by Tracy Grant
"So there are things you wouldn’t do because of your marriage?"
"Oh, yes. Though that doesn’t mean my marriage is safe. Or that I haven’t run incalculable risks with it."
"Well, then. Kit and I married knowing we both want to change the world. Neither of us has illusions."
"My dear Sofia." Raoul touched her hand. "Perhaps the most dangerous illusion of all is the illusion that one doesn’t have illusions."
13
"Lord Palmerston." Kitty smiled at the secretary at war, whom she had made a concerted effort to cultivate as part of her strategy for building support for Spain. Less than a year ago, she hadn’t been quite sure how far that cultivation would go.
"Lady Carfax." Palmerston bowed over her hand. "You’ve done a remarkable job with the house."
"We haven’t really changed it that much." In truth, she’d been far too busy to have much time for it. How had Mélanie managed?
"The mood is quite different. If I may so as a bachelor, it feels more like a family home."
"Thank you." Kitty gave an unforced smile. "That’s a great compliment."
"It’s the truth. Few enough houses in Mayfair have that feeling. Especially houses built on this scale."
Kitty glanced round the yellow salon, the second enfiladed salon to open off the ballroom. When they weren’t entertaining, the boys liked to run races up and down the enfilade, with Genny toddling after. "It’s nowhere I ever imagined living."
"Life can take one unexpected places. Your husband said that when I saw him in Westminster. I look forward to working with him."
"I’m sure he looks forward to working with you." She wasn’t entirely just being a good political wife as she said it. Julien had described Palmerston as surprisingly sensible for a Tory. Which was high praise from Julien.
"I suspect you’ve been a great influence on him."
"We both came to the marriage with very strong ideas. But one might say we’ve influenced each other." Kitty kept her gaze on Palmerston, but she was aware of Raoul slipping through the crowd. In a seemingly aimless way perhaps only another agent would have recognized as purposeful. Following a clue about the missing papers? Did he know Dalton had had dummies on him? She’d been looking for him to tell him so when Palmerston waylaid her.
Palmerston smiled. "You needn’t worry; I have no illusions your husband will be an ally of the Tories. He’s already made quite a name for himself. In private, at least, I can tell you I admire much of what he said on abolition."
"Many people have said so. And yet nothing seems to change." Kitty fixed Palmerston with a direct gaze. Really, he was too sensible for his political party.
Palmerston had the grace to look abashed. "It’s a complicated issue. It tangles with many things."
"Including finances. Including the finances of many people in this room." She hadn’t used to be so blunt. She’d been accustomed to tempering her words to the end she was trying to achieve. Tactics mattered more than grand statements. And yet she found it harder to keep silent these days. At least, in some cases. Perhaps Julien had influenced her more than she realized. Which was odd in and of itself, and odd because he had scarcely seemed a font of Radical thought. But then, so much about Julien had always been masked.
"Things will change," Palmerston said. "The slave trade was abolished. Slaves will be emancipated eventually. We have to be patient."
"Easy enough to be patient here." Kitty glanced at the yellow watered-silk hangings and Robert Adam fireplace. "Rather harder to tell the slaves cutting sugar cane to make the sugar in our tea. Or an enslaved mother who knows her child won’t be free and could be sold away from her."
"I begin to think you pen your husband’s speeches, as Mélanie Rannoch does."
"Neither of us does so entirely. We both offer advice." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Raoul go through the door to the antechamber that opened off the salon. Not surprising, necessarily, save that about ten minutes before, when she and Lucinda came downstairs, she had seen Sofia Montagu go through the other door to the antechamber that opened off the first-floor passage. "Mélanie and Malcolm both gave Julien advice as well."
"Yes, so I suspected, listening to your husband’s excellent maiden speech. It’s quite a change in the Mallinson family."
"It’s a change in the possessor of the Carfax title. My husband and his cousin David are in agreement in a number of areas."
