London
August 1815

He had grown so accustomed to the sound of gunfire that he did not hear the shot that was meant to kill him.

This would have worried Richard Black, the Duke of Lofton, if he had had time to think on it. But as the situation inherently required immediate action, prolonged and abstract thinking on the subject was neither prudent nor wise. So he refrained. Instead, he wondered who it was that smashed into him at incredible speed, sending him tumbling backwards off the walk along the Thames and into the bitter, black water below.

He had been meeting his contact there along the water at an unholy hour, and darkness had lain all about him. The exchange had gone as planned, and he now held the knowledge that he knew would prove key to his current assignment with the War Office. But as the inky water of the Thames closed over his head, he wondered if he would ever get that information to the necessary people.

And then as the last of the light disappeared, he thought of Jane, his wife. His Jane. He did not think of her in specific instances or certain memories that lay in his mind. He thought of her in pieces. Her smell. Her laugh. The sound her hair made as she brushed it at night. The way she always laid her hand on top of his whenever they should find themselves sitting next to one another. Her amazing talents with chestnut roasters.

He would have laughed if such an action would not speed up the inevitable drowning that suddenly became all too real, flushing thoughts of Jane from his mind. His arms began to push against the water as his feet began to pulse, driving him toward the surface. Only he did not move. Whoever it was that had slammed into him still held him about the waist, dragging him deeper into the water. He began to struggle, the need for air and life and Jane surging through his veins in a way he had never felt before.

And then a hand brushed against his cheek, and slender fingers came to rest across his mouth. He wanted to open his eyes, but he knew it would do no good in the black water. But he let the feeling of his attacker’s hand brush against his skin, the shape of it press into his face, the narrowness of limb and the delicate arch of bone.

It was a woman who held him beneath the water.

And he stopped struggling.

To Save a Viscount

Coming August 27, 2014

When an assassin threatens England’s spy network, Lady Margaret Folton must find the killer before it’s too late.  But when Commodore John Lynwood is accidentally granted a title meant to be used as bait to lure the assassin into the War Office’s trap, Margaret must face the tragedy of her past and decide which is more important: the assignment or love?

By Jessie Clever

Purchase from:

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Nook  |  Kobo

In Book Two of the Spy Series, For Love of the Earl, two agents for the War Office in search of Alec and Sarah’s kidnappers boarded a ship for unknown destinations.  In Book Three, we find out what happened to them.  Katharine Cavanaugh, the Countess of Stirling, has always lived according to the expectations of her heritage.  American mercenary Matthew Thatcher has spent his life running away from every expectation he has for himself.  But when their latest mission from the British War Office goes wrong, trapping them behind enemy lines, they must decide if they dare to realize the greatest expectation of all: the expectation of love.

Inevitably a Duchess: A Spy Series Novella

Amazon

Amazon UK

Smashwords

]]> https://jessieclever.com/now-available-inevitably-a-duchess/feed/ 1 520 https://jessieclever.com/an-excerpt-from-inevitably-a-duchess-a-spy-series-novella/ https://jessieclever.com/an-excerpt-from-inevitably-a-duchess-a-spy-series-novella/#comments Wed, 30 Oct 2013 15:10:17 +0000 https://jessieclever.com/?p=516 London, England

November 1792

“But where do babies come from, Lady Jane?”

Jane blinked at Nathan, letting the question settle in the room as Alec happily murmured encouragement to his letter block tower as it teetered precariously on the floor of the nursery.  She knelt there, the folds of her evening gown a stark black against the red hues of the  carpet that covered this part of the nursery floor.  She had removed her gloves and wrap at the door when Hathaway had advised her that his Grace was currently not in residence.  It was not uncommon for Richard to be tardy for one of their social engagements, especially if he was sorting through some War Office assignment.  So when Hathaway had suggested she wait in the drawing room, she had made her way upstairs to find the children, knowing Nurse would just be preparing them for bed.

