Free The Reluctant Bride by Beverley Eikli Page A

tactics.
    Woodhouse clicked his tongue. ‘For months you’ve been searching for something worthwhile to do, anyone could see it, Angus.’ He sounded impatient. ‘All I’m asking of you is to help ensure we don’t lose another valuable, long-serving agent.’ His lip curled as his glance encompassed Angus’s dwelling briefly once more. ‘I can’t imagine a man of your pride relishing your current situation.’
    He could see Angus was wavering. He cast another disparaging look, this time at Angus’s worn boots, before warming to his theme. ‘Our British agents are in league with French generals disenchanted with the Corsican invader. Together with representatives of the House of Bourbon we are confident of soon toppling Napoleon. But to ensure success we need to send someone who speaks impeccable French; someone dependable – and fast – to furnish Allaire with the necessary papers.’ He cleared his throat. ‘On a more practical note, the job I’m offering you comes with a government pension after the war is won.’
    A pension. Instant remuneration. Angus stared at the lowly lodgings to which he’d consigned his beautiful wife and registered that he was not insensible to his friend’s rising passion; and not only from a pecuniary point of view. He missed excitement.
    â€˜All we’re asking of you on this mission is to play the messenger. Play yourself if you’re uncomfortable with charades: the painter who won’t let a war raging across Europe interfere with his passion.’ Major Woodhouse’s tone became more persuasive. ‘Tuck your easel under your arm and dust off those letters of introduction to the curators of the world’s finest art collections to which the war denied you access.’
    Angus shifted, the frisson of excitement within tempered by the reality of his changed circumstances. Even a veritable host of galleries could not outweigh his concern for Emily and his desire to see her safely delivered of her child. Some naïve part of him kept alive the hope that through his steady dependability Emily would develop for him some small affection.
    He realised it was a pipe dream. Emily would appreciate him far more if he were playing the hero abroad than slavishly attending to her meagre comforts at home.
    â€˜My wife is in a delicate condition. How long am I likely to be away?’
    â€˜Once you’ve delivered the requisite papers to Allaire your mission from this side is completed.’ Woodhouse muttered over the calculations. ‘Two hours hard riding to the coast; the packet leaves every Tuesday and Friday; the channel crossing might be done within three hours, if you’re not becalmed, and then another two to three hours to reach the home of Monsieur Delon. Perhaps you’d be looking to return to England several days after that.’
    â€˜Delon?’
    Woodhouse raised an eyebrow. ‘You are familiar with the name?’
    â€˜I have heard it mentioned in connection with Jack Noble.’
    Woodhouse’s momentary confusion was replaced by suspicion. ‘Miss Micklen … I mean, Mrs McCartney, spoke of this?’
    Angus tried to dilute his friend’s objection by returning to the matter at hand. ‘I presume there will be future requirements?’
    Woodhouse hesitated, then replied, ‘For many years the Delons have assisted foreign emissaries who would see a Bourbon monarchy reinstated.’ He stared at Angus as if determining his friend’s commitment. ‘If you do accept, yes, this will be the first of further operations. It is likely they will introduce you to other members of their association.’ Clearing his throat, he added, ‘I will therefore need reassurance that your loyalty to the cause extends beyond this first operation.’
    Angus hid the frisson of irritation that swept over him at his friend’s pomposity. Although Woodhouse was