by Jane Feather
“And what’s the obvious?”
“You know perfectly well. I’m assuming he’s involved in the same business you are.”
“To be quite honest with you, my love, I have no idea exactly what it is that Falconer does.”
“But it’s something to do with the ministry?”
“As far as I know.” Harry leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. “You know perfectly well, Nell, that if I did have any specific information, I couldn’t discuss it with you.”
His wife sighed. “I suppose I understand that.”
“Does Aurelia suspect he might have anything to do with the ministry?”
Cornelia nodded. “She thinks it’s possible. I just wondered if you could give me a hint as to the kind of work he does.”
“Well, I can’t, my dear. I’ll say only that in general he doesn’t haunt the ministry corridors. To my knowledge he doesn’t even have an office there.”
“Which means he works abroad.” She frowned when her husband said nothing to confirm or deny the statement. “I suppose if that’s the case, then he won’t be around for much longer.”
Harry sighed. He tried not to have too many secrets from his wife, but another man’s business was not his to divulge. Yet he knew that Falconer was on some mission in London that would require a longer-than-usual stay. “If I were you, I would discuss it further with Aurelia. If she’s really interested in Falconer, then she’s going to be asking him questions.”
“Which, if he’s anything like you, he’ll find a way to deflect,” Cornelia said tartly. She stood up. “I’ll leave you to your correspondence.”
“Nell, love, I can’t discuss someone else’s work.” Harry stood up and came around the desk. He put an arm around her. “If you like, I’ll talk to Falconer about Aurelia. Maybe I can get an idea of his intentions. I’m sure he has no more than a flirtation in mind, and Aurelia’s more than capable of looking after herself in such matters.”
“True. But I wouldn’t want her hurt.”
“I’ll talk to Falconer.” Harry kissed her, his mouth lingering on hers. Then he said rather ruefully, “He’s going to tell me to mind my own business, of course, and I wouldn’t blame him either.”
“It’s a small price to pay for my peace of mind,” Cornelia said with a smile. “I’ll talk to Aurelia some more. After all, they only met a couple of times in Bristol, it probably means nothing at all.”
• • •
At five o’clock Aurelia entered Hyde Park through the Stanhope Gate and glanced around casually. There was no sign of Greville. Waiting for him would merely draw attention to herself, and if she had learned one thing in her time in the country, it was never to be conspicuous unless she wanted to be. It was unusual for a woman to walk or ride alone in the park at the social hour of five o’clock, particularly without a groom or footman in her wake, so she turned back to the street, strolling purposefully in the direction of Piccadilly, her hands clasped inside her muff.
She heard his step the instant before he came up beside her. “Lady Farnham…well met.” He swept off his beaver hat and bowed. “Shall we take a turn around the park?” He offered her his arm.
“I was wondering what kept you,” Aurelia murmured, slipping her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Forgive me, I had some business to transact and it took me rather longer than I’d expected.” He lowered his head towards her ear as he spoke barely above a whisper. His lips hardly moved, but Aurelia heard every word.
They entered the park and Greville looked around, a smile of greeting on his lips. “Now, let’s see how much attention we can attract.”
Aurelia followed his lead, examining the pedestrians, carriages, and riders thronging the tan, the carriageway, and the grassy walking path alongside it. Greville kept up an animated stream of chat as they walked, doffing his hat to anyone who gave them a second glance.
Aurelia was hailed several times and on each occasion stopped to talk, introducing Greville when necessary. Then she saw the one person who would ensure that word of this perambulation in the company of a near stranger to the ton would spread like the proverbial wildfire.
“Letitia Oglethorpe,” she murmured in a voice that only Greville could hear. “Just the lady we need.” She waved vigorously at a barouche bowling down the carriageway towards them.
“Why, Aurelia, how delightful to see you…isn’t it a charming day.” Letitia leaned over the door of the barouche as it drew to a halt beside them. Her eyes gleamed with predatory curiosity as they swiftly assessed Aurelia’s companion. “What a pretty hat, my dear.” Her eyes were still on Greville.
