killed him, he would walk away.
The boat bumped either a dock or another ship. Either way, the young man would be returning soon, and it wouldn’t do for him to open the bookshelf and find Elizabeth in a state of complete undress. John searched the area and located her chemise, which he helped pull over her head, followed by her dress. He fastened the back while she put on her boots. In his haste to make love to her, he hadn’t bothered to remove her stockings and barely recalled them against his legs.
While she messed with her hair, John quickly dressed and was shoving in the tail of his shirt when the bookcase swung open. “We’ve arrived in Portsmouth.”
A few days ago he would have looked forward to hearing those words. Now, he wished it was still miles away. “Thank you.”
He turned to Elizabeth. There were tear stains on her cheeks and her eyes watered once again. A small smile pulled at her lips. “Thank you.”
He shook his head. “No. Don’t thank me, and please don’t ever be sorry.”
“Nor you.”
A grin burst on his lips that she would even think he could be sorry. “Oh, Elizabeth. This will be my finest memory for years to come.” With that he reached forwards and placed his lips against hers.
When he pulled away, she looked up at him. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it after a moment. He would love to know what she was about to say, but perhaps it was better this way. They couldn’t have any emotional ties between them. She knew that as well as he.
Elizabeth was the first to move towards the door. “Shall we?”
“I suppose so.”
She stopped at the basin in the room, splashed water on her face, and turned to him. “Better?”
John smoothed down her hair and combed a few tangles out with his fingers. “For someone who has traveled in the hold of a ship, you look lovely.”
“I am sure I look a mess, but thank you.”
They emerged onto the deck and turned towards the dock. Along the road was a large carriage, the crest of Whitton on its side. How did Danby know when she was arriving? Or that she would arrive at this port?
The door opened, and out stepped Martin Renard. He was the man responsible for putting John in Tuileries all those years ago, and Elizabeth too. John stopped his approach. Renard! That was Lisette’s last name.
“Uncle Martin,” Elizabeth cried and hurried forwards.
John stifled a groan. Not only had he seduced and made love to the granddaughter of Danby and the cousin of a one-time good friend, but also the niece of his superior. He should just remain on this ship and have it take him back to France. He was almost certain he would fare better with Napoleon’s Ministry of Police than the three men in England.
But as much as he wanted to, John would not run away. He slowly followed Elizabeth to her uncle.
“Your father wrote that Danby expected you home. I took a chance that this would be the port you came through.” He turned to John. “It is good to see you, John. I assume things are well.”
Renard was clearly unaware of the situation. Before John and Elizabeth separated to return to their families, the man needed to be informed of everything.
“Actually they aren’t. Elizabeth and I cannot return to Paris.”
The man’s pleasant mood disappeared. “Let’s go somewhere where we can speak in private. I’ve taken a room at the Master’s Inn.” He turned to assist Elizabeth into the carriage. “Do you not have any luggage?”
She shrugged. “We left in a hurry.”
“I’ll have Polly obtain clothing for you while we meet. You can’t return to Danby Castle dressed like that. Your grandfather will have Jean Pierre shot on the spot.”
For more reasons than you can imagine.
The next morning dawned crisp and clear. Elizabeth put on the first new dress she had worn in years. How Polly, her new maid, had managed to find so much clothing on such short notice was a miracle. She wished she could look forwards to her return, but the moment she stepped into the carriage she knew she would never see John again.
It was for the best, she reminded herself, but she would have loved to have just one more night with him. She would have taken it last night, had her uncle not been in the same inn. Instead, they spent the evening going over the events in Paris while her uncle sent dispatches to London, Germany, and cities within France. They didn’t know how far the damage had stretched, but they needed to warn whom they could. It was in the early hours of the morning when they finally parted. Even then, she hadn’t gotten a moment alone with John because her uncle insisted on escorting her to her room.
Now the time had come and she hoped she managed her goodbye without tears.
