by Regan Walker
The sky was overcast, and there was a chill in the air as they returned to the warehouse district. Still, Germaine seemed to be enjoying herself. Knowing she was loyal to the king and believing she could be trusted, Mary told her all she had learned of the Prussians and the vicomte. Germaine expressed surprise at what the vicomte’s actions suggested, but told Mary it was not impossible. Mary was just thrilled to be engaged in a task she felt would be significant to the stability of France, which was so important to England at this time.
The carriage stopped a street from the warehouse as the man Germaine had hired to attend the lock did his work. Mary was anxious to get inside. At last a tap on the roof of the carriage signaled the lock was open and it was time to depart.
Mary and Jacques hurried to the front of the warehouse. For a moment Mary’s heart stopped, for a worker appeared on the other side of the street coming in their direction. He was dressed in worn brown trousers and jacket with a dark cap pulled down low over his forehead, and he was carrying some heavy rope. He did not seem concerned with them, however, and as he passed, Mary soon forgot he was there as she focused on the task ahead.
This warehouse, like most of the others, was a structure that evidenced long use and poor maintenance, with peeling gray wood and dirty windows high in the building. A cold gust of wind blew dust from the street as she and Jacques stepped up to the large wooden structure.
Jacques slowly opened the rough doors and peered in. It was quiet. Mary followed him inside, blinking at the dimness. Some tools and rope lay on the dirt floor. Shafts of light from high windows fell onto some crates lining a back wall. The inside of the warehouse mirrored the outside and smelled of dirt, tobacco and some animal, perhaps rats. A few chairs and a small table with a half burned candle sat just inside the door, which proved someone had been there during the night.
“Let’s open some of the crates,” she urged, eager to discover what they held.
Jacques brought a large knife, but instead he reached for one of the tools lying on the floor, a metal bar of some sort with a flat end. As he began to pry up one of the tops, Mary peered over his shoulder to see the cropped gray jackets of the French military she had seen so often around the Palace. At last she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“We have found them! Let’s open another crate from over there.”
When she pointed to a stack farther along the wall, Jacques proceeded there and opened another crate. Just as the last top had given way to show the jackets, this one held the dark blue breeches of the light infantry soldiers.
“It is as you said, my lady,” the footman admitted. “Exactly as you said.”
* * *
At Hugh’s request, though they had not entered the warehouse, Martin’s men had been watching the building since this morning, assuring him no guards had shown up for work. From his post across the street, dressed like one of the common workers, his friend kept surveillance himself, ready to assist Hugh should such be necessary.
Hugh was still on top of Germaine’s carriage, thinking about the secret supply of uniforms. Grudgingly, he gave Mary credit for leading them to the hidden stash. While he didn’t know the specifics of the Prussian plans, he could guess. And they could now keep a watch on the warehouse to identify and possibly interrogate its visitors.
He had suggested to Germaine that she be the one to inform French officials of the note and where it led. He did not want Mary involved any more than necessary. She had done her part and could take pride in it, and he hoped Germaine could persuade her to stay out of the affair from this point on. After all, this could lead to the arrest of General Kleist, a military leader of one of France’s allies.
Surely she would see the danger.
* * *
Burning with the pleasure of success, Mary hastened back to Germaine to tell her friend what she had found. Jacques had re-secured the crate tops to hide that they had been disturbed, and the locks were now back in place on the front door. She’d brought one of the jackets as proof of their discovery. A single jacket would not be missed among so many crates.
They were riding back to Germaine’s apartments when a broad smile crossed the older woman’s face. “That was simple enough.”
Mary considered. Yes, it had been simple. Easy, even. “Perhaps it was too easy.”
The older woman just shrugged. For a moment Mary thought Germaine looked nervous, but a moment later she asked if she might be the one to report their discovery to the French government. As Mary had never been interested in taking credit, just in getting the job done, the suggestion made sense. After all, she had her hands full trying to follow Joseph Decazes.
* * *
Hugh arrived that night to escort Mary to another affair at the palace. She had not seen him since the incident at the gallery and their visit to the grotto. He was polite but distant as they rode along in the carriage.
After her first few attempts at conversation drew only short replies, Mary settled back and peered out the window, watching the passing lights from the homes they passed. Some cast a bit of light inside the carriage, limning in gold the amethyst satin gown she wore. The garment was elegant, with a low-cut V bodice that, while still modest, displayed the edges of her full breasts. The silken fabric clung to her curves and dipped at the high waist. She wore her hair up with just a few loose curls dangling over her bare shoulder. The drop earrings hanging from her ears were perfect as well, the oval amethysts just a shade lighter than her gown and surrounded by tiny diamonds.
