To Tame a Rogue (Soldiers & Soulmates Book 2)
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Synopsis
Book 2 in the exciting new Soldiers and Soulmates series has arrived. Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
To prevent her father from marrying her off to an elderly suitor, Lady Gemma Barton begs her childhood friend to marry her, devising a way for them to be found in a compromising position. Gemma weds Rob, who then departs to serve on Wellesley's staff in the war against Bonaparte. Gemma's new father-in-law soon has her working for the British government, deciphering enemy codes.
Burke Nicholson serves in the Peninsular War as a soldier and spy, using his charisma and charm to gather intelligence. After he's rescued from being captured and tortured, Burke lives with survivor's guilt, believing he did something to compromise his latest mission which got his partner killed. He returns to London to continue his spy work, where he is partnered with Gemma and tasked to find a group of traitors within the War Office. The trouble is that Gemma is the widow of Burke's former partner. Not only did he get her husband killed, but Burke fears their dangerous assignment might also end Gemma's life.
The pair fight their growing attraction to one another as they draw closer to finding the rebels trying to topple the British government.
Will Gemma ever be able to forgive Burke for his role in her husband's death, and will Burke ever be able to forgive himself?
Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston's second book of Soldiers and Soulmates, To Tame a Rogue.
Each book in Soldiers and Soulmates is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
Soldiers and Soulmates
Book #1: To Heal an Earl
Book #2: To Tame a Rogue
Book #3: To Trust a Duke
Book #4: To Save a Love
Book #5: To Win a Widow
Release date: March 10, 2020
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Print pages: 268
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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To Tame a Rogue (Soldiers & Soulmates Book 2)
Alexa Aston
PROLOGUE
London—June 1806
Gemma Barton paced restlessly up and down the length of the drawing room. Her aunt sat in a corner, knitting and dozing, oblivious to her niece’s mood. It was almost teatime.
Where was Rob?
She’d sent a note to him hours ago, imploring him to come to her. Perhaps she hadn’t conveyed her desperation enough because he hadn’t shown up yet. She paused and looked out the window, trying to calm herself. Rob wasn’t at her beck and call. She knew how busy he was since he reported for military duty soon. His father, the Earl of Covington, had purchased his younger son a commission upon his graduation from university a month ago. Rob would leave at week’s end for a brief training period and then join Wellesley’s staff as an aide.
Funny, but she’d never pictured her best friend as an army officer. She’d seen him more as a Cambridge don. He was adept at anything academic. He spoke four languages fluently and could get by in three more. Computing complicated mathematical formulas in his head proved easy for him, while Gemma needed paper to add anything in double figures. Rob spouted historical dates and could draw detailed maps of various countries in his sleep. Even though second sons were usually destined for a military career, she’d thought Lord Covington would make an exception and allow Rob to pursue a gentler kind of life, one more suited for his temperament.
Not with England at war, though. Rob confided to Gemma that although he loathed the idea of charging into battle, he was willing to do his part for king and country. She knew, though, that Lord Covington had more than nudged his son into accepting the commission. She only wished it was Richard, the earl’s older son, who left to fight. Richard was lazy and irresponsible and already at five and twenty in more debt than a young man his age should be. He had markers out all over town and gambled far too recklessly. Gemma thought Richard would make a terrible earl and that it should be Rob, the responsible one of the two brothers, who should inherit.
She thought it unfair that a man’s title and estate had to pass to his eldest son. Richard would most likely bankrupt the estate once he became Covington, while Rob would have been a caring landlord who watched over his tenants. Instead, her friend would be stuck in the army for God knew how many years as the fight with Bonaparte raged on.
A maid rolled in the teacart and Aunt Sylvia perked up.
“Oh, I do hope Cook made some of that spice cake again,” she said, greedily eyeing the items on the cart.
As the servant left, their butler stepped into the room and said, “The Honorable Robert Smythe.”
Relief washed through Gemma. “Do send him in at once.”
Moments later, Rob rounded the corner, a ready smile for her. He greeted her aunt first and then Gemma.
Knowing it would arouse her aunt’s suspicions if they took off with tea awaiting, Gemma asked, “Would you like some tea, Rob?”
