Chapter 1

Chapter One

Paris, France ~ November 1821

“ I ’ve got you now, you rotter,” Jonathan DeLacey muttered under his breath as his eyes focused on the man sitting at a table outside a taverne on Rue de Rivoli. He’d been chasing the man for weeks and had finally caught up to him. Jonathan observed his target casually tucking into a hearty stew while flipping through a newspaper.

The rich aromas floating from the establishment made Jonathan’s stomach rumble. Watching the server bring a basket of bread and a bottle of wine to the man’s table reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in almost two days. Another stomach rumble prompted Jonathan to move closer to the restaurant.

He would assuage his hunger once the miscreant was apprehended and locked up. Jonathan glanced at his men, who waited across the street. Remarkably, the three agents had managed to keep up with him and, at the same time, maintained their distance and cover over the past few days as Jonathan followed the trail of the would-be insurrectionist. He gave them the signal to be ready.

“Enjoying your meal, Talbot?” Jonathan asked, stepping in front of the man and slipping his hand in his pocket to feel for his pistol.

Talbot lowered the paper and stared, his eyes flashing with amusement. “We meet, at last, my friend.”

“Quite bold of you to be sitting in such a public space,” Jonathan said, gesturing to the tables that surrounded them, packed with diners enjoying the surprisingly balmy autumn evening.

Talbot sipped his wine and set down his glass, waving his hand dismissively. “The wine is very good here. May I offer you a glass?” Talbot said, a placid smile on his face.

Why was Talbot so calm? Surveying the immediate area, Jonathan quickly assessed his surroundings, looking for any possible signs of a trap. Seeing no potential threat, he signaled his men to move in.

“Monsieur Talbot,” he said, “I shall keep your recommendation in mind. One never knows when it will come in handy.”

“It appears I let my guard down too quickly,” Talbot said. “But…I’m certain you don’t plan on taking that pistol out in such a public space with so many innocent people at risk.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jonathan replied.

“Good. Because in a few moments, I will calmly get up and leave.” The traitor gave a meaningful pause. “And you will not stop me.”

“Really?” Jonathan arched a brow at the arrogance of the man before him. “And you believe that… why ?”

“Because, my friend, you are alone, and I doubt you will pull your pistol out to shoot me. Not when there are so many people around.” The man tossed his head back and laughed.

Talbot was undoubtedly the brashest of men. “Are you certain you have all the facts?” Jonathan asked as his three protégés seamlessly emerged out of nowhere and easily surrounded Talbot.

Jonathan leaned forward and set his knuckles on the table as he regarded the traitor, who now sat frozen in his seat. Talbot’s eyes widened in alarm as he realized he was well and truly caught. “The facts are that you are under arrest, Monsieur Talbot,” Jonathan said. “The British government is very interested in what you have done and what you were planning to do—and once they are done interrogating you, you will look back on this moment and rue your arrogant assumptions and perhaps long for that Bordeaux you’re so fond of. There won’t be any more wine for you, Monsieur Talbot. Not where you’re going.” He nodded to his agents. “Take him.”

“The Cabernet Sauvignon is an excellent year. Please accept what’s left and the warm bread with my compliments.” Talbot sneered. “But you have not seen the last of me. I promise.”

Jonathan watched as his men escorted Talbot away with his hands now firmly shackled. The capture had taken place smoothly, and the patrons of the tavern seemed too engrossed in their meals and conversations to pay much heed to Talbot’s sudden departure.

Jonathan wasn’t worried about Talbot’s empty threats. It felt good to finally arrest the bastard. The man was a chameleon—and a dangerous one at that. He had been stirring up discontent in England through various nefarious and underground channels. He’d caused no end of concern for King George that England would be pushed into a revolution. Indications were that an equally dangerous partner was already in England. Jonathan hoped Intelligence could wrangle the necessary information from Talbot that would lead to the capture of whoever Talbot was working with. He had chased Talbot throughout France for weeks and was glad he could return to London with the knowledge that one of the most dangerous revolutionaries had been taken off the street.

In a few hours, Jonathan would board the boat for England. While he felt no immediate pangs to return home, he was tired from all the travel.

Talbot’s server stopped at the table and set a clean glass down. “Nos compliments, monsieur,” he said with a grin. Jonathan ordered the boeuf à la mode. He might as well assuage his hunger.

As Jonathan raised the glass of rich, dark wine to his lips, he reflected on his upcoming trip home to England. He hadn’t been home in a long time, and for the first time in years, he was looking forward to seeing his friends and family. He’d been a carefree bachelor in his younger years, but four years ago, he’d met a young woman who’d completely captured his heart—or so he thought. Biting into a piece of still-warm bread, he chased it down with a sip of wine as he recalled the day he’d learned a valuable life lesson.

Lady Diana Thurston—the woman he’d given his heart to, the woman he’d intended to spend the rest of his life with—left him at the altar four years ago and eloped with the Duke of Aumale. No explanation, no letter, not even a note. As though Jonathan had needed one. The duke was as rich as Croesus and as old as time. Jonathan shook his head at his own foolishness. He’d ignored his friends’ warnings about Diana’s true motives. Jonathan had believed his friends were simply jealous of his happiness. Especially his best friend, Gavin Stenson, now the Earl of Rochester. What a na?ve young man he’d been. Never again. He’d left his foolish pride in the past and threw himself into working for the Crown as a government agent.

As the years passed, he began to feel a sense of liberation, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Despite his grueling work that had left little time for him to brood, a profound loneliness had begun to gnaw at him. Jonathan realized that he still hoped for the kind of marriage his late parents had. The kind of love they’d shared. And the kind of wife who would cherish him for who he was rather than for his status or wealth. He finished his meal in a contemplative mood, wondering if that kind of love was even possible…