"For a self-proclaimed independent who says he’ll always be on the fringe, Malcolm Rannoch has gathered quite a powerful group round him."
"Surely you’re far too astute to be surprised by anything Malcolm Rannoch does."
Palmerston grinned. "You’d think I would be. He’s been taking us by surprise since he was at Harrow. Not least when he married Mélanie. And he’s always far more in command of a situation than he admits."
"Precisely."
His grin deepened. "You and your husband are going to shake up Westminster. Which is a very good thing."
"Are you so sure of that? You’re a member of the government, after all."
"Hardly a senior member And surely you realize one does not always agree with one’s colleagues."
"Well put, Lord Palmerston."
He lifted his glass to her in acknowledgement and took a drink of champagne. "I take it your interest in Spain hasn’t lessened due to your marriage and your husband’s interests?"
"By no means. A tyrannical government may not be quite the equal of slavery, but at the root it is still a matter of freedom."
His gaze narrowed. "Is that what you’d call the Bourbon government in Spain? Tyrannical?"
"My dear Lord Palmerston. Even as a Tory, you’re too sensible to call the Bourbon government in Spain—or the one in France, for that matter—anything else."
"Perhaps not. Unofficially."
"Of course, Mary Wollstonecraft compared marriage to slavery. And, certainly, the law gives husbands the power to be tyrants, if they choose to exercise it."
"And yet you’ve risked the dangerous institution of marriage twice."
"The first time, one could say I was too young to know better." That wasn’t entirely true, but given the exigencies of the war, it had seemed the best choice. "I never thought I’d risk it again. My husband is a quite remarkable man."
"I suspect you’re right. He’s certainly a very fortunate man."
"I’m a fortunate woman. Or perhaps we’re both fortunate, in that I doubt there are many who could put up with either of us."
"Rannoch."
"Trenchard." Malcolm, who had been looking for Raoul and keeping an eye out for George Dalton to reappear, shook hands with Laura’s brother-in-law. "I’m glad you and Hetty could come."
"Of course. The Carfaxes are family, one way and another." James, Duke of Trenchard, cast a glance about the ballroom. "I won’t deny it’s odd. I remember coming here when I was a boy and Father had just married Mary." His gaze focused on his late father’s second wife in the crowd, now holding the arm of her current husband, Gui Laclos. "Mary seems comfortable with the situation."
Malcolm could remember a time when being an earl’s eldest daughter had been an intrinsic part of Mary Mallinson’s identity. But between marrying a duke and finding it was not what she had anticipated, and then falling in love with and marrying a French émigré of indeterminant heritage, Mary had changed a great deal. "I think she is."
Trenchard nodded. "She seems more content these days. Though I suppose it’s not surprising that anyone would have been discontented, married to Father. Laclos’s a good man, and a good father to the children."
One of whom was in fact Gui Laclos’s child, not the Duke of Trenchard’s. Not for the first time, Malcolm wondered if James knew or guessed. James was the sort who wouldn’t let on, even if he did. "Yes, he is," Malcolm said. "And he and Mary are very much in love."
James gave a quick smile. Reticent as he was about his emotions, he was also very much in love with his own wife. "That helps.
" His smile deepened as they watched Mary take her husband’s hand and draw him onto the dance floor. Then his gaze moved to Mary’s father. "And Carfax—that is, Colonel Mallinson—looks fairly contented."
"He could also hardly be otherwise."
James shot a sharp look at Malcolm.
"His nephew has returned from the dead. How could he not appear pleased?"
James gave a slow smile. "You have a wicked tongue, Rannoch."
"At times."
James’s gaze moved to Julien, who was speaking to Lord Liverpool, the prime minister. "I heard his maiden speech. He has a powerful style. And he’s made it clear he’s a force to be reckoned with."
Malcolm met James’s gaze. James was a Tory, and though Malcolm liked and respected him, they were opposed on most issues. They had never discussed slavery, however. "I think that was his intention."
