Chapter Fourteen
C hapter F ourteen
Z ut. Zut. Zut.
And damn it all to hell at that.
Nothing could have prepared Gilles for the sight of Abigail sitting on the floor of his study, rifling through the contents of his secret compartment, his entire operative life on full display. The fear in her eyes, as well as the comprehension, told him that her being here was no accident. That she had known to look for something. That she’d had an ulterior motive for being here.
That, somewhere, lies had been spoken.
He ought to have been furious. He ought to have raged. He ought to have felt or said or done any number of things at being discovered in such a way, especially by the woman he loved. By being betrayed, in a way, by the same.
But instead, he felt remarkably calm. His mind raced, of course, but his heart did not.
He knew Abigail. Or whatever her name was. He’d known enough liars and actors in his life to tell the difference between what was genuine and what was not, and everything about Abigail screamed genuine from head to toe. Whatever lies existed had to be minimal at best, else he would have to call himself gullible and blind.
He had never been either, and he was not about to begin now.
Abigail still sat on the floor staring at him, her fingers clutching at the signet ring.
She looked utterly terrified.
He hated that.
Sighing, Gilles set the candelabra on the floor, then sank onto it himself, leaning against the door. He rested his arms on the tops of his knees and tilted his head back to rest against the door as well. It was as casual a position as he could think of under the circumstances.
“Abigail,” he said simply, not bothering to smile, as he wasn’t sure how she would take it. “Please.”
She blinked almost owlishly at him, then slowly lowered the ring to her lap. Her eyes never left his, and just as before, he felt as though she could see directly into his soul. Only there was no heat to be found in it now, only worry.
“Am I going to get hurt?” she whispered.
His heart seemed to crack in his chest, and he heard it do so. “Abigail…”
“Will you let me leave after I tell you everything?”
Ice raced through his veins and his breath caught painfully in his throat. “Leave?”
“Leave,” she said again. “You won’t want me here once you know, I can promise you that.”
Oh, how little she knew him!
Now he did smile, chuckling very softly. “You cannot, in fact, promise me that, but if it will make you feel better… When you have told me who you are and what you know, you may go as freely as you came. But as a courtesy, I will tell you now that you do not know nearly as much as you think you do, and you have as little reason to fear me as you do a spaniel.”
Her brow creased rather impressively at his words, her lips pursing.
Gilles had to grin at the sight. Either she was from the Faction, or she was from the English, and he could play this either way. He’d have a much harder time if she was from the Faction, but if she was from the English operatives, his life was about to improve exponentially.
But he would not deny that it was a complicated, confusing situation for someone to come into with only half of the information. It was confusing enough with both sides.
“I am trusting you, Gilles,” Abigail murmured in a low, throaty voice that made him burn as much as it made him sad. “I hope I am not doing so in vain.”
“You’re not,” he whispered back, nodding his encouragement.
She did not return it. Her eyes lowered to the overturned portion of the rug, and he heard her soft exhale. “My name is Abigail Charteris. I have been an operative in the service of England since I was eighteen years of age.”
Gilles let his eyelids flutter a touch in relief, a silent exhale making his body almost weak.
“I have been teaching for five years at Miss Masters’s School for Fine Young Ladies in Kent,” Abigail went on, her voice never wavering. “My assignment was to come here and investigate you as a member of the French Faction that supports the ideals of Sieyès and wishes to take down the French government, the British crown, and various corners of Europe.”
Well, that summed it up nicely, didn’t it? The Faction wanted a great deal more than that, but he would let that be for now.
Abigail cleared her throat and straightened where she sat. “You came to our attention after a foiled kidnapping of a young lady in London. Lucy Allred.”
Gilles felt his smile evaporate and his hands began to tighten into fists. Allred?
“Her father had a part in it.” Abigail swallowed quickly, her eyes still on the floor. “He told operatives that someone approached him and offered to satisfy his extensive debts if his daughter was given to a man named Bichard, who wanted to enter London Society but had no connections.”
“Zut alors!” Gilles pushed to his feet in one swift movement and grabbed the candelabra, racing to his desk.
Abigail fell backwards in alarm, but clambered to her feet. “Gilles? Gilles, I told you it was a foiled attempt. We stopped it.”
“They’re going for it again,” he ground out, yanking out his drawer and pulling another piece of parchment out. “I don’t have time to explain everything, ma douce, but believe me, I want exactly what you want at this point.”
