He gave a low laugh. “Have you not done that before?”
She didn’t want to take anything away from this special moment, but honesty compelled her to say, “Yes, when I was very young. But he was more interested in impressing me with his skill than in pleasing me.” After a moment, she added, “I was pleased then, but nothing like as much as now because you do want to please me.”
“Always, mon ange,” he whispered. “Always.”
* * *
The ride back the next morning was relaxed, with the normal amount of casual conversation exchanged between Suzanne and Simon. They had almost reached the Moreau farm when he remarked, “Whenever you look at me, you blush.”
She looked at him, and blushed. “Yes, but in a good way.”
Mercifully, he changed the subject. “I don’t know how long we’ll be in Belgium, but I’m thinking about asking Monsieur Moreau if he’ll sell us these horses. They’re sound and well trained and would probably cost us less than buying similar mounts in Brussels. What do you think?”
“I like the idea,” she said. “I love riding, and these are both fine beasts. I like Hercule here almost as much as my sweet Luna back in England. Your Achille is also a fine fellow.”
“He has first rate stamina and I think he’ll be a very good horse for long distance riding if I turn exploring officer again.” Simon patted the sleek dark neck of the bay.
“Are you in danger of running out of money?” Suzanne asked. “This has been an expensive journey.”
“I brought more cash than I thought I’d need and I’ve spent almost all of it, so it’s good we’ll be back in Brussels soon, where I can call on my banker,” he admitted. “I should have enough to buy these horses and saddles and get us back to the city, though.”
“I am fortunate to have been almost penniless during my early days in London,” she said thoughtfully. “It makes me really appreciate being married to a rich man.”
He chuckled. “I’m not rich beyond the dreams of avarice, but I’m grateful that I can afford to buy what I need without having to think hard about it. Except for a castle. I could not afford a castle.”
“Who needs a castle when we have White Horse Manor?”
“My thoughts exactly. But I suspect we will need these horses.”
Since Monsieur Moreau had raised and trained the horses for sale, it didn’t take long to agree on a price that included the saddles so that Suzanne and Simon could ride on their return to Brussels if they wished.
They arrived at the inn to find that Maurice and Jackson had returned with a wagon that was covered and had good springs. With a well-padded pallet on the floor, Philippe should be able to travel in reasonable comfort. Marie assured them that he was recovering well and sleeping most of the time, which should help him heal.
They left the next morning after exchanging affectionate hugs with the Moreau family, who waved them off with invitations to return soon. Maurice drove the wagon with Jackson at his side, Simon and Suzanne rode, and Marie traveled with her husband inside the wagon.
The journey was unremarkable until they neared Brussels, where the traffic became increasingly heavy, and included soldiers as well as elegant carriages and farm wagons. They entered the city behind a company of marching Dutch-Belgian troops.
Simon’s expression became grim. Edging his mount toward Suzanne’s as they made their way along the crowded streets, he said, “There must be news of possible war.”
Suzanne said, “More likely to be probable war?”
Simon nodded. Even so, it was a surprise when they reached their house. As the wagon and the two dusty riders halted in front of the building, Jenny ran out to greet them, her face tense. “The Duke of Wellington has just arrived in Brussels, and he’s taken a house only a block away!”
Simon swore under his breath. Probable war had become inevitable war. And he suspected that Brussels would be the headquarters for the British and Dutch-Belgian troops.
Chapter 26
The conversation that Simon knew was coming took place the morning after they arrived back in Brussels. At breakfast, Marie said shyly, “Sir, Philippe would like to speak to you at your convenience.”
“After breakfast then,” Simon said. “Would you like more coffee, Marie?”
“Please.” She spread marmalade on a warm croissant. “I’m so hungry now!”
“I think that’s natural,” Suzanne said. “I assume that Philippe wants a man-to-man talk with my husband and female presence is undesired?”
Marie nodded. “Yes, but I shall make him tell me everything afterward.”
“I’ll do the same with Simon,” Suzanne said, and the two women laughed. Simon was glad to see that they were becoming good friends. Suzanne needed the chance to make more female friends.
Simon finished off his coffee and stood. “I’ll go up to see Philippe now. If you hear shouting, ignore it.”
He was only half joking. Philippe was in a situation that would madden any man. At least he wasn’t armed this morning.
Simon entered the spacious bedroom that the young Duvals shared to find that Philippe was now wearing a robe and sitting up in a chair by the window with a blanket tucked over his lap. Simon offered his hand. “Good morning to you. You look much improved.”
Philippe shook hands with conscious strength. “Thank you. I feel weak as a kitten but that’s much better than I felt several days ago.” He grimaced. “I imagine you know why I asked to speak with you.”
Simon took a chair. “You’re grateful for our help, furious that you’ve had to accept it, and you’re too well mannered to blame us for the fact that help is needed.”
That surprised a laugh from Philippe. “That’s a good summary. I loathe that I cannot even support my wife, and . . . and I don’t know when I will be able to.” He began nervously plucking the blanket on his lap. “And I have even less idea when I will be able to repay you.”
