A Lady's Revenge by Tracey Devlyn Read Free Book Online Page B

true names of all the agents working for the Nexus. But in this instance, his friend deserved to know the truth.
    He turned to Danforth. “It is my belief that the operative named Raven is none other than Cora deBeau.”

Six
    The following afternoon, Cora sat with her head resting against the side of the bed. Her rapid, shallow breaths echoed through the room, and a fine sheen of sweat covered her brow and back.
    Such a fuss to relieve oneself.
    Just a few more halting steps and she would have been comfortably ensconced in her downy-soft bed. Instead, she sat on the hardwood floor with quivers of exhaustion wracking her body.
    If she hadn’t grabbed the bedpost at the last second, she would be suffering a great deal more. As it was, her bruised ribs felt like they had finally cracked and were now piercing one of her lungs.
    Cora closed her eyes. She needed a few minutes to catch her breath before beginning the arduous task of pulling herself up, one-handed, onto the bed.
    The previous day’s abomination spiraled through her mind with dizzying speed, not helping her present condition. How could they have doubted her? Have so little faith in her? If she had come crawling back to them, ravaged but alive, she would have understood their skepticism. It would have been reasonable to suspect that she had given up valuable information to save herself.
    Guy had witnessed her resistance. Even though he couldn’t hear the words she whispered, surely he realized her tactic. Why hadn’t he spoken up on her behalf? His was perhaps the worst betrayal of all.
    Cora opened her eye and searched the room for something else to focus her mind on. Even with its limited perspective, her bandaged gaze feasted on the soothing rose-and-light green bed hangings, the satinwood writing desk. She had found peace here, once.
    And then her gaze roved over the portrait on the opposite wall, painted only a few years before her family was crippled by tragedy. Her smiling mother and serious father sat on a bench amidst a profusion of multicolored flowers, with a ten-year-old Ethan standing at his father’s shoulder and a six-year-old Cora tucked into her mother’s side.
    Happier times. Simpler times.
    She tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the movement sent a bolt of fire through her midsection. She stared hard at her mother’s beautiful face, waiting for the onslaught to recede. She longed to feel her mother’s soft, delicately perfumed hands cradling her face once more, to experience the butterfly caress of her thumbs sweeping over her heated cheeks. And to hear her mother’s melodic words of reassurance that always bolstered her courage. My sweet girl. Always so brave and strong. One day we will find you a husband equally courageous. “Oh, Mama,” she whispered, her mother’s promise slicing through her battered heart, “I wish you were here.”
    One of Cora’s greatest regrets was how little she remembered of her parents, having lost them both when she was just ten. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the image that took precedence over all others was of their last horrific night on earth, when she watched a French assassin murder her father, her mother already sprawled at his feet.
    She swallowed hard against the aching sadness and rolled her face into the counterpane, no longer desirous of exploring her old bedchamber.
    A perfunctory knock reverberated through the room, and Cora snapped to attention.
    “Cora, may I come in?”
    Guy. Dear Lord, not now.
    She grabbed the counterpane in a desperate bid to save her pride. But her muscles had grown nearly useless during her captivity and could no longer support her weight. She slid back down in a heap of humiliation.
    “Cora?” The door opened, and the light from the corridor cast Guy’s shadow across her bedchamber floor.
    With reluctance, Cora peered around the end of the bed. With the light behind him, she could not make out his features, but his rigid posture