“Certainly. Especially if it comes with a biscuit or slice of cake. Your cook makes the most marvelously moist cakes. She could definitely show ours a thing or two in the kitchen.”
Gemma poured tea for the three of them and they spent the next half-hour discussing Rob’s leaving at the end of the week.
“Training first, for a short while, and then I’ll report to the higher ups.”
He sounded optimistic but she knew how much he dreaded going, leaving behind his treasured books and friends.
“You will be a credit to your country, Mr. Smythe,” Aunt Sylvia proclaimed.
After requesting a second cup of tea from her, Gemma flashed Rob a sign that she needed to speak to him as she poured.
He sipped at it and then said, “I think what I’ll miss most is how green England is. Our parks. The gardens.” He paused and then said, “Would you have time to walk with me now in Hyde Park, Gem? I may not have another opportunity to do so.”
She looked to her aunt, who nodded in agreement and added, “Don’t forget you have the Parkington ball tonight.” Sylvia smiled slyly. “I believe it will be quite the night for you, my dear.”
Her words confirmed Gemma’s worst fears.
She and Rob left the room and she quickly went to her bedchamber. Pinning on her hat, she collected her reticule before joining her friend again in the foyer.
They started toward the park, which was only a few blocks from the Barton townhouse. Gemma tucked her hand through Rob’s arm.
“I came as soon as I could, Gem,” he apologized.
“I know you have many obligations before you leave,” she said. “But I am in need of your advice.”
He grinned. “Has someone asked for your hand? Do I need to give my approval of this husband-to-be?”
It was a logical question, considering Gemma was in her second Season and had just turned twenty. During her come-out, she’d made many friends and had several young men interested in her. None had struck her as someone she wished to spend the rest of her life with, though. Already two months into the current Season, she still hadn’t found anyone who interested her enough.
That’s where the problem began.
Her father, Sir William Barton, was rarely home. He worked at the War Office and spent most of his waking hours there thanks to the threat of Bonaparte. Her father had sat her down two weeks ago and explained that she needed to find a husband to take her off his hands. Sir William claimed he worried that Gemma’s standards were too high. She needed to broaden her outlook and find a husband this Season—or he’d do so for her.
The pressure to wed quickly had made her anxious. Then she’d stumbled across something she was never meant to see.
It changed everything.
She hadn’t meant to snoop. She’d merely gone to her father’s study to leave him a note since it was their chief form of communication with him gone at all hours and her at ton events. That was where she’d seen the letter from Lord Willows on his desk. It caught her attention as she placed her own note down because she caught sight of her name. She read it quickly, horrified that the old codger had offered for her. He was at least seventy-five and rich as Croesus.
But the thought of lying with him made her ill. His gnarled hands stroking her naked flesh. His dry, withered lips against hers. It was enough to cause Gemma to convert to Catholicism and enter a convent. Or shave her head and dress as a man so she could enlist as a soldier. Anything but marry Lord Willows.
“Yes, Rob. Lord Willows wishes to wed me—and I think Father has agreed to the match.”
“What?” He stopped dead in his tracks. “He’s got to be seventy if a day. Possibly eighty. Oh, no, Gemma. You cannot marry such a man.”
“Father recently told me I must wed by the end of this Season. He wants me gone from the house and another man’s responsibility.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t do it. I just can’t. Give me some advice. Tell me what to do.”
Actually, Gemma knew exactly what she wanted. For Rob to marry her.
They started walking again. He remained silent as they entered the park. The fashionable hour to be seen had begun and carriages and strolling couples were everywhere.
Rob led her to a bench and took a seat beside her.
“I would say you could marry me, Gem, but you know why you can’t.”
She knew exactly what he referred to.
“That’s the beauty of it, Rob. You can. We could marry by special license before you leave for the war.”
He frowned. “And what would that get you, Gem? My name alone. I don’t have a farthing beyond what Father bestows upon me. He’s already spent a small fortune purchasing my commission.”
She took his hand and gazed directly into his pale, blue eyes. “Don’t you see, Rob? If I have your name, I have my freedom. Father couldn’t tell me what to do anymore. I wouldn’t have to wed Willows.” She paused. “And when you return? We would be husband and wife—in name only, of course. You could . . . pursue whomever you wished.”
