The Duke's Gambit

by Tracy Grant

  "One doesn't always understand consequences when one's twenty," Cordelia said.

  Laura met her gaze. "No, one doesn't."

  Frances frowned. "God knows I didn't put my children first at twenty. And as for my marriage—well, I fear I'd given up on it. Which certainly can't be said for Gisèle."

  "But I don't think one always sees the damage one's doing," Cordelia said.

  "Or the people who may be hurt." Mélanie leaned her head against Malcolm's shoulder.

  Malcolm pressed a kiss to her forehead. "David and I've only just begun to mend matters. And now I'm going to have to keep this from him. Unless Carfax decides to tell him."

  Without speaking, Archie moved to the drinks trolley and began to pour out drinks for everyone. Cordelia helped him pass them round. A quarter hour later, Gisèle slipped into the room. Her face was pale and she kept her hands carefully clasped together, but her voice was level. "Lord Carfax has left. He's going to Spendlove Manor tonight to see his family, but he says he'll come see you tomorrow, Malcolm."

  She glanced round the room. Archie lifted his glass, jerked his head towards the drinks trolley, and raised a brow. Gisèle smiled and shook her head. "You've all been very forbearing. I'm sure you have questions. But right now, I need to speak to Malcolm."

  Malcolm got up from the sofa where he'd been sitting beside Mélanie. It was the conversation he'd been wanting to have since Gisèle had disappeared on New Year's Day, and now he was gripped by unexpected dread.

  "Of course," he said, "let's go into the small salon."

  Malcolm lit the Argand lamp in the small salon and studied his sister in its glow. So much to say, so difficult to know where to start. "I imagine it was both a relief and a challenge to finally be able to talk to him."

  Gisèle nodded, arms folded across her chest. "I'm his daughter. In a number of ways."

  "You're yourself, Gelly. As we all are. Not the sum of our parents."

  "Are we? Can you really claim you don't take after Raoul?"

  "If I do, it's because he raised me. More than Arabella did. Certainly more than Alistair did."

  "Aunt Frances raised me. But I don't think I'm very like her."

  "No? Take it from an outside observer, Gelly. You have her tenacity. And her often uncomfortable insight. Her ruthlessness. And her loyalty to those she loves."

  Gisèle glanced towards the door to the drawing room. "She must be disappointed in me."

  "She just said she'd never been more proud." Malcolm studied his sister. "This is a shock, Gelly. I suspect one day you'll be glad you know the truth. But don't let it define you."

  "I'd never do that. I knew what I needed to do long before I learned Carfax was my father. I wouldn't let a little thing like biological parentage affect me. Perhaps the strongest example of how very much I in fact take after my biological father." She hesitated. "I wonder if he knew."

  "Who?"

  "Alistair."

  "I'm not sure." For a moment Malcolm saw Alistair Rannoch putting a sovereign into the hand of a four-year-old Gisèle. "I'm fairly sure he knew he wasn't your father."

  "Oh, yes. He never made much pretense about that. I doubt he and Mama were sleeping together at all by the time I was conceived."

  "He was always fond of you, though," Malcolm said.

  "Don't say that to—"

  "I'm not. I think he liked you best of the three of us. I'm not sure why he was so hard on Edgar."

  Gisèle tilted her head to one side. "Perhaps Edgar disappointed him by not living up to you."

  "That's absurd."

  "Is it? I think Alistair knew just how keen your understanding was. I think a part of him wished you were his."

  Tommy's words, uttered from a sickbed in December, echoed in Malcolm's head. They had been remarkably similar to Gisèle's just now. "I'll never really fathom Alistair. At this point we'll never have the chance to learn more. I suppose it's folly to refine too much upon his motives."

  Gisèle hugged her arms tighter over her chest. "Yes. Hard not to do so, though. But you're right, it's a silly exercise. I don't suppose we'll ever really understand Mama either."

  The urge to offer comfort welled up on his tongue. But though Gisèle would always be his baby sister in some ways, she was too old for that sort of simple comfort. If he hadn't already known it, tonight had proved it. "No," he agreed. "We won't. But we have more windows into her thoughts. Aunt Frances for one."