He waited for her beside the carriage. Polly was already seated. “Renard left early to return to London. He will not continue with you to Yorkshire.”
“I assumed as much.”
“Will you be all right? Is it really safe for two women to travel alone?”
Elizabeth bit back a smile. She would love to beg him to be her escort, but there were already four guards with the carriage, at her grandfather’s insistence, whenever any of the daughters or granddaughters traveled without husbands or family.
He opened the door to the carriage before lifting her hand to his lips. “It was a pleasure working with you, Lisette,” he whispered before he turned her hand over and placed his lips against the pulse at her wrist.
“You are a wicked man, Jean Pierre.”
He straightened, grinned, and winked. “I can be very wicked, Mademoiselle.” With a flourish, he bowed. “Until we meet again.”
Elizabeth nodded. She could not speak due to the lump in her throat. Tears blurred her vision, and she hastily retreated into the carriage. The door closed behind her, and she knew that this was the last she would see of Jean Pierre Bouvier or John Phillip Trent. Or course, one day she may meet John in society. But if she did, she would have to pretend they did not know one another.
John watched the scenery outside the carriage window but really saw nothing. In a few hours, he would be home. He hadn’t been to the Abbey in five years and wasn’t sure what he would find. Did his father still hate him? Were he and his mother still alive? They must be. Even if there was no communication, he would have been advised of the death of either of his parents, or any family member, for that matter.
As much as he looked forwards to seeing his brothers and sister, enthusiasm lacked. Instead his mind was on Elizabeth and her family reunion. If all went well, she should arrive there tomorrow, a day before the imposed deadline. What would Danby say to her lack of a husband? What excuse would she invent?
John punched the seat beside him. He should have never let her go off on her own. Danby would go much harder on her without him there, and Elizabeth couldn’t even tell her grandfather the truth. To do so would ruin an opportunity for her to continue working for England, and Danby would have her in some fancy dress and on the marriage mart before she could blink an eye.
Then what? She would be married off to some dandy who couldn’t begin to appreciate her. And how would she explain her lack of virtue? Danby could always decide to kill Jean Pierre off, leaving her a widow. There was always that. Still it would leave Elizabeth married to a man she couldn’t possibly love. It wouldn’t be to him.
Did he have any right to interfere?
Yes, he did. She had named him as her husband—he would be that husband, even if it was only for the holiday. Jean Pierre would not abandon Lisette at her time of need.
John banged on the top of the carriage. When the coachman opened the door, John directed him to Danby Castle. With any luck, he should arrive there around the time Elizabeth did.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, stepped from the carriage, and stared up at the medieval fortress her grandfather called home. It was now or never. With one slow foot in front of the other, she approached the door. Would it be too much to hope no one was around and she could sneak up to he
r room? She did not relish lying to her grandfather, but it was necessary. Uncle Martin needed her back in London by January fifteenth and said her return to England was perfect timing.
The door opened before she was ready. A smile broke upon seeing the familiar face of the butler.
“Lady Elizabeth, welcome home.” He stood back so that she could enter. Polly followed behind her.
“How are you, Milne?”
“The same as when you left. Thank you for asking.” Milne looked out into the yard and back at Elizabeth. “Where is your husband?”
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, ready to tell her first lie. “He could not come, but sends his best.”
Milne frowned and tsked. “His Grace will not be happy.”
“I know.” She cringed at the confirmation. Hopefully she could see her father and sister before facing Danby.
“Fortunately your grandfather is busy at the moment.”
Relief flowed through her at the reprieve.
“Your father and sister are in the solarium.”
“Thank you, Milne. I will go find them now.”
“I’ll have your things delivered to your room.”
Elizabeth was surprised she still had a room. It had been assigned to her as a child, but since it had been so many years since she had visited the castle she assumed it had been turned over to someone else. It would be nice to sleep in a familiar bed, under familiar coverings and to look at the view out of the leaded glass window.
She paused in the doorway, so glad