The Heart That Wins (Regency Spies Book 3)
Read The Heart That Wins (Regency Spies Book 3) Online
Authors: April Munday
First published in 2016 by April Munday
Copyright © April Munday 2016
The moral right of April Munday to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Cathy Helms,
www.AvalonGraphics.org
Contents
March 1815
Sophia followed the man through the embassy, trying to keep her anger under control. Despite her credentials, the servant had not wanted to show her to the ambassador, but had eventually given in. Acting ambassador, she reminded herself; Wellington had left in January. She must look disreputable, she knew, but there was not a moment to lose. Rather than take the time to wash and change, she had come straight to the embassy to give her report. If the man was offended by the sight of a woman in breeches, and muddy breeches at that, he really should not be working in the embassy.
The servant came to a halt outside a door. They seemed to have avoided the main part of the building where she would have expected to find the acting ambassador. This was a narrow and quiet corridor. Surely there should be people waiting to see him. Sophia was about to ask the man where they were when he opened the door and disappeared inside the room. It was not long before he reappeared, indicating that she should enter. Sophia opened her mouth to berate him for bringing her to the wrong man, but decided it would be easy enough for her to convince the minor official she was about to see to take her to the acting ambassador. She might be dressed in breeches and greatcoat and she might be filthy, but she had an important message and she was not going to be fobbed off with someone so junior that he had barely started to shave.
She entered the room ready for an argument and stopped.
“John! Oh!”
The dark-haired man sitting at the desk on the other side of the room looked up from his papers.
“Sophia! What..?”
He stood suddenly and his chair fell to the floor behind him. Neither noticed the noise it made.
For a moment Sophia could do nothing other than stare at him. She had believed that John Warren had returned with his regiment to England, but here he was in the embassy in Paris.
He was a captain now, his uniform supplemented by a woollen scarf and a pair of gloves. He looked much older than when they had last met and his expression was stern. It was this that made her say, “Captain Warren, I apologise. I had no idea that you were the man I was to report to.”
She must have seen him angry before, as that was the only name she could put to the expression on his face, but she could not remember it.
“Miss Arbuthnot, please, won’t you sit.”
He gestured stiffly towards one of the chairs in front of the desk. Sophia was not sure that her legs would carry her that far, so weak had they become at the sight of him, but she set off across the room regardless. Almost three years without a word, she reminded herself bitterly as she reached the security of the chair and sank into it before her legs could give way. It had been almost three years since she had last seen him or heard from him and he was treating her like a stranger. Miss Arbuthnot indeed.
Righting his chair, John sat behind the desk, his fingers playing idly with a pen. Then he stood again.
“This won’t do.”
He walked around the desk, his face grim. It took everything Sophia had in her not to shrink away from him, but she stayed where she was. He sat in the chair next to hers and she released the breath she had been holding. This had always been destined to be a difficult meeting, but this was worse than anything she had imagined. This man looked like John, his voice was John’s, but he was not John.
“Miss… Miss Arbuthnot, may I call you Sophia again? Miss Arbuthnot was always your sister and I shall forget and… I should hate to be rude to you.”
Despite his earnestness, Sophia smiled; it might be alright after all. This was more like the John she remembered.
“Yes, that would be better,” she said.
She refused to be upset that he did not return her smile. Getting John to smile had never been easy, even when they had been alone. After what she had done to him she could hardly expect him to smile at her.
“It’s been a long time,” he said at last.
“It has. I thought you had returned to England with your regiment, but I am glad to see you in an embassy, John. It’s where you belong.”
It was her fault that he wore a uniform and her fault that he had been risking his life fighting across Spain and France for the last two years. If he had died because of her…
Sophia blinked in the hope that it would hold back the tears that threatened. John had always been able to tell when she was about to cry and it would be dreadful to give herself away to this stiff and formal stranger.
“It’s true that I have not enjoyed being a soldier,” he said, “but I am a good one.”
She was relieved that there was no pride in his voice and turned to what she hoped would be a safer topic.
“You’re well?” she asked, unable to believe that he could have fought so long without being injured.
“I was wounded twice. Neither wound was serious.”
The John she knew would have smiled to reassure her; Captain Warren’s expression did not change.
She should not have asked. This, too, was her fault. If he had been wounded, he could have been killed. Sophia blinked again. She would not cry.
“And you?” he asked. “You’re well?”
“Never better.”
Even that did not make him smile. If anything he became sterner and sat up even straighter. Sophia had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.
“You mentioned a report…”
So they were not to continue to more personal topics.
“I asked to be shown to the official who receives reports from Perseus’s agents,” she said.
She had assumed it was the acting ambassador, but perhaps it was John.
“You know about Perseus?” he asked.
“I work for him...”
“You?”
John stood and started to pace the room. The servant who had brought her returned with wood. She looked at the fireplace and saw that the fire had died. No wonder John was wearing a scarf and gloves. In her greatcoat Sophia had not even noticed that it was cold in the room. They watched in silence as the servant diligently set the kindling into the grate. His hands fumbled with the tinder-box and John removed his gloves and took it from him, turning his back to Sophia as he struck it. It took a few attempts before he got a spark and the servant knelt in front of the hearth, feeding the kindling onto the flame. When the fire finally started to draw, John dismissed the servant, saying that he would tend to it.
