The Beauty and the Spy (15 page)

The woman was not wearing a hat or bonnet, and she had the palest blond hair.

When the woman began to look up, Charlotte gasped and leaned back inside her room.

Julia Reed.

W
ho else could it be? They were following Julia Reed, after all. Charlotte slowly peered out, then leaned out farther as she saw Julia disappearing into the coffeehouse. She looked as if she was just having a bit of breakfast on her way out of town. Wasn't this far earlier than she'd set off before?

Where was Nick?

Charlotte gripped the window frame tightly as her mind raced. If the men didn't return soon, they would miss Julia. What if she was going a different way? If they lost her, she could reach
Leeds before them. Nick had said that the town was a journey of but one or two days.

What would Papa do? she wondered frantically. She would have to delay Julia's departure. Finally she could make a difference, instead of just being the woman Nick regretted bringing.

She found the pen and inkwell and paper in Nick's portmanteau and wrote a note, telling him that she was at the coffeehouse next door delaying Julia. He'd figure out what to do from there.

Quickly she put her hair in a simple chignon at the base of her neck, her sister Jane's favorite style. She donned the old shawl Sam had brought for her, and thought she must look very different from her normal self. If she happened to run into Mr. Campbell, surely he wouldn't recognize her as a socialite from a London ball—the witness who was supposed to be dead.

As she opened the door, she hesitated. What was she going to say?

Julia, you can't go yet!

Oh, that would go over well.

Don't I know you?

That at least had more promise.

Or else she could be a bit more direct and say that she recognized Julia because of her description. That was the truth, after all, so it was easier to remember. So who supposedly gave her the description?

She'd let Julia suggest someone, because there wasn't any more time to waste on planning.

Charlotte attracted no attention as she sedately walked down through the front hall of the inn and out the door. She walked down the pavement, then peered slowly through the coffeehouse window. Julia was sitting alone. Mr. Campbell was nowhere to be seen. Perfect.

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte opened the door and stepped inside. It was overly warm with the morning sun shining through the windows, and she felt herself begin to perspire. She'd never really lied to anyone, not with a fictional story. What if in the middle, she forgot what she'd already said? Her breathing was coming fast and panicky as the serving maid approached.

“May I help you, miss?” She was an older woman, with an easygoing smile and eyes that studied Charlotte through tiny spectacles.

“I'd like to dine, but I feel rather self-conscious alone.” She looked about and then settled on Julia. “Do you mind if I ask if that lady would share her table?”

The serving maid gestured toward Julia. “Be my guest.”

Charlotte clutched her shawl tighter and approached the table. Nick was right—Julia was more physically imposing and taller than even Charlotte's sister Jane. And her hair, though styled demurely, seemed to reflect the sun. It must
be difficult to remain anonymous with such an unusual hair color.

Julia put down her coffee and looked up with a smile. “Yes?” she said.

Charlotte cleared her throat and had no problem sounding hesitant, “Miss, are you eating alone?”

“Why yes, I am.”

“Would you mind terribly if I joined you? It is so lonely when one is by oneself.” Charlotte spoke as she normally did, hoping her accent would put Julia at ease.

If Julia was annoyed at being interrupted, it did not show. “Of course. Please sit down. My name is Miss Julia Reed.”

Oh God, what was
her
name to be? She thought of the last person she'd seen. “My name is Charlotte…Cox,” she said, with only the slightest hesitation. She couldn't take the chance that Julia might know her husband's family.

“What a lovely name,” Julia said.

Charlotte wanted to stare at her. This woman had betrayed British soldiers? This woman thought nothing of men dying because of her? She seemed so—normal, so polite.

Charlotte smiled. “Thank you.”

Julia handed her the menu. “I hope you don't mind, but I've already ordered.”

“How could I mind? I've only just intruded.”