What she did not expect to find was Nathan trying every way a seven-year-old mind could come up with to convince his five-year-old brother that to be a human canon ball was a lofty aspiration and one they should begin practicing for immediately.  She had caught Alec mid-air as he had made his first attempt at launching himself from one of the small beds in the nursery to the other.  He had made it a scant six inches into the air when his head took a precarious turn for the floor.  Only Jane’s timely arrival prevented injury from occurring.  And the only thing that kept them distracted from their pursuit of becoming human cannonballs was when Jane knelt on the floor with them to commence a different kind of game.

What had prompted Nathan’s question she could not say as she was fairly certain that procreation had nothing to do with the letter block tower they were currently constructing.  But for curiosity’s sake, she listened to Nathan attentively and gave as diplomatic a reply as she could muster.

“You must ask your father that one, Nathan.  A lady is not at liberty to say.”

Nathan blinked at her, his blue eyes bright in the lamps of the nursery.  Jane assumed they were his mother’s eyes for Richard’s were a deep brown.  Just as with Alec’s brilliant green ones, the boys had inherited much from their respective mothers, and whenever Jane caught sight of those vivid hues in their tiny faces, she felt a twinge of something she could not identify.  And even though she knew nothing of Nathan’s mother, she had met Alec’s mother once long ago, and Emily remained a distant wrinkle in her memory, always there and never quite fading even though she had been dead for more than five years.  This coupled with Nathan’s precocious question left a dull ache in the center of her where something had been missing for quite some time.

“But Father would never answer such a question.  He tells me curiosity can be a dangerous thing.”

Jane’s mind flitted briefly to what the Duke of Lofton was most likely currently undertaking and thought that statement from him to his sons was a valid one.  The boys might find themselves in grave danger if their curiosity regarding their father’s affairs ever drove them too far.  She didn’t know everything that a spy for the War Office did, but she could imagine a few things.

But thoughts of Richard Black’s affairs brought her back to the little boy in front of her, who although older than his brother, would never see the responsibilities required of a duke as he would never see the title.  The title would pass onto Alec, the aspiring human cannonball, as the legitimate son of Richard Black, the Duke of Lofton.

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing when applied in the wrong circumstances.  But I do think you are smart enough to apply it appropriately, Nathan.  What do you say?”

Nathan looked at her, carelessly tossing the letter B from one hand to another.

“But you’re a woman.  Women always have babies.”

At his words, a stabbing pain erupted in Jane’s lower abdomen, and the air rushed from her lungs.  She felt the cold loss of bodily heat even as the temperature in the room never fluctuated.  She stared at the innocent child before her and drew deep breaths, knowing that he could not have possibly known what effect his words had.

“What are you two still doing out of bed?”

The sudden sound of Richard’s deep voice had air flowing freely in Jane’s lungs once more.  She swung her head about, the great plumage of her hat sweeping in an arc with the movement of her head.  She saw him, silhouetted in the doorway by the light from the hallway torches, his broad shoulders nearly reaching from one side of the door to the other, the dark fabric of his jacket and breeches accentuating the outline of muscles, and the polished gold of his buckled shoes glinting in the light.  But it was his sculpted face that drew her attention, with its distinct cheekbones, sweeping brow and his thick, brown hair clubbed neatly at the nape of his neck.  He was quite simply gorgeous, and he always had been from the first moment she had seen him from across a crowded drawing room while she had stood there with her hand tucked safely into the crook of her husband’s arm.  She had fallen in that moment and every moment since upon first seeing him.

“Nathan said we should be cannonballs,” Alec suddenly said, looking up from his careful construction of letter blocks.

“Did he?” Richard said, his hands moving slowly to his hips.  “Nathan seems to be full of good ideas tonight.”

Nathan beamed, having not yet developed the sixth sense of sarcasm.  “I have, Father,” he said brightly.

Richard frowned, but Jane could only hide her laugh behind a hand and a muted cough.  Richard looked at her, but she only smiled.

