A Kind of Honor

by Joan Wolf

  “Two. Virginie is Gacé’s daughter by a former marriage. She is ten. Marc is Nanda’s son and he is four.”

  The earl blinked. “Adam. The Duchesse has no claim to the girl, and there are very few men who will relinquish custody of their heir.” He paced to the marble fireplace, then back to lower himself back into his chair. He met his son’s eyes. “She won’t have you without the children?”

  “No.”

  “She can’t love you that much, then.”

  Adam’s smile was its own answer. “It isn’t a question of love, Papa. It’s a question of need.”

  “How will you feel, being a father to children who are not your own.”

  “I shall like it very much,” Adam returned serenely.

  Lord Seaton pulled at his mustache. “You still haven’t told me how you propose to bring about this bloodless divorce.”

  “I can’t tell you, sir. Not yet. I can only beg you not to repeat anything I’ve told you - especially not to my Aunt Frances!”

  “All right, Adam. I’ll keep it quiet. And I’ll engage to pacify your aunt in some fashion or other.” He paused. “I understand the Duchesse is very beautiful.”

  Adam smiled. “I’ll bring her around to meet you, sir. You will be surprised.” He bent to kiss his father’s cheek. “Thank you, Papa.” His eyes were very blue.

  The earl watched as Adam left the room, a look of ironic resignation on his face. “What choice did you leave me, my son?” he murmured to the unreceptive air. Then, with a perceptible brightening, he added, “And, after all, the whole enterprise may fail.”

  # # #

  When Adam returned to Gacé House there was a footman dressed in the Menteith livery waiting for him. “My lord,” the man said in obvious relief. “I was just about to go to Crosby House to find you. I bear a message from Lord Menteith. He charged me strictly to deliver it to your own hand.”

  Adam took the note, read it, folded it and put it in his pocket. “Lord Menteith is at home?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  I’m on my way,” Adam said and went to the stable to tell them not to unharness the bays he had been driving. He swung smoothly into the seat of the phaeton and drove expertly out of the yard, no hint in his driving of the apprehension in his mind.

  “It has gone wrong.” Menteith had written. “Come at once.”

  The butler who answered the door at Menteith House in Hanover Square had obviously been expecting him. “This way, my lord,” he said as he took Adam’s driving coat. “Lord Menteith is in the library.”

  Menteith was alone when Adam opened the library door. The earl was standing by the window, and his ruffled hair showed the extent of his anxiety. “Stanford! Thank God you are here,” he cried.

  “What has happened?” Adam asked as he closed the door carefully behind him. “Where is Bellay?”

  “Bellay is dead,” came the grim reply.

  Adam walked farther into the room, a slight frown the only sign that all was not well. He seated himself in a green-striped chair and said quietly, “You had better tell me the whole.”

  Menteith took a chair placed so he could see directly into Adam’s face. “It all seemed to be going as you predicted. Gacé took the memorandum from your desk, as you said he would. And he met Bellay in Fawley’s Bookshop, as he had done before.”

  “Your men were watching him?”

  “Yes. Bellay was already in the store when Gacé entered. The Duc picked up a copy of Burke’s Reflections upon the Revolution in France, looked through it, then put it back. He finally bought another book and left.”

  “And Bellay bought the copy of Burke?”

  “Yes.” Menteith thrust his hand through his hair, making it look even wilder. “That was when things began to go wrong.” He leaned forward. “My men followed Bellay, as instructed. He had a chaise and four horses waiting for him and it headed directly out of London on the Dover Road.”

  “Don’t tell me your men lost him,” Adam said incredulously.

  “No – or at least not in the way you mean.” Menteith mouth looked very grim. “They followed Bellay, all right. They didn’t want to stop him until they were out of London and on the open road where they would be unobserved.” His voice hardened. “Bellay’s coach was surprised by highwaymen and Bellay was shot dead in the struggle.”

  “Highwaymen? On the Dover Road? That’s very unlikely. Did your men capture them?”

