by Tracy Grant
They made their way to Green Park with Genny on Julien's shoulders and the boys running ahead. After throwing a ball with the boys for a quarter hour, Julien retreated to the bench where Kitty was sitting, while Genny took careful steps beside the bench.
Julien leaned back beside her, his arm stretched along the back of the bench, touching her shoulders. "Malcolm worked it out. About me."
A few words that were going to change their lives. "I thought he might have done."
"It was only a matter of time, as you said," Julien said, his gaze on the boys. "Carfax seems to have nudged him along by talking about my father. Which means Carfax wanted him to put the pieces together."
She felt herself stiffen and willed the tension from her shoulders. She'd known from the moment Julien came to London and back into their lives that this was inevitable. That didn't make it any less momentous. "He's pushing you to emerge from the shadows."
"We've known that for a while. But now the pace seems to have accelerated." Julien caught hold of Genny's hand as she worked her way along the bench past them. "Malcolm says he won't reveal anything unless I ask him to. He hasn't even told Mélanie."
"But you're not hidden anymore." She couldn't be quite sure of what his talk with Malcolm had been like, but surely it had let him grasp on to a part of himself that was Arthur. A part she'd never precisely known, for all he had revealed to her. Julien St. Juste, agent for hire, was her comrade and lover. What Arthur Mallinson, rightful Earl Carfax, might be to her was another question entirely.
"No. Or at least I won't be soon, one way or another." Julien put a steadying hand on Genny's shoulder as she moved down the bench. "I talked to Malcolm a bit about my mother."
Kitty watched the fine line of his profile. She could guess what that carefully casual statement had cost him. "I'm glad. He didn't know your mother, did he?"
"No, she died when he was a baby. But he was looking at a portrait of me with her last night when he pieced it together. It hangs in the hall at Carfax House." Julien watched the arc of the ball the boys were throwing. "Malcolm, of course, being Malcolm, was inclined to make excuses for me. More than I made for myself. At least, I think more than I made for myself."
"You never make excuses for yourself, Julien. And speaking as someone who knows Malcolm rather well, while his empathy can make him forgiving to a fault, he also has rather keen insights into other people. Remarkably keen, actually."
Julien's gaze shot to her face. "Talking of insights, he said it said a lot that I told you the truth of my past."
Her throat went tight for reasons she couldn't have explained. Or didn't want to explain. "You needed to talk to someone. And we were half the world away. That made it easier."
"No." His gaze stayed steady on her own. "That is, I did need to talk and we were half the world away. But I think I'd have talked to you in England or Spain or a jungle in Africa. And I don't think I'd have talked to anyone else anywhere." Julien let his gaze drift over the park. Rolling green lawns beneath a gray English sky. "A few months ago, you asked me what I wanted."
Kitty turned her head to look at him. In the wake of his talk with Malcolm and the revelation of his identity, she'd been ready for warnings, ultimatums, a surprising revelation. Even a farewell. But not this. "I think I actually said surely you didn't want a family."
Julien cast a glance at Genny, walking with one hand on the bench and her gaze fixed on her shiny black shoes with great concentration, then looked at the boys, who were now wrestling with a fine disregard for what the damp grass and mud might do to their coats. "And I said I didn't know what I wanted. Which was true then. And has been for a long time. Since Waterloo, at least. But I think I'm getting a glimmering."
She watched him. "And?"
His gaze shot to her face. "I want you. Not in the obvious ways. Well, of course in the obvious ways. But I want to wake up with you and go to bed with you and spend as much time as I can with you in between."
Genny grabbed hold of Julien's bootleg to steady herself. Julien touched her hair and supported her shoulder as she moved to the next bench. "I want to watch your children grow up and help them however I can." He turned his head back to meet Kitty's gaze again. "I don't want anyone else in my bed. There hasn't been anyone else for some time, by the way. Not since well before we reunited in September. And I find I'm distinctly averse to the idea of anyone else's being in yours."
