong? Your face is flushed. Did you exert yourself with the gardening? Shall I take you inside?”

“I’m fine, but let’s remain outside to talk. When the sun is shining, I want to enjoy the last moments before the rain resumes.”

Michael looked up at the clear blue sky. “I don’t think it will rain.”

“Oh, that would be delightful, except my plantings need the rain.”

Michael led his sister to a bench under a large old elm tree.

Hen sat down and leaned her head against the mighty tree trunk. She closed her eyes and raised her face upward, basking in the sun’s heat.

Michael sat down next to her. “Tell me how you came to marry that old stick-in-the-mud.”

Hen popped her eyes open and then covered her mouth to suppress her laughter. “He’s not old and not a stick-in-the-mud. He really isn’t always so…persnickety, but Gabby’s appearance did upset him. He is very protective of me and our work.”

Michael chuckled out loud. “Don’t let Rathbourne hear you call him ‘persnickety.’ Not exactly a manly description.”

“He is quite confident in his manly pursuits.” His sister kept her eyes down and fiddled with her dress. She finally looked up. “I didn’t mean what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” he joked.