The Spy's Bride by Nita Abrams

Author:Nita Abrams
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

She looked straight at him from all the way across the room, as though there were no one else there. And smiled.

That same impossible, perfect smile which never failed to stun him. It worked now. He was paralyzed. Anselm, who

could not see across the table, let alone across that ballroom, sensed only that something was wrong. And as the

other guests repeated Elena's tactless remark, a murmur went around the room.

"What is it?" asked his cousin, peering uncertainly around.

James couldn't answer.

The room had fallen nearly silent. Even the musicians had stopped playing. His aunt had not moved to greet the

new guests. But the murmurers had told him who her escort was. He was a senior finance minister, and James's

uncle could not afford to insult the man. So James set his feet in motion, one slightly uneven step after the other,

and dragged himself across the endless expanse of parquet floor. To his relief, he saw his uncle hurrying back in

from the drawing room, which had been opened to accommodate guests who wanted to play cards. Meyer drew the

minister aside, beckoned over a servant with a tray, offered him a glass of wine.

The countess had not moved. He had wanted to see her, yes, but privately. Not like this, with half of Paris

watching. With Eloise wondering who this woman was and what claim she had on her husband. Or worse, not

wondering. What had Elena said to her? He turned anxiously. She had vanished from Elena's side. Perhaps he

could take the countess into another room before someone told her what was causing such a stir.

"Captain Nathanson," the countess said in her clear, carrying voice as he came up to her. The whole room could

hear her. "What a surprise to find one of France's deadliest enemies here in the heart of Paris."

"It is James Meyer," he corrected. "And I am here as a private citizen, visiting my wife's family."

"And calling on old friends," she said, challenging him.

"A few, yes," he said coolly, but his heart was pounding.

"Old friends from the Faubourg St.-Germain?" Since the district was a royalist stronghold, this was virtually an

accusation of treason in Napoleon's Paris, and she had not lowered her voice.

"No, I was to meet an old friend from Vienna," he retorted. "But unaccountably, my friend failed to keep the

appointment."

For the first time she dropped her eyes. He felt as though he had just been released from a blue vise.

"You did not wait very long," she said with a small pout. She had finally lowered her voice.

His one thought was to get her out of that ballroom and away from Eloise. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted

a potential refuge: the drawing room. He offered her his arm and she laid her hand over it, taking two steps to his

one as they walked slowly through the crowd. The unnatural quiet was terrifying, and people drew back as they

approached. The doors were nearer now; there were fewer people. He was not certain what he was going to do

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