Page 30 of After the Spy Seduces

Placing the pistol on the desktop yet still within easy reach, he moved the chair out of the way to give him access to the center desk drawer and its small brass lock. He jammed the point of the opener into keyhole, and with a prying twist, he broke the lock with a loud snap.

He opened the drawer and reached inside, searching through the contents. Then he slowly withdrew a book.

“Is this what you want?” He flipped through the pages, scanning them, and confirmed with a decisive nod. “The general’s diary.”

“Bring it to me.”

“No!” Diana cried out desperately, twisting futilely in the man’s grasp. “Please don’t! We’ll never be able to save Garrett if you—”

Christopher shot her a quelling look that ordered her to be quiet as he circled around the desk and walked slowly toward them. His eyes not leaving the Frenchman except to dip a glance at the knife still pressed to her throat, he stopped an arm’s length away and held up the diary.

She could feel the man’s breath stutter at her ear. With one hand still holding the knife near her throat, he grabbed for the diary with the other, snatching it out of Christopher’s hand.

Christopher lunged. But instead of hitting the Frenchman, he slammed sideways into Diana, who was ripped out of the man’s grasp and shoved safely away from the knife. Too startled to scream, she rolled under him as he tumbled with her onto the floor.

He sprang to his feet and put himself between her and the Frenchman. A slender blade flashed in his hand in the lamplight. The letter opener, wielded like a knife and sharp enough to stab into the man’s gut—

A dull thud echoed through the room. The man spasmed violently, then dropped to one knee.

The general stood behind him, the iron poker from the fireplace in his hand.

The Frenchman bit out an enraged curse and grabbed at the poker. With his other hand, he landed a hard punch into her father’s stomach.

“Papa!” she screamed.

He doubled over in pain, but summoned just enough strength to twist the poker from the Frenchman’s grasp, raising it to strike again.

“Bâtards anglais!” The man put up his arm to fend off the glancing blow, then snatched up the diary and raced unsteadily from the room, blood dripping down his face from the cut on his scalp.

Dropping the letter opener, Christopher reached for Diana. “Are you all—”

“General!”

She pushed his hand away and climbed to her feet, to dart past him to her father’s side as he crumpled against the wall, breathing hard to catch back the air knocked from his lungs and doubled-over from the pain of the punch. She sat at his side as he slid to the floor, unable to remain on his feet.Dear God, his heart!

“Diana, he’ll be fine,” Christopher said reassuringly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She shoved him away.

“This is all your fault!” she shot over her shoulder at him, then turned away to cup her father’s face in her hands. His eyes were closed as he struggled to gain back his breath. She tore at his collar to loosen it, to make him as comfortable as possible. “The French, Garrett’s disappearance, that damnable diary—you brought all of this down upon us!”

Her father shook his head as he opened his eyes and gazed solemnly up at her. “He’s not the enemy, my girl,” he rasped out hoarsely. “Far from it.” Then he looked past her to stare grimly at Christopher. “Carlisle’s a hero.”

Chapter 9

“Good God,” General Morgan muttered two hours later when Kit finished telling him what he knew about his son’s disappearance.

Good God, indeed, Kit thought as he leaned back against the desk in the study.

He’d finished sharing with the general everything he could about Garrett Morgan, but he’d been careful to avoid all mention of the Home Office and to heavily censor details about Diana. If the general ever discovered what liberties he’d taken with the man’s daughter, he’d be more than a rogue agent. He’d be a dead one.

Around them, the house was finally quieting down. Excuses had been made for the host’s and hostess’s sudden disappearances from the party, with the Duke of Hampton stepping in for the general to make the toast once the fireworks had died away. The party had ended shortly after, and the property had been cleared of all guests—and then thoroughly searched by the servants per the general’s orders. The staff had been told that they were on the hunt to find any guests who might be lingering in dark corners with lovers or who had fallen asleep. In reality, they were confirming that the Frenchman had gone and the household was no longer under threat. Although Kit feared it wouldn’t be for good.

The general eased himself down onto the settee beside Diana. She reached over to cover his hand with hers as he rested it on his knee. Only his fingers, drawn up into a tight fist, revealed any traces of his surprise and anger.

“Is that all?” General Morgan demanded.

All Kit planned on sharing, anyway. So he gave a cut nod and pushed himself away from the desk to cross to the card table in front of the window and the tray holding several glasses and decanters filled with liquor, put there for the party.