He glanced out the window. “Very well. But tell me this. Did the people who gave you your orders threaten to rake over old coals?”
Frederick shrugged. “They’d find it difficult.”
Which meant they had, and his suspicions confirmed into fact. Adam’s anger grew icy. “We’ll be in the city soon. We don’t have long. I want to know how to get hold of you when I need you.”
“I’ll find you.”
He shook his head. “Not good enough. I won’t be left out again. Tell me who your commanding officer is in this affair.”
“The same one I’ve always had.” Frederick grinned when Adam pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I must be losing my touch. He knew everything and put me off with prevarications?”
Frederick inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Every day when I tell another lie, I regret it. Whatever I do in this matter, if word escapes that I was involved in clandestine affairs, I’ll be distrusted for the rest of my life. And yet, this matter is vital. I must discover what the plan is and the identity of the ringleader.” He paused. “Any way I can.”
“Well I can tell you one. James Francis Stuart.”
Frederick let out a bark of laughter. “The Old Pretender?”
Thrusting a hand into his pocket, Adam held out the precious object on his palm. “He gave me this. Told me to get decent clothes and ingratiate myself with the Duke of Trensom, who has somewhat unexpectedly been appointed attaché to Rome.”
“Trensom,” Frederick said reflectively. He tapped a blunt finger on his knee. “That complicates matters.”
“I’ll say. Half of Rome thinks I’m a turncoat. As if I would!” Adam snorted.
“I need to think about this.” Frederick stared out of the window, but the vacant gaze suggested cogitation rather than observation.
“How did the brooch leave your possession?”
“I gave it to The Old Pretender. I meant him to pass it on to you as a token that I was safe.”
“You visited him, then?”
Frederick nodded absently. “To sound him out, to see if he knew anything about the conspiracy. He took the brooch when I said it was a gift from our mother, that you would know it at once, but he would divulge nothing else.”
“Is he involved?”
Frederick grimaced. “I don’t know. He’s a wily, old soul.”
Adam growled low in his throat. He knew how that went. “The way he looked at me after he gave me the trinket, waiting for me to say something. I already knew he was aware what the brooch meant to me. He teased me with it. Plots inside plots. He thrives on them.”
So Stuart might know about the conspiracy. And then again, he might not.
“The old man has always wanted the Glinns to come back to the Jacobite fold,” Frederick said. “He didn’t admit to knowing about the plot, or being its leader.”
Adam nodded. “He has spies everywhere. To force me to return to the Jacobites would be a considerable coup for him.”
“And he likes to have fingers in pies. The older Stuart is wily, and he loves complexities. He thinks over everything twice.” He shook his head. “What a pair of fools we are, to respond to their wiles!”
There was a slight pause. “I’d say more honorable than foolish,” Frederick said. “Nevertheless, the core of the matter remains. There is a plot to assassinate the royal family, and in order to thwart it, we need to discover the ringleader. How and when and who.”
“And I know why.” At Frederick’s raised brow, Adam continued. “We’re on the brink of another war. Everybody knows it’s coming, but they’re all waiting for the match to strike the tinder. This act would put the Stuarts back in the center of the action, important once more.”
Frederick leaned forward, arms on his knees, his eyes even more intent. “I have some names for you, one in particular. The man who runs the shop on the Piazza Navona that sells statues and paintings and such to visitors. It’s near the café where all the British go. You can safely send messages through him, and when I have a message for you, I will send it that way. The man takes our shillings, and he has a vested interest in helping the British, since they are his main source of income. He is not a conspirator as such. The plot is referred to as Marriott. I am Bolsover. You can be—Winchester. Tell him you want to contact Bolsover about Marriott. I’ll tell him about you.”
He glanced out of the window. A few houses clustered by the road. “I need to go. Don’t bother asking the driver to stop, I’ll wait until he slows down to take a corner. Listen.” Hand on the door strap, he glanced back at his brother. “Remember our childish games? I’ll use those when I send messages to you.”
Before Adam could ask him to clarify his last remark, he was gone.
Matilda joined Delphi and the children on their walk the next morning. Inevitably, they went in the direction of Trajan’s Column, despite the governess’ suggestion that they try somewhere else. A breeze kicked up, lifting Delphi’s skirts and making her laugh.
“Ah, good,” Matilda said. “I haven’t heard that sound for days. The laugh, that is.”
Delphi nodded. “Perhaps. Repining isn’t something I’m good at. I never did, not when we lived in Bunhill Row, nor when society rejected us.”
“Society doesn’t do that now,” Matilda said with great satisfaction.
“No, it certainly does not.” Delphi would have been happy living their restricted life, but she was happier now. Normally.
Losing Adam was a mere setback. She’d get over it, even if he left a gap in her heart that would never heal. But she couldn’t accept his lack of trust in her. With Adam, she wanted everything or nothing at all.
If he couldn’t confide in her, she would not listen to him.
And Adam didn’t love her. He couldn’t, if he didn’t trust her. She would have her revenge, humiliate him a little, and then turn away.
Turning her thoughts away from him did not come easily. But with practice, it would. And soon, she wouldn’t think of him at all. Ever.
