Bride for a Night

Love was nothing more than a pretty illusion that females used to disguise their primitive passions. Couples were drawn together by lust, by power or by wealth. It had nothing to do with rosebuds and moonbeams.

“Actually I understand enough of women to be suspicious when a beautiful female simply appears, offering precisely what I most desire,” he said and sneered. “There is always a price to be paid. Usually one I have no wish to pay.”

She made a sound of impatience. “What could I hope to gain by assisting you to escape?”

“It is not something I intend to discover.” He regarded her stubbornly. “Frankly, I do not trust you, Sophia Reynard.”

There was a long silence, as if the woman were pondering some deep problem, then at last she heaved a sigh.

“A pity,” she muttered. “I had hoped to avoid this.”

“Avoid what?”

She visibly squared her shoulder. “I will prove that I am willing to sacrifice all to reclaim my lover.”

His brow arched. “A charming offer, but one that does not interest me.”

Her expression hardened with annoyance. “I do not intend to share my body.”

“Then what?”

“I…”

“Yes?”

“I can reveal the English traitor who is Jacques’s partner.”

Hardly an earth-shattering offer considering they had already dealt with the immoral bastards.

“We have captured his partners.”

“Non, you captured a few trifling employees.”

He stiffened at her derisive tone. “A clerk in the Home Office is hardly trifling.”

“Perhaps not, but he is easily replaced.” She paused. “So long as one is acquainted with a gentleman who is in the proper position to replace him.”

“Jacques?” he asked, baffled by her vague hints.

She gave a vehement shake of her head. “Jacques avoids London like the plague. It is essential that he maintain a discreet presence in England so as not to attract unwanted attention.”

“Why?”

“His mother resides in London. She has no notion of his…”

Gabriel was not entirely surprised that the Frenchman would have family in England. His English had been far too polished for him not to have spent several years in England.

“Treachery?” he suggested.

“Of his daring crusade,” she corrected sharply. “And of course, the ruffians he employs to transport the information from London could never cultivate the necessary contacts within the government and military.” She stepped forward, holding his gaze. “Non, only a gentleman of noble birth could provide the access that Jacques needs.”

His lips parted to deny the mere thought that a noble gentleman could ever be involved in such a sordid scheme, but he stopped short. He, better than anyone, understood that some of the greatest thieves, murderers and cutthroats were not in the stews, but traveled the hallowed streets of Mayfair.

Besides, she had a point. Jacques had to have a powerful patron to have become such a successful spy.

“Very well, I accept that there must be a gentleman of considerable social standing to have connections within the Home Office,” he grudgingly conceded.

“And if I offer you the identity of the traitor you will leave France with your wife?” she demanded. “Your word?”