He turned back to Sophia.
“You’re a spy and you work with Perseus,” he said, as if it were an accusation.
Sophia felt herself blush, no longer smiling.
“Why shouldn’t I work for him?” she said, “I wanted the war to end and I found out how I could help end it.”
“But Perseus is a monster of a man.”
His voice was gentle, confusing Sophia even more.
“I’m glad you think he’s a monster. That is the effect he aims for.”
“You mean he’s not a cold-blooded killer? That he doesn’t torture other men?”
“No, he’s done all that. He has taught me to do those things, too. But most of all he has taught me how to gather information and I do it rather well.”
She said it blithely, as if these had not been the worst months of her life. There had been a time when she could have told him this, but not today.
John turned away from her so that she could not see his face. Sophia was almost glad for it.
“You gathered some information from the south?” he asked as he paced back to his chair and sat down.
He seemed paler than when she had first come into the room. It was more than she could bear and she started to get out of her chair to go to him.
“Your information,” he prompted, before she could do anything more.
Sophia sank back down on her chair. If he could treat her like a stranger then she could respond in kind. She gave her report without emotion or comment. This was her reason for being here; she had not come to see him.
“I have been in the south for several months. My task was to keep close to the republicans. Many Englishmen and women support Bonaparte, so it wasn’t hard to be accepted by them. It seems women in particular find him fascinating. Bonaparte plans to escape, might already have escaped. I came as fast as I could.”
“They won’t have him back,” said John before he could even have thought about it.
“Of course they will take him back. He will find a way to give them hope. They think they have nothing to lose.”
She was surprised by his lack of understanding. What had he been doing while he had been at the embassy not to know these things?
“Nothing, other than a few thousand more lives.”
Only a conscious effort kept Sophia in her chair. His voice was so flat that she felt a chill of fear. John had far more knowledge than her of the cost of Bonaparte’s ambition.
“We heard that you had fought well,” she said wanting to find something of the boy she remembered.
“We?”
“The Finches. I’ve been living with them for the last couple of years.”
“He didn’t say.”
“You visited them? Of course you did.”
It would have been his duty to visit the man who was a friend to his parents and his uncle, even though he had not parted from Edmund on good terms. She was to blame for that, as well.
Sophia stood; she could not bear this any longer.
“I must get back to them to tell them we must leave.”
She made no move towards the door, but stood with her hand on the back of the chair, afraid that he would disappear the moment she left the room and it would be another two years before she saw him again. If she stayed, he would only continue to show her that she was no longer of any importance to him. She did not know which would be worse.
John got up from his own chair.
“There’s no need for that. Even if Bonaparte does escape he can have no hope of being emperor again. You’ll all be safe enough here.”
“Come to us tonight and Mary and I will explain exactly why he will be emperor again and why it will be soon.”
Stupid. He would think she was flirting with him and despise her even more. He hated forward women.
He shook his head. Sophia had failed here as well. Of course he would not want to dine with them. Filled with embarrassment and desperate to leave she turned towards the door.
“Wait! There doesn’t seem to be much will in Paris to have him back.”
Sophia failed to control her face and waited a moment before she turned back to him. This was an extremely stupid thing for him to say, but absurdly he smirked. For the first time he looked like the John she remembered. He must think he had a better argument than she had presented. This was how their discussions about politics had always gone, but she had always convinced him in the end. Resisting the urge to calm herself with a deep breath, she forced her face to encourage him to say more.
“He has fewer than a thousand men with him on Elba,” he pointed out.
Once again she wondered what he had been doing with his time here.
“Do you know how many garrisons there are between the south coast and here?” she asked, not bothering to hide her disdain.
He must know; he had not marched from Spain to Paris with Wellington’s army without encountering some opposition.
“You think he’ll arrive with an army. But he has to cross Provence.”
“You’re right. Provence is royalist, but he could emulate Hannibal.”
John thought for a moment.
“You think he’ll cross the Alps and avoid Provence.”
“Yes.”
Sophia glanced at the door. There was much to do. Much as she wanted to stay and talk to John, it seemed that there was little point; her John was gone, replaced by this battle-hardened soldier, with a very limited understanding of French politics. John must have noticed, for he straightened and became even more formal.
“I’ll pass on your report to the acting ambassador and tell him that he needs to act on it,” he said.
“Thank you.”
She had been afraid he might not take her seriously enough to do so. That would have caused problems with Perseus.
“And Perseus?”
“I’ll go to him now.”
“It has been a pleasure meeting you again,” he said stiffly.
She felt the smile on her face falter.
“Yes, it has.”
She curtsied and he bowed. When she reached the door she turned back. It did not matter if he thought she was a flirt; his life was in danger and she needed the chance to convince him.
“Don’t forget to come tonight. We won’t be here many more days.”
She managed to get to the other side of the door before her eyes filled with tears. She had never imagined that her first meeting with John would go so badly.
Captain Warren! What had she been thinking? Taken by surprise, Sophia had not seen in the stern-faced soldier the boy who had been her friend. He was thinner and he held himself differently. The handsome man in the embassy was not the boy she loved. She had never really thought of John as a man, but Captain Warren was most definitely a man. Somehow he had become broader. He even seemed taller. His voice was deeper, more seductive, although she was certain that had not been his intention.