Dominique looked up at his wife. Hunter took advantage and landed a blow to his friend's jaw. Murderous outrage reflected in Dominique's face as he thrust his head against Hunter's, causing his body to slump to the cold hard marble.
"Isabelle? What is all that noise?" Another figure appeared. Though the voice was feminine, Hunter could not be sure if it was another person, or if he was suffering merely from double vision.
"Dominique!" Gwen yelled. "Kindly remove yourself from my future husband!"
"Not until he's dead." Dominique cursed and grasped at Hunter's cravat, winding it tightly into his hand. To breathe was the very devil. To be fair, Hunter hadn't expected this reaction from Dominique. Now, Montmouth? That was another story entirely.
"I said release him." Gwen pushed Dominique off of Hunter and glared. "Truly, what has gotten into the both of you? Acting like rebellious children! Whatever happened to talking?"
Hunter pointed at Dominique. "He tried to shoot me."
"He struck me first!" Dominique argued.
"And my horse is bigger than yours," Isabelle said dryly. "Now, husband, explain." She glared daggers at Dominique. Hunter shifted nervously on the floor, suddenly feeling quite lucky that he wasn't married.
"He ruined her." If Dominique pointed his finger one more time in Hunter's direction, he was going to snap it in half.
"Actually…" Gwen winked at Hunter. "It is I who ruined him… for all other women."
There it was. That blasted grin. Though his face hurt like the devil, it decided to make an appearance again as his eyes greedily took in Gwen and her defense of him.
"And it only took two minutes," Hunter added helpfully.
"At most." Gwen sighed.
"What the devil is going on? And Hunter, I swear by all that is holy, if you lie to me, I will end you." Well, at least the bloke was speaking in English now. That had to be a good sign, didn't it?
"I'm a spy!" Gwen blurted, just as Hunter opened his mouth to speak. Was she planning on saving him all day or was this just a phase?
"Your grace." Samuel cleared his throat, taking in both bloodied men sitting on the floor, and shrugged. "This came for you while you were out."
Hunter winced as he rose to his feet and took the letter. He carefully opened it and cursed.
Redding dead. Meet tonight at 7, The Horse and Hare.
"Dead," Hunter mumbled and looked directly at Gwen. She paled and nodded her head just once.
"We only have two left. Two men." He held back the information about Hollins and Wilkins. She did not need to know the specifics. If anything, he wanted to keep her in the dark. He wanted her alive. "It is imperative that we find out who it is, Gwen, especially considering we are to be married."
Ignoring the gaping mouths around him, Hunter walked over to Gwen and kissed her hand. "We will find him. We have to."
"But you were shot and…" Gwen shuddered.
Hunter sighed and pulled her into his embrace.
She exhaled softly. "You were afraid of losing me. You thought you had. But what—" Her voice caught. "What if I lose you?"
"Wolves are like cats, love. They have nine lives."
"—though I imagine he's outlived all of his," Dominique interjected. "Now, will someone please explain why you two seem so familiar, and why Gwen felt the need to lie about being a spy in order to save you, Hunter?"
"She didn't lie." Hunter released Gwen and turned toward Dominique and Isabelle. "But perhaps this is not the time."
"It is never a good time for one's lies to unfold," Dominique said through clenched teeth.
Isabelle cleared her throat. "Gwen? Why don't we let Rosalind know we are ready for Bond Street? I imagine she's finished taking her tea."
Gwen looked at Hunter and gave him a nod of approval as she walked off with Isabelle, leaving Dominique glaring at Hunter like a madman.
"Oh, do stop glaring. You'll give yourself a headache."
"Too late." Dominique cursed. "Though I blame you, not the glaring." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I imagine this will take whiskey and a whole lot of talking. White's?"
Hunter sighed in relief. "Best idea you've had all afternoon."
****
Hunter fidgeted with the glass in his hand as Dominique took another sip. "I imagine you want me to apologize for pointing a pistol at your head."
"That would be nice."
"Forget it." Dominique cursed. "How was I to know the entire story? Is her family aware of her activities for the Crown?"
Hunter set the glass down and leaned back into the plush leather of the chair. "If they did not before, they will soon."
"Hmm." Dominique lifted the glass to his lips and winced as he took a swig. "Does she know?"
"Know?" Hunter repeated.
"About Lucy."
All it took was the mention of his dead wife's name and the smile, the one that had become a permanent fixture on his face during the entirety of the afternoon, faded away. "Not everything."
"And Ash?"
"Somewhat. Only that I had a twin brother I thought dead, nothing more."
Dominique set his glass down and leaned forward. "I imagine I am the last person you would ever think to give marriage advice, but it would be wise for you to tell her of your past, sooner not later."
The smile had turned into a frown as Hunter thought of his past, of the gory details. Was he ready to be that vulnerable with another human being? Dominique knew all his secrets, but up until a few months ago, he'd had his own demons to face.
Now it seemed that Hunter was alone in his darkness. It would be life's cruelest joke to find another woman in his life only to bring her down into the pit he so casually resided in.
"And if I cannot tell her?" he finally asked, not wanting to look Dominique in the eyes as he said it.
A sigh escaped Dominique before he picked up his whiskey and took another long swallow. "Then you may as well leave again."
"Leave?"
"Yes, leave. As in quit the continent. My friend, you do not want to live in a marriage that is one-sided. Where the woman you care about gives of herself until it hurts, where you hold back pieces of who you are. In the end, it will end in the death of her spirit and the death of your soul. Your marriage deserves the best chance it can get. All things considered, by not telling her of your past, you shoot yourself in the foot before you take one step toward that altar."