Compromised for Christmas -
A Tenacious Trents Novella
(Book 1)
Lady Elizabeth craved excitement and adventure. Unwilling
to endure further boring Seasons, she convinces her uncle, who has lived a more
adventurous life than anyone else she knew, to let her work for him. A few
years later Elizabeth
was established in Tuileries Castle, a servant in Napoleon’s court known as
Lisette Renard.
John Phillip Trent has been working in the stables
of Tuileries as Jean Pierre Bouvier for the past two years. His only English
contact being Lisette Renard, a lovely blond lass, who he desired but kept at a
professional arm’s length.
When Lisette receives a summons to return home for
Christmas, John learns that she is none other than the granddaughter of the
Duke of Danby and she had named Jean Pierre as her husband. Their cover is
compromised with the same letter and the two find themselves escaping the
palace and France, knowing they could very well never see each other again and
must face the truth of how they truly feel for the other.
Elizabeth,
I expect you, along
with your cousins and their parents, at Danby Castle by December 24th.
You, my absentee granddaughter, will present yourself before me along with that
husband of yours, Jean Pierre Bouvier. I will accept no excuses.
Danby
Paris,
December 7, 1812
Elizabeth Whitton folded the parchment and
stuck it into her pocket. Why hadn’t her
contact or the Home Office translated this one into code like all of the other
letters? Surely they understood the
danger. Maybe they feared making an
error, given the author. Grandfather did
have a way of striking fear into people.
Yet all of his other letters had been coded. Why not this one?
It was odd seeing the name Elizabeth. She
hadn’t been addressed as that in over two years. She no longer thought of
herself as Elizabeth, either. She was Lisette Renard. It was safer this way,
even in her silent thoughts, to pretend Elizabeth did not exist.
Nevertheless, she must somehow find a way to
be back in England by December twenty-fourth and then return to her position
here without anyone being the wiser as to her true purpose. She had worked long and hard establishing her
place within Tuileries Palace and liked to think she was valuable to the
English crown.
She picked up the rag and wiped the shelves in
the library. Who would have dreamed two years ago she would have been given
such free rein at the palace? It took
almost a year of delivering eggs before she ever found a way to get beyond the
kitchen, but eventually the head chef took pity on her, believing the pathetic
story of how she needed to earn more to support her aging grandmother and
siblings. Her original job had been
simply to learn what she could through the kitchen staff and other
servants. Nobody thought it possible
that she would actually become one of the few entrusted with cleaning the
emperor’s private apartments and study.
Certainly not her father or uncle, and they were the only two in her
family who knew the truth. The rest believed she’d fallen in love and married a
Frenchman.
So, what was she to do? Her grandfather
expected her home for Christmas, with her husband, and one did not ignore a
direct order from the duke.
It would be good to return to Yorkshire. An
ache developed in her heart when she thought of her family. She missed them more than she realized,
especially Louisa, her sister. It would
be good to see her again, even for a short time.
But they had to believe she was happily
married to Jean Pierre and not a spinster spy employed as a maid at
Tuileries. As much as she hated the
idea, there was no other choice but to tell her husband. Lisette returned
her cleaning supplies to the closet and made her way outside and into the vast
gardens, towards the stables. Jean Pierre would either be working within or
exercising the horses. Why had she named
him as her husband? She knew she could
have come up with a different identity, but when she wrote of her marriage a
few years ago, her supervisor had made the suggestion and the name flowed
easily from the quill.
She spotted him long before he noticed her
approach. If he weren’t so full of
himself, he might be attractive. She
shook her head and corrected her thought. Despite his conceit, he was a
pleasure to watch.
Jean Pierre must have just finished exercising
one of the studs, because he was lifting the saddle from its back. His shoulders and upper arms tightened with
strength, straining against his shirt as he lifted and handed the leather off
to a stable hand. He bent a moment later
to pick up a brush and began grooming the animal. She knew without a doubt the man was all
muscle. Not that she had actually seen him without clothing, but the fit of his
pants and shirt were enough. In addition
to his physical labor, Jean Pierre kept himself fit, as she did, in the event
they were called on to do more than their currently assigned duties.
He turned to face her when she grew close, as
if he sensed her presence behind him.
“Ah, mademoiselle, such a lovely picture this afternoon.” He bowed
before her. His green eyes twinkled with mischief and a black curl fell onto
his forehead. She fought the smile pulling at her lips. The man was a charmer,
and she refused to succumb. They both had a job to do for England. Any type of
relationship would hinder them both and could be downright dangerous.
