The characters and events portrayed inthis book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living ordead, is purely coincidental and not intended by theauthor.

Compromised for Christmas

Copyright © 2012 by JaneCharles

Smashwords Edition

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Note from the Author

Compromise forChristmas, a novella, first appeared inanthology, A Summons from HisGrace. It later appeared in acompilation, Scots, Spies & SalaciousLies. The reason it is now going solo isbecause it was the first Tenacious Trent story written.  Thesebrothers and sisters were only characters in my mind and havebecome a family I love writing about.

The idea of a family whospends very little time together and spread out across the globecoming together for Christmas returned me to memories of my ownchildhood. I grew up with a large family of aunts, uncles, cousinsand grandparents, who got together to celebrate each Christmas.But, as the children grew, families moved, and all I have now ofpictures from days gone by. So, for my family now living in Oregon,Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, andserving overseas – Merry Christmas and I miss you all.

~ Jane

Elizabeth,

I expect you, along withyour cousins and their parents, at Danby Castle by December24th.You, my absentee granddaughter, will present yourself before mealong with that husband of yours, Jean Pierre Bouvier. I willaccept no excuses.

Danby

Paris, December 7, 1812

Elizabeth Whitton folded the parchmentand stuck it into her pocket. Why hadn’t her contact or the HomeOffice translated this one into code like all of the other letters?Surely they understood the danger. Maybe they feared making anerror, given the author. Grandfather did have a way of strikingfear into people. Yet all of his other letters had been coded. Whynot this one?

It was odd seeing the name Elizabeth.She hadn’t been addressed as that in over two years. She no longerthought of herself as Elizabeth, either. She was Lisette Renard. Itwas safer this way, even in her silent thoughts, to pretendElizabeth did not exist.

Nevertheless, she must somehow find away to be back in England by December twenty-fourth and then returnto her position here without anyone being the wiser as to her truepurpose. She had worked long and hard establishing her place withinTuileries Palace and liked to think she was valuable to the Englishcrown.

She picked up the rag and wiped theshelves in the library. Who would have dreamed two years ago shewould have been given such free rein at the palace? It took almosta year of delivering eggs before she ever found a way to get beyondthe kitchen, but eventually the head chef took pity on her,believing the pathetic story of how she needed to earn more tosupport her aging grandmother and siblings. Her original job hadbeen simply to learn what she could through the kitchen staff andother servants. Nobody thought it possible that she would actuallybecome one of the few entrusted with cleaning the emperor’s privateapartments and study. Certainly not her father or uncle, and theywere the only two in her family who knew the truth. The restbelieved she’d fallen in love and married a Frenchman.

So, what was she to do? Hergrandfather expected her home for Christmas, with her husband, andone did not ignore a direct order from the duke.

It would be good to return toYorkshire. An ache developed in her heart when she thought of herfamily. She missed them more than she realized, especially Louisa,her sister. It would be good to see her again, even for a shorttime.

But they had to believe shewas happily married to Jean Pierre and not a spinster spy employedas a maid at Tuileries. As much as she hated the idea, there was noother choice but to tell her husband. Lisette returned hercleaning supplies to the closet and made her way outside and intothe vast gardens, towards the stables. Jean Pierre would either beworking within or exercising the horses. Why had she named him asher husband? She knew she could have come up with a differentidentity, but when she wrote of her marriage a few years ago, hersupervisor had made the suggestion and the name flowed easily fromthe quill.

She spotted him long before he noticedher approach. If he weren’t so full of himself, he might beattractive. She shook her head and corrected her thought. Despitehis conceit, he was a pleasure to watch.

Jean Pierre must have just finishedexercising one of the studs, because he was lifting the saddle fromits back. His shoulders and upper arms tightened with strength,straining against his shirt as he lifted and handed the leather offto a stable hand. He bent a moment later to pick up a brush andbegan grooming the animal. She knew without a doubt the man was allmuscle. Not that she had actually seen him without clothing, butthe fit of his pants and shirt were enough. In addition to hisphysical labor, Jean Pierre kept himself fit, as she did, in theevent they were called on to do more than their currently assignedduties.

He turned to face her when she grewclose, as if he sensed her presence behind him. “Ah, mademoiselle,such a lovely picture this afternoon.” He bowed before her. Hisgreen eyes twinkled with mischief and a black curl fell onto hisforehead. She fought the smile pulling at her lips. The man was acharmer, and she refused to succumb. They both had a job to do forEngland. Any type of relationship

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