A shadow crossed his handsome face. “I couldn’t do that to you, Gem. What kind of life would that be for you?” He swallowed. “You know I could never be a true husband to you.”
She looked at him with affection. “But I would be wed to my best friend. I would be happy, Rob. I truly would.”
“What about children?”
“There are couples who don’t have children. Either by choice or the inability to do so. We would merely be one of them. It’s not as if you need an heir. You don’t possess a title.”
Gemma saw him wavering and knew in that moment he would rescue her.
“Where would you live?”
“I suppose with your father and Richard. After all, I would be a member of your family. Being a married woman, though, I would no longer need a maid trailing after me everywhere I went. I could accept the social invitations I choose. Enjoy time with my friends. I could read. Work my puzzles and play music. Garden. If I marry you, Rob, I gain my independence. If I don’t, Father will shove me off on Willows.”
“He’s wealthy, Gem,” her friend pointed out. “He’s only got a few years left. If you could stand being wed to him for a short while, you’d end up a very rich widow.”
She frowned at him. “When have I ever cared about money?”
“Never,” he admitted.
“Rob, do this for me. For us. You’ll have your liberty when you come home, as well. We can entertain and attend social outings together and then as most married couples do, simply go our own way when they end. Please. Will you do this for me? For us?”
He squeezed her hand. “All right. I only hope you don’t regret it. So, when do you want me to speak to Sir William?”
“My intuition tells me that Lord Willows will approach me tonight and ask for my hand. Because of that, I think we need to do something spectacular at the ball to prevent that from happening.”
He eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”
She grinned. “I think you’ll need to ruin me.”
“Ruin you?” he hissed and then looked around to see if any passersby had heard him. Glancing back to her, he said, “You’re mad.”
“Mad enough to do whatever it takes not to wed a man old enough to be my grandfather. Or great-grandfather.”
Rob shook his head, resigned. He’d done so before, many times, especially when he’d gone along with her wild schemes from the time they were children and lived on adjoining estates.
“I think we’ll need to be found in a very compromising position. So compromising that you’ll need to purchase a special license tomorrow morning. We can wed in the afternoon. Or the next day at the latest.”
He sighed. “What am I to do?”
Gemma told him.
***
Gemma and her aunt arrived at the Parkington ball later than she preferred but she didn’t want to risk the chance of Willows claiming dances and making his offer—so she’d dawdled getting ready. She knew for certain that the man would request her hand because Aunt Sylvia had let slip that her brother would stop by tonight’s ball. Sir William Barton never had time to attend balls. For him to come to this one meant only one thing—he would announce his daughter’s engagement.
She took the programme du bal handed to her by a footman and skirted the room. A few gentlemen stopped her and signed their names to her dance card. She found Rob, already wearing his officer’s uniform and looking quite dashing in it, and had him sign it, as well.
“After the fourth dance, meet me in the library,” she told him.
Gemma went to a group of women which included Lady Bilton and her sister, whose name Gemma couldn’t recall. The women were two of the biggest gossips of the ton and she knew Lady Bilton had seen her and Rob in the park today.
“Good evening, Lady Bilton,” she said demurely and also greeted the others in the circle.
“Was that Robert Smythe I saw you with today?” the woman immediately asked, needing confirmation for what she’d no doubt already told the women present.
“Yes, my lady,” Gemma said sweetly. “Rob is the son of Lord Covington, whose country estate lies next to ours. Rob and I grew up together. He’s a very dear friend to me.”
“Hmm,” the viscountess said. “You seemed very familiar with him today. You sat quite close together. And you call him Rob?”
Her cheeks heated and Gemma knew that would add to the gossip. It was only natural, though, with her being the center of attention to so many.
“As I said, Lady Bilton, we’ve known each other since the cradle. Rob is leaving to take up his commission soon.” She paused and then breathily said, “I will miss him more than I can say.”
Drawing the woman aside slightly, Gemma added with bright eyes, “He’s signed my dance card twice for tonight—and asked me to meet him in the library after the fourth dance. Do you think . . . that’s a good thing?” she asked innocently.
