The Heart That Wins (Regency Spies Book 3) (16 page)

“Turn your back,” she said.

A look she did not recognise flashed in his eyes and he turned away from her.

Quickly she slipped out of her clothes and pulled the nightgown over her head. Shaking her clothes out, she went past him and into the bedroom, where she put everything into its right place. Then she returned to the other room with a blanket and pillow and stretched out on the sofa.

“You can take the candle,” she said.

John went into the bedroom, leaving the door open, and she heard him moving around as he removed his clothes. There was something comfortable about this and she fell asleep trying to work out why that should be.

John must have been very quiet next morning when he passed through the sitting-room, for he was gone when Sophia woke and the bed was quite cold when she went to lie in it.

John returned three days later. It was late morning and Sophia had not begun to expect him. There was no information for him, but he did not seem to be concerned by it.

“Allow me to take you on a picnic. The river is pretty enough and I have brought food.”

Sophia did not know what to think. Louis Marquand was supposed to be discreet; he did not display his mistress in public. It was a beautiful day, however, and there could be no doubt in either of their minds that she would go with him. She put on her bonnet and went out with him to the curricle.

The river was as pretty as John had promised and he had already chosen a spot away from the road where they could sit in peace. After he helped her down from the curricle, he tucked her hand into his elbow and led her down to the river. He threw a blanket down and they both sat on it.

Sophia stretched out on the blanket. It was a surprisingly warm day after a number of cold and wet ones and she was glad of the chance to be out of the house. She removed her bonnet and waited to see what John would do.

She was surprised when he did no more than take the cover off the basket that he had carried from the curricle.

“I have brought wine, it’s French and rather good. There are cold meats, a pie, some fish that I’m not too sure about. Mary finds it disgusting, but thinks you will like it. There’s some cheese and a suet pudding that Freddie recommends highly.”

Clearly he had been dining with the Finches in her absence. The idea that he had done so cheered her.

“What is it you don’t want to say, John?”

He stopped his examination of the basket and turned towards her.

“Is it possible that we could be friends again?”

“I thought we were. You said we couldn’t be lovers, but I thought you meant us to be friends.”

“Oh, Sophia.”

She sat up.

“I think the only thing that would kill my love for you is knowing that you love someone else,” she said.

“There is no one else. There will never be...”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

But she knew he could keep it. This was John; he was completely and utterly reliable.

“I thought you and Franz...”

“Did you?”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “It seems I have robbed us both of our futures.”

Sophia hoped this was not true. Tentatively, she brushed her lips against his. He responded with a long, deep kiss. Once more Sophia found herself lying beneath John, but this time his hands were still.

“I surrender to you so easily,” he said.

“I would surrender completely to you.”             

“Oh, my love, you know it cannot be.”

“Only because you do not wish it.”

He kissed her again and there was doubt in his kiss. Sophia tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him closer. When they pulled apart reluctantly, they were both breathless.

“I wanted us to try to enjoy this time together,” he said, “not use it to make one another unhappy with recriminations.”

This had been Sophia’s own desire, but now she saw that the end would not be what she had hoped.

“And then we will only see one another across ballrooms,” she said.

She looked into his eyes as she spoke. He did not look away as she had feared.

“I know it’s not enough,” he said.

“No, it’s not.”

She raised herself to his lips for another kiss.

When John made to pull away, she held him closer.

“Can’t we at least pretend that it won’t end?” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t that make the end more difficult?”

“What could be more difficult than spending the rest of our lives apart?”

He kissed away her tears.

“There was a time when we didn’t have to be so careful of one another,” he said.

“We’re not children any more. How will I get over this without you to hold me and tell me everything is alright?”

He kissed her again and she knew he desired her as she desired him, but he held back. He would never forget himself again as he had the first time.

He moved away so that he was lying next to her.

“I cannot risk kissing you again.”

His voice shook, but Sophia knew he meant it

John visited most evenings arriving late in case Franz was there. When a certain vase was on the windowsill he turned his horse round and went back to Brussels. When he stayed, Sophia found him growing distant and thoughtful. For his part Franz began to press his suit more ardently. He wearied her with his persistence and she always fell into an uneasy sleep after he was gone. Sophia began to regret putting this plan to Edmund. It was successful, however, as they gathered much useful information about the size of the army and its locations and it meant she saw John, even if he barely said anything when he came and would only sit with her on the sofa to exchange information. He never took her outside the house again and refused to sleep in the bed. He did, however, help her to undress each evening, his fingers becoming more skilled. When he visited one night after he had not seen her the night before she told him that Franz did not perform the same service for her and he had simply said, “Good.”

As she had expected, Franz was more experienced in how a man should behave with his lover and it had not been easy to convince him that his help in undressing her was unnecessary. He had seen immediately the implication of her having to call the maid for assistance. Sophia had merely told him that he was the kind of lover who would not care how uncomfortable his mistress was and had gone into her bedroom to remove as much of her clothing as she could unaided. There had never been any question of Franz sleeping on the bed while she slept in the sitting-room.

