The Wicked Spy by Mary Lancaster & Maggi Andersen

Author:Mary Lancaster & Maggi Andersen [Lancaster, Mary & Andersen, Maggi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, Regency, fiction, historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2018-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Dinner with the Tamars was undoubtedly a fun way to spend an evening. Louis would have found it so, even without the thrill of Anna’s presence by his side. As it was, he rejoiced in her nearness while making the most of the company. Outside, the windows of the cozy dining room, snow began to fall and blow against the panes, adding a touch of magic to his contentment.

His plans, always, fluid, began to alter once more. Whoever Anna was, whatever she was, he could very easily make her part of those plans. If she would play. If he could convince her. If he could see this through to the end.

But he was making too many assumptions, running ahead of himself.

As he waited with his guests in the foyer for their carriage to be brought round, he placed Anna’s cloak about her shoulders. She glanced up with a smile to thank him. He wondered yet again what it was about her that fascinated him. It was more than beauty, though undeniably that helped.

For a little, they stood together by the window, watching the snow in silence.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, at last.

“You,” she said, disconcertingly. Her gaze strayed to his face. “But then, you know that already, don’t you?”

“I wish I did.”

“You are still clutching Serena’s cloak.”

He accepted his dismissal with a twisted smile and walked over to the sofa where Serena and Tamar sat in quiet conversation. He came from behind them, and they obviously did not discern his approach, for he heard Serena murmur, “You know you should not encourage them, Rupert. It could so easily end in scandal.”

“I’m not encouraging anything,” Tamar protested. “Though I’ll not deny he’s good for her. He makes her…”

“What?” Serena asked.

“I don’t know. Softer, happier. Normal.”

It wasn’t a conversation for his ears, so he swerved around the sofa at a wider angle to pretend he hadn’t overheard them. “Your cloak, my lady,” he said with a civil bow. “And your carriage, I believe.”

But in the flurry of departures and farewells, he was only too aware of his triumph and the rapid beat of his heart. Almost like a boy approaching his first love with naive hopes and dreams. Almost. If Louis had ever been naive, it had been so long ago he couldn’t remember it. With Anna, he had no illusions, only a drive to know more.

She gave him her hand as they parted, and her fingers clung to his just a little too long.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, and her face flushed adorably as she turned and hurried after Serena to the carriage. The snow had gone off for now but lay in wet white splodges on the road.

As the carriage pulled away, he found himself gazing across the road at the coffee house opposite. A few old soldiers and a couple of drunk youths sprawled in the window. And one man whom he knew very well indeed.

Gosselin.

And he was staring straight at Louis, his eyes wide, his jaw slack with shock.

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