The voracious gossip’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I see. Well, Mr. Smythe is a very handsome man.”
“Isn’t he?” she asked dreamily.
Rob actually was one of the most handsome men present tonight, which would add to this woman’s need to see what the two of them would be doing in the library.
The musicians began tuning their instruments and she said, “I must return to my aunt. My first dance partner will be looking for me. It was nice speaking with you, Lady Bilton.”
Gemma headed toward her aunt and saw Lord Willows standing beside her. She veered to her right and came up behind her first dance partner, who gazed across the room trying to locate her.
“Here I am,” she said.
“I was searching for you, Miss Barton. I feared we would miss our dance together.”
The music began and he led her onto the dance floor. At one point, she felt eyes boring into her and saw Lord Willows’ intent gaze upon her. Gooseflesh danced across her arms.
Rob claimed her for the second dance and she told him she’d laid the groundwork.
“You’ll just need to do your part. And be convincing.”
He smiled at her fondly. “That won’t be hard. You are the dearest person in the world to me, Gem. And just think, I’ll have a wife to come home to. Let’s just hope this bloody war doesn’t go on forever.”
She caught sight of Willows again, who moved around the edge of the room, stalking them.
“Do you see him?” she asked softly. “No, don’t look.”
“He’s been glaring at me the entire dance. Don’t worry, I’ll steer us away from him.”
When the music ended, she said, “I’ll go hide in the retiring room. See you soon.”
Gemma walked quickly and hurried inside, where only a few women were since it was still early. She played with her hair and even swiped a little color on her lips for good measure. Rob would be the one wearing it soon. She figured enough time had passed since she left the room and headed toward the library. Reaching it, she slipped inside and found Rob already there, looking a bit nervous.
“You don’t have to kiss me on the mouth,” she assured him. “I know that would be like kissing your sister if you had one. But we must be convincing.”
She led him to a settee and had him sit before she plopped into his lap.
He blushed. “This is a bit awkward.”
“That’s all right. It’s supposed to be.”
Quickly, she kissed his cheek hard enough for some of the color to remain behind. Then Gemma hiked up her skirts to her knees and had him place a hand on one of them. She pulled a couple of pins from her hair and let a few curls go astray.
“You look like a seductress,” Rob murmured. “And you’re the most beautiful woman here tonight, Gem.”
“Thank you for doing this, Rob. You were the only one I could’ve asked it of.”
He beamed at her. “What are best friends for?”
He kissed her throat and she leaned her head back to give him better access, closing her eyes. Her gown was one that rested off her shoulders and she tugged one shoulder down slightly.
Gemma sensed someone’s presence and whispered, “Put your hand on my breast.”
Rob did, his lips still against her throat, where her pulse beat wildly. His hand caressed her knee and the other kneaded her breast.
“Oh, my!” a loud voice exclaimed.
She felt Rob’s smile against her throat and then he went into action, pushing her from his lap and leaping to his feet. He should have gone on the stage. He perfectly captured the look of an interrupted lover. Surprised. Slightly embarrassed. Then he stood stoically, as a man who faced the music.
For her part, Gemma slid the gown back up and pushed her skirts down. She saw not only Lady Bilton there but the woman’s sister, along with Lord Bilton.
She almost roared with laughter at the other two men who accompanied them.
Her father . . . and Lord Willows . . .
Gemma stood and Rob came and put an arm about her as her father rushed toward them. Not wishing to miss a word, the others followed in close pursuit.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sir William demanded, glaring at Rob and then Gemma.
“I love Gemma,” Rob said resolutely. “I always have, Sir William. I wanted her to know of my feelings before I went off to war.”
“You wanted up her skirts,” her father declared angrily. “Leaving was just an excuse.”
“Has she behaved this way with others?” Lord Willows demanded. He harrumphed. “This is not the chit for me, Barton.” The nobleman stalked away.
“Father, I’ve never done anything like this before, much less with anyone else,” Gemma said, noting Lady Bilton and her sister hanging on every word.
“And you won’t with anyone else,” he said, his disgust obvious. Looking at Rob, he added, “I expect you to wed my daughter before you run away to war, Smythe.”