For a moment Kitty wasn't sure she could breathe. "Darling Julien. Whatever I may have claimed in the abstract, with three children and you, do you really think I have time for anyone else?"
"Well, then." He seemed to release his breath. His arm settled closer round her shoulders. "I don't suppose you'd consider marrying me?"
"Good God, Julien." Perhaps she should have seen it coming, but she hadn't. "Don't get too conventional all at once, there'll be a reaction."
"There are certain advantages. I hate to use the word protection, but I could help you and the children more, should it be needed, in ways I can't as your unacknowledged lover. Besides—" He frowned. "I rather like the idea—"
Kitty raised a brow. "Of my being formally committed to you?"
"No. Of my being formally committed to you."
"Oh." She looked into those brilliant blue eyes that could gleam with mockery or at the oddest times soften with tenderness. "I didn't think you wanted to be committed to anything. Or anyone."
"My dear." He took her hand and lifted it to his lips with the formality of a suitor. "Married or not, I believe I just made a commitment to you. And the children."
His fingers were warm and comforting round her own. And she'd always been afraid of comfort because so often it was an illusion. Possibilities swam before her eyes. For him. For them. For the children. So much determined by what steps they chose now. "You're going to go back, aren't you? To your old life."
"Not if you don't wish it. You're right, I'm going to have to make a decision soon. That's why we had to have this conversation first. Say the word and we'll disappear into the wilds of South America. Not that wilds sound very appealing, but I have quite agreeable memories of the Argentine. Or we can go to Spain. A bit more challenging to lose ourselves there, but with both our talents I'm sure we can manage to disappear, if that's what you want."
"I thought we were discussing what you want."
"I told you." His gaze stayed open and steady on her face. "I want you. On whatever terms I can get you. I want you to be happy. For someone who's led a remarkably selfish life, I'm not much used to thinking about happiness, but I can't really see being happy if you aren't. But all right—" His gaze shifted across the park as though he were looking through the curtain of trees still damp from yesterday's rain for some vision of what their life might be. "All other things being equal, I suppose I feel a certain impulse to stay and try to repair the damage."
"It's not your damage."
"Some of it is. More than I care to contemplate. From my being gone. From my working for Carfax. From the vacuum I created. I can't leave David with all of it. If I'd made different choices, his own life would be easier."
"I can't see Carfax's letting David go his own way, regardless."
"No, but he wouldn't have been so hard on him. More important, I don't think David would have been so hard on himself." He looked at her. "Would you hate it?"
Kitty looked at the boys, now climbing a tree, at Genny, who had stooped down to pick a blade of grass, at her own and Julien's interlaced fingers. "It's rather a lot to contemplate. A few minutes ago I was convinced I'd never marry again."
"I know. You've said so often enough. You really thought you could get rid of me that easily?"
"Who said anything about getting rid of you?" She'd been more concerned he'd decide to leave for his own reasons. To protect her, to protect himself, because he wanted a life in the shadows. "But marriage is a bit of a leap. You know I'd never be a conventional Lady Carfax."
Julien gave a whoop of laughter that di
spersed a cloud of tension hanging over them. "What a ghastly thought. I'd be horrified if you did."
"I think Carfax—your uncle—would be horrified for other reasons."
"I won't deny Carfax is going to be a challenge. But when have either of us not been up to a challenge?"
She found herself smiling. "We've never taken on Carfax directly. Not together."
"I did rather well a year and a half ago. And I didn't have you." He ran a thumb over her knuckles. "I wouldn't insult you with the word 'protect,' my sweet. But given that I'd be dragging you into a situation with Carfax, I trust you'll believe that I'll do everything in my power to protect you from him."
"And yourself?"
"Well, I may need your help protecting myself."
Possibilities danced before her eyes again. She felt like child looking through the window at a sweet shop she knew she wouldn't be allowed to enter. Or at least feared she wouldn't. "I wouldn't give up Spain."