“When times are difficult, it’s usual to turn to family to help, and we are family,” Simon said matter-of-factly. “But your situation is difficult. Even if no one disputes your claim to the estate, it’s expensive to buy seed and livestock and equipment and to hire labor.”
Philippe grimaced. “I know. I thought that when we returned to Château Chambron, it would be the well-run estate I remembered. Instead . . .” He drew a shaky breath. “I don’t even know where to start to make the estate productive again.”
“Do you know who handled your father’s legal affairs? I presume he used a notaire for contracts, wills, deeds, things of that nature. Your father’s notaire would be able to help you determine your legal position. Perhaps there are funds available to invest in the property.”
“I’d like to think so, but that seems too good to be true,” Philippe said pessimistically. “The notaire is a Monsieur Morel in Saint-Denis, just north of Paris, but I’ve never met him. My father intended to draw up a will leaving me the estate, but I don’t know if he did. I was told that he had to flee without warning.” He shrugged. “I hope that with the emperor back on his throne, the courts will support me in my quest.”
“He is on the throne now, but I don’t know how long he’ll be able to hold it with the Allies raising armies to invade France and depose Napoleon once and for all.”
“The emperor has defied the odds again and again!” Philippe said angrily. “He will this time, too!”
“Perhaps, but the odds against him are very steep.” Deciding it was time to reveal that they were on opposite sides of the long wars, Simon said, “As I’ve said, you and Marie are welcome to stay here as you recover and sort out your future. But you should know that I was a colonel in the British army and I’ve only recently sold out. Suzanne and I do not want this house turned into a political battlefield, but I understand if you’re uncomfortable staying under this roof.”
Philippe recoiled in his chair, sucking his breath in with a sound like a hissing snake. “Why did you take in an enemy? To humiliate or destroy us?
”
“I don’t see you as my enemy. I will concede that some of Bonaparte’s reforms have been excellent and well overdue, such as his reform of the legal system. But his desire to conquer the world and in the process cause the deaths of whole armies of men, not to mention France itself—” He bit his tongue to keep from saying more in that vein. “That I cannot forgive.”
“I wish Marie and I could leave this house!” Philippe said with sudden violence. “But we are trapped. I cannot subject her to life in that hovel in her condition, and I—I am too weak even to storm out raging.”
“Don’t think of us as the enemy,” Simon said again, his voice conciliatory. “Think of us as family. Suzanne was bemused to realize that she is your stepmother and she is about to become a grandmother, but she and Marie are becoming fast friends. They are wise not to let politics interfere with the ties of family and friendship.”
“I wish I could do the same,” Philippe said, his eyes bleak.
“I am not asking you to forswear your allegiance to your emperor or to forget your valiant service. As I’ve said, you are welcome to stay here while our world rearranges itself. I ask only that you do not work for Bonaparte while you live under this roof.” Simon smiled a little. “I promise not to talk politics if you also refrain.”
“I promise,” Philippe said reluctantly. “But I wish you were less generous. It would be easier if I could despise you.”
“Life can be damnably awkward that way,” Simon said with dry amusement. “One of the best men I’ve ever known was a French major who captured me. I managed to escape and don’t know his fate, but I hope he is alive and well somewhere.”
That won a reluctant smile from Philippe. “I’ll try to remember that the enemy is a political entity, not individual men.” He gave an exhausted sigh. “Thank you for coming. I need to sleep now. I wonder if I’ll ever feel strong again?”
“You will. In Spain I had a vicious fever like the one you’ve endured. It was a long time before I fully recovered, but I did. And here I am, fit and able to annoy you.”
Philippe laughed. “You had best go before I run the risk of liking you.” With an exhausted sigh, he slouched back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Suzanne, a grandmother?”
“Difficult to believe, but I’m sure she’ll be a good one.” Simon considered asking if his reluctant guest would like help in getting to the bed, but decided against it. Philippe was already accepting more help than he wanted to.
Quietly Simon left the room and headed down the stairs. Suzanne and Marie were waiting for his return in the breakfast room. “No daggers were drawn,” Simon said succinctly. “Philippe was appalled to learn that I was a British army officer, but will reluctantly accept our hospitality on the basis of being family. We have mutually agreed not to discuss politics.”
Marie gave a sigh of relief. “My place is at my husband’s side, but I do not want to leave.” Her protective hand lowered to rest on the expanding curve of her stomach.
“And we do not want you to leave,” Suzanne said warmly. “I like having family around me. And I am so looking forward to being a grandmother!”
They all laughed since it was impossible to imagine a woman who looked as lovely and young as Suzanne being a grandmother, but as Simon had said to Philippe, she’d be a very good one. Aloud, he said, “Suzanne, Philippe said that Jean-Louis’s notaire was Monsieur Morel in Saint-Denis. That’s the man you mentioned, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “I only met him once, when Jean-Louis took me there to sign some documents. Then I was stashed in a room with tea and cakes while the men went off to discuss important things that were too complex for frail female minds to comprehend. Very tedious it was, too.”
Simon smiled at her acid tone. “I need to visit my local banker this morning, so I’ll ask if anyone there recognizes Morel’s name and knows if the fellow is still practicing in Saint-Denis. If he is, I can write to learn if he has any of Jean-Louis’s papers.”