“So it’s not you who wants to go into London Society?”
He snorted loudly as he scribbled out the message he wished to send. “Absolument pas,” he grunted. “Why do you think I live on Guernsey? But I won’t have a choice now. My idiot gaspilleur of a brother burns with the passion of l’Faction and is blind to their evils. I have no doubt he is the one they wish to have enter English Society, even at the expense of an innocent young woman.”
“What do you mean you’ll have no choice?” Abigail snapped as she looked at what he was writing.
“I will have to offer myself to go to London,” he said shortly as he began to transcribe his words into code on a separate sheet. “I already have connections through my wife’s family, so it would negate the need for a bride for anyone. If I had known this was what they meant, I would have done it months ago, but évidemment no one wishes to speak clearly, even in their messages to each other.”
Abigail was silent as he worked through the code he’d had memorized for so long, he no longer needed the rubric to guide his actions.
“You intercept letters,” she finally stated, her voice barely audible over the scratching of his quill. “Faction letters.”
“Oui,” he quipped, his attention on the code still. “But that is my task, ma douce. It is easier to get letters to our members through me than general post. I send all of them to one person, and he has his own riders go out with them. One in England, one in France. But they don’t know that I open and decipher everything and also send anything of interest or import to my other contacts in England.”
Her hand fell on his arm, pausing his writing. “Other contacts?”
Gilles looked up and met her eyes, so brilliant and richly blue even in this dim light. And so perfectly filled with hope at this moment that he could not resist leaning in and kissing her fiercely, nipping at her lips just once.
“Oui, ma douce,” he whispered, reaching up to brush her bottom lip with his thumb. “Perhaps you know them. Trick, for one.”
Her eyes went perfectly round at that. “You know Trick?”
He grinned and kissed her quickly before returning to his coding. “Only by my pen. He calls me Briton, which I find shockingly apt. He also has me write to Iris, but she is less fun to correspond with.”
“Iris?”
“And there was some contact with Trace before his unfortunate presumed death,” Gilles said with a sigh, as though only recollecting in passing. “But that was mostly Heloise and her sister.”
“What?”
Chuckling, Gilles glanced at Abigail for one brief moment. “Ma douce, there is much to discuss, but if we wish to prevent any more trouble…” He gestured to his letter.
That snapped her out of her stupor, and she reached over him to grab a piece of parchment for herself. “Right. I’ll write to my superior as well and let her know of the situation. Do Trick and Iris know of the continuing plot?”
“I assume so, given what I have told them and what you have told me.” He scribbled a few more words and signed the note before grabbing a bit of pounce to set the ink. “Allred is missing, but they are looking for him. I now presume your people have him safely stowed somewhere. They are looking for new brides, have settled between two, and another warehouse has been secured, likely to be used as a rendezvous location.” He barked a cold laugh. “And here I was concerned about an elopement needing to use Coutanche as a safe haven.”
Abigail hummed a sound of disapproval as she scratched out her own missive. “Only partially wrong, I suppose. Would your brother really show up here with his kidnapped bride in tow?”
Gilles frowned at that, thinking a moment. “Non, Gaston would never get his own hands dirty. And I have no reason to believe he has ever been to London, so whoever is assigned to fetch the girl would bring her here, and he would follow another time. Who knows what lies they would have told me?”
“I found your secret room in the caves,” Abigail told him as she reached over him for the pounce to dry her own missive. “Would they have stayed there?”
He looked at her in delighted pride. “You certainly did the thing properly, didn’t you, ma douce?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he folded his letter and began melting the wax for a seal. “Non, the only ones who stay in there are the operatives either fleeing England or sneaking into it. We haven’t had them for a few years now, but recent letters indicated I might be used again. But did anybody tell me that directly? Non. Des secrets exaspérants.”
He pressed the wax against the parchment and picked up the signet ring Abigail had set on the desk, sealing the wax firmly with it.
Abigail used the same wax to seal her letter, then wiped her hands on her skirts, exhaling slowly. “How do we get these out quickly, Gilles?”
“I’ll send a rider to my contact at the docks. He can get them to England well before nightfall tomorrow.”
“Even mine?”
Gilles turned to her and put both hands on her upper arms, rubbing gently. “Even yours, Abigail. He is not a member of l’Faction, only a man I pay very well to take my letters where they need to go. He will see them both delivered with equal haste. Do you trust me?”