And she hoped Julia would politely stay while
Charlotte ate. Charlotte lifted up the menu as if to scan it, but she couldn't imagine forcing food down her dry throat. The danger of what she was doing was daunting. And if Mr. Campbell walked in and recognized her…

She casually glanced at the window, wishing desperately that Nick had received her note and would come to rescue her.

But the street was empty except for a milkmaid carrying pails of milk hanging from a bar across her shoulders.

She knew Nick would be furious that she'd disobeyed him, and right now she'd willingly take his anger.

But Julia Reed was sitting across from her, smiling politely while Charlotte could barely read the menu. But when the serving maid came, she found herself ordering eggs and toast. She sounded almost…normal.

She forced her shoulders to relax a bit. After all, this was a public place—what could Julia do to her?

“So Miss Cox, where are you from?” Julia asked after her own meal was served.

“I live in London, Miss Reed,” she said, remembering to stay close to the truth.

“I just came from there. It is a very gracious city.”

Charlotte smiled and sipped her coffee. “You don't sound as if you live there.”

“Not until recently. Before this past year I spent much of ten years traveling abroad with my brother, who's an officer in the army.”

“How fascinating to see the world,” Charlotte exclaimed. “Do tell me the places you've visited.”

She let Julia talk, and occasionally asked leading questions to keep her going. After Charlotte's breakfast was served, and she managed to get some of it down, she noticed that more and more, Julia glanced at the clock on the mantel above the bare hearth. Obviously their talk wasn't going to hold Julia back once Charlotte was finished eating.

Charlotte glanced quickly out the window, but saw no sign of Nick and his men.

The conversation went silent as they each paid for their meal. Charlotte thought desperately about another way to delay Julia. Perhaps she should try her first idea and say that she'd recognized Julia right away.

Clearing her throat, Charlotte fiddled with her fork and tried to look humble. “Miss Reed—I wasn't going to say anything—it isn't my place, but you're so pleasant and I can't continue lying to you.”

Julia's smile faded and she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I know who you are,” Charlotte whispered.

Julia's smile reappeared, and it looked as if she was indulging a simpleton. “Well of course. I told you my name.”

“No! I mean—I recognized who you were from a description of you.”

“And who gave you that description?”

Charlotte's mind went blank. Who had they been talking about? “Your brother,” she blurted out.

Julia relaxed, giving an easygoing grin. “I can imagine what
he
said.”

“Besides your hair, he said that you were much larger than myself.” Charlotte gasped and covered her mouth. “I—I didn't mean—”

“Please, I've taken no offense,” Julia said with a smile. “My brother always called me a horse of a woman.”

“That is hardly appropriate!” Charlotte said, feeling almost sorry for her.

“Do you have brothers?”

Charlotte shook her head.

“Then you can't understand what they're like,” Julia said indulgently. “Is that why you're in Tuxford?”

“Pardon me?”

“We're only a day's journey from my brother's estate. Were you going to visit him?”

Charlotte nodded, having no other choice. Why else would she be here?

“I'm so sorry you've come all this way, but he's not in residence.”

Charlotte's spirits sank as Julia closed her reticule and began to put on her gloves. Julia was going to leave; all Nick's efforts might be wasted.

Charlotte burst into tears.

Julia gaped at her for a moment, then fumbled for a handkerchief. “Oh dear, what's wrong, Miss Cox?”

She pushed the small piece of linen into Charlotte's trembling hands. Some distant part of Charlotte was stunned at how easy it was to cry when one was panicked and frightened.

“It's—it's nothing,” Charlotte whispered, blowing her nose softly. Several of the other patrons were glancing their way, and she didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than she had to.

“But it's most definitely something,” said Julia. “You needed to see my brother this badly?”

Charlotte nodded forlornly.

Julia's face paled, as if she'd thought of a reason. Charlotte wished she'd share it.

“But Miss Cox, my brother is in London. Didn't you just journey from there?”

“But he told me—” She sniffed several times. “He told me he wouldn't be there, that—that I was not to contact him ever again.”

