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A Night Of Secret Surrender
Sophia James
He was her first love…Now she’ll risk all to save him.Celeste Fournier once gave her innocence to the man she loved. Years later that same man, Major Summerley Shayborne, is in Paris—and in danger! Celeste’s world has changed beyond recognition, but she knows she must help Shay flee. Yet their scorching reunion makes her wish she could reclaim something of herself…to be the girl she was…the girl that Shay deserves.
He was her first love...
Now she’ll risk all to save him.
Celeste Fournier once gave her innocence to the man she loved. Years later, that same man, Major Summerley Shayborne, is in Paris, and in danger! Celeste’s world has changed beyond recognition, but she knows she must help Shay flee. Yet their scorching reunion makes her wish she could reclaim something of herself—to be the girl she was, the girl that Shay deserves.
Gentlemen of Honor miniseries
Book 1—A Night of Secret Surrender
Look out for the next book, coming soon!
“A passionate and poignant tale, well written with realistic and individual characters.”
—RT Book Reviews on A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
“James sweeps us into another sumptuous tale.”
—RT Book Reviews on Ruined by the Reckless Viscount
SOPHIA JAMES lives in Chelsea Bay, on Auckland, New Zealand’s North Shore, with her husband, who is an artist. She has a degree in English and History from Auckland University and believes her love of writing was formed by reading Georgette Heyer in the holidays at her grandmother’s house. Sophia enjoys getting feedback at www.facebook.com/sophiajamesauthor (http://www.facebook.com/sophiajamesauthor).
Also by Sophia James (#ulink_663d6d43-c29d-5740-b17b-0856f028426a)
Ruined by the Reckless Viscount
A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
Men of Danger miniseries
Mistletoe Magic
Mistress at Midnight
Scars of Betrayal
The Penniless Lords miniseries
Marriage Made in Money
Marriage Made in Shame
Marriage Made in Rebellion
Marriage Made in Hope
Gentlemen of Honour miniseries
A Night of Secret Surrender
And look out for the next book
coming soon
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
A Night of Secret Surrender
Sophia James
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07365-3
A NIGHT OF SECRET SURRENDER
© 2018 Sophia James
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I’d like to dedicate this book to my wonderful mother, Jewell Kivell.
She was always one of the greatest supporters of my writing and I miss her.
Contents
Cover (#uce00ad20-ee94-5644-8fa1-79d36712f000)
Back Cover Text (#u75b76994-cca7-574c-9e65-4eac9ede0a4a)
About the Author (#u89865235-fd95-5605-a22b-6adb01d71635)
Booklist (#ulink_7b083ddb-a253-55b6-89ac-01c3bc3616a6)
Title Page (#u78912a7e-19a9-54d5-b3ec-1e59cf1d895c)
Copyright (#u5afae1b2-fb0e-5a58-839e-33f60f686ff8)
Dedication (#u1a16d4af-6d7d-54e0-9a13-51f7dce48c4f)
Author Note (#u025de653-9d7b-5c4e-9426-f65a79217364)
Chapter One (#u942e6a33-121f-5115-91c7-13103df770ea)
Chapter Two (#ud84e9155-93dd-5489-b3d6-41043fb8e429)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Author Note (#ulink_c09eb821-8321-5f1e-8010-90c1e3df94cb)
Paris in 1812 was a city full of factions vying for political influence. Napoleon Bonaparte had departed from France to take the Grande Armée into Russia, leaving a power vacuum in his wake. Two men more than happy to extend their authority were Henri Jacques Guillaume Clarke, the Minister of War, and Anne Jean Marie René Savary, the newly appointed Minister of Police.
Clarke was particularly good at encroaching upon weaker men and ministries, and in the absence of the Emperor he extended his considerable authority even further. A Frenchman of Irish descent, he was known as a wily opponent with the sort of cleverness that worried even Napoleon. But by the end of the year he would fall from favour.
The Ministry of Police had been set up by Joseph Fouché and, although Savary had the running of the ministry in 1812, Fouché’s omnipresence and calculated cunning was instilled into the culture.
Beneath the larger official ministries, smaller intelligence agencies flourished and it is here I have fashioned the fictional Les Chevaliers, of which my heroine Celeste Fournier is a part.
France in 1812 was at war with Britain, but America, under President Madison, had sent envoys to Paris to test the waters, so to speak.
The time was ripe for change and everyone wanted the chance to lead France into the new century. An Empire at risk made things in the country that much more volatile—the perfect place to set a story.
Chapter One (#ulink_72201049-8688-5580-9ecc-4a9ceff72eeb)
Paris, France—June 1812
Major Summerley Shayborne opened the door to his accommodation on the Rue St Denis to find a young woman waiting inside among the evening shadows.
She wore thick glasses and her pure white hair was fastened loosely at her nape. He had not seen such a colour on anyone of her age before and so could only imagine it false.
‘I am here to warn you, monsieur.’
Shay saw the sheen of a blade in her left hand before it was slipped away out of sight.
‘Warn me of what, madame?’ He could not place her accent; the French she spoke was tinged with the cadence of one who did not belong anywhere.
‘Savary and the Ministry of Police are watching you.’ Her diction was precise as she continued talking. ‘You have held too many conversations about French military affairs on the Champs de Mars and in the coffee houses, and people are beginning to ask their questions.’
Lighting a candle, she turned away, shielding herself from the brightness. As the flame took, she allowed it to illuminate him instead, the planes of her own face left in semi-darkness.
‘It is even being inferred that you might not be an American officer at all.’
‘Who are you?’
She laughed quickly at that, though the sound held little humour and he felt a sudden slide of cold running down his back.
‘Politics here takes no prisoners. One wrong move and you will be dead. Even a charming and inquisitive foreigner is not immune to a knife quietly slipped between your ribs.’ Her stillness was amplified by the movement of flame. ‘The police bureau will be here within days, asking their questions. You are a spy, Major Shayborne, of immeasurable value to both sides, but there always comes a time when luck simply runs out.’
The shock of her words had him turning.
‘Why would you tell me this?’
‘History,’ she whispered and walked to the door, opening it with care before slipping out into the oncoming dark.
Shay did not move, rooted to the spot in sudden comprehension of what she had said.
History.
There was something familiar in the timbre of her voice beneath the accent, under the hard anger, behind the thick lenses and hidden by a false wig. A memory. Like an echo in the blood. He stood as still as he could, trying to reach out and claim it.
* * *
She moved through the roads leading to the Palais Royale with a practised ease and up through the alleyways to the Rue de Petit Champs, walking quickly but not too fast, for such speed would draw attention. It was a warm night for June, the oncoming heat of summer felt through the grates and on the cobbles and the south-facing walls. Her hand ran across the patinas of chalky sand and limestone. Ahead she saw the tavern she sometimes stopped at was alive with people. Melting into the shadows, she brought the hood of her silken cape up, the new and expensive white wig stuffed into her pocket because it was too noticeable.
She did not wish to see anyone tonight and have to explain herself. She wanted to wash. She wanted to sit on her balcony and have a glass of the smoky Pouilly-Fumé she had bought yesterday in the Marais from the Jewish shopkeeper with good contacts in the fertile, grape-bearing valleys of the Loire.
She wanted to be alone.
She should have sent someone else to warn Shayborne. She could have penned a note or whispered her message in the darkness without lighting the candle. She could have transferred her information by any number of safe and practical methods, but she had not. She had gone to see him and whispered exactly what she should have kept to herself.
History.