“I will purchase a special license tomorrow morning, Sir William. We can wed—”
“You’ll wed tomorrow afternoon,” her father interrupted. “This will be scandalous enough as it is. The sooner you slip a wedding ring on Gemma’s finger, the better.”
He retreated. Lady Bilton shot her a triumphant look and Gemma lowered her eyes, trying not to laugh. She waited until she sensed them gone and raised her eyes.
Rob took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. “We did it, Gem. We did it.”
“We most certainly did.”
CHAPTER 1
Spain—September 1808
Burke Nicholson brushed a lock of the woman’s hair from her face and then gave her a soft kiss before rising from the bed.
“When will I see you again?” she asked, hunger for him still in her eyes.
“Hopefully, soon,” he lied, knowing he wouldn’t be in her bed ever again.
He’d ascertained that he’d gathered all the information he could from her. To see her again would be pointless.
And dangerous.
“But you know how war is, darling,” he added, raking the pad of his finger down her cheek before he retrieved his trousers.
She watched him dress, the longing in her eyes growing. Even if he did think she might have more to tell him, Burke wouldn’t have returned. When he saw that kind of look in a woman’s eyes, he knew to cut and run. He done so ever since he was thirteen. Women had flocked to him from that time on and he’d always been known as a ladies’ man, with his lazy smile and fascinating allure. He’d never met a woman that he couldn’t find something to like about her.
His charm appealed to both men and women. Burke knew he possessed ample charisma and was a smooth talker. He was also restless and reckless and never judged anyone. He preferred to keep his relationships on a surface level. The only ones who truly knew him were Reid and Gray. Burke insisted his friendship—and especially his love affairs—be light and easy. He never planned to wed since he was a third son and had nothing substantial to offer a woman. Too wild to enter the church, he’d pushed hard until his father bought him an army commission and he, Reid, and Gray had all gone off to war.
His immense charm was helping gather intelligence, though, for the British government whenever he wasn’t in his major’s uniform. His excursions into town, where he bedded specifically chosen women, had resulted in valuable information.
He finished dressing. She climbed from the bed and pressed her naked body against his as she wound her arms about his neck. He kissed her a final time and then reached behind and unlocked her fingers, lowering her arms to her side.
“Goodbye,” he said and retreated from the room.
Making his way down the staircase, he reached the lower level and started for the door. Voices sounded and he made a quick turn, ducking into a room just off the foyer. From there, Burke opened a window and climbed out it. He kept close to the house before hurrying to the garden and cutting through it.
His horse awaited him where he’d left it, the young boy he’d paid to watch it standing nearby. Burke added a coin to the one he’d already given the boy and then mounted. He rode back to camp and, after handing the horse off, went straight to Reid’s tent.
A sentry stood guard outside.
“Is Lieutenant-Colonel Baker available to see me?”
“Yes, Major Nicholson. He’s been expecting you.” The soldier stepped aside and Burke entered.
Reid Baker, Marquess of Medford and future Duke of Gilford, stood next to an oversized table, studying the layout of British forces in the area.
“I’m back,” Burke announced, pulling his friend’s attention away.
“How was your latest mission?”
He shrugged. “Only slightly successful. The wife had nothing new to add. She’s lost her husband’s ear and is a dead end. The mistress, on the other hand, gave me a few worthy tidbits but I think she, too, has been bled dry.”
Burke shared those tidbits as Reid recorded them in his neat, precise hand.
When he finished, his friend frowned. “It’s not much but I’ll send it to headquarters.”
“I won’t be going back to either of them,” Burke announced, wanting Reid the officer to be perfectly clear about the situation. “It would be a waste of time.”
“Good—because I have a possible new assignment for you. Have a seat.”
As Burke sat, he said, “It must be grave judging by the look on your face.” He sighed. “Gray should be the one here if something serious needs to be accomplished.”
“Gray is better off in England now. You know how the war was affecting him.”
Burke did. Danforth Gray, his friend since childhood, felt responsible for every death that occurred on the battlefield. Twice, following direct orders from above, Gray had lost a bulk of those under his command and even been wounded himself. He’d grown more despondent in the past few months, far from the happy man that they’d know all of their lives.