When they reached the column, the girls linked arms and walked around it. A footman unfolded the portable stool he’d carried, and placed it where Delphi indicated. She sat and tried to immerse herself in her work.
That had always worked for her. She’d need her spare spyglass soon; the spectacles she used for close reading wouldn’t help her here. She’d managed to find an old one, which was not as good as the one she’d left at home, but it served. And in any case, she’d spent years studying engravings of the piece. She could almost draw it out from memory.
Standing in front of the real thing gave her thrills even now, after several weeks of visiting it. The soot-encrusted, battered, ancient piece of marble held so many secrets, and she longed to open at least a couple.
When she turned her mind to her studies, her thoughts skittered away, out of her control. Nothing had ever broken her concentration before.
Plucking her spectacles from her pocket, she put them on and turned to her notes. She rarely wore them in public and she didn’t rely on them. But for some reason, her eyes were stinging, and she needed to ease them.
“Charming!”
Of all the people Delphi expected to encounter this morning, Adam was not one. When she’d watched him walk away from her two days ago, she’d expected not to see him any longer, or to see him at a distance. She’d had done with him, she’d told him. And yet, here he was. Today, he wore a fresh spring green coat and breeches, only lightly padded and stiffened. His smallsword had a jeweled hilt, not the plain one he’d worn the other day. He’d tied his natural fair hair back instead of donning the more formal wig. It gave him a more intimate look, as if she had a right to see him like this.
She nearly dropped her charcoal stick.
“Steady,” he murmured, and touched her elbow, supporting her as if she were delicate. Delphi was far from delicate. Unlike her sister, Dorcas, she did not suffer from debilitating headaches, nor did she share Damaris’ delicate, ethereal a
ir. If she had, perhaps she’d have attracted more suitors. And if they were here now, she could put some distance between her and the Duke of Kilsyth.
She refused to act churlishly and snatch her arm away. “I am perfectly well, sir. I do not need your support.”
“Pity.” But he released her, and moved away a little. Not so much that she could breathe more freely. “Are your studies progressing?”
“Indeed, sir.” She dredged up the notes she’d made the first day she’d met him here. “I’m working on the depiction of the First Dacian War, and relating it to other events of the time.”
“Like Jesus’ life?”
She made a scoffing sound at the back of her throat, and spotted the smile he failed to suppress. “That was seventy years earlier. The life of Jesus made little impact in Rome at the time. Only later did he come into prominence. No, that is not the subject of my study. I would like to trace the progress of the Dacian Wars, and the impact they made. This column once formed the centerpiece of a cluster of buildings funded by the wars. The style is still high classical, with none of the traces of the elaboration that came later.”
Perhaps if she stuck to the classical he would take the hint and go away.
She glanced at her notes again, something she rarely needed to do. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. She couldn’t look up at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. And what he might see in hers.
“Have you visited the Palazzo del Re again, your grace?” Matilda, who had been talking to the girls, left them in the care of their governess and returned to where Delphi was talking to Adam.
“Not today, your grace.” He answered formality with formality. “I expect to pay a visit soon. I take it that you go?”
“When we have to.” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “Every British visitor ends up there sooner or later. Although I have only made the briefest of curtseys to The Old Pretender.”
“How do you find him?”
She moved a shoulder in a half-shrug. “He is one of the sights of the city, like the column here. But at least we can find more fresh air here. There, despite the size of the place, the air is often fetid.”
“Not as bad as Versailles,” he commented. “But close.”
Matilda’s intervention gave Delphi a chance to regain some equilibrium. “I did not think to see you here, sir. Not after our encounter at Lady Billingham’s.”
He sucked in a breath between his teeth. “You take no prisoners, do you, Ma’am? A slight disagreement, no more.” He smiled at Delphi. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Delphi wanted to throw his suggestion back in his face, but she had no choice but to agree. People were watching. They were always watching. “Of course, our families are always friendly. You offered us great help when we first entered London society.”
His expression stilled. “I offered justice, that is all. I believe everyone should be judged on their own merits, not on hearsay and gossip.”
He wasn’t merely referring to the Dersinghams’ entry into society. He wanted her to listen to him. “Thank you.”
At the least, they could be cordial towards each other, if only for the sake of their families.
When Margery cried out, and accused her sister of pinching her, Matilda gave them an apologetic smile and hurried over to deal with the disagreement.
Adam leaned closer, ostensibly to look at her sketches. “You need a better spying-glass.”
She gave him a droll look. “I have one at home. This serves my purpose.”
“Ah. But spying-glasses apart, I wanted to see you, Delphi.”
At his use of her first name, she lifted her head. She nearly knocked him under his chin, he was standing so close. His gasp of shock gratified her, even though she knew her reaction was petty. Still, she wouldn’t deny it.
Nobody was standing close enough to hear his low tones. “Why would you want to do that?” she asked. “You made it clear at our last meeting that we have little in common. That you do not trust me.”
He swallowed. “I trust you, I swear it. Delphi, please don’t make any hasty decisions. Don’t give up on us.”
“There is no us.” She didn’t hide her bitterness. “You made that perfectly clear at the Billinghams’. Please, don’t do this to me.”
