Free A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides by Diana Quincy Page A

mysterious
Le Rasoir.
When he mentioned that Will had recently attended an embassy affair, she seized the opportunity to expand their discussion.
    “Are you acquainted with Mr. Naismith through your embassy work?” she inquired.
    “No, our acquaintance precedes Paris. We attended the same university.” He sipped his tea and carefully replaced the porcelain cup on its saucer. “Although Will was a few years ahead of me.”
    “Does he have business at the embassy?” she asked, tearing off a small piece of the warm bread. Even though she didn’t take Will for the spy, she had to consider the possibility.
    “Mr. Naismith? No, he has acquaintances there who he calls upon whenever he is in Town.”
    “He always did travel a great deal.” She’d never forgotten the gut-wrenching sensation she’d felt after learning Will had left for Town the morning following their tryst. For weeks, she’d waited anxiously for his return, before coming to the shattering realization he had no intention of returning for her.
    “Yes, his numismatic interests take him all over the world. It’s a good thing he hasn’t married. No wife would countenance his being absent for months at a time.”
    “I suppose he will limit his travel once he weds.” The words were light, but her heart twisted painfully at the thought of Will marrying another woman.
    “Will marrying?” Mr. Verney laughed. “I cannot imagine it.”
    “Why ever not?” she asked evenly, her focus on her tea.
    “He plans never to wed.”
    She looked up. “Why is that?”
    “His prolonged absences would be hard on a family. He’s quite sought after as an expert in the field of ancient coinage, and I don’t believe he’ll ever curtail his interests in that area. As a matter of fact, he’s in Jersey on a numismatic matter as we speak.”
    Jersey? She was momentarily distracted. Will had said he was bound for the country, not Jersey Island. She must have misheard him.
    Mr. Verney sipped his tea before continuing. “No, I cannot imagine Will staying in one place long enough to gather around the hearth with a family.”
    Despite the warm tea, frigid disappointment settled in her stomach. Mr. Verney confirmed what she’d always suspected: that Will had never wanted to marry—not her or anyone else.
    —
    On the way home, the hired coach rumbled along the traffic-laden streets, jerking to abrupt stops to accommodate wayward carts and the people attempting to negotiate the sodden streets on foot. She watched the people hurrying along while keeping a light conversation going with Mr. Verney.
    A familiar glint of dark copper caught her attention. It was Will, dressed in a dark coat, striding purposefully into a
passages couverts
, a covered shopping arcade positioned between two buildings. She watched until he disappeared inside before turning to Mr. Verney. “Are you certain Mr. Naismith is abroad?”
    He nodded. “Absolutely. He declined to dine with Lord Whitworth this evening because of it. One does not rebuff an invitation from the Crown’s ambassador to France, if one is in town.”
    She murmured in agreement, but strange possibilities began to turn over in her mind. Unless there was some misunderstanding, Will had lied to both her and Mr. Verney about his whereabouts—telling her he was bound for the country while Mr. Verney thought he was in Jersey. Yet here he was, still in Paris. She didn’t know what it meant. It certainly didn’t prove that Will Naismith was
Le Rasoir,
but it did prove he was a liar.

Chapter 6
    Two days later, Will absently flipped a worn calling card between his fingers while watching two elderly men play chess at the table next to him at the crowded café. The air was full of smoke, the sounds of clinking glasses, and animated discussions between a group of writers and intellectuals several tables away.
    Will barely heard them. He’d just returned to Paris after spending a couple of days on Jersey Island, where his operatives had