He supposed Providence had intervened, sending the once-amiable Gray back to England last month to serve as guardian to his dead brother’s children. Gray would manage the holdings and estates for the new Earl of Crampton, who was a sickly, twelve-year-old boy, until Crampton reached his majority. Burke hoped living a somewhat normal life would help Gray return to his former self.
“The assignment is well beyond the scope of what you do now, Burke.”
Reid looked far too solemn as he spoke. Another lifelong friend of Burke’s, Reid was one of a handful of nobility fighting. He didn’t need to be here. Very few men of his rank and title entered the army but Reid felt compelled to fight for the crown. Though he was destined to become a duke upon his father’s death, Reid knew if he fell in battle that one of his two younger half-brothers could inherit the dukedom.
“Beyond my little side excursions, where I ply my charm and seduce secrets from the enemy’s wife or lover?” Burke laughed. “That hasn’t been a hardship, my friend. But as an officer, I’ll go wherever I’m told. Tell me about this assignment I’m being offered.”
“It’s dangerous, Burke.” Reid raked his fingers through his hair and, for the first time, Burke felt apprehensive.
Reid met his gaze. “It involves becoming a full-time spy. You’d be out of uniform. Working to form and build a network for Britain here in Spain and possibly branching into Portugal. You’d only have sporadic contact with me.”
“You’d be my handler.”
“Yes,” Reid said wearily. “Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur Wellesley asked for you. Actually, the mission would involve you and one other.”
“Who?” he asked and then ventured a guess. “Don’t tell me. The Don.”
“Exactly.”
Burke had nicknamed Lieutenant Robert Smythe The Don after their first meeting and he and Reid regularly referred to the young officer in that manner. The man reminded Burke of a university tutor. Smythe was much more suited to a life in academia, though Burke would admit—if pressed—that Smythe was an incredible strategist. His suggestions when the full complement of officers gathered around this table, moving pieces and plotting Britain’s next moves, were universally adhered to.
Some resented that Smythe had no battlefield experience and landed straight on Wellington’s staff when he’d entered the army. The young lieutenant’s father, Lord Covington, worked in the War Office in London and had been responsible for his son receiving that plum assignment.
Still, Smythe had proven himself capable—as far as working things out away from the trenches went. But Burke didn’t want to labor with him in building a complicated network.
“Do I have a choice in the matter? Or are these direct orders?” he asked.
“Actually, you do. Smythe’s language skills, along with his uncanny recall and knowledge of the geography of the area, make it a requirement he’s to accept.” Reid paused. “What do you think, Burke?”
“That our proper don has every quality needed. On paper. He’s intelligent and knowledgeable in all the right areas. But he’s green when it comes to actual doing, Reid. He has no field experience. With what you’re asking us to create, one false move could get us killed. Thus, my reluctance. Even with experience, it could still be a deathtrap.”
“I understand your reluctance. I would have the same reservations. Still, you are Wellesley’s first choice. With the option to decline. I doubt he’d give that to many men, Burke. He respects you a great deal.”
“I respect you, too, Major Nicholson.”
Burke turned and saw The Don standing in the entranceway. He wondered just how much Smythe had heard of their conversation.
“Ah, Lieutenant Smythe. Come. Take a seat. I was explaining to Major Nicholson—”
“A new operation. Yes, I heard. And I heard the major’s hesitancy in working alongside me.” Smythe sat, a grim expression on his face.
“I would have the same hesitation regarding anyone, Smythe,” Burke said. “But this would require a delicate touch.”
“You have that, Major. Frankly, I think we balance each other perfectly. And I’m smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut. Your glibness is something I’ll never possess.”
“I may be fluent in French—and charm—but don’t sell yourself short, Smythe.”
Smythe looked to Reid. “I’m to understand that Wellesley wishes me to accept?”
“You have no choice in the matter, Lieutenant. Yours is a direct order. All I have to do now is find the right partner to accompany you.”
Burke had always sought adventure. Been a risk-taker. While he loved his family, none of them would really miss him if something happened to him. All his siblings were wed and had their own lives.
He extended his hand to Smythe. “I’m game if you are.”
Smythe took it and they shook. “I’ll have you know, Nicholson, you’ll be doing all the wooing and seducing. I’m a married man and would never be unfaithful to Gem.”