She resumed crying softly, scared that she wouldn't be able to come up with a reason. What would Julia do to her if she discovered Charlotte was lying?

Julia leaned closer and put her hand on top of Charlotte's. “Dear, are you”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“in the family way?”

A sob of astonishment and relief escaped
Charlotte as she nodded and wiped at her eyes. At least something like
this
would delay the other woman.

Julia rubbed her hand across her face. “Oh my.”

“I'm so sorry,” Charlotte whispered. “I am a sinful woman. I never should have—should have—”

“And the baby is my brother's? You are certain?”

Charlotte gaped at her, but could only nod. What would Julia do? Think she was after her brother's money? Make her disappear so that there would be no stain on the family honor?

“I won't tell anyone, I promise you, Miss Reed,” Charlotte murmured. “I am beyond embarrassment.”

Julia returned to patting Charlotte's hand. “You must not blame yourself, Miss Cox. My brother is far older than you and should have known better.”

“I just didn't know what to do. I saw you come into the coffeehouse, knew who you were…and I was just drawn to talk to you.”

“That's because I'm a woman, too, and I understand your predicament. Well, this is something we'd best go tell my brother. Or does he already know?”

Charlotte hesitated. She'd obviously never met Julia's brother, and didn't know how he would behave.

Julia gasped. “He already knows, doesn't he!” she whispered furiously. “And he let you go off alone. Or did he—send you away?”

The last was said in such an appalled voice that Charlotte wondered what kind of man this General Reed was for Julia to think this of him. Charlotte just blew her nose and let Julia draw her own conclusions.

“He can be such a fool sometimes,” Julia murmured as if to herself. “I will take care of this matter. You'll come with me.”

 

An hour past dawn, Nick gave up. He, Sam, and Cox had spent the previous evening trying not to get drunk while they waited for Julia's men to show up. Well past midnight the barkeep had finally closed the place down, and Nick and his men took up stations outside the stable, above which Campbell had rented a room.

But although they'd waited until the sun rose, Julia's henchmen had never shown up. Did they know they were being followed, or were they taking precautions just in case?

Nick couldn't waste any more time. Julia usually left each town by midmorning, and they needed to be ready to follow her. It wasn't far to Leeds now, probably by the end of the next day. He was exhausted and anxious all at once. He just wanted it over with.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, he won
dered why he wished it all over. Surely it was because he was anxious to return to India.

But for the first time the thought of the many-month journey made him weary. Going back to a place he'd spent thirteen years suddenly had no allure. And he'd have to deal with his family before he went, and he certainly didn't look forward to that.

And he'd never see Charlotte again.

Why was he feeling…hollow inside?

He told himself he'd become too involved with a woman as always, but he really hadn't done that with Julia. She'd been a fascination, an enigma, a woman who reminded him of home, yet was unusual enough to seem foreign. He'd lusted after her, but had not spent his hours worrying about her, wondering what she was doing, how she felt.

Charlotte inspired that in him just as once, long ago, Edith had made him feel. He'd been a boy when he met Edith, and maybe now he could recognize his feelings for her as infatuation, as loneliness, but then he'd thought himself deeply in love.

Until his family had stepped in.

He shook the sad memories out of his mind and thought once again of Charlotte, waiting for him, maybe lonely and…frightened? No, not frightened. She had too much spirit for that.

He opened the door, feeling in control of his
emotions, ready to hide the smile that she inspired in him—but the room was empty.

He remained frozen on the doorstep, his mind blank, his professionalism gone. Then he shrugged back into Nick the Spy and began a methodical search of the room for clues.

He saw the note on the table almost immediately, and let anger surge to replace the strange emotions he'd battled. She'd left the room! After he'd given her strict orders.

He glanced at the note, and his anger drained away, replaced by an icy feeling it took him a moment to recognize: fear.

He threw open the door and almost collided with Sam.

“What are you—” Sam began.

Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him down the stairs. “We need Cox.”