The Duchess and the Spy by Marly Mathews

Author:Marly Mathews [Mathews, Marly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Marly Mathews
Published: 2015-08-08T16:00:00+00:00

Isabella felt increasingly uneasy as they approached Wisteria House. They walked up the long gravel drive, and she caught sight of a suspicious looking man leaning up against the side of the house. She slowly lowered her parasol and closed it, and then leaned closer to Maria. She pulled her shawl closer around her body to mask the bright glow of the amulet. It was now glowing so brightly that she wouldn’t be surprised if they could see the light down at the bakeshop. If only her powers would heed her call!

“Maria, my dear, how fast can you run? I implore you to suddenly act as if you have forgotten something at the bakeshop. Then, make haste, and fetch me some help, for I daresay that I shall need it. It seems as if those blackguards have returned. Now, pray, have faith in me. Find Jason and Christopher, for they are the only two people that I am able to trust.”

“If I can find Theo I’ll bring him, too,” Maria murmured, staring at her fretfully.

“Good thinking.” She gulped down the dryness that erupted in her throat. “I will continue to approach the house, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Now go,” she softly urged, continuing on, and brandishing her parasol as if it were a rapier.

She stared at the man in front of him, and shot daggers out of her eyes at him. How dare he presume that he would be able to capture her so easily! As long as she got Maria to a safe distance all would be well, and her ill misfortune may actually turn into a slim fortune. Her dainty slipper stepped along the rough gravel, and she watched with curiosity as the man against the house changed position. Maria had already made it down the long lane, and had already turned onto the street. Thankful that she was safe, Isabella plastered a determined expression on her face, and stared tauntingly at the man in front of her.

‘Come and get me, you bloody bastards,’ she thought, just as she had the wind knocked out of her as someone from behind knocked her down and came at her with a dagger and some rope.

Terrified, she rolled on the ground, and brought her parasol up and slammed it against the man’s knees. He fell like a dead weight, groaning out with pain. “You fucking goddamn bitch!” he screamed in French, as his pockmarked face become smeared with hatred.

Fear coiled around her heart as two other men came at her, and she screamed as one of them grabbed her parasol, and threw it across the drive. She slammed her elbow into the man’s side, causing him to momentarily lose his grip on her.

Wild eyed, with fear and attempting to remain calm, she screamed out the only name she could think of, “Saint Christopher!” She punched the man in front of her, and cried out again as they overpowered her and carried her to the waiting carriage. She was thrashing wildly, and swore out in pain as one of them touched her sore leg.

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