“Thank you,” Aurelia said. “May I return the compliment.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to. Letitia’s hat was a monstrous concoction of black taffeta with tulle flowers and six white plumes. It looked to Aurelia as if the first slight breeze would take it aloft like an eagle in full flight.
Letitia patted a plume with a complacent smile. “I am rather pleased with it…but come, my dear, won’t you introduce me to your escort…a new face, I believe. So refreshing…it’s such a bore in town these days, only the same old faces.”
“Allow me to present Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer,” Aurelia said, her smile fixed. “Sir Greville, Lady Oglethorpe.”
“Ma’am…I’m honored.” Greville swept off his hat with another flourish as he bowed over the hand languidly extended over the barouche door.
“How long have you been in town, Sir Greville?”
“A week or two, Lady Oglethorpe.”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Colonel…my goodness, how brave. Are you just back from fighting that tyrant?” She put a hand to her breast. “Just the thought of the savage gives me palpitations.”
“Then I suggest you don’t think of him at all, Letitia,” Aurelia said with a sweet smile. “Leave such matters up to the colonel and his friends.”
“Oh, but how could a sensitive soul not be tormented by the idea of the monster?” Letitia exclaimed. “Don’t you agree, Colonel?”
“His name certainly strikes fear into the bosoms of most of the fair sex, Lady Oglethorpe,” Greville said, his voice dripping with honey. “But pray don’t alarm yourself. Bonaparte will not set food on England’s shores.”
“Oh, so brave…so strong.” Letitia fanned herself with her hand. Then she turned to Aurelia, and her eyes were sharp. “Shame on you, Aurelia, for keeping Sir Greville to yourself.”
“Sir Greville and I are but recently acquainted, Letitia. I happened to meet him in Bristol last week while I was visiting a relative. Believe me, I had no intention of…of keeping him to myself. That would be a little fast, don’t you think?” Aurelia’s smile didn’t waver, but there was no hiding the sting in her voice.
A slight flush crept up Letitia’s neck. Somehow, whenever she was in the company of Aurelia or Cornelia or, indeed, Livia, they managed to imply some failure of breeding on her part. She turned her head away sharply and smiled upon Sir Greville. “I do hope you will call upon me, Sir Greville. Everyone knows where to find me.” She wagged a finger at him. “I shall look for you before the week is out…. Drive on, Leonard.”
“I should be honored, ma’am.” Greville bowed again and stepped back as the barouche moved forward. “No love lost there, I gather,” he observed, offering Aurelia his arm again.
“She’s odious. None of us can abide the woman. But she’s the worst gossip in town, so the tale of this meeting, much embellished, will be flying around the salons and boudoirs of Mayfair before noon tomorrow.”
“Then our work here is done. I’ll escort you back to Cavendish Square.”
It was strange, Aurelia thought, how he could put that afternoon’s gloriously wild tangle of lust behind him so completely. Of course at this delicate early stage of the charade they couldn’t risk anything that would raise eyebrows. They had not been seen in public before, and they had to conduct themselves according to protocol, and society’s conventions in
such cases were rigid. A romantic interest moving towards an engagement was a pas de deux where each step was set in stone. No public displays of affection until an engagement had been announced.
But he could have murmured a personal word or squeezed her hand, he was an expert at covert communication. Instead, at her doorstep, he kissed her hand punctiliously, wished her a good evening, and waited until she had let herself into the house.
She went up to her bedchamber, reflecting that it was only what she should have expected. When Greville was at work, he was only at work, she had learned that much in the week they had spent together.
• • •
Greville had one last task for himself that day. He went in search of Harry Bonham. He tried the ministry first, hoping that his quest would end there, but he was out of luck. No one had seen the viscount for two days. He was reluctant to call in Mount Street for this particular errand. He needed to talk to Harry well out of eye and earshot of Frederick’s sister. At least on this occasion.