Her eyes searched his a moment, but the answer was already there in her gaze. “Yes.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips to her brow gently, breathing in her essence and her goodness. “Thank you, ma douce.” He pulled back and stroked her cheek, then held out his hand for her letter. “May I?”
She handed it over, and he picked up his own letter as well, slapping both into the palm of his hand. “I will be back very soon. Please, don’t leave. There is more to say, I think.”
Abigail swallowed and nodded, stepping back from the desk. “Yes, there is. Hurry.”
He smiled tightly and gripped her hand before moving out of the room, striding down the corridor at a clip.
He hadn’t thought to return to Coutanche before morning, but taking a number of letters to Allaire hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought, and he hadn’t bothered to spend any time down in the village. At this time of night, all he could do was take lodgings at the local inn, but his own bed and his own home had called to him instead. What might have gone on if he hadn’t arrived at that precise moment? He might never have known who Abigail was, and they might not have realized the gravity of the situation taking place in England.
Now he had to try and get these letters to accompany the others before the ship to Poole left. It ought to be fine, given the usual time of departure, but nevertheless…
The gamekeeper’s cottage was just a short walk from the main house, so Gilles was there and pounding on the door before his thoughts could venture too far into worrying.
It took several rounds of pounding before the door opened, and Simms squinted at him, bleary-eyed even in the dark of the night. “Mr. Bichard?”
“Excuses, Simms, but I need you to ride these down to Allaire at this moment. They must sail with him on the morning tide.” He handed the letters over, as well as a pouch of coins. “This plus the same again if he can get these delivered before what he already has. Can you do it?”
Simms rubbed a hand over his face, blinking several times as he nodded. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I’ll go now.”
Gilles nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see a horse saddled for you now. Merci, mon ami.” He turned and headed for the stables, not bothering to wake anyone as he got one of the horses readied for the venture. Why wake more of his staff than he needed to? Besides, he preferred to saddle the horse himself when he rode anyway, so he was perfectly practiced in it.
Simms was at the stables just a few moments later, looking at him with surprise. “I could have done that, sir.”
“I know, but now you don’t have to.” Gilles rubbed the horse’s nose gently and led him out, handing the reins to Simms, who nodded. “Godspeed.”
He didn’t wait for Simms to leave before returning to the house, flexing his fingers a few times as he walked.
Everything was out of his hands and his control at the moment. He had done all he could once the information was his, and all he could do now was wait. They might not take him up on his offer, but if they were wise, they would see the sense in it. There would be less trouble to stir up if he was the man they chose to enter London Society.
He groaned at the very idea of London, and what it would mean, but if it would spare some girl from being forced to marry his brother, he could breathe a little easier about it.
Making his way back to the study, Gilles felt the weight of what he had just taken on, what had been revealed, and the sheer lateness of the hour. His body was exhausted, but his mind whirled and clicked like some obscure contraption with far too many mechanisms and no real purpose. Everything was going to change for him and for his daughters, and their idyllic life on Guernsey, away from the trouble of the Faction, would be over.
He would be stepping into the lion’s den without any certainty he would be delivered.
Abigail stood by the windows of his study, looking out at the distant sea, but she turned as he closed the door. “I saw Simms ride off. Will he make it?”
“I believe so,” Gilles murmured, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Allaire sails on the morning tide, but that’s a relative term, in his mind. He’s never failed me before.”
She nodded softly and leaned back against the windows, staring at him. “Can we talk?”
He gave her a tired smile and went over to the desk, but instead of sitting there, sat himself on the floor by the windows and leaned against the wall. “By all means. Let’s talk.”
If she was surprised by his position, she made no sign of it. Instead, she lowered herself to the floor and mirrored him, laying her head against the wall to stare directly at him.
He stared right back, smiling at the feeling of a striking blow to his gut that filled the space with heat. “The way you stare, Abigail…” He shook his head. “I’ll never grow accustomed to it.”
“I don’t mean to,” she murmured. “I mean, I don’t intend for anyone to be affected by my looking at them.”
“Then you don’t see yourself very well.” He chuckled softly. “I would wager people tell you everything. Reveal their entire souls and all their secrets.”
Her lips curved in a small smile. “Not quite, but they do tell me quite a bit, it seems.”