"And his intention with tonight’s event, I imagine." James watched Julien and Liverpool a moment longer. "My father disliked Liverpool, as you know. Rather intensely. Partly because of a past disagreement over a young woman, but also because Liverpool is part Indian."
It was something the prime minister made no effort to hide. "Yes, I know." Malcolm kept his voice even. He believed passionately in tolerance and trying to understand one’s foe, but he’d be hard-pressed not to plant the former Duke of Trenchard a facer should the man suddenly rise from the dead, as Arthur Mallinson had done.
"I can only imagine what he’d make of the new Lord Carfax, for any number of reasons." James’s gaze remained on Julien. "Slavery’s an ugly business. It needs to go. I could imagine making common cause with Carfax"—He frowned—"I can’t get used to saying that."
"None of us can."
"Yes, well, I could imagine making common cause with him over abolition. But when it comes to other things—how Radical is he?"
"Probably not more so than I am. How much does that scare you?"
James grinned. "You know how I respect you, Rannoch. It’s no secret I often don’t agree with you, but you make me think. Carfax is a bit different, though. He’s in the Lords. I know some would say the real business gets done in the Commons, but Carfax represents a powerful estate. Part of the foundation of the country."
"You’re starting to sound like the former Lord Carfax."
"I disagree with him on a number of things. But we share an appreciation of the dangers of instability."
"Questions of justice aside, stability can be so inflexible it brings the world tumbling down about one’s ears."
James frowned. "You can’t be blind to the unrest gripping the country."
"And our current government is a model of inflexible stability."
"You think we’re on the verge of a revolution?"
"No, more’s the pity."
"You don’t really mean that, Rannoch."
"I believe we desperately need change. I believe in change through legal channels. But it often takes illegal actions to start that change. And don’t forget the French Revolution began in the Assembly. Just as the Civil War began in Parliament."
14
Kitty excused herself to Palmerston and went back into the passage. A short time later, she saw Raoul emerge from the antechamber. She hesitated. By any measure, there was a great deal going on tonight. Still, this was not something she could afford to let go. For any number of reasons. She slipped down the passage, smiling at her guests, and fell into step beside him. "You aren’t dancing."
"I’m a bit old for that, don’t you think?"
"Nonsense. I’ve seen you dance with your wife. Most women would give a great deal for a partner of such skill who looked at them in that way. On the other hand, there’s always work agents find more suited to antechambers." Kitty took two glasses of champagne from a passing footman and gave one to him. "I know you were speaking with Sofia," she said, lifting her glass to his. "You did an excellent job slipping through the various rooms, but I saw both of you, and I’ve lived here long enough now to know how convenient that antechamber is for secret meetings. And from talk I’ve heard among Spanish émigrés, I know or can hazard a shrewd guess why you were meeting."
"Ah." Raoul pressed his glass to hers and took a sip.
Kitty tucked her arm through his and drew him to the side, a hostess sharing a quiet moment with an old friend. "You didn’t tell me about it."
"My dear Kitty." He smiled at her as though they were two friends sharing a joke. "I couldn’t do that to you tonight."
"You didn’t used to believe in such niceties."
"My dear girl. We’ve all changed. I may be slow, but I hope I’ve learned some things."
Kitty leaned against the wall, head angled, so her words went straight to him. "I won’t let my husband wrap me in cotton wool. You can’t think I’d let you do so."
"Oh, well." Raoul grinned. "One tends to be much harder on a husband. Laura wouldn’t put up with it from me, either."
"Well, then."
"Kitty." His gaze settled on her face, sharp as the sword she’d seen him wield with lethal skill and yet at the same time disconcertingly open. "Tonight is important. For you. For Julien. For his work in Parliament. For what you’re planning in Spain."
"Which is why we should be allies."
He took a drink of champagne. "You left me out of the publication of the articles smuggled out of Spain last winter."
"And you ended up following me to the meeting in Hyde Park in any case. And though it was a good thing you did, or we’d have been hopelessly outnumbered when Lady Shroppington’s agents attacked us, I do admit it probably would have been best if I’d confided in you from the start."