“It would be useful to know where Philippe and I stand,” Marie said thoughtfully. “If anywhere.”
It sounded like Marie had a practical streak, which would serve her and her husband well in their uncertain situation. Simon suspected what the young couple needed was a good forger to produce a will in Philippe’s favor. That wasn’t something one could ask the local banker about, though.
* * *
The day had started with rain, but when the sun came out in early afternoon, Suzanne sought out Simon in the small room he’d turned into an office. “Would you like to go for a walk? The Parc de Bruxelles is said to be very fine and so far we’ve seen almost nothing of Brussels.”
“That’s an excellent suggestion.” He set his pen into its holder and stood with a long stretch. “Mail sent on from London arrived while we were away and I’m required to pay some attention. Life was easier when I was in Spain and out of reach of stewards and business managers.”
“Much simpler,” she agreed. “Merely a matter of dodging bullets and finding enough food to eat.”
He chuckled. “Most of the time it wasn’t that bad, but a stroll in the sun with my lovely wife is infinitely preferable to either bullets or business documents.”
When they stepped outside, she drew a deep breath and tightened her shawl against the cool April air. The park was only a few minutes’ walk away and it was very large, surrounded by grand public buildings and private palaces. Within the park boundaries were broad tree-lined walkways, fountains, beds of colorful spring flowers, and equally colorful men and women enjoying the weather and the chance to meet friends.
“There are certainly a great many soldiers here,” Suzanne remarked as she strolled along with her arm in Simon’s.
“Brussels already had a British garrison,” Simon said. “Now that Wellington has made the city his headquarters, more soldiers are flooding in every day.”
“Spies too, I’m sure. No doubt Kirkland will be very interested in what you have to report.”
“Sadly, no one knows what is going on, so spies must resort to guesswork and looking over each other’s shoulders,” Simon said. “Only Bonaparte knows his plans, and even he probably doesn’t know what he’ll do next.”
Another couple was approaching and the man said with pleasure, “Colonel Duval, it’s good to see you here! Are you looking to secure a new command?”
“Major Beckett! A pleasure to see you as well. I’m out of the army now. But I have secured a lovely new wife.” Simon performed the introductions and pleasantries were exchanged before they all moved on. As they continued through the park, Simon said, “I need to get cards printed for us since it looks like there will be considerable socializing during our stay.”
“And social gatherings are useful for gathering information.”
“Exactly. Also good for getting free food and drink,” Simon said promptly.
“I’m going to need some new gowns as well as calling cards,” Suzanne said. “This could get expensive.”
“Why do you think I went to the bank this morning?”
She chuckled, and then smiled sweetly when another military man hailed Simon. There were several more such encounters.
As they turned their steps toward leaving the park, Suzanne pointed at four cavalrymen trotting along the road that bounded the park. They were dressed in all black uniforms and rode shining black horses. “Who are those dramatic fellows?”
“Black Brunswickers, a corps of German volunteers raised by the Duke of Brunswick after the French took over his duchy. They’re fine fighters.”
“Decorative too.” Suzanne’s eyes narrowed. “Do they have silver skull badges on their hats?”
“You have sharp eyes. Soldiers often try to outdo each other with extravagant uniforms.” Amusement sounded in Simon’s voice. “Wellington allows officers to wear whatever they wish, but he does forbid carrying umbrellas into battle because it doesn’t look soldierly.”
“He’s right,” Suzanne said, smiling at the m
ental image of umbrella-carrying officers. “I should think one needs both hands for reins and weapons!”
They walked past the fountain when they turned to leave, feeling a playful spatter of droplets driven by the breeze. On the other side of the fountain, a cluster of people surrounded a lean, upright man in a blue frock coat. Though nothing like the gaudily dressed soldiers scattered through the park, he had an unmistakable aura of authority that compelled attention.
Her voice hushed, she asked, “Is that Wellington?”
Simon glanced in the direction she indicated. “Yes, the Iron Duke in person. The Conqueror of the Conqueror of the world. The man whom everyone expects to be the savior of Europe.”
“That’s quite a burden to carry,” Suzanne remarked.
“He’s up to the fighting, but I don’t envy him the politics. Half the men around him are probably angling for high army positions or to be on his staff. I imagine he wants to call in the men he worked with and trusts from the Peninsula, while the army headquarters back in London are pressuring him to take on young men from powerful families who have no military experience.”
“Being a hero is not enough so that he can choose his own staff?” she asked incredulously.
“He’ll get some of the men he wants, but he’ll probably have to accept some useless fools as well.”
“Dodging bullets is beginning to sound easier than navigating the political currents,” she said frankly.
“Bullets are only now and then. Politics are forever.”
Suzanne chuckled. “That was true even in the harem. The politics were endless and sometimes lethal.”
Simon was about to reply when his voice changed. “The duke has seen me and he’s heading this way.”
Suzanne glanced over and saw that Wellington had broken away from his entourage and was striding purposefully toward them. “Colonel Duval! Good to see you. I didn’t know you were in Brussels.”
“We came to Brussels on some personal business, sir,” Simon said as the men shook hands. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Suzanne Duval.”
Once a Spy Page 19