Burke smiled. “That part of our mission will not be a problem. I look forward to handling my end of it.” He paused and added, “I just hope you don’t bloody well get us killed.”
CHAPTER 2
London—April 1809
Gemma sat at a table in the library, various pages scattered before her. She’d already written her weekly letter to Rob and sent it to his commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Reid Baker. Rob had been vague about the reason why she was to direct her correspondence to the man but she had done as he’d requested for the past seven months. Her husband had also told her not to worry if she didn’t hear from him very often because he was engaged in a very trying situation. She worried about the hours he put in, especially since he’d left Wellesley’s staff after two years of service and been reassigned. At least Wellesley was back in favor now, the controversy regarding the Convention of Sintra now in the past. Wellesley’s star was rising once again and he’d been placed in command of all British-Portuguese forces within Portugal.
She picked up her pencil and began playing with the code before her. After three days trying to crack it, she was no closer than when she’d first seen it. Frustration filled her. Usually, she could recognize patterns and solve them much more quickly. Disappointment filled her that she was letting down her country.
The door opened and Richard strolled in. Her brother-in-law already looked deep into his cups and it was only half-past seven. He poured himself a drink and strolled to where she worked.
“I see Father has you working on something for him again. What a waste of time.”
Left unsaid was it was a waste to give it to a woman. She bristled, nonetheless.
Gemma pushed the pages together and stacked them, setting them aside.
“I enjoy helping your father. It also helps England—and my husband.”
Richard’s nose crinkled at the mention of his younger brother, angering her further. Everything about the man irritated her and had ever since she’d moved in with him and Lord Covington after her wedding almost three years ago. Richard had showed up drunk to the ceremony. She doubted he’d spent a single day sober since then.
“Are you going to the opening ball of the Season next week?” he asked.
“Why would you want to know?”
“I thought we might go together.”
Richard never wanted to go anywhere with her. They loathed the sight of one another. She couldn’t imagine where this was coming from.
“Yes, I am going with friends,” she said, leaving it at that. What she did was her business. Not Viscount Lowell’s.
He downed his drink and set the crystal tumbler aside and began pacing the room. Gemma knew he was up to something. Whatever it was, she wanted no part in it. She pushed her chair back and stood, picking up the papers to take with her.
She’d barely taken a step away from the table when she was grabbed roughly from behind. The sudden action caused her to drop the pages and they scattered to the ground. Richard spun her around and clamped his hands on her shoulders. He reeked of whiskey.
“Unhand me,” Gemma ordered, disgusted by the sight and smell of him and his odious behavior.
Something gleamed in his eyes. “What if I said no?”
“What would your father say?” she tossed out, seeing fear fill his face.
She pushed hard on his chest and he stumbled back, taking her with him. Richard fell to the floor, Gemma sprawled against him. She tried to scramble away and he laughed. He rolled and was suddenly on top of her. His mouth came down hard, his tongue trying to force its way into her mouth.
Gemma slammed her palms against his ears and he cried out. It gave her the chance she needed and she knocked him aside and got to her feet.
“You are repugnant. Don’t you ever touch me again or I will claw your eyes out.” Her voice was low and deadly. “And you know I would do it.”
He laughed again. “Don’t you get lonely, Gemma? No man to warm your bed. I could do that for you. How long has Rob been gone? You only had two days together before he left. Enough time to get a taste for sex. Surely, you must miss it.”
“You would be the last man I would ever have touch me,” she declared. “I mean it, Richard. Don’t come near me again—or I will go to Lord Covington.”
“You think Father would believe you over me?” he asked.
“Actually, I do.”
Gemma and Lord Covington had grown close since her marriage to his younger son. When he’d seen her love of word puzzles, he’d approached her about helping him out. He regularly brought home information from dispatches and cryptic codes that spies had intercepted from throughout Europe. With her logical mind and determination, she’d proven to be very successful in helping break several codes. In fact, she’d done so well that she now earned a salary from the War Office. She’d protested when she received her first payment, but her father-in-law told her that England was paying millions of dollars to spies across England and Europe and told her she earned every pound given her.
