Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (20 page)

Ana smiled gently. “I’m talking about how you feel, Merry.”

Emily barked out an incredulous laugh as she got to her feet.

Meredith froze. “My feelings.” She shook her head. “They’re not evidence.”

Ana scrambled to her feet and grabbed Meredith’s hands. “Don’t say that. When we were trained as spies, one of the first things we learned about was intuition. Charlie told us to trust the voices in our heads that told us to go right when we were
supposed to go left. That told us someone was dangerous when they appeared to be safe.”

“Oh, please!” Emily snapped, taking a long drink from the tumbler of sherry she’d poured herself. “There is a huge difference between intuition about whether a person is dangerous and ‘feelings.’” She motioned to Meredith. “She
feels
like Tristan is innocent because she wants to believe it.”

Meredith hesitated. Was that true? It was what she’d been telling herself, but hearing the statement out loud made her doubt it. Was she only seeing what she wanted to see, or was there truly something more there?

She drew in a breath. “Emily may be right. My love for Tristan could be clouding my judgment, not letting me see the truth.”

Ana snorted as she shot a glare at Emily. “I don’t believe that for a moment. Tell me, have you made a habit of falling in love?”

Meredith drew back. “No, of course not.”

“Have you
ever
loved anyone before Tristan?”

Meredith felt like a dagger was being stabbed into her chest and twisted. She swallowed, trying to measure her tone. Trying not to lose control of her emotions. That was the very thing that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

“No,” she said softly. “I have never loved a man before.”

Ana’s expression softened. “Feeling is based on
intuition, Merry. You have danced with other suspects, you’ve chatted with them, flirted with them. So has Emily. Some of them were handsome, accomplished gentlemen, just like Tristan. But you haven’t ever fallen in love with them, because your intuition told you they weren’t good men. I don’t believe for a moment you would fall in love with someone if you truly thought he was wicked.”

Meredith stared at Ana. Normally, her friend didn’t involve herself in the deeper elements of cases. She was happy to stay in her cellar, inventing new devices and making and breaking codes. But when she wanted to, Ana could make a powerful argument.

Still…

Meredith shrugged. “I don’t know anymore.”

“If you’re not sure of yourself, then tell us,” Ana said. “Obviously Emily and I fall on opposite sides of the argument. Together, we are completely neutral.”

Emily’s brow wrinkled, but she gave a reluctant nod. “That is true, Meredith. With us, you won’t have to worry about emotion involving itself. We may be able to help you sort out the truth from what your heart wants to believe.”

Slowly, Meredith nodded. That made sense. If she explained why she believed Tristan, perhaps her friends could advise her.

She sat down in the settee closest to the fire. When Emily motioned to the decanter of sherry, she nodded. She definitely needed a drink.

“Taking love out of the matter—because it does cloud my thinking—there have been elements to this case that have troubled me from the start.”

“Such as?” Emily asked as she offered her the tumbler.

Meredith took a sip of the drink and let the burning sensation wake her senses. “It never made sense to me that a man of such wealth would turn to desperate acts. Tristan has been known as a quiet man, even a proud man. We all know from our dealings in the field that often men who are involved in treachery want to be the center of attention. They like to feel smarter than everyone around them, like they’re pulling a trick on society or breaking the rules beneath the noses of the authorities and even their friends.”

Emily pursed her lips. “That’s true. But Tristan had a different motivation than many of those men. Not money, but revenge.”

“Because of his brother’s death?” Meredith asked. “Yes, that was what I believed at first. That Tristan only knew his brother had been killed in combat and somehow wanted to punish the government for that loss. But today he told me he knew about the ambush. He knew traitors were involved.” She looked at the fire as she remem
bered the anguish on his face when he recounted that tale. “He discovered that fact
before
he became involved in Devlin’s group. I verified it with the War Department after I left him. If he loved his brother enough to take revenge, why would he take it on the government when he knew a group like Devlin’s—or even Devlin’s itself—had been responsible?”

Ana’s eyes lit up. “A man who knew his brother was killed due to information sold by traitors would be loath to involve himself in the acts of those same men.”

Even Emily had to nod reluctantly. “What else?”

“He kept trying to…protect me,” Meredith whispered. A stab of pain accompanied the statement. “From Devlin. Whenever I got too near the man, Tristan whisked me away and chastised me. He wouldn’t tell me why he thought Devlin was dangerous, but he didn’t want me near him.”

“That could be because he didn’t want you to find out the truth about his misdeeds,” Emily said.

Meredith shook her head. She’d thought about that too. “I don’t believe so. Tristan was utterly shocked when he discovered I was a spy. If he didn’t suspect I was probing into his activities, there would be no reason for him to suspect a lady of society would uncover his betrayals.”

