It Takes a Spy...: A Secrets and Seduction book (16 page)

Devin stood. “Let’s begin making our goodbyes.” He glanced at the crowded room. “It’s a good thing we’re starting now. This might take a while.”

First they spoke to her parents. Lord Babbage was stoic, but it was obvious that Lady Babbage was close to tears. She blotted the edge of her eye with a handkerchief and excused herself from the room.

Lord Babbage cleared his throat, but wouldn’t meet Devin’s eyes. “I know you’ll no longer accept the dowry money.” His gaze flickered toward Devin, but then he glanced away again. “That was a nasty business, what with all of society believing you to be a thief. I certainly understand wanting to distance yourself from any possible stain.” He rubbed at a nonexistent spot on his lapel. “I’ve given Cecilia a wedding gift, and I hope you’ll accept it in the spirit in which it’s been given.” He abruptly reached out and took Devin’s hand, shaking it briefly and then releasing it. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to assist Lady Babbage.”

Devin shot Cecilia a puzzled look. “A wedding gift? Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“He surprised me with it this morning. I was planning to tell you while we were on our honeymoon. It can wait, can’t it?”

Devin surveyed the room again and suppressed a sigh. “It can wait.” There were still quite a few people they needed to speak to.

Cecilia touched his arm. “Have you noticed the way M LeCompte watches Evangeline?”

“What do you mean?” Devin scanned the room until he located LeCompte.

The Frenchman still had his arm in a black sling. He stood facing Evangeline, who sat with her friends on the far side of the room, near the exit. LeCompte’s air of nonchalance was as smooth and languid as that of cat sunning itself in a window. There seemed to be nothing of note until—there it was! LeCompte fixed his gaze on Evangeline. It was only the briefest flash of interest, but something indefinable quickened in the man as he gazed at her. But then the expression disappeared as though it had never been there. If not for Cecilia’s comment, he would have doubted he’d seen anything at all.

“There. Did you see that?” Cecilia asked. “I don’t think it’s anything to be overly concerned with. At least, not yet. But if I’m not mistaken, he’s quite taken with her.”

Devin cocked an eyebrow. “Has M LeCompte developed an interest in your sister? She’s only fifteen.”

“Which explains why he’s keeping his distance. But mark my words. His interest will sharpen once she turns eighteen and comes out in society.” She frowned slightly. “We’ll need to ensure that she’s launched here, not in some backwater in France. We’ll have to have her come and stay with us.”

In their tiny flat. Well, they’d make do, wouldn’t they?

Devin tucked Cecilia’s hand into the crook of his arm. He liked listening to her plan their future together. It gave him a feeling of belonging and permanence. A sense that all was right in the world.

He watched Evangeline for a moment. She was deep in conversation with two other young women, Lady Elizabeth and Miss Catherine Williams. Neither girl was out yet in society, but they’d both be making their debuts in January. The fresh-faced trio chattered together as though they’d know one another for years.

Devin glanced across the room at LeCompte only to have the man meet his gaze. LeCompte didn’t seem at all surprised by his scrutiny. In fact, Devin had the distinct impression that he knew they’d been discussing him. A moment later, LeCompte broke away from the group he’d been standing with and crossed the room toward them.

“
Félicitations pour votre mariage
,” he said, congratulating them.

“
Merci
,” Devin said, stretching the limits of his understanding of the French language. “And may we offer our sympathies for your recent injury.”

“This?” LeCompte said, glancing at his own shoulder dismissively. “A hazard of living in London, it seems. Frenchmen aren’t nearly as violent when they find their wives are dallying with…” He trailed off, glancing significantly at Cecilia. “But perhaps that topic is one best left alone.”

Devin had heard a number of people repeating this particular story regarding how the Frenchman had been injured. He’d had his suspicions as to who might be spreading the story, and now the man had confirmed them. LeCompte himself was behind the lie. He’d created a fictitious angry husband to account for the gunshot wound in his shoulder.

“I never thought I’d hear you spreading scurrilous gossip about yourself,” Cecilia commented.

“And why not?” LeCompte countered. “Who else would know the juiciest details?”

“Who indeed?” she replied.

“There is one thing I’d hoped to discuss with you,” LeCompte said, dropping his voice so that it didn’t carry, but still held an intensity of purpose.

Devin glanced around and noted that LeCompte had chosen his moment to speak with care. There was no one else within earshot.

“Perhaps it goes without saying. Even so, I’m a cautious man.” LeCompte met Devin’s gaze. “I’d appreciate it if you’d never mention my involvement in what took place.”

“Of course,” Devin replied. “Evangeline already conveyed as much to us.”

“And I appreciate that, but there’s more. I’m asking you never to reveal anything I shared with you that evening. Tell no one about my other purpose in being here. I assure you that in keeping my secret, you won’t be compromising your loyalty to your queen.”

Devin nodded slowly. “All right. I can promise not to mention what I know of you in casual conversation. But if I’m ever questioned by the authorities, I won’t lie for you.”

LeCompte gave a curt nod. “Nor would I ask you to.”

He spotted Evangeline and her two friends heading directly toward them. Evangeline’s gaze was fixed on the back of M LeCompte’s head, and she had a determined gleam in her eye.

Devin raised his eyebrows, but she sent him a quelling glance. This with either be awkward, or highly entertaining.

The three young woman came to a stop, and Evangeline slipped her arm through M LeCompte’s uninjured one. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away. He almost appeared to be pleased she’d been able to trap him so effectively.

Evangeline gazed up at him, a devilish gleam in her eye. “Monsieur LeCompte. It’s simply been ages since I’ve seen you. I was distressed to learn of your injury. Are the stories I’ve heard true?”

