Free The Reluctant Bride by Beverley Eikli

a leather drawstring pouch. ‘I’m looking for a dependable envoy to supply him with replacement papers.’
    Angus betrayed nothing. Not his distaste for subterfuge when he was comfortable on the battlefield where he knew exactly who and where the enemy was. Nor the unexpected frisson of excitement that he was about to be offered a mission that would give him something meaningful to do after so long on half pay, doing nothing.
    â€˜Francois Allaire, wealthy banker, is his alias.’ Major Woodhouse tapped the pouch. ‘You’ll find passports and letters of introduction for both of you. In just over a week he’s due to meet the Paris prefect of police, but without the right papers he’s in a perilous situation.’ His brow clouded. ‘Some months ago and in similar circumstances we lost a valuable and long-serving agent. We can’t afford the same to happen, which is why I’m approaching you to help us.’ He sent Angus a searching look. ‘There is no one I’d trust more than you.’
    Practicality and a healthy dose of aversion to lying, even for so good a cause, made Angus hesitate when only moments before he’d all but embraced an opportunity to feel useful and serve his country.
    â€˜And my disguise? The green jacket of the 60th?’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, Woodhouse. While I’m no friend of Bonaparte’s, you need a diplomat, not a soldier.’
    The man he’d known and respected for so many years since they’d joined as recruits contemplated him a moment. When he spoke again there was a brittle note to his tone. ‘My apologies. It never occurred to me you’d decline.’ With a brief but pointed scrutiny of the back of Angus’s humble dwelling he added, ‘I thought if your patriotism were not inspired you’d at least view affairs differently in light of your changed domestic situation.’
    Angus put a conciliatory hand upon his friend’s sleeve. ‘I am still in the pay of the British government and my loyalty will always be towards my country. I’m just questioning whether someone else would do
this
job better than I.’
    Major Woodhouse kicked at a chicken pecking his boot before fixing Angus with a level look. ‘In Spain you spent three days and nights in rain and sleet lying out ahead of Bonaparte’s army. Your intelligence was first rate. When you were eventually caught and interrogated your quick wits saved your life. You were promoted to Major. Since then you’ve continued to serve the army with distinction.’ He paused, assimilating his argument. ‘It’s because I knew you planned to resign your commission, and in consequence would be champing at the bit’—he sent another contemptuous glance, this time towards the scrapheap by the back door where Miranda was scraping out the remains of a bowl of gruel—‘that I thought you’d be open to my proposal.’
    For the second time in a few days Angus felt mortification at his inadequacy. The dwelling was supposed to have been a short-term abode after he’d come back from war. Stretched for funds and with only himself to worry about he’d not bothered to look for something else.
    Major Woodhouse’s tone became cajoling. ‘This mission is part of a complex campaign to ensure homeland security. Our agent, in his guise as a Swiss banker and funded by the British Government, is proving that English gold is an effective tool in turning the loyalties of key French generals who are themselves starting to predict the fall of Napoleon. If Allaire’s cover is blown, every agent we have recruited throughout Switzerland, Spain and France is compromised.’ Woodhouse looked grey as he added, ‘For he
will
be induced to talk.’
    Angus digested this in silence. He was no coward, but espionage did not sit well with him. He would have preferred a mission that involved straightforward