“If you were a regular lady, yes,” Ana said. “Did he tell you he wanted to protect you?”

She thought about the afternoon she and Tristan
were caught by his mother nearly making love. That day he had confessed he told Devlin they were involved in an affair to keep him from pursuing her. And because he wanted it to be true.

She shivered. “Yes. He lied to Devlin about our relationship. Even though it put him in danger, even though Devlin would have been enraged if he’d found out.”

Ana took her hand. “I can tell by the pain on your face that you don’t only
want
to believe Carmichael is innocent, you
do
believe it. What he told you today about his drive to destroy Devlin’s group from within made sense. If he felt the government was doing nothing to avenge the death of his brother, he may have thought infiltrating the group responsible was the only way to find justice.”

Meredith lifted her gaze to Emily, who was finishing a last gulp of sherry. “And what about you? Do you think my intuition could be right? Or do you still believe I’m blinded?”

“I admit, some of what you say makes sense.” Emily sighed. “And I trust your integrity. You wouldn’t want a traitor to walk free simply because you loved him.”

Ana smiled in triumph. “Then the only question that remains is what do you wish to do about this? Are you going to confront Charlie and try to have Tristan’s name cleared?”

Meredith considered that question. It could take
weeks to convince Charlie and the others in the War Department to hear her pleas for Tristan’s life. Many would dismiss her as an emotional woman who became too involved with a suspect. Doing so could endanger the very existence of The Society.

Aside from which, during the time she pleaded for Tristan’s life, he would be transferred to Newgate. The charges against him would become public. Even if she could convince the War Department that the evidence was wrong, Tristan and his family would be ruined. And Devlin would slip through their fingers yet again.

It wasn’t good enough. She had to do more. She had to do the one thing that terrified her more than anything. She had to have faith. In herself. And in Tristan.

“I’m going to follow my instincts.” She braced herself with a deep breath. “I’m going to help Tristan escape and accompany him when he confronts Devlin with the evidence he removed from the painting.”

A
sense of peace filled Meredith the moment she said she would help Tristan. It was the correct decision. Or at least the decision she wanted to make. Only he could prove if it was right or wrong.

Her friends stared at her, but they didn’t seem surprised. She bit her lip.

“I realize this goes against protocol, against everything we do,” she said. “But I must do this. I understand you cannot help me. I would never ask you to do so.”

Ana’s eyes went wide. “But you need us. This will be a difficult plan to execute with three, let alone one.”

Meredith shook her head. “I don’t want to force you to break any vows. There will be consequences to my actions tonight, no matter the outcome. I won’t bring those consequences down on your heads.”

Emily folded her arms, and for a moment terror gripped Meredith’s heart. Normally it was Ana who fought for the keeping of rules, but Emily had been the one arguing against Tristan with the most passion. Unlike romantic Ana, she didn’t believe love would conquer. And Emily was entirely capable of stopping Meredith in ways Ana wouldn’t imagine.

“Do you truly think you can keep us from helping you?” Emily asked with an unladylike snort. “Please. The vows I made were to you and Ana. We’re sisters and we fight together. Of course I’ll help you.”

Ana nodded. “And I know I go on about rules and regulations, but if your heart says this man is innocent and can help us end Devlin’s reign of terror, I trust that. I’ll help in any way I can.”

Relief and love for her friends filled Meredith to her very toes. She hadn’t wanted to think about storming Charlie’s miniature prison alone. Now she wasn’t forced to. Her friends had come through for her…as they always had in the past. And she believed together they could execute this daring escape.

She hugged both, clinging to them tightly to let
them know how much their sacrifice meant to her. Then she stepped back and swiped her eyes.

“Tell us what you need,” Emily said, and Meredith thought she saw a few tears in her eyes as well.

She nodded. “Ana, last year you suggested we secretly purchase that little town home near Southwark. A place only we would know about and could hide if we needed to.”

Ana nodded, and she could see her intelligent friend was three steps in front of her. “I’ll make sure the house is ready for you and Tristan. The department knows nothing of the purchase. You should be safe there tonight.”

“Very good. Once that is done, you’ll need to be ready to retrieve the evidence Tristan removed from the painting. Emily can help you with that once she and I are finished.”

Emily gave a little smirk. “And whatever shall
we
be doing?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes sweetly.

Meredith laughed as the first happiness she’d felt since returning to London flooded her. “You and I are going to Charlie’s home. We have a prisoner to escort.”

“There was only one guard when I came earlier today,” Meredith said as she finished binding her hair into a severe style. “And Charlie told me he was meeting with Lady M after his briefing with
the War Department. He shouldn’t be home until after midnight.”