"Perhaps not for my relationship with my son. Which I appreciate your protecting."
Kitty smiled, quite as if they were discussing the antics of their younger children and not his relationship with his fellow-agent son who happened to be her former lover. "This doesn’t threaten my relationship with anyone."
His gaze stayed intent but at the same time had a piercing softness. "I was just telling Sofia it takes time to build a marriage. You and Julien deserve that time as well."
"What I do in Spain won’t disturb Julien."
"Of course not. But Julien’s in Parliament now. He may not be elected, but if he breaks the law, that can impact his ability to achieve change through legal channels."
"And you’re now an advocate of change through legal channels?"
"I’m an advocate of change through as many channels as we can muster."
Kitty took a sip of champagne, keeping her gaze on his face. "I’m not Julien. My husband and I both know we’ll have secrets from each other. Don’t pretend you don’t have secrets from Laura."
"I most certainly do. But I prefer not to put a friend in that situation."
Odd, there was a time she wouldn’t have called Raoul a friend. But then, she wouldn’t have called anyone a friend in those days. "Being friends has its complications."
"And its advantages."
Kitty unfurled her fan. "I told Julien from the start I wasn’t going to lose who I am."
"Being married and being an agent is a juggling act, Kitty. I’m still learning how to juggle."
She wielded the fan, stirring air warm and heavy with close-pressed bodies, French scent, and hothouse roses. "Oh, so am I. But perhaps I have a head start. Juggling is almost a prerequisite for mothers."
"And fathers, if they’re worthy of the name. Which many aren’t."
"I’ll grant that. Julien has a surprising knack for it. So do you."
"I’m trying." Raoul glanced down the passage. "Do you know if Cordelia and Mélanie and Laura got the papers?"
"No. I was actually looking for you because of that. Apparently, someone else took them off Dalton first."
"Well, that’s an unforeseen complication."
"Did you see Dalton interact with anyone?" Kitty asked him.
"No." He frowned. "I used to be more alert."
"Not unusual for on
e mission to interfere with another."
"Not being able to balance two missions can get one killed in some situations. We’re all going to need all our wits about us for the remainder of the night."
Emily Cowper slid her hand through Malcolm’s arm. "Attempting to convert Trenchard?"
"Trying to nudge him to the left."
"Keep it up. I’m still working on my Harry. I have high hopes, eventually."
"Ah yes, but you have far greater influence over Palmerston than I could ever hope to with Trenchard."
Emily laughed. "Not the same sort, perhaps. But Trenchard respects your opinions. Of course, I rather think Harry respects mine. If I can change him, that will be why. He’s too sensible to change his mind just because a woman bewitched him."
"I haven’t doubted your talents since you were five years old, Em."
Emily laughed. "I do my best. I think the new Lord Carfax will be a good influence on Harry. And Harry likes Lady Carfax. I shall be charitable and say she may be a good influence, too. It’s much easier to be charitable now I see how madly in love she is with her husband." She frowned a moment. "Odd to think of being in love with one’s husband. I’m glad it works for some people."
Emily seemed very content in her marriage to Peter Cowper, an amiable union that allowed both partners to go their own way without worrying about fidelity. For that matter, Emily didn’t seem too concerned with fidelity to Palmerston, her most serious lover, and the father, Malcolm was quite sure, of at least two of her children. Yet he didn’t think he’d imagined the touch of wistfulness in her voice.
"There are different sorts of happiness, Em," he said.
"Goodness, yes. Life would be too dull, otherwise."
Emily was claimed by Granville Leveson-Gower for a dance, and Malcolm moved on. A piercing, unmistakable voice stopped him. "Rannoch."
"Lady Shroppington." It was not the first time Malcolm had faced a murderer who had escaped anything approaching justice, but it was the first he had done so in a friend’s home. Well, unless one counted the former Lord Carfax.