He trawled the clubs of St. James’s and on his second visit to White’s was finally rewarded. The viscount was sprawled in a deep wing chair by the fire, a glass of claret at hand, his eyes half-closed.
Greville sat down in a chair opposite with his own wineglass and waited until the viscount chose to wake up. Greville was accustomed to the half sleep that refreshed almost as much as a long night of unconsciousness and was loath to disturb a man in the throes of recuperation.
After a minute, though, Harry’s green eyes opened and regarded Greville with full awareness. “You must have read my mind, Falconer. I was hoping to have a word.”
Greville nodded, sipped his wine. “I thought perhaps you might have been.”
Harry pulled himself out of his slouch and reached for his own glass. “Thing is…it’s a trifle awkward.”
“Your wife has set you a task, I take it.”
“Precisely, dear fellow. Precisely. And when Cornelia gets an idea into her head, it’s the devil’s own job to get it out again.” Harry sipped his wine. “Well, to the point. Do you have an interest in Lady Farnham?”
“Not one to beat about the bush, are you, Bonham?” Greville’s eyes gleamed in the firelight.
Harry shrugged. “What would be the point?”
“Quite so. Well, I could tell you it was none of your business…”
“You could…indeed, my dear chap, I wish you would.”
Greville laughed softly. “But I won’t. Aurelia’s friends are entitled to their interest in her well-being, and I’d make a poor fiancé if I ignored that.”
Harry was now wide-awake. “Fiancé?”
Greville laughed again. “My dear Bonham, you wouldn’t suspect me of dishonorable intentions, I trust?”
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea what to expect of you,” Harry stated flatly. “I don’t know you…I know that you do vital work and the less I or anyone else knows about it the better. But if you’re talking of becoming engaged to Aurelia Farnham, then that puts you in a different category altogether. You become the business of her friends…as I’m sure you understand.”
“Which is why we’re having this conversation.” Greville gestured with his glass to a footman passing through the salon with a decanter of claret. He waited until their glasses had been refilled and the footman had moved on, then said, “I’ve a mind to settle down and…” He shook his head with a slight self-deprecating smile. “I believed myself a hardened bachelor until I met Aurelia. She…she has touched me in a way I’ve never experienced before.” He shrugged helplessly. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it, a man of my age and experience being swept off his feet like a stripling?”
Harry smiled. “Not really. Does Aurelia reciprocate your feelings?”
“She has said so,” Greville responded simply.
“Forgive me…but you don’t think an engagement is somewhat precipitate?” Harry asked somewhat awkwardly.
Greville raised his eyebrows. “I think we’re both of an age to know our own minds, Bonham. And to trust our instincts.”
“Yes…yes, of course,” Harry said hastily. “I had no intention of implying otherwise.” He lapsed into frowning silence, twisting the stem of his wineglass between finger and thumb.
“There are other considerations,” Greville said into the uncomfortable silence. “I can give Aurelia a comfortable life, provide more than adequately for her and the child. I’ve lived without a home for the better part of fifteen years, Bonham, and I’m tired of it. To find a woman like Aurelia, a woman who stirs me deeply, whose company I enjoy as I’ve never enjoyed another’s, to find such a woman with whom I can share a fireside seems like a stroke of God-given fortune that I can only embrace.”
Harry nodded. He understood perfectly. He knew little about the colonel’s work, but he did know it had kept him on the move and away from his own country for close to fifteen years. A man could indeed grow tired of such an existence. And it was true that such a marriage would give Aurelia many benefits. She would never take such a step merely for financial stability, Harry knew well, but if that promise went hand in hand with a real liking, love even, for the man who offered it, then her friends could only rejoice with her.
“Forgive the question, but does this mean that you intend to leave the ministry?”
Greville shook his head. “You know I’m on an operation at present, one that gives me the opportunity to settle in London.”
“I know that Simon asked me to ensure that you had the right introductions to pick up the threads of London society again. I don’t know why.”
“No, of course not. Suffice it to say that if this mission succeeds, then I will probably remain in England, and the ministry will use me as they see fit within the boundaries of our fair isle.”
