The Rake To Redeem Her. Julia Justiss

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СКАЧАТЬ have to come to terms with much more than his injuries, Will knew. ‘Not yet. Once I got him safely back to England, he told me I’d wet-nursed him long enough and kicked me out. So I might as well go to Vienna.’

      Alastair frowned. ‘I still don’t like you going there alone. Max said the authorities in Vienna strongly discouraged him from investigating the matter. You’ll get no help from them. It could even be dangerous.’

      ‘Dangerous?’ Will rose and made a circuit of the room. ‘Do you remember the first summer we were all together at Swynford Court?’ he asked abruptly, looking back at Alastair. ‘The lawyer who found me in Seven Dials had just turned me over to the earl, who, assured I was truly his brother’s child, dumped me in the country. Telling you, Max and Dom to make something of me, or else. I was … rather unlikeable.’

      Alastair laughed. ‘An understatement! Surly, filthy, cursing everyone you encountered in barely comprehensible cant!’

      ‘After two weeks, you and Dom were ready to drown me in the lake. But Max wouldn’t give up. One night he caught me alone in the stables. I tried every dirty trick I knew, but he still beat the stuffing out of me. Then, cool as you please, he told me my behaviour had to change. That I was his cousin and a Ransleigh, and he was counting on me to learn to act like one. I didn’t make it easy, but he kept goading, coaxing, working on me, like water dripping on stone, until he finally convinced me there could be advantages to becoming more than the leader of thieves in a rookery. Max knew that if I didn’t change, when the earl returned at the end of the summer, blood kin or not, he would toss me back into the streets.’

      Will stared past Alastair out the library window, seeing not the verdant pastures of Barton Abbey, but the narrow, noisome alleys of Seven Dials. ‘If he had, I’d probably be dead now. So I owe Max. For my life. For giving me the closest, most loyal friends and cousins any man could wish for. I swear on whatever honour I possess that I won’t take up my own life again until I see his name cleared. Until he has the choice, if he truly wishes, to become the great political leader we all know he should be.’

      After studying him for a moment, Alastair nodded. ‘Very well. If there’s anything I can do, you’ll let me know, won’t you? If Max hadn’t led you and Dom after me into the army, I might not have survived, either. For months after Di—’ he halted, having almost said the forbidden name. ‘Well, I didn’t much care whether I lived or died.’

      Will wondered if sometimes, Alastair still didn’t much care.

      ‘I might need some help on the official front when it comes time to get the wench into England.’

      ‘She may balk at returning. After all, if she proves herself a spy, the gallows await.’

      ‘I can be … persuasive.’

      Alastair chuckled. ‘I don’t want to know. When do you propose to leave?’

      ‘Tomorrow.’

      ‘But you have just got back! Mama expects you to stay at least a week and Max will want to see you.’

      Will shook his head. ‘Your mama’s being kind and Max would only try to dissuade me. Better I don’t see him until … after. If he asks, tell him the army still has business for me on the Continent. Besides, you were right; it’s been more than a year. No sense waiting for memories to fade any more than they already have.’

      ‘Do keep me posted. It might take some time to ride to your rescue.’

      ‘Tonight, all I’ll need rescue from is too much brandy. Unlikely, as you’re being entirely too stingy with it.’

      Laughing, Alastair retrieved the bottle and refilled their glasses. ‘Ransleigh Rogues for ever!’

      ‘Ransleigh Rogues,’ Will replied, clinking his glass with Alastair’s.

       Chapter Two

       Vienna, Austria—six weeks later

      Elodie Lefevre shifted her chair into the beam of afternoon sunlight spilling through the window. Taking up her needlework again, she breathed in the soft scent of the late-blooming daffodils she’d planted last autumn in the tiny courtyard garden below. Nodding violas added their sweet fragrance as well.

      She paused a moment, letting the calm and beauty seep into her soul, soothing the restless anxiety that lurked always just below the surface. By this evening, she would have this consignment of embroidery finished. Clara would come by with dinner, bringing a new load of embroidery and payment for completing the last.

      Against all the odds, she had survived. Despite the constant imperative gnawing within her to get back to Paris, she must remain patient and continue working, hoarding her slowly increasing store of coins. Perhaps late this year, she would finally have enough saved to return … and search for Philippe.

      A wave of longing gripped her as her mind caressed his beloved image—the black curls falling over his brow, the dark, ever-curious, intelligent eyes, the driving energy that propelled him. Was he still in Paris? How had he changed in the nearly eighteen months since she’d left?

      Would he recognise her? She glanced at herself in the mirror opposite. She was thinner, of course, after her long recovery, but except for her crooked fingers, most of the injuries didn’t show. Her blue eyes were shadowed, perhaps, and long hours indoors had dulled the gold highlights the sun had once burnished in her soft brown hair, but otherwise, she thought she looked much the same.

      Suddenly, something—a faint stir of the air, a flicker of light—seized her attention. Instantly alert, moving only her eyes, she discovered the source: a barely perceptible movement in the uppermost corner of the mirror, which reflected both her image and the adjacent window that also overlooked the courtyard.

      Scarcely breathing, she shifted her head a tiny bit to the right. Yes, someone was there—a man, perched soundlessly on the narrow balcony beside the window, watching her, all but the top of his tawny head and his eyes hidden behind the wall and the vines crawling up it. Had she not chanced to look into the mirror at that precise instant, she would never have seen him move into position.

      From the elevation of his head, he must be tall, and agile, to have scaled the wall so soundlessly. The minuscule amount of him she could see gave her no hint whether he was thin or powerfully built. Whether he was armed, and if so, with what.

      Not that the knowledge would do her much good. All she had to defend herself was her sewing scissors; her small pistol was hidden in her reticule in the wardrobe and her knife, in the drawer of the bedside table.

      But as seconds passed and he remained motionless, she let out the breath she’d been holding. The afternoon light was bright; he could clearly see she was alone. If he’d meant to attack her, surely he would have made a move by now.

      Who was he, then? Not one of the men who’d been watching the apartment from the corner ever since Clara brought her here. No one had bothered her since the foiled attack; so small and damaged a fish as herself, she thought, was of little interest, especially after Napoleon’s exile at St Helena put an end once and for all to dreams of a French empire.

      Elodie kept her gaze riveted on the mirror as several more seconds dragged on. Despite her near-certainty the stranger did not mean her any immediate harm, her nerves—and a rising anger—finally prompted her to speak.

      ‘Monsieur, СКАЧАТЬ