Emily nodded as she slipped a form-fitting crocheted cap over her blonde locks. “Let us assume all Charlie’s servants are home, but probably above stairs now in their chambers at this late hour. That is one butler, a housekeeper, and a parlor maid. But they’ll all be easily subdued if it comes to that.”

Meredith winced at the thought even as she pointed to the gate in the alleyway. “We must also presume there may be another guard.”

Emily popped the alleyway lock with no difficulty. “We’ll make our move on the guard by the prison room first. While you free Carmichael, I’ll do a quick sweep of the house and clear your escape route. If you need me, signal and I’ll come back.”

She swung the gate open and the two women rushed across the dark courtyard, staying in the shadows when possible. They hurried to the window of a back parlor. Ana had remembered Charlie mentioning something about the latch being broken a few days before. Meredith hoped that was still true. Otherwise, they would have to break in, and that could cause all kinds of trouble.

“I have the serum,” Meredith whispered as Emily glided black-gloved fingertips along the windows of the parlor, looking for the loose one. “I think we should at least attempt to use it.”

Emily shrugged. “I still vote for using the neck technique, but I’ll try your way first. Aha!” Her friend laughed as she gave the last window a push and it swung in. “Charlie needs to follow his own recommendations of security. This place has at least five breech points!”

Meredith rolled her eyes as she ducked under the open window and found the floor inside with the tip of her toe. “Write a report about it after this is over…
if
we all still have jobs.”

Emily slipped in behind her and closed the window. “Don’t talk that way, Merry! You must believe this will work out. I do.”

Meredith glanced over her shoulder as she made her way out of the parlor and into the hall. As she reached the cellar stairway, she whispered, “You? Optimistic? Will wonders never cease?”

“Shush and prepare yourself,” Emily said, sticking her tongue out.

Meredith straightened her shoulders as she took the first few steps down the stairway. She said a silent prayer, then strode down the hall, Emily at her shoulder, as if they had every right in the world to be there.

The guard who had been leaning on the wall outside Tristan’s chamber, a book in hand, straightened up in surprise. “Lady Northam, Lady Allington, I wasn’t told you would be coming tonight.”

Meredith arched a brow and looked the guard
in the eyes. She felt a droplet of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. “That was an oversight. Mr. Isley gave us permission to see the prisoner.”

The guard’s brow wrinkled. “I’m sorry, my lady. You know protocol. When Isley isn’t in residence, no one sees him who hasn’t been cleared.”

Meredith folded her arms. “You weren’t here earlier, were you?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Isley cleared us with…Wilson, isn’t that his name?”

“Wilson is still here, ma’am,” the guard said, setting the book down on a chair that was beside the door. “In the kitchen having a cold supper before he goes home. I’m happy to ask—”

Emily exchanged a brief glance with Meredith before she held up her hand. “You can’t leave your post, you know that.
I’ll
fetch Wilson. You stay here with Lady Northam.”

As Emily turned to go back upstairs, Meredith could have sworn she saw her friend wink. It looked like Emily would get to use her neck technique to drop a man tonight after all. Well, it gave Emily some pleasure to utilize the combat training. But that left Meredith to deal with the young man before her alone.

She smiled and he returned the expression. Now to make him comfortable.

She withdrew a little flask from her reticule and
opened the top. Her smile grew when the guard’s eyes widened.

“It’s frightfully hot out tonight,” she said, then swung the flask up and pretended to drink. “But it’s worse in here. I imagine you must get thirsty.”

He nodded, still shocked by her behavior. “Er, yes, my lady.”

“Would you like a drink? It’s a very nice scotch.”

He seemed to consider her unorthodox offer for a moment before he took the flask and downed a drink. He held it back out toward her, but she shook her head. “No, no. I’ve had plenty tonight. I need a clear head for my interrogation. Feel free to finish it. You’ve worked hard, you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Within a minute he had drained the bottle. Within five he’d hit the floor in a heap.

Tristan lay on his back staring at the ceiling overhead. He couldn’t actually see it, as the room was nearly pitch-dark, but he knew it was there. Just as he hadn’t allowed himself to feel the pain of Meredith’s rejection, but it was there. Waiting for him beneath the surface.

Meredith, however, was not. It had been hours since she’d run from his cell, ignoring his pleas for assistance, never telling him if she believed his innocence. If she hadn’t returned by now, she wasn’t coming back.

If after all they had shared, after all she knew about him, Meredith wouldn’t believe him, he had no doubt he would be convicted. Transported. Hung.

When the young night guard had come on to replace his day jailer earlier, Tristan heard them talking about moving him to Newgate tomorrow. Once that happened, all his work would be for nothing. His family would be destroyed. The group Devlin and his mysterious leader controlled would be free to continue its treacherous activities. More men like Edmund would die.