  “No. And there’s worse to come. The memorandum was not on Bellay’s body when my men brought him back to me.”

  “What was he carrying? Your men saw Gacé put something in the book.”

  “An assortment of information, most of which would be of interest to the French. The letter appears to have been written by Denham.”

  Adam had a soldier’s vocabulary, and he cursed fluently and furiously. Then he propelled himself out of his chair and paced around the room. Finally he came to rest in front of Menteith.

  “I told you he was clever,” he said, the passion he had just vented seemingly banished. “It seems we have been a little late in making our move.”

  “What are you talking about, Stanford?”

  “Evidently Gacé has decided that England might prove to be uncomfortable for him. He is probably planning to move to the Continent, where he can pass the memorandum along himself. And he has kindly provided us with the name of the traitor we have been searching for.’

  “Denham,” Menteith said slowly.

  “Denham.”

  Distractedly, the earl thrust his hand through his abused hair once more. “We have to get that memorandum back,” he said urgently. “If you think he means to flee the country…”

  “I haven’t a doubt of it,” Adam said grimly. “Although I’m sure he will depart perfectly respectably, with wife and children in tow.”

  “But…what reason can he give for leaving England for the continent now?”

  “He will think of something, our clever Duc.” Adam expelled a long breath. “There is at least one good thing that has come out of this night’s work,” he said with satisfaction.

  “And what that may be?” Menteith snapped.

  “He has untied my hands,” Adam answered cryptically.

  “I don’t understand. We’re in the same position we were before this grand plan of yours, only now we’ve lost a very important memorandum!”

  Adam’s face could have been carved in stone. “His grace has been a bit too clever. I was never totally satisfied with the previous plan, and now I can improve upon it.”

  Menteith had to restrain himself from shivering, so dangerous was the look on Adam’s face. “Do you mean to tell me what you have in mind?” he inquired a little breathlessly.

  “No.” For the first time since he had come in, Adam smiled. “I need time to think about this.” Briefly his hand touched Menteith’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Robert,” he said gravely. “I shall deal with Gacé.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Nanda was seated at her dressing table, having her hair dressed before leaving for the opera, when Gacé came into the room. “I should like to speak to you for a few moments, Nanda,” he said gravely, and looked at her dresser.

  “I’ll call you when I need you, Howes,” she said to the dresser, who nodded respectfully and departed.

  Nanda turned on the gilded stool to face her husband. “What is it you wish to say to me, Matthieu?” she inquired.

  He watched her, gravity in his eyes as well as his voice. In the last few weeks Nanda’s beauty had, if possible, become even richer, and the woman facing Gacé glowed with an inner warmth that was almost palpable. It was a physical pleasure just to look at her.

  He said calmly, “I have decided to remove to Baden. I should like you and the children to be ready to leave in three days’ time.”

  Nanda stared, her eyes wide with bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

  “I thought I was perfectly clear. We – that is you and I and the children – are
leaving England in three days’ time. We will go to Baden, to Niederwald Castle, and from there to Heidelberg to join the court of Grand Duc Carl.”

  Nanda pushed down the panic that was starting to roil in her chest. “But why? Why must we go to Baden? Why so quickly? What are you thinking, Matthieu, that you should come up with this plan from … from out of nowhere?”

  “I consider the children are becoming too Anglicized,” he answered. “It will be well for them to learn their heritage does not come from England.”

  A healthy shot of anger stiffened Nanda’s back. “For heaven’s sake, Matthieu, this is hardly the time to teach the children lessons of that sort! The Continent is unsafe at present. Surely you can wait another year, until Napoleon has been beaten and things are normal once more!”

  “I might of course, be able to do that, if the children were my sole motive for wishing to leave England.” His voice had altered subtly, taking on the gentle note that Nanda knew was more dangerous than his anger. She said nothing, and he continued, “I think it wise, as well, for you to…ah…leave Britain for a few months, ma belle. The change of place will benefit us all.”