“I need you, Jean Pierre.” She blurted the
words out without thought.
His smile grew wide, revealing straight, white
teeth, much in contrast of those who worked with him. He placed a hand over his heart. “I’ve longed
for two years to hear those very words from your lips.”
She put her hand out to stop his stride in her
direction. “It is not in the manner in which you think or hope.”
“If not amour, what else is there?” He
shrugged and lifted his hands in question.
Lisette rolled her eyes. The man thought of
little else besides bedding willing females.
“I need a husband,” she whispered.
He took a step back. She knew those words
would cool his ardor quicker than a sudden ice storm. Jean Pierre liked to think of himself as a
lover whose talents should never be limited to one woman, unless it was only
for a night—but never a lifetime. He had
been playing his role longer than she.
Lisette had no idea who he really was or how he truly felt about women
and the institution of marriage. Not that it mattered, as long as he played
along for the month it took them to travel to England and return.
He took a step away from her. “My dear, sweet Lisette, you know I desire
you above all others, but I cannot even consider such a radical choice. A married man must be faithful, and I could
never promise fidelity, my sweet.” Unlike hers, his words were loud enough for
anyone in the vicinity to hear. Lisette
would like nothing better than to throttle him.
She caught the sight of three of the stable
hands nearby. No doubt they heard everything and would report back to whomever
they reported to. There were always ears and eyes watching everyone at the
palace, not unlike those in society she encountered during her two Seasons in
London. Except it was much easier to
navigate the dangers here than any ballroom back home.
She knew there was gossip about her and Jean
Pierre. They met too often for it not to be noticed, but it couldn’t be helped
if she were to pass the information she gathered in the house on to him. Jean Pierre saw that it was delivered into
the right hands, along with any information he discovered. The mission demanded they work closely together,
but not too closely, and thus a relationship developed with Jean Pierre chasing
her skirts and Lisette refusing so much as a kiss without a promise. The other maids encouraged her to succumb to
his charms, but she wasn’t here for Jean Pierre’s pleasure any more than he was
for hers.
Lisette stalked after the retreating groom.
“Are you so sure you would ever want another after me?”
His eyebrows shot up. She had never been the bold one, but she
didn’t have time for games. The stable
hands laughed, and she half expected Jean Pierre to turn and run from her. She grabbed his hand and pressed the folded
letter against his palm. “Think on what
I have said.” She winked then lowered
her head. “Eleven tonight,” was whispered
for only his ears. Lisette whirled around and made her way back to the
palace.
John Phillip Trent unfolded the parchment once
he was alone in his room above the stables. He had expected some sort of
information as to Napoleon’s movements, not this letter.
What the hell had she done? Why
the hell wasn’t this letter in code? Why
did she name me as her husband? Well, not him exactly, but Jean Pierre, and
the two were one and the same. The
thoughts flew around his mind and he couldn’t settle on one. He never knew her real name was Elizabeth or
that she was the granddaughter of the Duke of Danby, just like she had no idea
he was John Phillip Trent.
How the hell did a duke’s granddaughter become a bloody spy? If any of Savary’s men got
hold of this letter, she would be hanged, if not beheaded, for spying, and he
along with her since apparently he was her husband. Savary wouldn’t care that she was related to
a duke and would probably relish the torture all the more. He shuddered at the thought of what type of
punishment the Ministry of Police would use before she was put to death.
John tore the letter into tiny pieces, tossed
them into the stove in the corner of his room, and grabbed his coat. Not
Lisette, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, the granddaughter of the powerful Duke of Danby
and cousin to Jean Pierre’s school chum, Edgeworth. Well, not Jean Pierre’s
school chum, but John Philip Trent’s school chum. Just as he had no idea who
Elizabeth was until now, she still didn’t know his real name.
John shook his head in frustration. Clearly
Edgeworth had no idea what his cousin was up to because he couldn’t imagine
that his old friend he would have allowed such a thing.
Of course Edgeworth didn’t know, or anyone
else in her family. Which again begged
the question, how had a duke’s granddaughter become a spy, and how did she
remain a spy?
His anger only grew as he marched towards the
orangery where Lisette waited. Why had
that letter not been in code? Stupid
mistakes like that got spies killed.
When he entered the building, the musty heat
overwhelmed him. John shrugged out of his jacket. Lisette paced the center of the
building, her cloak folded on a bench.