Hugh found himself staring. Her transformation from stable boy to temptress in one day was nearly a miracle. She had been adorable in those pants and faded jacket, but as he gazed at the enticing vision that was Mary Campbell in lavender satin, it was all he could do to tamp down his desire and resist pulling her into his lap.
“How was your afternoon, Lady Mary?” he finally asked.
“Not very eventful, just a carriage ride with Germaine.”
“Oh, really?” If he weren’t so disturbed by the danger she’d put herself in, he would have laughed at the mundane nature of her description. “Where did you go?”
“Just around the city.”
Around the city, indeed. He found himself grimacing. The clever young woman had likely uncovered a Prussian plot against the king and now sat there as if it were afternoon tea and a carriage ride in the park. Damn. She was a pistol. Lambeth had only the half of it when he guessed she’d be “difficult to manage.”
He said nothing of that. “You look lovely tonight. That color becomes you.”
“Why, thank you. And you look quite handsome, my lord. I understand there will be dancing tonight. Will you dance with me?”
She was flirting with him and he liked it. If the young innocent only knew the danger that put her in, perhaps she would not. He was very close to kissing her, and given what had already transpired between them, they would never make it to the palace. He wanted very much to dance with her. And to do much more.
“Would you want me to dance with you?” he asked with an easy smile.
“It would be novel,” she replied.
He could see that her eyes were daring him. “Good. Save me a waltz.”
She smiled as if she’d had her way with something important. “I shall…and I shall look forward to it.”
Her green eyes were sincere. She might have encountered a waltz or two at her first balls, but this was Paris where the waltz was truly admired. And here it would not create the scandal there would be in London if he were to dance with her.
Her response produced the desire again to kiss her but he refrained. He was now certain they would not make it to the Tuileries if he did. Instead he thought about holding her as they danced.
They arrived a short time later, and Hugh entered the ballroom with Mary on his arm. A server dressed in a royal blue jacket with gold braid quickly offered them champagne. Each of them accepted a glass and turned to observe the room.
Decazes and The
resa Koller were the first to join them. The Frenchman’s eyes were ablaze with desire. “Lady Mary, you are tres jolie this evening in that lovely gown.”
Hugh’s jaw tightened. The look in Decazes’s eyes was one of a man who’d seen what he wanted and intended to have it. Hugh would not make a scene here, though, much as he wanted. Instead he diverted his attention to Theresa Koller and her stay in Paris. “Have you recovered from the shock of the altercation at the gallery, Miss Koller?
“Why, yes. Vicomte Decazes was very kind and made sure I was safely back to my lodgings.”
“Will you be staying in Paris long?”
Theresa’s brown eyes flashed. “For a few weeks only, I think. Just until my brother’s business is completed.”
Hugh perused the young woman. What had he heard about her? Her brother was General Koller and her mother was French, but there was something else, something nudging at the back of his mind. Whatever it was, he could not recall. But thoughts of the young woman’s brother’s schedule suddenly made him wonder how long General Kleist would be in Paris.
He searched the room and spotted Germaine, who was talking to Benjamin Constant. Turning back to Mary he asked, “May I leave you with your friends a moment so that I might attend to a small matter of business?”
“Of course,” she said, but he felt her eyes following him as he made his way across the crowded room.
Not only was Germaine in a deep debate with Constant, but also with the Duke of Wellington, head of the British army in France.
Wellington nodded when he saw Hugh. “Good evening, Ormond. I didn’t know you had returned to Paris.” The English general and hero of Waterloo had his own spies and was well aware of Hugh’s work during the war. They were friends.
“I am working with the diplomats now, Your Grace. Lord Baynes at the moment.”
The duke casually gazed about the large room. “Ah, yes. Baynes. I was aware he was in Paris. I haven’t seen him tonight. Is he here?”
“No, he is outside of Paris for a few days.”
“Well, then, I will see him when he returns. We need his help with some of the allies.”
Hugh nodded, promising to help arrange a time for them to meet. Then he faced Germaine and said, “Forgive me, Madame de Stael, but could I have a word?”
After she’d made her apologies to Constant and the duke, she and Hugh walked to a more private corner of the ballroom. Hugh took two glasses filled with champagne off a passing tray and handed one to her, saying, “Germaine, can you find out how long General Kleist will be in Paris? Has he told anyone? That may indicate the timing of anything he might be planning.”
“I can certainly try, though the generals jealously guard their schedules,” she explained. “Perhaps I can tease him about how he will be missed when he departs. He is a vain man and will enjoy the flattery.” The older woman winked, and it seemed to Hugh that she was enjoying her new role as spy. He hoped Mary’s reckless sense of adventure wasn’t catching.