He rolled his hand and wrist in a bit of a flourish before gesturing at her, winking at her grin. “Your power, ma douce.”
“You still call me that,” Abigail said in a low voice, the words tinged with wonder. “After what I’ve told you, you still…”
“What has changed?” he overrode gently, shrugging. “Your surname. Your reason for coming here, perhaps. But you are the same. Your ability to teach and charm my daughters has not changed. Your sincere affection towards them has not changed. Your heart has not changed. Your beauty has not changed. Your spirit has not changed. Therefore, the way I feel for you has not changed.”
Her eyes shimmered in the flickering candlelight. “How?” she asked hoarsely. “How can you feel that way? I… betrayed you.”
Gilles cocked his head slightly, heat pulsing through his frame. “Did you? Did you really?”
“I came here to investigate you,” she choked out, swiping at falling tears.
“Did you have feelings for me when you took the assignment?”
She coughed a watery laugh. “No, of course not.”
“Then you were simply fulfilling your assignment, which shows honor and integrity.” He shouldn’t be enjoying this, but God help him, he was. He was loving that he could help her see how he felt about her at the same time as learn more about her feelings, and all secrets between them would be laid to rest.
Well, what secrets that had no impact on national security, of course.
He’d allow those.
Abigail hiccupped on more tears, cursing to herself as she wiped her cheeks again. “But after we… once we… I still did it. I invaded your study and found your work.”
“Because you are a skilled operative,” he said simply. “I commend you. I should have hidden it better. How did you know to find it?”
She waved her hand at the rug as her throat bobbed on a swallow. “The rug looks like sheep’s wool, and I remembered you love The Odyssey.”
“Tres bien, ma douce,” Gilles praised with a laugh, dropping his head back against the wall. “I believe it is safe to say that not many others would have made that conclusion.”
“Gilles! How are you not furious?” she demanded, her hands making some sort of slapping sound.
He looked at her and saw her palms flat against her thighs, her eyes full of confusion now. He softened and smiled as gently as he could. “Because, ma douce, we are on the same side. And I am not angry because I know your heart. I could feel it, vous comprenez? From the very first moment. So I knew that whoever you were, whatever you were doing, your intentions were pure, and I could trust them.”
She shook her head slowly, looking as though she might crumple where she sat.
He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms, but he sensed there was something that needed to be closed between them first. Something that needed to be said, acknowledged, or done, and until it was, nothing would truly be settled.
“Ma douce,” he began slowly, “did you believe I was a villain? Not when you took the assignment, but once you were here.”
The muscles in her throat flickered with tension, and she shook her head. “No. No, I… I’ve never believed that. It’s why I’ve had so little to report back. I’ve found nothing, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to find anything. I couldn’t believe that you would ever do what I was supposed to think you had. I could not reconcile the man I knew with the one I was supposed to investigate. I’ve never wanted to fail in a mission before in my entire life.”
“You saw me,” Gilles murmured, his voice fairly rumbling from his chest as it reached across the room for her. “I’d hoped you would.”
She nodded at him, and he saw the renewed moisture in her eyes, her lower lip quivering.
His throat constricted, and he held a hand out to her. “Viens ici, ma douce.”
Abigail crawled over to him and immediately snuggled up to his side, her head resting on his chest as her tears fell against him. He wrapped her in his arms and let his fingers thread through her hair as he kissed her brow repeatedly. Soft, grazing kisses meant to comfort and console as well as convey.
He sighed as he rested his chin against her head, rocking just a little. “I joined l’Faction at age twenty, and Gaston followed suit. We joined for France and for the chance to restore her to glory after la Révolution and Napoleon brought us down. I never cared about the aristocracy or the monarchy, just France. I did not see a reason for so much bloodshed to have taken place then, but I have never lived in Paris. I was just a boy in Quimper. What did I know about such things? And Napoleon…”
He scoffed loudly, shaking his head. “Arrogant fool. Whatever his initial plans, he made a mess of everything else. We only wanted to do better by France and for France. I met Heloise at a gathering in Orléans that was intended to be a recruiting mission. I think the only person I recruited was her, and that was a triumph enough for me.”
Abigail snickered softly, nuzzling against him as her arms wrapped around his waist.