Richard gagged and then vomited, mostly on himself. Seeing he was so drunk he merely lay there, she gathered the pages she’d been working on and hurried from the library. She saw the butler letting in Lord Covington and told the servant there was a situation in the library. That was what cleaning up after Richard was called in this household. Gemma only wished the viscount could be kicked to the curb.
“Ah, Gemma, my dear.” Her father-in-law greeted her with a kiss to the cheek. “Do you have time to come to my study?”
“Of course, Lord C.”
She followed him to the cozy room. He’d asked her to call him by his first name but she hadn’t been comfortable doing so. And even though she wasn’t especially close to her father, she couldn’t call him Papa when he suggested that instead. Finally, they had settled upon Lord C. It was familiar enough without being overly so. She looked upon the earl with great affection.
He took the seat behind his desk and she sat in one in front of it. Gemma apologized for not yet being able to find the key to the code he’d given her.
“It’s all right. Another agent broke it an hour ago. We have a team of ten in place, going over dispatches now.”
She handed him the pages in her hand. “Then these should be destroyed.”
“I’ll burn them myself,” he promised. “Have you heard from Rob lately?”
Though her husband only wrote to her sporadically, he rarely sent any kind of message to his father.
“I did receive a short note two weeks ago.”
“Does he seem happy?”
She gave him a knowing look. “It’s Rob we’re talking about, Lord C. Do you think being a soldier during wartime makes him happy?”
The earl shook his head sadly. “His commanding officers think very highly of him and the work he’s doing.”
That phrasing gave her pause. The work he’s doing. It sounded . . . odd. As if Rob wasn’t involved in war in the usual ways.
“Is Rob an agent for the crown, Lord C?” Gemma asked.
She’d suspected it, especially when Rob had her direct her letters to Lieutenant-Colonel Baker. And now hearing his commanding officers thought well of his work—and the fact that report had gotten back to the War Office—made her want to know.
“Yes. He’s an agent in the field,” Lord C confirmed. “Since last autumn.”
Fear gripped Gemma. It was bad enough thinking about her husband on a battlefield but to know he was some type of secret agent that went behind enemy lines paralyzed her.
“You know I’m only telling you because I know you won’t speak of it,” he said.
She knew she was sworn to secrecy about her work for the government and said, “Of course, I’d never tell a soul. I wouldn’t endanger Rob in any way.”
The old man gazed at her fondly. “You do love my boy.”
“I do,” she said firmly, even though it was only the love of friendship. “Rob is the dearest person in the world to me. I pray nightly for Bonaparte to come to his senses and end this madness so that my husband can come home to me.”
They spoke for a few minutes about things Lord C was working on and then Gemma told him goodnight. She would read for a while, hoping to become sleepy. She was still upset by the incident with Richard and wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it to his father. But how do you tell a man you so admire that his son is a toad?
Exiting the earl’s study, she went to the staircase to go to her bedchamber. A loud pounding sounded on the front door. A footman seated nearby rose and went to answer the knock. Curious, Gemma stood where she was, wanting to see who was knocking at the door so insistently.
“Come quick!” a voice cried out.
By now, Lord C had left his study and he walked to the door.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, clearly annoyed.
“The bloke pointed. Said he lives here. Hurry, your lordship!”
The man, who was dressed in livery, turned and ran. Lord C and the footman followed, so Gemma did the same.
What she saw horrified her. Her hands flew to her mouth to keep the scream from erupting.
Richard lay in the street. Broken. He must have stumbled outside after she’d gone to speak with Lord C. A carriage stood nearby and she realized the vehicle had struck him. Or rather, crashed into him.
“He just appeared from nowhere,” the driver said, his hands waving wildly, clearly upset.
Lord C fell to his knees, cradling his heir’s head. Gemma knelt beside them and took Richard’s hand in hers. His eyes looked glassy. Blood bubbled from his mouth. She couldn’t look anywhere but his face because the one glimpse she’d had of his twisted body nearly did her in.
He wheezed and more blood came from his mouth and nose. Then he stilled.
The earl let out an anguished cry that pierced the night. Gemma wished she knew how to comfort him.
Then it hit her.
Rob was now Viscount Lowell—and would one day become the Earl of Covington.
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