“Perhaps it is time for bed,” she said, carefully getting to her feet.

Richard grasped her elbow before she could fully stand, helping her as she shook out the folds of her skirt over her petticoats.  The fabric was slightly mussed, but any amount of wrinkles was worth a few moments of play with Richard’s sons.

“Now then, boys, what time is it?” she asked once she was fully standing.

Alec shot up off the floor, a huge grin spreading from one side of his face to the other.

“Bed time!” he cried and made a running leap for his bed.

Nathan did the same, scrambling to get into bed, but Jane started speaking before the covers were fully pulled up to their chins.

“Little boys should be off to bed.”

“With covers thrown over their heads,” the boys chimed in response.

“And adventures they’ll find within their minds.”

“If only they go to bed!” they all finished in unison.

The boys burst into a fit of giggles with the biggest boy standing behind Jane trying hard not to add to the sudden mayhem.

“Good night,” Jane said more softly, bending down to kiss each of them in turn.  “I love you both.  Sweet dreams.”

She left the room quietly as she heard Richard approach each of his sons.  It was the same thing every night when they put the boys to bed together.  Jane would recite the same chorus that her mother had said with her substituting the words little boys for little girls, and then Richard would go to each boy, asking him what part of the day had been the best.  They would inevitably answer that it was when Jane came to play, and she thought Richard must have suspected her of bribing them to give that answer.

He came out into the hallway a short moment later, closing the door to the nursery softly behind him.  When the door finally clicked shut, he turned to her, and before she could say anything, he swept her into his arms, his lips firmly against hers.  Her arms were caught between them, and all she could do was stand in his hold, relishing the familiarity of his kiss.  When he finally released her, she looked up at him, a smile coming to her lips.

“There is mud on your shoes, Your Grace.  What is it that has made you tardy?”

Richard frowned down at her.  “Have I told you recently that you would make a very good spy, my lady?”

“Not recently, no.”

He looked at her, and once she would have squirmed under his gaze, but now she stood firmly, watching him watch her.

“Perhaps it is a topic we should review once more.”

She stifled a laugh against his shirtfront.  “Richard, you know very well I would make a deplorable spy.”

Richard shook his head.  “I wouldn’t say that, Jane.  You may come to regret those words one day.”

“Nonsense,” she said, pulling herself carefully from his arms.  “If we do not leave quickly, we may be late for the theater.”

She felt the reluctance in Richard’s grasp to let her go, but he did finally release her, his eyes searching.

“I suppose I should have Melbourne remove the mud from my shoes,” he said, referring to his valet and effectively ending the previous topic of conversation.

“Perhaps,” Jane agreed, looking down at the shoes in question.  “That is quite a bit of mud.  Whatever were you doing at this hour that required such adventure?”

“It did not involve going to bed I’m afraid,” he said, and the look in his eye gave Jane every indication as to what he truly referred.

She blushed, unable to help it.  A year may have passed since her husband’s death, a year since the start of their illicit love affair, but still, Richard could make her feel like an innocent child, unsure of where to place her next step.  His hand came up and cupped the side of her face.  Instinctively, she turned into it, looking up at him through her lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, Jane,” he whispered, and the blush grew hotter on her face.

He kissed her once more, softly this time, and it was as if his kiss carried with it all that he could not say, for Jane would not let him.  A year may have been a long time for some, but for Jane, she was only beginning to feel the healing powers of passing time.  But with the healing also came reminders that other things were moving on as well.  Every time she saw the boys she marked a new change, a new development, and a hiccup of guilt would come to her for just a fleeting second.  And she wished she could be stronger, she wished she could get stronger before time had passed completely.  But whenever she felt brave enough to take three steps forward, something would push her back two.  It was a kind of progress, she supposed, but it was a progress that time did not favor kindly.