Cecilia let out a noise that resembled choked laughter, but when Devin glanced at her, she’d already covered her mouth with a handkerchief and was turning away. Even so, he caught the gleam of mischief in her eye.

M LeCompte tensed and narrowed his eyes. After a brief pause, he cocked one eyebrow at her, as though accepting her challenge. “That would depend, entirely, on who is telling the story.”

“And you, monsieur? What do you say?”

As he stared down at her, his face softened, almost imperceptibly. “I’ll only say I recovered due to the tender mercies of a guardian angel. More than that, I’d prefer not to share.”

Evangeline seemed pleased with his answer, and he gazed down at her with more tenderness that Devin would have expected.

“You sound like a lucky man,” Evangeline commented.

A moment later, the Frenchman’s renowned aplomb resurfaced. “You are much too kind, Mademoiselle. He glanced at the other two young women, taking them in with undisguised appreciation.

Evangeline stiffened and quickly let go of his arm, inching away. “Ladies, may I introduce you to Monsieur LeCompte? Monsieur, this is Lady Elizabeth Wilmot and Miss Catherine Williams.”

LeCompte gave a graceful bow. He met Catherine’s warm brown eyes. “I’m acquainted with your uncle, the new Earl of Kensington. May I extend my condolences on the loss of your grandparents? What an unexpected tragedy.”

Miss Williams nodded, her gaze slightly clouded. “Thank you.”

“How is your uncle?” M LeCompte asked. “Does his health continue to improve?”

She glanced away, catching Lady Elizabeth’s eye, before replying. “His health is unchanged. He’s currently visiting Bath.”

“Ah, for the waters,” Cecilia commented. “Mother enjoyed her visits there. She always came home feeling greatly improved.” She glanced from Lady Elizabeth to Miss Catherine Williams and back again. “I understand you’ll both be coming out this season. I look forward to seeing you around town.”

Miss Williams appeared much relieved with the new direction of the conversation. “Oh my, yes. I’m looking forward to all the balls and plays and soirees.”

“My mother is already arranging for tickets to the opera for the season,” Lady Elizabeth added, her dark curls bouncing as she voiced her enthusiasm. “Perhaps we’ll see you there.” She glanced from Cecilia to Devin and back again.

Cecilia caught his eye and gave him a pleading look. He grinned. “I didn’t realize you loved the opera. Of course we’ll attend.”

She rewarded him with a grin.

A heavy hand landed between Devin’s shoulders and then patted him awkwardly. As he turned, he found himself meeting his new father-in-law’s gaze. “It’s getting late,” Lord Babbage said. “Your train won’t wait for you.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Cecilia said. “We were trying to make our rounds and say goodbye to all our guests, but we haven’t made much progress.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Lord Babbage said. He turned his back on them and faced the room. “Everyone!” he called out. “My daughter and my new son-in-law are ready to take their leave. Give them your congratulations, and send them on their way. Let’s be quick about it.” He glanced at Devin and grinned. “The last time they tried to leave this room, Devin was being chased by the police. This time, let’s try for a better send off.”

Laughter erupted.

“Here come the bobbies,” someone called out.

“You’d better make your escape.”

“Run, Montlake! Run!”

Devin grinned at the good natured ribbing. Cecilia slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed it. “That’s our cue,” he said as he met her gaze.

She nodded.

They swept out the door as their guests broke into applause.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By the time they were finally able to contemplate climbing into a bed, it was late. They’d taken the train to a port where they could catch a steamship that took them across the channel to France. Once they’d arrived it was very late, and they’d boarded a train that would bring them into Paris by morning.

That meant they’d spend their wedding night in a sleeping car on the train in a private room called a
couchette
.

When Cecilia first entered the train car, she was relieved to discover the couchette included a small private lavatory. She’d been wondering about that.

Two bench seats faced each other. “Is that where we sleep?” she asked.

“In a manner of speaking. The attendant will stop by to open them up and convert them into beds.”

“Beds?” She looked at them dubiously. “They don’t look very comfortable.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Cecilia let out a sigh and sat heavily on one of the bench seats.

“You sound exhausted.” He set her small travel case in the lavatory and then joined her on the bench seat.

“It’s been a long day.” With him sitting so close, she immediately gave in to the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. The fabric of his suit coat was slightly scratchy against her cheek, but he felt solid. Strong. “I can hardly believe that when we return to London, my family will be gone.”

“We’ll visit them.” The low rumble of his voice was reassuring.

“I know. I think it only takes a couple of days to get to Cannes from London. We could spend a few weeks visiting them each summer.”

“It would make a pleasant break from the city.”

Cecilia considered her father’s wedding gift. If Devin accepted it, then perhaps they wouldn’t be in the city at all.

A knock sounded and a Frenchman called out, “Porter,” through the closed door.

“
Entrez
,” Devin replied. He glanced at Cecilia. “He needs to make up our beds. It will be crowded in here. Let’s step into the hall.”

She nodded, rose to her feet, and followed Devin into the corridor.

She glanced at the door leading back to their couchette. When she walked back inside, there’d be a bed. She swallowed. She could do this. Of course she could. Didn’t every other married woman on earth do it? And besides, she’d be with Devin.

The porter made quick work of his task and was soon back in the hallway. When Cecilia stepped back into the small room, the benches had been transformed. The porter had pulled them into the center of the room so that the seats met in the middle. The seat backs had become part of the flat surface of the bed, making an enormous sleep surface that touched both walls. A number of tempting soft pillows rested beneath the couchette’s shuttered window, and a crisp white duvet covered the bed. Two stacks of neatly folded towels were in the lavatory.

“I suppose it’s time to retire,” she said.

Devin latched the door behind them, making sure it was locked. “Would you like me to help with your corset?”