  Nanda’s heart began to pound, but she managed a semblance of calm as she answered, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Matthieu.”

  “Don’t you, ma belle?” he said silkily. “Then I will merely say that I take our marriage seriously; you appear to have found a way of not doing so.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” she breathed.

  “I think you do.” He walked to the window and looked out at the darkened square. “You are having an affair with Lord Stanford,” he said calmly. “Perhaps you thought I would look with complaisance upon your actions? Well, I tell you now, I do not. I dislike from the bottom of my heart what you are doing. It’s dishonorable; it’s indelicate; it’s indecent.” He turned to look at her directly “I do not expect the mother of my children to conduct herself in such a fashion. You will leave for Baden with me, or…” he hesitated.

  “Or?” she said quietly.

  “Or I shall be forced to take steps to remove the children from your influence.”

  Nanda stared at him in despair. He meant it, she thought, as she took in the rigid set of his mouth, the coldness in his eyes. He didn’t care about her; it was the appearance of the thing that mattered to him. In that sense he did take their marriage seriously. In that sense, what he had just said to her was sincere.

  She said, her voice low and steady, “Very well. I shall accompany you to Baden.”

  His expression never changed. “I thought you would see things my way, ma belle. We will leave in three days’ time.” He walked to the door and turned once more to look at her. “Tell him goodbye, Nanda. It is finished.”

  As the door closed behind him she turned back to the dressing table and put her face into her hands. Then, slowly, deeply, primitively, she began to cry.”

  # # #

  By the morning Nanda’s passionate grief had expended itself, her love for Adam channeled by the blight of Gacé’s touch into the familiar path of renunciation. She braced herself to face Adam and to tell him.

  She rose early, having slept not at all, and went to the small salon. “Ask Lord Stanford to come to me after he has breakfasted,” she told a footman. She sat very still on the velvet sofa, inhaling the cold, black mist of surrender. It took him ten minutes to appear in the doorway.

  “You wanted to see me, Nanda?”

  “Yes, come in, Adam.” She looked past him to the hovering footman. “Close the door for his lordship, James. We do not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, your grace.” The liveried servant closed the door quietly, leaving Nanda and Adam facing each other across the expanse of thick Turkish carpet. “We don’t have to be discreet any longer,” she said in answer to his raised brows. “Matthieu knows about us.”

  He crossed the room and stood before her. “What did he say to you?” he asked gently.

  She made a hopeless gesture. “That he knows about us. That he won’t tolerate our …affair.” She felt as if she was speaking around an obstruction in her throat. She turned her face, unable to sustain his brilliant blue gaze. “We are leaving the country,” she said flatly. “In three days’ time. We are going to his castle in Baden.”

  For a long moment Adam didn’t say anything, and his words, when they finally came, shocked Nanda. “The clever bastard,” he said. “And I played right into his hand.”

  “What are you talking about, Adam?”

  “Did he threaten you with the children?” There was a dangerous look in his eyes that frightened her.

  “Yes.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. He sat on beside her on the sofa and turned her to face him. “It’s time I talked to you about Gacé.”

  She looked up at him. His mouth was set like iron. She felt the strength of his fingers on her arm. “All right,” she said quietly.

  “Why do you think your brother sent for me to join the staff at the Horse Guards?” he began.

  “To help coordinate the spring offense,” she returned. His hand was still on her arm, its thin hardness biting into her soft flesh. She made no move to shake him off.

  “No, it was not to coordinate the spring offensive, Nanda. It was to find out who at the Horse Guards was a traitor.”

  “A traitor?”

  “Yes.” He became conscious of his hand on her arm and withdrew it. “For months there had been leaks of secret and important information to the French. Menteith was afraid that details of Wellington’s campaign would be leaked as well, so he asked me to take on the job of finding the culprit.”

  She was beginning to be afraid, but she had to know. “And did you find him?”

  “Yes.” There was a pause, then he said gently, “It is Gacé, my love. There can be no question about his guilt.”