Harry regarded Greville closely, not certain that he believed him, but it was possibly true. Either way he had no right to challenge the declaration.
“Well, I offer my congratulations,” Harry said after a minute. “I should warn you, though, that I can’t guarantee my wife won’t ask some seriously searching questions of Aurelia. You should be prepared for some questions from Aurelia once Cornelia brings up her suspicions that you might be more…or less…than you appear. And she will bring them up.”
“I’ll tell Aurelia myself all that she needs to know,” Greville said. “Rest assured, she won’t enter into this engagement without knowing everything that is important for her to know.” He let this sink in before continuing, “Aurelia knows her own mind. She won’t be swayed against her convictions by anyone, even her best friend.”
“You appear to have learned rather a lot about Aurelia Farnham in a few chance encounters. I daresay finding yourselves in Bristol, so far from stimulating society, hastened your acquaintance.”
“I daresay it did.” Greville uncurled himself from his chair, ignoring the slightly pointed edge to his companion’s statement. “I’m glad we had this little chat, Bonham, and all’s square between us. I won’t ask you to put in a good word for me, but I’d be grateful if you refrained from a bad one.”
“I’ll not queer your pitch, Falconer.” Harry raised a hand in farewell and watched the colonel leave the salon. There was more there than met the eye, but then there always was in their business. Cornelia would warn Aurelia, with his encouragement, but both Cornelia and Livia had managed to make peace with husbands who worked in the shadows. There was no reason why Aurelia shouldn’t. Besides, if the colonel was to be believed, he was going to be doing much less dangerous work in the future.
And there was a pig flying down St. James’s Street.
What the devil was a man to do?
• • •
Cornelia listened to her husband’s carefully edited retelling of his conversation with Greville Falconer. “But do you believe he’s giving up his activities for the ministry?”
“I don’t know, Nell. And it’s none of my business, or yours. Say whatever you wish to Aurelia, warn her off if
you like. But bear in mind that she might resent your interference, particularly if her feelings run deep for Falconer.”
“I won’t be interfering,” Cornelia said with a touch of indignation. “I’ll merely be giving my best friend the benefit of my opinion…my informed opinion, as you know very well. And I’m going to Cavendish Square right now.”
• • •
Aurelia was getting ready for a visit to the theatre when Cornelia entered her bedchamber without ceremony. “Nell, is everything all right?” Aurelia jumped up from her dresser stool in alarm.
“Yes…yes, I just need to talk to you about something.” Cornelia was unusually agitated, pacing the bedchamber. “But you’re going out…I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t.” Aurelia caught Cornelia’s arm and pushed her into a chair. “I’m early anyway, and one can always miss the farce.” Aurelia pulled the dresser stool around to face Cornelia. “Hester, that will be all for now.”
“Yes, ’m.” Hester disappeared, and Aurelia leaned forward, her elbows folded on her knees.
“Greville?”
Cornelia laughed a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t interfere.”
“You’re not. You have something to say to me, and I know it will be something I want to hear. So, say away.”
“He does work for the ministry.”
Aurelia nodded. “Harry knows that?”
“Yes…but he doesn’t know what he does.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to.” Aurelia regarded Cornelia with a quizzical smile. “My love, I’ve watched you and Liv wrestle with these complications. Do you think I haven’t learned a thing or two? Even if Harry knew exactly what Greville does, he couldn’t tell you. But it’s highly unlikely that he does.”
Cornelia looked as relieved as she felt. “So it really doesn’t matter to you? Harry said Greville was going to propose.”
“Is he?” Aurelia didn’t sound in the least surprised, and her glimmering smile told her friend the same. “I am really attracted to him, Nell.” When something was so true, it was easy to be convincing, she reflected. “But it’s more than that. I enjoy his company, I love to hear him laugh…I look forward to seeing him, and I miss him when he’s gone.” Smiling, she extended her hands palm up in a gesture of helplessness. “What else can I say?”