Gilles closed his eyes in memory, and in delight at having her in his hold. “We married straightaway. Too quickly for some, but we knew our minds. We settled in Brittany thereafter, and I continued to work for l’Faction however I could. But Heloise… she had clearer vision than I did. Her father was British and had come to France as an operative himself, not that she told me that right away. But she could see the warning signs early and acted accordingly. She began to take my messages and send the information to England without my knowledge.”
Abigail stilled against him, and he could feel how her heart pounded.
“Her older half-sister has been involved with several operatives and assignments over the years,” Gilles went on, continuing his almost hypnotic motion of running his fingers through her long tresses. “The two of them worked out a coded system for themselves and she connected Heloise with the right individuals to receive information. That is how the figure of Briton was born. It was Heloise, until I started to express my doubts and fears to her about what l’Faction was becoming.”
He laughed a little as he pulled back and looked Abigail in the eyes. “You should have seen my reaction to her confession then, ma douce. Anger became disbelief, which became pride and relief. She saw me as well, and knew I would want to help. So from then on, we became Briton. I stayed within the ranks to continue the flow of information, and we ensured that England got what was relevant.”
“And Gaston?” she asked, her eyes flicking between his.
Gilles sighed heavily, shaking his head. “We grew apart. He does not know of my disenchantment, but he does know I do not possess the same passion for the cause as he does. He attributes this to my marriage and children, but it has always been this way. He, on the other hand… He will do anything to rise in the ranks.”
“Like take part in an abduction plot for a connected English wife,” Abigail said quietly, shaking her head.
“I still cannot believe they have done this,” Gilles growled, dropping his head back against the wall again. “Have they lost all sense of themselves? Forcing a young woman to act a part for her entire marriage when she is a prisoner… That is cruel, and they would be condemning her to no end of abuse within the privacy of her marriage. Especially if she weds Gaston and does not share his devotion to the cause.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I do not want to move to London, and I do not want to move the girls to London.”
He felt Abigail sit up and let his arm go loose about her shoulders. “Then why offer yourself? You could stay out of it entirely, Gilles. Leave foiling the abductions to us.”
His eyes snapped open as he stared at her, irritation flaring at her for the very first time. “You really believe I could stand by and let that happen? Risk what happened to Mademoiselle Allred happening to someone else? Even if you can stop a dozen abductions, Abigail, it will not be enough. No father should feel as though he should sell his daughter, and no daughter should be used as a pawn in some stupid game of men. How can I stay out of this when I am a perfect solution to end it?”
Abigail smiled at him then, so tenderly and so gently that his breath caught in his chest, trapped and flailing against several ribs. She laid her hand along his cheek, stroking softly. “You’re Odysseus, aren’t you? The cursed warrior trying to get home and doing everything in his power to see right restored.”
Gilles managed a weak laugh. “Perhaps. But that would make France my Penelope, and her suitors this group of men who have distorted everything.”
Her smile turned a trifle wry, but her hand did not move. “What would you do when you’re back with Penelope, then? In this Odysseus world you’ve imagined.”
“Rule Ithaca, of course.”
“Which is?”
“My life.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Or my happiness, perhaps.”
Abigail’s brows knitted together. “But can you not be happy without her?”
He leaned into her touch, and began running his fingers along the back of her hand and to her wrist. “Certainly. Just not to the fullest extent. And that is not to say that I have to be in France once it is restored. Only that it is restored. That will be enough.”
“Why is that an important distinction?”
He kissed the palm of her hand and sat forward, taking her face in both of his hands and meeting her gaze with all of the raw intensity he could muster. “Because I don’t want you to believe that one day I must return to France in order to be my happiest. I want my life to be with you, Abigail. As much as I want France restored. I will never be fully happy without you either. And I will live anywhere in this world in utter bliss if you are with me.”
Her mouth fell open as she stared at him, completely devoid of sound.
Gilles ran his thumb along her bottom lip gently. “I love you, Abigail Charteris.”
She closed her mouth, clamping down on her lips hard before shaking her head quickly. “I love you,” she gasped, closing the distance between them and slamming her lips to his.
He cradled her as she came flush against him, her arms folding about his neck as though determined to rid any distance at all between this embrace. Her very soul was in her endless, ravenous kiss, and he took every bit of it and gave his own. There was too much and yet not enough, no sating the hunger that was building and yet fulfilling every wish he’d ever had. Breathless and starving, yet renewed and whole.
Home.
Wherever she was, he would be home.