“Don’t do what to you?”
“One day hot, the next cold. You don’t trust me, Adam, and where there is no trust, there can be nothing else.”
He winced. “Yesterday, I didn’t know what I’d do today. But I don’t want you too close yet. Not until I’ve cleared up a few things.”
“Treachery to the Crown, you mean?”
He lifted his hand as if to drag it through his hair, but dropped it back by his side just in time. She’d never seen him less than perfect before she’d come to Rome. “Far from it. But what I’m doing could result in disgrace, or even worse. I’ve been dragged into this sorry business against my will, and I refuse to allow those I l—respect to be dragged in with me. Please, I beg you, wait for me. Don’t let anyone else steal you from me.”
“Wait for what?” Oh, she understood his meaning. He didn’t want her to accept anyone’s courtship—Lord Joshua, for example. But why should she not? She owed him nothing. Even less after he’d refused to explain himself to her. “I won’t accept anything less than truthfulness in anyone I let close to me. Like we were that night in Greenwich.”
“When everything changed,” he said meditatively. “For me, at least. I refuse to accept that they did not change for you.”
“They were not set in stone.” She glanced up at the column, aware of the irony.
“Indeed, they were not. They were set in the stars.”
“That’s Damaris’ interest, not mine.” Idiotic concept, one that the science-based Damaris would heartily agree with. And yet…
No, she refused to believe it. That night could not set the rest of her life. She had to remain safe and aware. Even if it broke her heart. “You cannot come and go like this. I will not allow it.”
“I want you to send me away at the end of this conversation, and I will go. I won’t come back until it’s less dangerous for you. But I wanted to ask you, to tell you that all is not as it seems. All I ask is that you wait, Delphi. Wait for me. If it is humanly possible, I’ll come back to you. And I’ll tell you everything.”
How stupid did he think she was? “You’re going somewhere?”
He laughed harshly. “Not if I can help it. I will explain, I promise. But not now.”
“And how long am I supposed to wait? Until I’m too old to interest anyone else?”
Although Delphi had faced the fact that it was probably already too late. She was too old, not beautiful or rich enough to cause a sensation in society. The Dersinghams had made their debut late, and she’d been looked over and found wanting. A nubile eighteen-year-old with the right connections could beat her on any dance floor, in any ballroom.
So what did he want? Why was he asking this? “I will wait for you, Adam, if you tell me what all this is about. Why you won’t trust me, why you consider me inadequate or untrustworthy. What kind of danger do you imagine you are facing? Why would I be in danger?”
“Close to me, you’re in danger. You’re safer with Trensom. For now.” He spun away, fist clenched, jaw clamped, then back again to face her. “This is as hard for me as it is for you. Family loyalty plays a part, but not like you think. And I can’t tell you—yet.”
The pang in the region of her heart told her to do as he asked.
He might be counting on that. He knew she was not indifferent to him, that it would hurt her to move away. But she would not allow him to rely on that. “You abandon me, then you come back to me and ask me to wait the moment I take an interest in someone else? What kind of fool do you take me for?”
Damn her revenge. She needed to break away from him now. She didn’t have the skills to entice and then abandon him. He was far more sophisticated than her, far more knowing.
<
br /> “A beautiful fool.”
Of all things, that caressing tone undid her. How dare he use it now, when she wanted to give him an answer that would make his ears ring? “That is nonsense. You know it is. My hair is neither fair nor dark enough for beauty, my eyes are not large and soulful and I don’t have the freshness of youth anymore.”
He met her gaze, caught and held it. Spoke as if they were the only people here, which was far from the case. “Yours is a true beauty, one that will last. And I want it. I always have. Selfish it might be, but I want all of it for myself.”
He drew back. “I came to place my petition at your feet. I can do no more.”
He’d let her down before. She could not allow that to happen again, especially with the Duchess of Beauchamp ready to crow over her downfall.
“I will promise nothing,” she said, head high. “I won’t undertake to wait.”
“I understand.” He stood before her, thin-lipped, as handsome as ever. “But I will come back, and I will ask the question that lies between us. Be well, Delphi.”
Chapter Ten
Sick at heart, Adam made his way to the thoroughfare that led to the Spanish Steps.
Adam wouldn’t allow Frederick to continue the way he was. He was pulling his brother out of this mess, whatever that took. The naïve idiot had put all his family in peril. Until he did so, he and his family were in the kind of danger he refused to subject Delphi to.
He had no right to ask Delphi to wait. It wasn’t fair to her. But he wanted Delphi so badly he hadn’t paused to think as clearly as he should have. He’d handled that meeting so badly that he wouldn’t be surprised if she accepted Lord Joshua Stuart the moment he asked her. Adam had just given his rival a clear run did Lord Joshua but know it. But what else could he have done? If he had not asked, she wouldn’t know he still wanted her. Not after the way he’d treated her at Lady Billingham’s.
He’d just made a mull of everything again. He laughed at himself, drawing the attention of a few passersby who no doubt thought he was mad. He’d heard himself described as smooth and persuasive. None of those applied to him now.
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