Her blond hair was pulled back tightly behind her head to make working
and cleaning a palace more efficient. Her shoulders were square, tense. Some of
his anger dissipated. She hadn’t sent the blasted letter, so he couldn’t fault
her for nearly ruining their cover. In
fact, her entire body was rigid with either worry or anger, he couldn’t tell.
She turned and saw him, and her shoulders
immediately dropped. Had she been afraid he would not come? Her steps quickened towards him.
“How am I to manage getting out of Paris, home
and back?” The words rushed past her
lips.
“You aren’t.”
She was mad to even contemplate the idea. The safety of England and knowing what
Napoleon was about were far more important than a family reunion with
Danby. If it were possible to leave, he
would have visited his own family long ago.
“I must.”
“If you go now, you won’t be able to come
back.” He paced from her and ran his
fingers through his hair. This was the problem with having a female in such a
delicate position. One always ran the
risk of her becoming too emotional to think the matter through clearly.
John turned on his heel, stalked forwards and
grabbed her shoulders. “You are the only
person we have within the household. We never thought it possible to have
someone that close to Napoleon. Your position is too valuable.”
She looked up at him, blue eyes wide.
“How long do you think it would take to get
someone else in your place?”
“You don’t understand.”
He threw up his hands and backed away. “No,
apparently, you don’t
understand. Was this only a game until
Grandpapa called you home?”
Her shoulders straightened and her eyes
narrowed in anger. “You know it wasn’t.
If that summons had come from anyone else, I would have ignored it.”
“The old man cannot have so much power.”
“I fear him more than Savary.” Her words were barely over a whisper.
John planted his feet and crossed his arms
over his chest. “Which reminds me, why wasn’t that letter in code?”
“I don’t know,” Lisette shrieked and threw up
her hands. “I didn’t send it.”
He knew this but he needed to vent his anger
on someone. “And why the hell did you
name me as your husband?”
Her face grew red at the accusation. “It wasn’t my idea. Dolan suggested it when I achieved the
position in the palace.”
He would kill Dolan for this, if the man
weren’t already dead. He must have
thought it a fine joke at the time.
“I knew he jested, but I was pinched for time
and couldn’t think of another reason why I wouldn’t be returning home.”
“Where does your family think you have been
all this time?”
“You own a lovely chateaux outside of
Sainte-Maxime with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean.”
He was dumbfounded. Were there other details
he should know about? “And children? Have we been blessed with any?”
Her face grew pink again. “No, which is
probably one of the reasons grandfather summoned me home.”
“He would blame me?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “You are the
Frenchman. An Englishman would not
neglect such a duty.” A smile pulled at
her lips.
The laughter began in his belly and soon
overcame him. “I assume this has been
mentioned to you before?”
She looked down. “Yes, in an earlier letter.
Several actually. Grandfather always demands to know if I am increasing.” Her face was a bright pink by the time she
finished speaking.
It would be quite pleasurable to go about the
act of creating babes with Lisette.
John quickly squelched the thought. The last
woman he needed to be involved with was her.
It was too dangerous and could compromise both of their positions.
The sudden desire was probably because it had
been months since he had been with a woman, and a man could only take so
much. He had the younger stable hands
believing his thirst for making love was never satisfied, which helped explain
the many nights he was away from the stable. They would laugh if they knew the
truth, that he hadn’t bedded a woman in well over a year.
“I hope those were at least coded.” He settled
onto a bench underneath one of the many fruit trees.
Her head whipped up. “Yes. This is the first
time any letter has not been, and I don’t understand why.”
“How was the letter delivered?”
“By the same boy who has delivered our
messages for the past year.”
This bit of information did help him relax.
Had anyone else brought it, the risk of discovery would be higher. “Still, you
cannot return home, you know that.” He softened his tone, hoping she
understood.
Lisette settled on the bench beside him. “I
suppose so.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I will tell Grandfather though. He is likely to come after me.”
“I doubt that.” John resisted
the urged to put a comforting arm around her.
“You don’t know my grandfather.”
A crash reverberated from the back of the
orangery and the two stiffened and stood.
John placed his fingers to his lips so she would be quiet. Lisette scowled at him. She was right. She had been at this long
enough to know when to be quiet. No doubt, he’d just insulted her.
He pulled a knife from inside of his boot, and
she took a similar one from a hidden pocket. With a nod, they both turned in
opposite directions and made their way towards the back of the building.
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