When Richard finally ended the kiss, he did not release her.  His gaze held hers until finally he spoke.  “Jane,” he said with a distinctive note of hesitation.  “About what Nathan said—“

Jane laid a finger to his lips, cutting off any further words.  “The careless words of a young child,” she said, her voice strong even as her resolve fluttered.  “There’s nothing to think of it.”

Richard’s eyes moved over her, but she refused to let him see how truly deep Nathan’s words had gone.  She stood erect and still, no tremor passed through her.  And finally, Richard relented.

He released her completely, moving in front of her down the hallway.  She watched him recede into the distance for a moment, just enjoying the sight of him as he moved, all grace and poise, silent footfalls on the carpeted floor.  She shook her head and began to move after him, picking up her skirts as she went.  She was not nearly as silent as he, her petticoats swooshing as her skirts swished over them.  A spy, indeed.  Stealth would never be her strong suit with all of the noise she made just by walking in a straight line

“I’ll meet you in the foyer, my lady, once I’ve seen to my shoes.”

Jane smiled at Richard’s back, watching him descend the stairs before her.  He had always insisted on calling her my lady, and she wondered why he did it.  At this point in their affair, she did not really care, for the words warmed her regardless of their meaning or intent.

“Very good, Your Grace, but do not tarry.  You know I like to observe the occupants of the other boxes before the opera begins.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to miss your opportunity to spy,” he said over his shoulder with a wicked grin.

“Observation, Your Grace.  It is merely observation.”

He stopped on the second floor landing to turn to her, his eyes flashing smartly.  She couldn’t help but return his smile, his playful enthusiasm too much to conquer.

“Call it what you like, my lady, but it is still spying.”

Miss Nora and Nathan already?  Here’s a little something from them in For Love of the Earl: Book Two of the Spy Series.