He could only imagine how devastated his mother would be when word reached her in Bath. And such news would travel like lightning. He was sure some “kind friend” would be compelled to whisper it to her, along with the filthy details.

He fisted his hands. His mother had trusted Meredith as much as he had, and now she would suffer for the betrayal he had allowed through his lack of control. Damn the woman for lying. And damn her for making him love her.

He barked out a humorless laugh. With all he was facing, he couldn’t believe what tormented him most was Meredith Sinclair. But she did. She’d changed him from a man bent on only vengeance to someone who might have a future worth living. She had reminded him there was light and love.

Only to snatch it all away. To make it a falsehood.

Noises echoed from the hallway outside, and he sat up on his elbow to check his pocket watch. It was far later than anyone usually bothered him. If Isley wanted more interrogation, he could bloody well wait until morning, until Tristan was transferred to prison. He was certainly in no mood to defend himself tonight.

He rolled over on his side and feigned sleep as the lock on his cell clanged and the door creaked open. He measured his breathing, hoping whoever intruded would just go away. Instead, light footsteps entered the room, moving toward him. He tensed.

“Tristan?”

He spun on the cot to face the feminine voice. Meredith stood over him, dressed in dark clothes. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes lit with emotion.

Once again the anger he felt toward her mingled with an unsettling joy. She’d come back…but for what?

He struggled to a seated position. “What are you doing here?”

She lifted a finger to her lips. “Shhh. I’ve taken care of the main guard, but there are probably others. We don’t want to wake the servants or other agents who may be in residence.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “What are you talking about? Are you saying you’re here to—”

She locked her gaze with his, and he was lost in blue. “I’m here to take you away.”

In her eyes he saw fear, anticipation…and hope. It stirred a fire in his chest that had gone out long ago. His own hope flamed from the embers.

He got to his feet in a flash.

“You said you took care of the guard?” he asked as she motioned for him to follow. “How?”

She gave him a look over her shoulder. “I am a spy, you know. I’m capable of removing a threat when need be.”

He hesitated. “You killed him?”

“No!” Her voice went up a notch before she dropped it. “Of course not. These are my fellow agents. I wouldn’t hurt them…uh, permanently. I used a special brew made by Ana to put this guard”—she waved her arm toward the motionless man as they hurried past him—”to sleep.”

He glanced over his shoulder. The giant of a guard was snoring.

She smiled. “Don’t worry. Ana assures me it is perfectly safe. He’ll suffer from no more than a headache when he wakes in a few hours.”

“But—”

She flashed him a nervous smile. “No more questions. You can ask me anything you like when we are away from danger.”

He drew back. Meredith had told him she was a spy, and he’d seen proof that it was true, but he hadn’t fully comprehended what that meant until
now. By her calm expression, this was an everyday occurrence for her. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified that she would put herself at such risk.

But tonight she had done it for him. When he remembered that fact, he stopped worrying about her past and their future as he followed her up the dark, winding staircase leading to Charles Isley’s foyer. He barely recalled making that journey in the opposite direction a few days before. He’d been in too much of a fog. Now he wished he had paid closer attention so he could be on the lookout for danger.

Meredith held up a hand to slow him as they approached the servants’ area of the house. She cracked the door and peered around. He couldn’t see the hallway to know what she was observing, but soon enough she waved for him to follow.

Slipping behind her, he moved down a narrow hallway. Twists and turns took them past room after room. At each door, Tristan’s heart thudded as he waited for someone to burst out and catch them in their escape. But finally they were at a back entrance. Meredith slipped it open silently and they crept outside.

Isley’s town house was not enormous, and its cramped back garden fit the house. A worn door was hidden amidst the shrubbery along the far wall. It led to the street.

Tristan had a sudden urge to run. Run past
Meredith and never look back. But he didn’t, if only to satisfy his curiosity. Why had she come back to him when it seemed so clear mere hours ago that she believed him guilty of the worst kind of treason? Why she had aided him when she’d been the one to put him in prison to begin with?

She flipped the latch on the gate and they moved into a dark alley. There was a carriage, its windows darkened by heavy curtains and its doors unadorned by identifying crests. He pursed his lips as he wished he’d had such a rig when he’d taken the painting from Genevieve’s. When his carriage was identified, it had been one of the first things that brought agents of the Crown to his door.

Brought Meredith to his life.

She reached for the carriage door, but he grabbed her wrist. She wore no gloves and her skin was like hot satin beneath his rough fingertips. God, she felt good. Better than he remembered in the dreams he’d tried to block out since his arrest. She was no more immune to the touch than he. She hissed out a breath at the contact of skin on skin as her eyes darted to his with wariness.