Page 58 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Are we? What does Wedmore stand to gain from Napoleon regaining power? He has loved ones at home—his aunt, his nieces.”

“Not every man loves his family. Some only care about themselves and their ambitions.”

“But Wedmore isn’t that way.”

“You’ve never met the man. You don’t know anything about him.” Dom bit off his words, taking a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he tapped his finger to the desk. “Listen to me, Hackberry. I can do this for you.”

“It’s my mission.”

“And you’re failing by asking the wrong questions. Instead of thinking about Wedmore’s motivation, ask yourself what you have to lose if you don’t stop him.”

Jonathan’s muscles tensed. The air was stagnant, heavy. He placed the snifter on Dom’s desk and stood, slowly leaning toward him. “If you touch her, Regina, or Xavier, you will regret it.”

“Faith! Is that what you think of me?” Dom frowned as he reclined in his chair. “I don’t hurt innocent people.”

“No, you’ll only use them as bait.”

Dom’s laugh was sardonic. “You’re no better, Hackberry. Otherwise, you never would have brought them to the villa or had me follow them.”

Jonathan rubbed away the sharp pain in his chest. “I’ll inform your guests that you won’t be joining us for supper this evening.”

Dom simply shrugged, and Jonathan left his study with an even heavier load on his shoulders.

Twenty-one

Mrs. Li’s hand shook as she gingerly wiped her husband’s brow with a damp cloth. He groaned, the newly inflicted welt on his forehead growing larger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her gaze darting toward the brooding man sitting in the corner. His frigid stare caused her to whimper.

He and his partner had arrived in the night three days ago, looming over their bed as they slept. His black eyes, gleaming in the candlelight, had chilled her to the bone, freezing her limbs so she couldn’t move.

“Ísycha,” he had commanded.

Quiet. She couldn’t have screamed even if she had wanted to, not when the other man held her husband at gunpoint.

She hadn’t heard the servants moving around the villa since the men’s arrival. And she was too frightened to ask what happened to them.

The talkative one—the one who had hurt her husband when she had dared to approach the window overlooking Lord Dominic’s courtyard—opened the shutters briefly to peek outside. It was dark now. There was nothing to see.

The room was shrouded in deep shadows. The only lamp had the wick trimmed, emitting just enough light for her to tend her husband’s wounds.

The man closed the shutters, turning toward his leader and speaking rapidly in English. She couldn’t understand him, but her husband could. Soon after their invasion, he’d told her they were interested in the young women across the service alley.

The other day she had seen one of the women with Lord Dominic’s long-term guest, Sir Jonathan. The leader, whose gravelly voice always sent shivers along her spine, had ordered her to move away from the window and stay out of sight. But earlier this afternoon, she had heard voices raised in the courtyard and forgot his warning, and now her husband might not survive because of her foolishness.

A hot tear splashed on her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, but her husband was in a deep sleep.

Twenty-two

Jonathan spread his deciphered pages across the desk as Evangeline, Regina, and Xavier gathered around with theirs.

“Divide and conquer,” Evangeline had said earlier as she ripped pages from her uncle’s diary, each tear causing her to wince.

As antiquarians, it wasn’t in either of their natures to destroy source material, but a set of four hands was more efficient.

The lamplight spilled across the papers, and with grave expressions, they all looked up. Evangeline’s, Regina’s, and Xavier’s discoveries were as monumental as his own.