  "And Raoul."

  "Yes. Though I think he wonders if he'll ever understand her either."

  "Julien says she may be the most formidable agent he ever worked with. She kept the secret of the dauphin—or what she thought was the secret—all those years. She had to have known how dangerous it was."

  "I don't think Mama worried very much about danger."

  "No. But she must have been afraid sometimes." Gisèle's fingers pressed into the fabric of her sleeves. "I know I was, these past weeks."

  This time Malcolm did move forwards and put his arms round his sister. "It's over, Gelly. You can come home."

  Gisèle clung to him for a moment, fingers clenched on his coat, face buried in his shoulder. Then she drew a breath and stepped back. "I love you, Malcolm." She set her hands on his shoulders. "We solved this crisis. But it's not over. I'm not sure it's even begun."

  Malcolm's gaze skimmed over her face. "It's true there's a lot left to be done. And we'll do it together."

  Gisèle looked up at him, her gaze steady. "We have different ways of fighting, Malcolm. And I'm not sure you'd agree with mine."

  "I won't shut you out, Gelly. I promise."

  "You're very good at what you do, Malcolm. But I can do things you can't—"

  "Gelly—"

  Gisèle squeezed his hands and took a step back. "I love you, Malcolm. But I can't come back. Not yet."

  "For God's sake, Gelly—"

  "I knew you'd object. But you understand about duty. Mama left work unfinished."

  "That can't define us."

  "Why do you think I agreed to stay here when you went to confront Beverston? Tommy and the League don't know I came to see you. Julien and I made very sure of that. Even if they find out, I can spin a story."

  Malcolm had thought he was beyond shock where Gisèle was concerned. Apparently he'd been wrong. "You're going back."

  "You have a job to do, Malcolm. And so do I."

  "Away from your family."

  She swallowed. For an instant, uncertainty flickered in her gaze. "For a while. Tell me duty's never taken you away from your family."

  "All too often. And I've regretted it."

  "Would you do it differently?"

  "I'm not sure. But I wouldn't go under deep cover for an uncertain amount of time."

  "I think that rather depends on the stakes."

  "Gelly, you can't. Tommy may suspect you after you sent me the message that took us to Hyde Park."

  She shook her head. "He was having you followed from the time you got to London. I was afraid of that when I sent you to Hyde Park, which is why I warned you."

  "Charlotte Leblanc suspects you."

  "But Tommy doesn't believe her. Charlotte doesn't think I'll come back. I think my going back will convince even her."

  Malcolm took a half step towards her. "Gelly. What aren't you telling me?"

  "We're fighting the Elsinore League, Malcolm. You know how important that is. There are things only I can do."

  "At least wait until Andrew gets back from Rivendell."

  Something like panic shot across Gisèle's face. "Oh, no, Malcolm. I can't see Andrew. Even I have a breaking point."

  "So does Andrew, I imagine."

  Gisèle swallowed. "Then I have to hope we don't reach it. Don't you think a large part of why I'm doing this is to make sure Andrew and Ian are safe? Don't you run risks for Mélanie and Colin and Jessica?"

  "Yes. But if I'm honest, I also at times do it because I'm drawn to risk myself."

  "All the more r
eason for you to understand me."

  "I think I do understand, Gelly. And I understand just how great are the risks that you're running."

  She lifted her chin in a way that reminded him of the girl she'd been at thirteen. "Are you going to try to stop me?"

  Every instinct screamed to do just that, but he shook his head. "I don't think I could, for one thing. For another, you've proved you can make your own decisions. I'd be going against everything I believe in if I tried to control you."

  Relief shot across her face. "Thank you."

  "But I'll never forgive you if you don't come back safely."

  "Oh, Malcolm." Gisèle gave a twisted smile. "Surely you know that's something none of us can promise."

  Chapter 43

  Mélanie opened the door of the study where Gisèle had gone to write a letter to Andrew. "I thought you might like some tea."

  Gisèle looked up, the pen clenched in one hand. "You must hate me, Mélanie."