Unbeknownst to our hero and heroine in the port of Dover
Also at the same moment

Nathan grabbed the back of his wife’s coat before she could move out of arm’s reach.  He snapped her back toward him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he muttered in her ear.
Nora’s eyes flashed in the dim light of the alley, barely visible underneath the floppy hat he’d stuck on her head to hide her identity.
“I’m going to save my family if it’s all the same to you,” she whispered, her tone firm but not accusing.
Nathan grinned.
“And are you going to do that all by yourself, my lady?”
Nora grinned back, her white teeth flashing in the darkness.
“If you continue to be so slow, perhaps, I shall, my lord.”
Nathan stopped grinning and started pulling on his wife’s arm as they made their way through the rest of the alley.
They came out of the small space just yards from the docks.  They were on the backside of the thoroughfare, and Nathan could hear the boisterous voices of dockhands and sailors looking for a place to lay their head that night along with a woman as company.  This part of the port was seedy at best and repugnant at worst.  He felt a twinge of guilt for bringing his new wife here in the middle of a cold spring night, but she had insisted.  And if there was one thing Nathan was learning, it was never to tell Nora no if she said she were to do something.  No matter what that something entailed.
“Do you think they’re still in port?” Nora whispered.
Nathan shook his head, the cold air sweeping in from off the water, sending a chill along his neck and down his greatcoat.  He pulled Nora closer.
“Thatcher has firm intelligence that they were already traded over to the French.  They are now following the men who traded him.  We need to see if this was a one time event or if they are going to take more Englishmen.”
Nora turned to him.
“They?”
Nathan looked down at her, pausing for a moment to admire the shape of her face in the glow of moon.
“Lady Cavanaugh.  I’m not sure you’ve had the pleasure of meeting her.”
Nora’s head tilted.
“I cannot say I have.  She sounds lovely though,” she finished and turned back toward the thoroughfare with its constant stream of rowdy seamen.
Nathan waited patiently even as the cold air began to rattle his teeth.  He looked out to the water, at the outlines of ships bobbing in the quiet ocean and saw the clouds in the distance moving closer.  Soon they would lose the moonlight.  The water in the port already kicked up fierce waves, and the port was filled with the sound of ships hitting against piers and each other.  But the sailors in port took no heed.  The ships were safely anchored for the night.  They had more interesting pursuits to tend to.
“It’s that one there,” Nathan said, pointing discreetly to a dock nearly ten yards down the wharf from their hiding spot.
He could not be sure if Nora looked where he pointed or simply took his word for it.
“That is where they will meet us?” she asked.
“That is where the ship is docked.  The one we are going to use to find Alec and Sarah.”
Nora turned her face up to him.
“And we are certain they are still in the port.  They must have been traded quite some time ago.  Would they not have gotten underway for France?  It seems dangerous to linger.”
Nathan now pointed to the clouds he had spotted earlier, dark masses encroaching on the pale moonlight.
“Storm is moving in.  They’ll not risk their precious cargo for a mere storm.”
“Not even in the Channel?  It’s not as if they’ll be moving in the open ocean.”
Nathan shrugged.
“The Channel can be equally as dangerous as open sea.”
Nora nodded.
“I’ve never been on a ship, so I must take your word for it, Mr. Black.”
Nathan waited a moment more and then carefully gripped Nora’s elbow before slipping into the stream of people moving along the thoroughfare.
The smell grew worse once they were inside the throng of seamen, and Nathan felt his throat constrict.  They reached the dock in question and turned off, slipping out of the crowd of people just as easily as they had slipped in.  They made their way carefully along the dock, dodging crates and coils of rope and the odd drunken sailor, perched precariously against both.  The wind grew sharper as they moved further along the dock, and Nathan kept his grip firm on Nora’s elbow.  They had nearly reached the end of the pier, when the last ship on the dock came into view, looming out of the darkness like a sudden beacon.  Nathan slowly stopped, putting his back to the stack of crates resting four feet from the ship.  He looked up at the vessel, noting its worn wood and wind scarred mast poles.  It wasn’t a big ship, but it would do for their purposes.
Nora pressed against him, and his grip on her tightened.
“Is this it then?”
He nodded.
“And how is it that you know the captain of this ship?”
“He saved me bloody life even if he did not save me blinkin’ leg.”
Nathan felt Nora jump, startled, but the gravelly voice and its owner were nothing that frightened Nathan.
“Reginald Davis,” Nathan said, stepping forward as the man came off the gangplank of the ship before them.
The man looked no different from the last time Nathan had seen him except for the wooden peg he stood on.  He was still tall and broad shouldered with a barrel chest and beefy hands.  He looked as if he should be shoveling dung from a stable rather than captaining a ship, but this was where the War Office had reassigned him after his injury.  And Nathan suspected it was the perfect outfit for his fellow soldier.
“Sorry again about the leg, old chap,” Nathan said then, extending a hand to his comrade,  “But it’s better your leg than your life.”
Nora looked between them.
“I believe I am not familiar with this tale.”
Davis approached Nora then, bowing over her extended hand.
“Tis a pleasure to meet the honorable Mrs. Black.  But allow me one question.  Why the bloody ‘ell did you marry this whelp when you could have had someone as charming as meself?”
Nathan saw Nora blush in the moonlight and stepped closer to remove his wife from Davis’s grip.
“Because she has common sense,” Nathan said, and Davis laughed.
“Shall we be aboard then, chaps?” he said, turning back to the gangplank.
It was then that Nathan noticed the ship had come alive with sailors moving along the ropes and up into the masts.  It vibrated with the energy of preparing to set sail.
Davis was well ahead of them when they began their way up the plank.
“How is it that you know him?” Nora whispered.
“He was in my regiment on the Continent.”
“Your regiment?  But how did he get into a regiment with noblemen’s sons?”
Nathan grinned.
“Who said he’s not a nobleman’s son?”
Nora looked straight ahead at Davis, her jaw hanging slack.
Nathan called up the gangplank.
“What is it you have in mind for our rescue mission, Captain?”
Davis turned at the top of the plank, the moonlight hitting him full in the back and silhouetting his impressive person in an ethereal light.
“How do ye feel about pirates, Nathan?”