A Lady's Revenge Read Online Free Page A

cryptographer for the Nexus no longer mattered. Over the past year, he had worked with Danforth on several cases and was grateful for the added distraction. His restlessness had increased over the last few months when Cora’s society reports to Somerton had become scarcer.
    A few feet before the overgrown opening, Danforth overtook Guy and pushed the tangled vines aside.
    Guy dragged in a deep breath. The cool night air washed away the oppressive stench of the dungeon. But the horrific image of Cora fettered like a rabid animal would stay with him forever.
    Cora’s brother blew out the lantern and led the way to their awaiting horses.
    Guy pressed his lips to Cora’s ear. “Almost there.”
    Her head jerked once in acknowledgment.
    He couldn’t help but notice the foul odor coming from her weightless body. Rage burned anew. When Guy returned to retrieve the Raven, he would make sure Valère paid for the atrocities he had forced on Cora.
    They picked their way around protruding boulders, low-hanging limbs, and thorny bushes until they approached the area where their horses were tethered. Anxiety drove through Guy at the thought of Cora being jounced around on horseback at full gallop with a rib injury.
    He glanced down and found her gaze probing the darkness.
    Alert.
    Tense.
    Expectant.
    She appeared so vulnerable wrapped in her brother’s coat, but her brutalized face revealed nothing but an unflinching resolve. Guy had always been protective of her as a child, but seeing her in this state, stripped of all vitality, heightened his natural instincts.
    What the hell was she doing in Valère’s dungeon? The question continued to echo through his mind. The last he had heard she was still in Paris with her great-aunt, Lady Kavanagh, feeding on - dits of Parisian intrigue to Somerton.
    Jesus.
    The deep quiet of the forest was his first clue they were not alone. No insects chirped. No small animals scurried for cover. No wind whistled through the leaves.
    The second clue came in the form of a hushed yet heated conversation beyond the low rise ahead.
    Where they had left their horses.
    A cold wave of anxious fury swept through Guy’s body. He crouched low, peering into the distance. Danforth followed suit.
    Escape was impossible without their mounts. One hour before sunrise they had a rendezvous with a fishing boat that would take them to their awaiting ship.
    The waning moon seemed to mock them with its steady descent to the horizon.
    He backed up a dozen feet and deposited Cora inside a shrubby alcove. Her fingers dug into his arm with unexpected strength. She looked up at him with fretful, swollen eyes. “What are you doing?”
    Bending close, he whispered in her ear. “Getting our horses. I’ll be right back.”
    She gave him a short nod before shrinking into the shadows. Guy chafed at the meager protection, but it would have to do.
    He rejoined Danforth and, with a few hand signals, they set out in opposite directions, intent on surrounding their quarry.
    As they closed in, Guy began to decipher the intruders’ whispered argument.
    “We must do something, you old fool,” one intruder said.
    “They’ll return, don’t ye worry,” said a rougher but equally low voice.
    Guy knelt down. He located the two dark silhouettes huddled against a large tree trunk about twenty feet away. To his left, he spotted Danforth, who nodded his readiness, but his assessing gaze lingered on Guy.
    He set his jaw and waited for Danforth to turn away before swiping the moisture from his forehead. Backbone, Helsford , he chided himself. Don’t turn into a piss-in-your-pants cub like last time. Make the kill; retrieve the horses; get out of France. His chest rose high and then folded down on a long exhalation.
    Danforth looked back at him, waiting for the signal. He gave it, and they both pulled lethal knives from hidden sleeves in their boots and stepped forward as one. Silent. Intent. Deadly.
    “I’ll never forgive you if my little