She slept badly after these encounters and got into the habit of leaving her stays off. It shocked Jeanne, but no more than it did to help Sophia dress in the morning when she had not undressed her the night before. John was also shocked, but seemed relived at having to touch her less when he helped her undress.

One afternoon Franz arrived in a curricle and took her out for a ride. Sophia did not expect him to show the same caution as John when driving, for John had always insisted on treating her like something fragile that would break if he drove too fast. Franz, however, proved worse than her expectations; he was fast and reckless. She was not sure if this was to impress her or to drive her into his arms from fear.

“You drive too fast,” she told him.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m an excellent driver.”

Sophia could see that he was indeed a much better driver than John. The horses responded to his merest touch.

“Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid,” she said, “and I’m not a fool. Slow down.”

He released a hand from the reins and put his arm around her waist.

“You will be safe with me.”

She wriggled free and moved as far away from him as she could.

“Concentrate on what you’re doing.”

A heavy cart was coming from the opposite direction and Franz slowed to pass it.

“You see. You are in no danger.”

As he directed the horses to move out to the middle of the road again, one of the wheels went into a deep rut and Sophia was thrown from the curricle. Her leg caught against the seat and she knew she would not be able to control the fall. Hitting the ground, she still had wits enough to roll away, so that the wheel did not crush her.

Franz was with her in an instant.

“Are you hurt?”

“Don’t touch me!” This wasn’t anger, just common sense. “Let me get my breath back.”

At the very least she would be bruised, at worst… She swallowed hard. At worst something could be broken and the mission would be over.

Franz sat back on his heels impatiently. Sophia tried to calm herself enough to work out if she was bruised. The pain made her want to scream, but she had to ignore it. She thought about John and it was enough.

“Can you see any blood?”

If she gave Franz something to do, he would not start feeling her leg for broken bones. She became aware of a sharp pain in her ankle, much worse than the day he had knocked her over outside the church.

“No blood,” said Franz.

“Good.”

Experimentally she tried to move her limbs. Although everything was sore, it was only moving her left foot that caused her any pain.

“My left ankle is damaged… again.”

Franz turned his attention to it and Sophia realised that her skirts were either ripped or so caught up that her ankles and calves had been exposed to his view all this time.

“Help me to sit up,” she said before he could touch her. “Give me your hands and don’t pull.”

He obeyed and she managed to lift herself, gritting her teeth against the pain as she did so.

“Now, I will stand.”

“But your ankle...”

“Is not, I think, broken.”

She was not sure about this, for it was extremely painful. It was clear that she was not going to be able to stand without Franz’s support, however much she might not want that to be so. Between them they managed to get her up on her good foot. Relieved that her legs were now hidden from his view, she tried to hop back to the carriage, but every part of her was too sore and the pain in her ankle was making her nauseous.

“Don’t you think it would be easier if I just carried you?”

“Yes,” admitted Sophia with no thought at all.

Franz lifted her easily and put her back on the seat in the curricle.

“I take it you do not want me to bind your ankle.”

Franz’s protest was wasted; they both knew she had no choice.

“If you turn away, I’ll take off a petticoat.”

It would be difficult, but she thought she could do it.

“There is no need and you will do yourself harm. I will use my shirt. My cravat won’t be long enough.”

Sophia nodded. She would cause even more scandal in Sint Stefaan by returning with a half-naked man, even though the reason for it would soon be obvious enough.

She looked away while Franz removed his shirt. When he touched her foot, she looked back and saw that he had not replaced his jacket. Closing her eyes she gritted her teeth against the pain.

“It is done. Jeanne will be more gentle, I’m sure.”

“Thank you. It is comfortable enough.”

Franz replaced his jacket slowly and Sophia watched, as he had intended. He did, indeed, have a beautiful chest. He was an active man and his chest and arms bore witness to this. It was a good thing that Franz did not know her thoughts, for the sight of him only made her wonder what John’s body was like. It was a pleasant enough thought to take her mind off the pain.

Effortlessly Franz swung himself up beside her and drove back to the house. It was only as he was explaining to Jeanne what had happened that Sophia realised that he had not apologised for injuring her.

14
th
June 1815

“He’s too careless for this. Edmund should not have chosen him.”

Sophia tried to calm John, afraid that Madame Gilbert would hear. A woman who received two different men into her rooms would already be the subject of gossip; there was no need to cause suspicion as well.

“He has worked with Franz for many years. He trusts him.”

“And if you have to get away quickly?”

John pointed to the cane that stood within Sophia’s reach against the sofa. The injury to her ankle had proved very serious and a doctor had been called. She was almost immobile. Unable to go downstairs without her cane, she was reliant on Jeanne for everything.

