Bride for a Night

“I witnessed the earl and his countess together, Jacques.”

He shrugged. “And?”

“She is desperately in love with him.”

His eyes flashed with annoyance. “Impossible. The bastard abandoned her mere hours after their wedding. She would never be so foolish as to offer such an arrogant pig her affection.”

A derisive smile tugged at her lips. “Women are renowned for offering unworthy men their affection.”

“He considers her beneath him. How could he possibly make her happy?”

“You could not be more mistaken,” she said softly. “I have seen the manner Lord Ashcombe stares at his wife. He is enchanted by her.” An unwelcome stab of envy made her shiver. “Just as every other man appears to be.”

A silence greeted her bitter words, then with slow, deliberate steps, Jacques prowled toward her.

“Why did you allow the prisoners to escape?”

Sophia’s heart fluttered. Merde. Why had she ever been foolish enough to allow her emotions to become entangled? Until Jacques, she had managed to walk away from her various affairs unscathed. Now…

Now she felt as raw and vulnerable as if her soul had been stripped bare.

“They were dangerous,” she murmured.

He grasped her shoulders, his expression hard. “They were worth a large fortune that we desperately need.”

“There was no certainty you would have received a ransom for the earl,” she argued, refusing to apologize. “He is, after all, a favorite of the prince. It is more likely we would have discovered an alarming number of British soldiers laying siege to the Palace.”

His eyes narrowed. “And Talia?”

“She distracted you from what is important.”

“From you?

“From your pledge to Napoleon.”

Disbelieving fury darkened his eyes. “You dare to speak to me of loyalty to our emperor after your betrayal?”

“I do not consider avoiding an unnecessary skirmish with the British army a betrayal.”

“And do you consider the theft of the small tokens that have ensured the loyalty of Mr. Richardson as betrayal?”

She flinched, abruptly lowering her head to hide her guilty flush. She had not expected him to realize the extent of her treachery so swiftly.

“What do you wish me to say?”

His hand shifted to cup her chin, gently forcing her face upward to meet his searching gaze. “The truth.”

“The truth is that I desired Lady Ashcombe to disappear from France, and releasing her husband seemed the most efficient means of accomplishing my goal,” she answered with a blunt honesty that caught them both off guard. “Are you satisfied?”

For the briefest of moments Jacques’s expression seemed to soften, and a fragile hope swelled in her heart. There was surely a hint of the affection he had once showered upon her lurking in the back of his beautiful eyes? Even perhaps a guilt for having hurt her.

Then, just as swiftly, his anger returned, and he stepped back with a sharp motion.

“Non,” he said harshly. “I am far from satisfied. Your selfishness has threatened to expose our greatest treasure in battling the British. I cannot allow Ashcombe to reach England.”

Disappointment lodged like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach.

“Harry Richardson cannot be a treasure if he is hiding in France.” Her voice was dull as she struggled against the horrid realization that she had taken a risk and lost it all. “Indeed, he is nothing more than a liability.”