Free The Spy's Reward by Nita Abrams Page A

could not prevent Diana from making a scene—she had tried twice before on this trip, and failed both times—but she might be able to contain the damage. Although if Diana was planning to light into Nathan Meyer, Abigail was not sure she wanted to stop her.
    There was no scene. Diana, and Abigail behind her, took one look at the boisterous crowd in the public room of the Mercure and retreated precipitately back upstairs. Diana even locked the door. They looked at each other sheepishly.
    â€œOur room seems very clean for—for this sort of place,” Diana said tentatively. Then she started to giggle. “Mother, did you see what the fat woman in pink was wearing on her head? It looked like a dead rabbit!”
    Â 
    Â 
    Meyer was getting ready to leave again. He opened the shutters and peered out at the sky. “Still cloudy. I hope the moon comes out; that road will be nearly impassible in the dark.” It would not be an easy trip even if the moon did appear. He had been on horseback all day, and now he was facing an additional forty-mile roundtrip over two passes.
    â€œYou should know that road quite well by now,” Rodrigo said dryly. “I believe this will be your fourth encounter with the Col de Chaudon in two days.”
    Nathan slung a battered dispatch case over his shoulder. “Get some sleep. If they do not turn west at Castellane, it will be your turn tomorrow night.”
    â€œThey will not turn west,” the servant said gloomily. “You are never wrong about this sort of thing.”
    No, they would come north. Nathan was sure of it.
    Rodrigo handed him two pistols. “What shall I say if you are not back by the time Mrs. Hart is dressed tomorrow morning?”
    â€œTell her I have ridden out to get more news of the invasion. It is the truth, after all.”
    â€œAnd Master Anthony?”
    Meyer looked nervously at the bed. “For God’s sake, don’t call him that when he is awake. He already thinks we are patronizing him.” His nephew had fallen asleep the minute he had pulled off his boots and lain down. “Best to tell him as little as possible. He might conceive that I was endangering Miss Hart with my plan.”
    â€œYou are,” Rodrigo said. “As you are well aware.”
    â€œIt is a very small risk. As you are well aware. Anthony, on the other hand, may prove more of a challenge as far as safety is concerned.”
    â€œI was surprised when he continued on with us today,” Rodrigo said. “I had thought he would be returning to Italy.”
    Meyer shook his head. “He was on his way to London. But in any case he would have followed Miss Hart.”
    â€œAh, yes. That.”
    â€œThat, indeed. Precisely what I meant when I said that his safety will be more difficult to guarantee.” Meyer sighed. “Five francs says that he is injured ‘protecting’ Miss Hart within three days.”
    â€œToo easy. Make it one day.”
    â€œDone.”
    They clasped hands.
    â€œI have won the last three,” Meyer reminded his valet.
    Rodrigo shrugged. “I am due for some luck.”
    â€œDo you suppose there are other men who make wagers with their servants?” Meyer asked as he wrapped a muffler around his neck.
    â€œMost men stay in one place long enough to make some friends.”
    â€œYou would be utterly wretched if I were to marry again and settle down,” Meyer informed him. “You know that perfectly well.” He picked up his hat and headed for the door. Then he turned. “Oh—and make sure the women don’t go downstairs. It’s a bit rough down there.”
    Â 
    Â 
    It was nearly dawn by the time Meyer rode into the yard behind the Mercure, so tired that it took him several tries to open the stable door. Rodrigo must have been listening for him, though, because he had not even finished unsaddling his horse when the Spaniard materialized at his