Sophia understood her position; if she could not go downstairs, she could not get on a horse and she could not escape.

“I am in some danger, I admit.”

“Some danger!”

John began to pace around the room. Sophia was touched by his concern, but the information they were getting was too good for her to abandon the plan so easily. Yesterday Franz had brought the news that, after days with no information about his location, Bonaparte had joined his troops on the other side of the border. Any day he would cross it and come into Belgium. Although she had recognised her own danger, she had weighed it against the chance to save John’s life and that chance had won.

“I’ll take you back to Brussels.”

“You will not. This is useful information.”

“You can’t stay here. We have what we came for.”

“We need to know when the army will cross into Belgium and where. My safety is of no importance.”

“It is to me.”

He knelt in front of her.

“Please, Sophia, come back with me.”

“I can’t. It is for your sake that I do this.”

“For mine?”

She watched the colour drain from his face. She had not told him this before and wished she had not done so now.

“All I have wanted since you joined the army is to keep you safe.”

“Oh, Sophia, that’s not right. I’m the one who should keep you safe.”

He laid his head in her lap.

Sophia stroked his hair, surprised by the strength of his despair as his body started to shake.

“I love you.” she said. “It seems I have always loved you, but did not know it before I destroyed your love. When you joined the army I was given the opportunity to beg you to come back and I took it gladly. But you stayed in the army. I thought you stayed away because you no longer loved me, but I loved you and I didn’t want you to die or be hurt, so I looked for a way to help you and this is the way that I found. Until Bonaparte is defeated and you are back in England, this is what I must do.”

“Even if it costs your life?” John raised his face toward her. “Can’t you see that my life is nothing without you?”

“Even then. You don’t want me, John, not really. You love me and you desire me, but you don’t want me as your wife. I’m not even sure it was what you wanted when you proposed. If it had been what you wanted, you would not have chosen to help those girls one at a time at the cost of your reputation, when you could have helped many more by showing people how wrong it all is.”

“You mean I should become one of those hypocrites who are more concerned with removing the appearance of vice than removing the vice itself.”

“No. You’re not a hypocrite. You know what needs to be done. You have your mother’s support and Edmund’s and mine. You know how to convince others to support you. You’ve been developing those skills all your life. You’re not a soldier. You could have come back and married me if you wanted. You still could.”

She studied his face carefully.

He swung round so that he was sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa.

Leaning his head against her leg, he said, “I shall think about your suggestion.”

“Please do.”

She started stroking his hair again. It was some time before she realised that he was asleep.

“You have to call her back, Edmund.”

John was breathless from the speed of his ride back to Brussels. He was embarrassed that he had allowed himself to fall asleep rather than return as soon as he had realised Sophia’s danger. He had slept all night and woken to find Sophia asleep with her fingers in his hair. Waking, she had once again refused to leave with him. He supposed that he could simply have picked her up and carried her away. It was only the fear that she could hurt herself in her struggles that prevented him, for he had known she would struggle.

He had considered staying with her, but she could not be allowed to stay in Sint Stefaan. John could not even allow himself to think about his feelings for Franz. John thought he might kill the Prussian if he arrived while he was waiting with Sophia, so he had chosen to return to Brussels and beg Edmund for his help.

“Why must I call her back?”

“Because she can’t even get out of her rooms, let alone the house. She would have no chance to if trouble came.”

Edmund sat in silence. John knew he was not being ignored; the other man was taking time to consider what John had said. He was not a slow thinker, but John guessed his fondness for Sophia must make him more cautious.

“Franz has a cavalier attitude towards his own safety. It does not extend to those in his care.”

“He’s injured her!” John was angry that neither Sophia nor Edmund seemed to understand how serious this was. “He was careless and she can barely walk.”

“There’s no one else I can send.” Edmund raised his voice to match John’s.

“Then you abdicate your rôle as protector.”

“John, you’re here because you couldn’t persuade Sophia to leave with you.”

John had not mentioned that he had tried to get Sophia to leave. He had not expected to see Edmund reflect his own feeling of helplessness.

“She has sacrificed quite as much as you in this war,” the other man continued.

“You expect me to sit by and do nothing while her life is in danger?”

“No, I expect you to go and make a nuisance of yourself at Sint Stefaan.”

Edmund sounded weary.

“You are worried about her, then?”

“Worried? I’ve barely slept since I sent her there. If it were not so important, I would ride out there now and bring her away myself.”

John dropped into the nearest chair.

“I’ll kill Franz if any harm comes to her,” he said.

“Only if you get to him before I do.”

Edmund appeared to be examining his injured hand. John grew angry again; he could not allow Sophia to be tortured. Each time he caught sight of Edmund’s left hand these days his blood ran cold. It was a reminder of the price that Sophia might pay for her involvement in this game.