"I'd never expect you to." His voice was singularly free of mockery. "I told you last night I'm perfectly prepared to help while you tilt at whatever windmills you choose."
"As Lord Carfax?"
"As Lord Carfax I could be rather a lot of help to you. I'd sit in Parliament, among other things."
Kitty regarded him. "Are you saying you'd help me in order to indulge me?"
"Since when have I indulged you? I'm saying I'd help you because that's what couples do for each other. At least, that's what I think from observation, not having a lot of experience myself. But also because I think it would be a good idea myself." He drew in and released a breath. "It's just possible I think there are things I could do about some of the things that are rotten in England."
He spoke in the same ironic voice as always. But something had cracked in the studied detachment he wore like armor. "That's rather a staggering statement, Julien."
He returned her gaze, his own unusually free of defenses. "Past time I made myself useful, don't you think?"
"I'd never have called you useless."
"That's because you're kind."
"Don't be silly, Julien." Kitty reached out to steady Genny. "I'm not in the least kind."
"Two can play at defenses, my sweet. At the very least, I haven't paid enough attention to the uses to which I put whatever talents I have." He touched Genny's hair as she picked her way past him, then looked back at Kitty and tightened his fingers round her own. "If it was ever too much for you, we'd leave. My word on it. You know me well enough to know I'd find a way to do it."
"Julien." She reached up without thinking and touched his face. "I'm not your mother. And more to the point, you aren't your father. We can do this."
"So you will?" His gaze rested on her with unwonted tension. "Marry me?"
The clouds shifted in the slate gray of the sky, like pieces of a future still taking shape. Possibilities that had seemed out of reach. Resolves that could reshape themselves. "A woman gives up so much when she marries. Control of any fortune she may have. Of her children. Of her own body. I was lucky, really, that Edward wasn't worse. But I got tired of it. Of having to manipulate him to get the things I wanted. Of not being able to say no. To all sorts of things." She looked down at Genny's clear, determined face, vowing yet again that her daughter's life would be different. "When Edward died, I swore I'd never marry again. Never put myself in circumstances where a man could have that power over me. Not unless it was someone I trusted completely." The future slid into place in her mind. No longer an out-of-reach ideal, but something she could grasp hold of. She pulled their intertwined hands up to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. "I hadn't quite realized until now how very much I trust you. Thank goodness. I want you, Julien. If it takes marriage to get you, I shall have to succumb."
Something sparked in his eyes. "I'd have said no one trusted me."
"Yes, well, it's a good thing we can surprise each other."
His fingers tightened round her own. "My darling—" he said on a note she'd never heard before.
Genny grabbed Julien's leg. The boys, as though aware something had happened, had stopped playing and were looking at Kitty and Julien.
Julien shot Kitty a quick smile, put a hand on Genny's shoulder, and gestured to the boys. The boys ran over. Leo's gaze went from Julien to Kitty. "Is something wrong?"
"On the contrary," Julien said. "At least, I don't think so. How would you feel about your mother's and my getting married?"
"Wizard," Timothy said.
"Are you asking us for her hand in marriage?" Leo asked.
"No," Kitty said. "No one should be asked for a woman's hand except the woman herself."
"Fair enough," Julien said. "On the other hand, as members of the family, your vote on adding me to it definitely counts."
Timothy scratched his head. "You're already part of our family."
"But it would be nice for it to be official," Leo said. He grinned. "Very nice."
"Well, then." Julien shook Leo's hand and then Timothy's. "We have a wedding to plan."
Chapter 29
"How long have you been working for them?" Laura asked.
Edith Simmons’s fingers closed on the serviceable blue wool of the pelisse that so reminded Laura of her governess days. "Working for whom?" Edith said.
"The Elsinore League."
Edith relaxed her fingers with determination. "That sounds like something out of a novel."
"You needn't pretend," Laura said. "I used to work for them myself."
Edith's gaze shot to her face, her defenses momentarily breached by surprise.