  "Not in the least." Mélanie set the cup of down on a corner of Malcolm's desk. "I'm not sure I'd do what you're doing, but I think I understand."

  Gisèle looked down at the letter on the blotter. "Try to explain to Andrew. I don't know that he'll ever forgive me."

  "Andrew loves you." Mélanie perched on the edge of the desk. "That won't change."

  "I hope not." Gisèle's voice caught. "Look after Ian." Her voice caught. "He probably doesn't remember me."

  "He remembers. And don't make the mistake of thinking it doesn't make a difference because he's so little."

  Gisèle turned her head away, then seemed to force herself to meet Mélanie's gaze. "You can't expect your children to live with you if you can't live with yourself. You said that to me once."

  Mélanie swallowed, her throat dry. "So I did. I said it to Raoul recently as well."

  "Raoul was away from Malcolm at times. He's away from Emily for long periods of time now. He's bound to be away from his and Laura's baby."

  "So he is. But for myself, I'm not sure I could live with myself if I stayed away from Colin and Jessica."

  "Perhaps you're a better parent than Raoul is, or than I am."

  "I don't think so. I think it's something that every parent has to work out, and there's no one right answer. I just hope you've weighed the consequences. Raoul would be the first to tell you there are consequences. You're—"

  "Don't say I'm very young. I'm older than you were when you married my brother to spy for the French. I know the truth," she added. "Tommy told me."

  "I'm glad you know the truth. But I'd hardly hold my own actions up as a model for anyone to follow. Or claim I properly weighed the consequences."

  "But you also aren't sure you'd do it differently, are you?"

  "No."

  "And for all he knows the consequences, Raoul's still a field agent." Gisèle picked up the tea and took a careful sip. "Ian will understand when he's older. At least, I pray to God he will."

  "And Tommy?"

  "Tommy can take care of himself."

  "That's not what I meant."

  Gisèle set the cup down, carefully aligning the silver handle. "I need Tommy. That is, I need his help and the information he can give me. I have no illusions about him."

  "Illusions aren't the same as feelings."

  "I love Andrew."

  "Loving someone else doesn't necessarily make those feelings go away. But I don't think you're the type for an affair without strings."

  Gisèle lifted her chin. "I never said—"

  "No. But I am somewhat observant."

  Gisèle drew a breath as though gathering a cloak about her. "I won't let myself get burnt. You and Malcolm are very good at what you do, but you have to allow that I have talents of my own."

  "Obviously very formidable talents."

  "Well, then. You need to let me make my own choices. My own mistakes. Fight my own battles. Face my own consequences." She picked up the pen again with white-knuckled fingers. "And believe me, I know there will be consequences."

  Mélanie watched her husband in the shadowy privacy of their bedchamber. Jessica's even breathing in her cradle cut the air. Malcolm's back was to her, his shoulders a taut line. Gisèle had left an hour since, as quietly as she had arrived. "You did the only thing you could have done, darling," Mélanie said. "You had to let her make her own decision."

  "Yes, I know." Malcolm's voice was rough but steady. "And God knows she's shown she can take care of herself."

  "Julien said she was a quick study. Coming from Julien that's speaks volumes." Mélanie shook her head. "I still can't quite believe—"

  "I know. " Malcolm moved to the cradle and smoothed the covers over Jessica, then turned to face her. "There's been a lot to adjust to today."

  "Darling, I can't imagine—"

  "I know. Though given the way my family's history is intertwined with spies, I suppose it's no wonder Gisèle and I both have spymasters for our fathers."

  Mélanie gripped her elbows, subduing certain thoughts about Arabella Rannoch. As a woman, she knew, none better, that one couldn't always plan these things. "To think Carfax watched her grow up—"

  "I think she means something to him. Not, I think, what I mean to O'Roarke. What I think I mean—"

  "You know perfectly well what you mean to Raoul, darling. But I do think Gisèle means something to Carfax. And I rather think some of that carried over to how he feels about you."

  "I hope to God not. Unless you're saying Carfax would toss Gisèle aside as collateral damage."