“She loves me,” said John.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I’ve known since she knew it.”

John had not thought their friendship was this deep.

“Does she know the truth?” asked Edmund.

“Yes.”

“And she loves you still?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are a bigger fool than I thought you.”

John could not deny this.

“I’m going back now to bring her away,” he said.

He should have done so this morning.

“No, you’re not.”

“How could I forgive myself...? How could I forgive you...?”

He rose.

“John, wait. Please.” Edmund drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair while he thought. “I’ll write a letter for you to take.”

“I don’t need a letter. I’ll carry her out if I have to.”

“My way is easier and quicker.”

John had to acknowledge that this was probably true, impatient though he was to be gone. Who knew what might be happening in Sint Stefaan?

“But you must think about what you’re doing to her and why,” added Edmund.

He went to the writing table in the corner of the room and wrote quickly. John stood behind him and read over his shoulder. Edmund glanced up.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I’m just wondering what you’re writing that will encourage her to come back.”

“I’m ordering her.”

“Oh.”

Sophia had not gone to bed when John left, but remained on the sofa. Jeanne found her there when she brought up breakfast. Even if their raised voices had not told the entire household that Louis Macquard and his mistress had quarrelled the night before, Sophia’s tear-stained face told its own story.

Refusing Jeanne’s offer to help her undress and put on a fresh gown, Sophia had picked at her breakfast and waited.

John knew everything now; she had no secrets from him. There was no need to hide anything from him, for it had made no difference.

After Jeanne had removed the remains of breakfast, Sophia sat on the sofa and cried. Things should have gone differently. John should have seen that what she was suggesting made sense. Instead, he had woken that morning and threatened to carry her out of the house and back to Brussels. Had she not made it clear that she was doing this for him? What was the point of it all if she could not save him?

She must have slept again, for the sun was now shining weakly through the windows of the sitting-room. Washing her face in the bedroom she assessed her options. Coming to a decision, she packed her bag and sat on the sofa to wait. Then she got up and checked her pistols.

It was not yet midday when she heard a horse in the street below. She looked out of the window; it was Franz. Putting all thoughts of John out of her mind, she waited for Jeanne to show him up. He must have important news; he usually came in the early evening.

“My dear,” he said in German as he entered.

He never bowed when Jeanne showed him in, saying that a man arrogant enough to share another man’s mistress would not bother. Although it suited the fiction they had created about Leutnant Weber, Sophia did not believe him. It was far more likely that he wanted to show that he was easy enough in her company not to find it necessary.

They were both impatient as they waited for Jeanne to leave.

“We were right,” he said when they were finally alone. “The army is to move into Belgium the day after tomorrow.”

“Go to Brussels,” she said. “Go to Brussels and tell Edmund.”

“But you…”

“John is coming back for me.”

Of this she was completely sure. The only reason he had not carried her out with him earlier was because she would have fought him. “And you will go faster alone. My bag is packed.”

She nodded towards her bedroom.

“You could not have known…”

“It was my ankle. John knew it was too dangerous for me to remain.”

If Franz heard his own lack of understanding condemned by her words, he gave no sign. His failure in that regard was more than enough to confirm that he was not the man that John was. Almost as soon as John had left she had seen that she should have gone with him.

“He will not make you happy, Sophia.”

“I would rather be unhappy with him than happy with anyone else.”

“Then I shall go to Brussels with my news.”

He left her.

He had not been gone long before she heard footsteps on the stairs. Thinking that Franz had returned to persuade her to leave with him, she went out onto the landing.

It was not Franz, however, who came up the stairs towards her, but an unknown man.

“Good day, Monsieur. Are you a new tenant of Madame Gilbert?”

He could not be, for Madame’s other tenant was an elderly woman to whom Sophia had been introduced on her second day in the house.

“No, Madame, I am a spy-catcher and you are a spy.”

Sophia heard shouts from the courtyard and the sound of steel on steel. Franz must be fighting someone. This man was not alone. Sophia’s mind was racing.

“I am many things, Monsieur, but I am not a spy.”

“Now that I see you, I understand that Herr Schröder’s motives for visiting you so frequently might not entirely have to do with the information he brings you.”

Silence fell and Sophia heard others enter the house.

“Your colleague is dead.”

“Not my colleague, a lover.”

She was surprised at how steady her voice was, since Franz must be dead and she was alone.

Two men stood behind the stranger at the bottom of the stairs.

“Perhaps both, then.” He turned to one of the men. “Make sure we are not disturbed. Do not kill unless it is necessary.”

Had Sophia brought death on Madame Gilbert and Jeanne? She had not considered that at all.

The first man mounted the stairs towards her. Sophia did not move; her plan depended on the enemy believing she was paralysed with fear. This was near enough to the truth anyway. There were three of them and they had already shown that they were prepared to kill.