"They didn't tell you?" Laura said. "Or you're surprised I admitted it?" She glanced across Green Park, where she had once again found Edith, and where her two charges were racing over the lawn. "I confess the coincidence startled me at first. And then I realized it wasn't coincidence at all. Why should I have thought I was the only governess the League employed as an agent? Who better to gather undercover information? Nearly every family with pretensions to gentility and children of a certain age employs a governess. We're trained to blend into the background. We observe bits and pieces of family life, parties, social calls, without ever attracting much notice because people are trained not to see us, and we're trained not to attract notice. We move through the public rooms of a house much more than most servants. We overhear things. We can glance through papers. No one raises an eyebrow unless we're caught with the mistress's jewels or in the master's bedchamber. Or in the garden with our charges' elder brother as I once was, but that's another story."
Edith's shoulders straightened. "You've admitted a great deal, Mrs. O'Roarke. I haven't admitted anything. Why on earth do you think I'm working for this League?"
"Toby Wilton has worked for Lord Carfax, whom the League are targeting."
"That scarcely proves anything."
"You were seen here in Green Park talking with Lady Shroppington. Whom you told me you had never met."
"Are you suggesting Lady Shroppington is connected to this League?"
"Her godson Lord Beverston is prominently involved. I suspected she was relaying information for him." Laura glanced at the Wilton children, who were now climbing a tree. "And young Winston told Colin he saw you putting away a letter of his father's and said it might distress his mother. Colin thought it was because it was a love letter, but I suspect in fact you were moving the letter so you could examine it and just making an excuse to the children." Laura regarded Edith for a moment. "They used my daughter to control me. Whom were you protecting?"
Edith gripped her elbows. "Why should anything I did be to protect anyone?"
"Because I've seen enough of you to think you wouldn't work for people like that without being forced to do so. Or perhaps I've misjudged you. You may have been drawn by the thrill of it. Or the money. Which wouldn't be so shocking. I can't say I'd blame you. It's difficult to be a woman on her own."
"No! I wouldn't." Edith drew a sharp breath. "My younger brother has gaming debts.
"
"And the League bought them up?"
She gave a quick nod. "He could have ended in debtors' prison. Or my father could have, trying to protect him. Or both. They still could. I never saw myself as the sacrificial sort. But I couldn't stand by—And they made it seem as though I was helping. Working for Britain. It was months before I really understood whom I was working for."
"Yes, it was much the same with me."
Edith's mouth hardened. "I even liked it. Feeling I had a sense of purpose. That I was doing something. Challenging myself. Not that that being a governess isn't a challenge. But it's a prescribed life. There was a freedom in having a secret life. Until I realized working for them was a cage all its own. Is a cage all its own." She looked away, shoulders hunched, then looked back at Laura. "I think that's why I told you. I couldn't bear being in that cage any more. That and that you already believed it, in any case."
"They wanted information on the Wiltons?"
"That was part of it. They said they were enemies of Britain. Hinted they might be foreign spies, which I'm sure now is nonsense. In truth, I still can't figure out why they should be so important to the League." She bit her lip, realizing she had said the name, then shook her head. "Silly, the power a name can have. But they also wanted to use my connections to the Classicists' Society."
For all she'd seen, Laura hadn't anticipated that. "They wanted you to spy on Harry and Cordy."
Edith met Laura's gaze and nodded. "I was already a member. I knew them. I liked them. But they wanted me to get closer."
"And learn what?"
"Whatever I could. Mostly anything to do with the Rannochs. And your husband. And Lady Frances and Mr. Archibald Davenport. And later, Mrs. Ashford and a man named Julien St. Juste. If they were friends. If they spoke together. I said I'd only seen the Rannochs once or twice when they'd come to lectures, and I hadn't met most of you at all. They wanted me to get closer to the Davenports. I like the Davenports. Which made it harder." She hesitated a moment, fingering a fold of her pelisse. "They also wanted me to get close to Thomas."