  She stared into his eyes, then looked away. “You must be mistaken. Matthieu would never do such a thing.” She stood up and went to the window to look out. It isn’t true, she told herself. The father of my children … it can’t be true.

  Behind her he said quietly, “It is true, Nanda. I have proof.”

  She spun around, her hand to her mouth. “I felt that something was wrong…. But not this, Adam! Not this!”

  He remained seated on the sofa. “Think, my darling. Why did he invite me to stay here in the first place, if not to pick my brains about Wellington’s future plans? Why did he throw you and me together? And why is he so eager now to get out of the country?”

  “I told you why. He knows about us.”

  “Of course he knows about us,” he responded grimly. “And he’s using that knowledge, as always, to manipulate you into doing what he wants you to do.” He rose and came to stand beside her at the window. “Why Baden, Nanda? Baden is part of the Rhenish Confederation, loyal to Napoleon. Do you really think the Duc de Gacé is venturing into enemy territory just to get you away from an unfortunate love affair?”

  She closed her eyes. Dear God, it was true. Matthieu had betrayed England, the country that had given him shelter when he needed it. She opened her eyes and said unevenly, “When were you planning to expose him?”

  There was a pulse beating in his right temple and he was very white, but at her words the color flushed back into his face.

  “Our hope was that we wouldn’t have to expose him.” And he told her everything Menteith and he had planned and how it had gone wrong. He ended by saying, “Unfortunately, Gacé was too clever, and now he’s ready to bolt. With, I might add, a very important memorandum in his possession.”

  She picked up his hand and kissed it. He put an arm around her and drew her close, resting his cheek against her shining hair. “Do you think Matthieu arranged to have this Bellay killed?” she asked softly.

  “I am certain of it.”

  All of her maternal instincts were on the alert. She sat up and said forcefully, “Adam, the children must never know this terrible thing abo
ut their father.”

  “I will see to it that they don’t.”

  She swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

  For a long moment he said nothing, then he smoothed his finger along each of her cheekbones. “You have shadows under your eyes. Don’t worry, Nanda. I will take care of the bastard and no one will ever know about him. I promise you.”

  She gave him a shaky smile.

  He smiled back and his eyes were tender. “Will you tell me his travel plans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let him think you have said goodbye to me. Try to act as normally as possible. It will all be over in a few weeks.”

  “What…what will you do to him, Adam? When you catch him, I mean.”

  There was something cold and terrifying in his eyes that she had never seen before. “He won’t like the terms I plan to offer, but he will have little choice in the matter.”

  There was an aching tightness in her throat. She knew that if it weren’t for her, Gacé would already have been safely arrested. She rested her hand on his chest. “Do whatever you feel you must, Adam. There are too many lives in his grasp to take any chance of his passing that memorandum along. Whatever you do, I will understand.”

  He looked as her slender hand as it lay on his blue-coated chest. “Will you, my darling? I will hold you to that promise you know.” Then he reached out and pulled her close, holding her to him with a desperate strength that nearly crushed her ribs. But she made no protest, merely raised her face to his, wanting the urgency of his mouth against hers to blot out the treacherous darkness that threated them from all sides.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Nanda broke the news of their upcoming journey to the children that afternoon. Marc was delighted by the thought of going on a boat, and took for granted Nanda’s explanation that Papa was on a mission for King Louis.

  Virginie was a different matter. Her memories of Germany were limited, but what she did remember was unhappy. “You are coming with us, Mama?” she asked Nanda several times, and Nanda’s reassurances seemed to do little to ease her mind.

  “Come with me, darling,” Nanda said gently, when she turned around for the eighth time in one hour to find Ginny under her feet. She took the child by the hand and led her into the small salon. Seating herself on the gold sofa, Ginny’s hand still in hers, she looked into the apprehensive eyes of her stepdaughter and said, ‘I want you to listen to me, Ginny. What I am going to say is very serious.”