  "I don't think Carfax tossed you aside in the least, darling. I think he made a carefully calculated choice that he regrets. Though he'd probably do the same again. In that sense, he's very like Raoul. Though Raoul's motives and goals are quite different."

  "And his definition of collateral damage."

  "That too. I'm the last person to excuse anything Carfax has done. But he does care about you."

  "You're more generous than I am, Mel." He crossed to her side and slid his arms round her. "It fits with your being the romantic in the family."

  "I'm not in the least romantic."

  "So you say, beloved." He kissed her nose. "Andrew and Harry should be back tomorrow or the next day. I have to speak to Andrew." A shadow crossed his face. "But there's no reason we can't begin making preparations to return to Italy. I'll talk to Bertrand."

  Her gaze fell on one of the framed theatrical prints on the wall. Romeo saying farewell to Juliet because it was the nightingale and not the lark. "We should take time to make sure everything's attended to here. I don't think we have to worry about Carfax right now. And the League are going to have to regroup."

  "They may be dangerous while they do so. I won't be easy until we set sail. We've been home a matter of days, and someone shot into our house tonight. This is a new low."

  "Billy wasn't shooting at any of us."

  "Hardly comforting."

  "It could have happened in Italy, darling. Our lives are a risk. We know that. Though I confess rifle fire through the library window was somewhat extreme."

  "Quite." He drew her to him.

  "At least we don't have to worry about starting a war," she said into his shoulder.

  "There is that." He stroked her hair. "And Miranda Dormer's killer is at least for the present in custody. It remains to be seen if justice will be done."

  "And you saved Carfax."

  "Not my chief aim, but I'm relieved he's not imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit."

  "You'll need to see David again before we go." Mélanie lifted her head from Malcolm's shoulder. David's gaze, the brush of his lip on her cheek, in Frances's drawing room—was it only yesterday?—lingered in her memory and brought something like hope.

  "Yes." A shadow flitted through Malcolm's eyes, and she knew he was thinking that the truth of Gisèle's parentage was now between him and David. "Though I imagine he'll return to the Continent himself shortly. Perhaps we can see Simon and the children on our way to
Italy."

  "Perhaps they can all come stay with us." She set her mind to more positive things.

  "I hope so." Malcolm set his hands on her shoulders. "I also need to write to grandfather in the morning. To try to explain about Gisèle. And to tell him his gambit failed."

  Chapter 44

  Carfax dropped into a wingback chair opposite the desk in Malcolm's study.

  "You're here early," Malcolm said.

  "Amelia understood I had a great deal of business to see to in London. She'll be moving back to Carfax House tomorrow."

  "You saw David?"

  For an instant, relief, pain, and fear did battle in Carfax's eyes. "We spoke briefly. He plans to return to the Continent shortly. He's agreed to write."

  Malcolm nodded. When it came to a fragile relationship with David, he could certainly empathize. "Roth was here first thing this morning. He believes Sir Nathaniel plans to bring Trenor up on charges. Unless Castlereagh quashes it."

  Carfax crossed his legs. "I need to see Castlereagh. A great deal is still unclear."

  "I don't think Trenor has the least notion of who the Wanderer is," Malcolm said. "I think he told Beverston that Miranda had said something about the Wanderer, though probably not until after Miranda was dead, as Beverston doesn't seem to have questioned her. Perhaps Beverston was even afraid someone else in the League had let something slip to her. But when Harry and Andrew went to Rivendell, Beverston put together that Miranda was close to Lumley and Lumley had come from France to Rivendell. Sylvie, I suspect, worked it out because she learned St. Juste had Robby Simcox protecting Lumley." Malcolm surveyed Carfax. "How did know Lumley was the supposed dauphin?"

  Carfax hesitated a moment, as though he wasn't sure he'd respond. "When I spoke with Miranda Spencer—Miranda Dormer—I mentioned the Wanderer. I wanted to see how she'd react. If Beverston had her searching for information about the Wanderer. She denied the name meant anything to her, but I could tell it did. Something personal, which made me question if it was part of her work for Beverston. Obviosuly I didn't get a chance to ask her more, but I set inquiries about her in motion after her death."