Free Louisa Rawlings by Stolen Spring Page A

spy! She laughed bitterly. “Gossip?” Her lip curled around the word. She was to sell her soul for gossip ? “I heard something the other day that sticks in my mind,” she said mockingly. “The Duc de Bleyle denied most heatedly that he had spoken to the Duc de Chartres, though I myself had seen them talking. Is that the sort of gossip you want?”  
    “Yes.” His expression was hard, indifferent to her feelings. “It may seem strange to you, but through such bits of gossip great mischief can be nipped in the bud. Bleyle and the king’s nephew, you say? That is odd. If you see Bleyle often, pay him close attention.”  
    “Is that all for now?” she said with contempt.  
    “No. You will be in attendance at Monseigneur’s fête, I believe. I am minded that the king chided you for wishing to leave.”  
    “I shall be here. Though I had hoped to go home afterward. Will my…obligation to you make me a prisoner at Versailles?”  
    “No. I told you, you’ll lead a normal life. But when you go, I’ll want you to be a messenger on your way. And if I send for you, I’ll expect you to return to Versailles as soon as you can. Now, the matter of Monseigneur’s fête. You have not forgotten what we spoke about. It is important for us to know what is happening in Spain. Our ambassador in Madrid is at a disadvantage in a foreign land. Much information is kept from him. Have you met Don Lopes de Gongora, the secretary to the Spanish ambassador?”  
    “I think I played billiards with him once.”  
    “Good. He’s away at Saint-Cloud, I believe. But he will return the night of the party. Don Lopes keeps the dispatches from Spain in his apartment. In a locked box. The key never leaves his person. It would be very helpful for us to be able to read those dispatches. We could learn much about Charles’s disposition, as well as the maneuvers of the Austrian ambassador in Madrid.”  
    “Then steal the key,” she said coldly. “Or break open the box.”  
    “Ah, but then, you see, they would find another place for the dispatches. But if we were to have our own key, and Don Lopes were not the wiser… Just before the fête, I’ll send you a little box filled with soft wax. You’ll make an impression of the key—both sides—and return it to Don Lopes’s pocket.”  
    “And how am I to get it out of his pocket?”  
    “My dear mademoiselle, with that face and those eyes, it should be like child’s play. Woo him, ply him with wine…whatever it takes.”  
    She felt the anger boiling inside her. For her helplessness. For his cold-blooded scheming. “Am I expected to take him to my bed?” she asked with sarcasm.  
    He shrugged. “Only if you wish it.”  
    Damn the villain! Well, it would cost him to have this spy! “I can’t go to Monseigneur’s party,” she said.  
    He scowled. “What do you mean?”  
    “I have no other court dress save the one I’m wearing. And no money to pay for a new one. And without a new dress, I’ll earn the king’s disfavor. I’d planned to feign a sudden illness that night that would have kept me in my bed,” she lied.  
    “What’s that to me?”  
    “I need money for a new gown,” she said boldly. “Thirty gold louis at the very least. The tailor will have to work day and night to finish it in two days.”  
    His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I think I may have undervalued you, mademoiselle. You’ll do very well. Very well, indeed.”  
    She stood up and crossed to the door. “I’ll see the tailor first thing in the morning. Send the money by Albret as soon as you can. And don’t look so dismayed, Monsieur de Torcy. Thirty louis isn’t much to buy yourself a spy!” Cursing him under her breath, she swept out of Albret’s room.  
    Her proud carriage held until she reached the last dim corridor leading to their attic rooms. She sagged against the wall. Oh, Tintin, she thought. One hundred and twenty-five thousand Iivres! They could never