Page 34 of The Spy and His Lady Love
Chapter 11
“It’s about time you returned.”
Harry’s head snapped up at the sound of the dreaded voice of his enemy, Baron Littleton, in his home.
“Nothing to say? Tis a pity as your lovely duchess had much to say when I intruded in her private space.”
Harry’s heart stopped. Penelope. The bastard spoke with Penelope. Or worse? “Where is she?” he demanded as his heart started up again three times the normal beat.
“She’s unharmed. For the time being. It all depends on your cooperation.”
“If you harm one hair on her head…”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Threatening me will not help her cause.”
Harry fought down the urge to wrap his hands around Littleton’s neck. “I ask again, where is my wife?”
“As I said, she’s unharmed. But you should’ve kept her safer. Entering your home was easy then and now.” The baron grinned, but his eyes glared with hatred. “Shall we sit and converse like the civilized gentlemen we are? By the way, you have excellent whiskey. Goes down smooth as silk. I helped myself.”
Harry’s blood boiled. Civilized. The intruder was as far from civilized as one could be. He swallowed his pride and anger, intent on only getting answers about Penelope. He gestured toward the two chairs facing the hearth in his sitting room. “Please have a seat. Would you like me to send for a tray?” Christ, he didn’t just offer the man food, did he? Surely his mind was not working properly. He should arrest the bastard and be done with him.
The baron smirked. “Thank you. But no. I’ve eaten. More of that fine whiskey would be nice though.”
Biting back a growl, Harry made his way to the sideboard and poured generous amounts of whiskey into two crystal tumblers and handed one off to Littleton. He sat and sipped his, all the time eyeing the baron. Most of his people would squirm at being scrutinized by him, but not this man. He had the heart and soul of granite. How else could one explain the heinous crimes the man committed against his own countrymen.
“You must tell me who your supplier is. I must get my hands on this whiskey,” Baron Littleton said as he sipped the liquid.
“I’m afraid I don’t know. It was a gift.” Harry inhaled and tried to make sense of the words scrambling inside his head, trying to come out all at once. “You didn’t come here to discuss whiskey. Tell me what you want and where my wife is? I could arrest you right now and throw your arse in jail.”
“Come now, Newbury, I’m holding all the best cards here. No need to be rude. If you arrest me, you will never get your wife or Smythe back. That’s right, I have him as well. As for what I want, I want my name cleared. My title and holdings restored to me. When that happens I will gladly return your wife to you unharmed. And as a bonus I’ll give you Smythe too.” He paused, drained his glass, and stood. “Until then I will keep your lovely wife.” The bastard bowed. “I have two men posted outside. Send word to them when you are ready to negotiate. I hope your relationship with Prinny is good. All this rests in his hands.”
Once alone, Harry’s arm came up, and he flung his glass into the fire. The sound of crystal hitting brick and flames made quite a loud crashing sound. Unfortunately, Harry experienced no satisfaction from his show of anger. Anger, frustration, and worry for Penelope. He paced the room, hands combing through his hair. His heart beat wildly against his chest as he tried to think. “Think, damn you, think,” he yelled to himself. When nothing came to him, he changed into his Duke of Newbury persona. Unable to find Edmond, he made his way to the foyer and ordered his carriage brought around from the mews. He didn’t care if it was the middle of the night. He had to see Prinny. Had to beg for his wife’s safety.
Whatever it took, he would see the baron’s title and lands restored to him. Once done and Penelope was back safe and sound, he would take the bastard down. Littleton would pay for his crimes—past and present.
After meeting with Prinny,Harry had in his possession the deeds and title Littleton had been stripped of. Even though both he and Prinny knew it was a trap to capture Harry, they decided to go along with the baron for now. Give him what he asked for and the Prince Regent would take it back at a later time. The most important thing was to get Penelope back. And Smythe. At least Penelope wasn’t alone. Or was she? Were they being kept at different locations? Even if the location was the same, they no doubt were in separate rooms, cells, or dungeons. Harry had no way of knowing.
As for Penelope’s safety, he had to take the baron’s word she was safe. But safe could mean anything from being kept in a dark, damp cell with food and water to a comfortable room. So as not to drive his mind crazy, he pictured her in comfort. Surely Littleton would treat a lady properly.
Harry penned a missive for Littleton and sent it off to his London residence. The only residence not entailed to the title. Therefore, it remained in Littleton’s ownership. Could he be daft enough to be holding Penelope there? Harry would find out soon enough. Regardless of what Littleton said in his return correspondence, Harry and his men would invade his London residence this very night, hoping to rescue his wife and Smythe. If all failed, then Harry would dangle the baron’s estates and title before him.
Harry was prepared to give himself up as additional payment if the plans tonight didn’t work first. He’d met with his barrister earlier to have the necessary papers drawn up to ensure Penelope was taken care of. As Harry had no relatives he knew of, the title and all entailed properties would go back to the crown. Unless…his wife carried his babe. A male heir. Harry rubbed his aching chest. Would he live to see the day Penelope gave birth to his heir? Or even live to have a daughter. A precious girl who looked very much like her mother? Harry, never one to be sentimental, found himself being just that.
“Enough,” he yelled, “enough.” He needed to be strong, hard, and fearless. It was the only way he would rescue her and keep himself alive.
Late that evening he headed to Littleton’s London residence. Everything tonight hinged on his hunch that Littleton held Penelope and Smythe at his London residence. His driver dropped him off several houses down, and Newbury made his way in his Newbury disguise. Edmond and five of his best men surrounded the place. Fifteen minutes after he entered the townhome, they were to take out Littleton’s men patrolling the exterior then enter cautiously, knowing more armed men would be inside. Once they were neutralized, Littleton would be taken into custody—Penelope and Smythe released. Harry prayed all went well. From past experiences he knew there were always glitches. Not this time, please. Not this time. He’d never had anything personal at stake before. How brilliant of Littleton to use his new wife to accomplish what he wanted. Harry would remember that tactic in the future. And guard Penelope much more carefully. How neglectful he was in failing her even once.
A young, strong butler answered the door and let him in. No butler at all, but a French spy. Harry had an extra sense when it came to spies. Hence, why he was so good at his profession. Why Prinny worked hard to keep him on. Truth-be-told, after tonight, he may hang up his spy hat and retire so he could enjoy his wife. Spend time in the country and perhaps go on an extended honeymoon on the continent.
“This way, Your Grace.”
Harry followed the butler up the grand staircase, down a hallway, and into Littleton’s office, he presumed.
“Welcome, Newbury.” Littleton gestured toward a brown leather chair that faced a large mahogany desk. “Please sit.” He held up a crystal decanter filled halfway with amber liquid. “A drink of brandy before we get down to the business at hand?”
“Please,” Harry replied, trying to remain calm and not lunge across the desk and ring the man’s neck and demand to see his wife.
Once settled, each with a glass in hand, Littleton raised his brows in silent question.