Still, he admitted, “That might just work.”
The dancing began several minutes later. It seemed they would start with a waltz. Hugh found Mary, who was still with Decazes and Theresa Koller. Lady Mary’s friend Diane Brancalis had joined them, and the pretty brunette’s blue-eyed gaze seemed fixed on the vicomte, which pleased Hugh. Another man stood next to Mary. Hugh recognized him as a French officer attached to the Palace.
Introductions were made; then Hugh let his hand rest on Mary’s back. He said, “I believe you promised me a waltz?”
Mary looked up and smiled. She had clearly not forgotten, which brought Hugh some pleasure. Decazes, on the other hand, looked unhappy. Mary tried to soothe him. “Dear vicomte, you have already asked for two dances and they are yours. Surely you do not mind if I grant one to my own countryman?”
“No, of course not,” he replied. “Forgive me. But do hurry back. I shall miss your company.”
Hugh did not scowl, but he could not refrain from clenching his teeth.
He took Mary’s hand in his and swept her onto the dance floor. Gliding across the wood, his hand firmly on her back, he held her closer than was perhaps proper. This was their first dance, though, and since it would not be repeated in London, Hugh decided to enjoy it. He finally had the woman he wanted in his arms.
* * *
Mary was sorry to see the evening draw to a close, though it had been a long one and she was tired from the day. She had given many dances, and the room still whirled in her mind, but above all was her waltz with Hugh. They had moved as if their bodies were perfectly matched to each other as the eyes of those standing at the edges of the ballroom followed them.
He helped her into the carriage for the ride back, and settling onto the velvet seat she turned to stare out the window and allowed her mind to drift back to her carriage ride with Germaine that afternoon. She was just beginning to put the pieces together as she became aware that Hugh was watching her.
Her eyes suddenly narrowed, and his eyebrows lifted in question. “What?”
It was as if a candle had been lit in a dark recess of her mind. This was why, when she’d noted their exploration of the warehouse had been too easy, Germaine had been nervous. Then, too, Ormond and Germaine had been good friends for years, even during Napoleon’s reign, and his words spoken when she’d complained of his following her to the gallery came back to Mary: Get used to it. She shook her head at her own naivety. She’d been duped.
“You knew.”
“Knew what?” he asked, appearing slightly uncomfortable.
“You knew what Germaine and I were doing this afternoon. I’d even wager you were there.”
His face wore no expression. “Yes.”
Mary was furious. Once again she felt like a child who had been indulged, but she resisted her desire to shout at him. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh and carefully controlled herself. “You probably found it amusing, seeing me go through the motions of an investigation when all the time you were working ahead of me while I was in the dark.”
“Mary,” he began, “I could not let you put yourself in danger. There could have been armed men in that warehouse. Your uncle asked me to watch over you, and Germaine wanted my help.”
“I see. But you felt no need to tell me you were going to be involved?”
“Germaine thought it best if you didn’t know. She wanted you to be able to confirm your intuition. And let me remind you, you mentioned not a word of your plan to me. I allowed it against my better judgment.”
“You allowed it?” The arrogance of the man. Silence hung heavy in the air and she turned to stare out the window into the darkness, wishing she could be somewhere else, anywhere else. All right, she admitted, perhaps he was concerned about her safety. And he had been given responsibility for her. But must he always have the upper hand? Another question occurred to her. “What was your role?”
“I’m good with locks.”
“Locks?” she repeated. Then: “Of course you are. You were the one Germaine got to open the door.” Silence settled back around them like a heavy cloak before she announced, “My uncle returns tomorrow, my lord. I see no reason for you to continue to follow me.”
Her voice was calm. As was her resolve to keep him as far from her as possible.
* * *
Hugh didn’t want to fight with Mary, not when she was so adorable, pouting beautifully like an angry princess. Instead, he wanted to drag her into his lap and kiss her until she acknowledged what was between them. All those curves! What was her uncle thinking, putting her in his charge?
He was becoming obsessed with the girl. With great determination, he controlled his desire. “I make you no promises.”
When they reached their destination, Hugh escorted Mary to her uncle’s apartments. Pierre opened the door and Mary quickly stepped through, turning back to Hugh and abruptly thanking him for the evening. Before he could respond she closed the door in his face. The sound of the heavy door slamming still rang in
his ears as Hugh walked away, but oddly he wasn’t angry.
No, there was even a smile on his face. The minx might not know it, but she would soon be his.
Chapter 20
Theresa Koller stepped out of her carriage and walked toward the tavern, drawing her cloak tightly around her against the cold night air. The establishment was one of the better options in this bad part of Paris, a place frequented by working men and transients. It was not a place one often found gentry, so she felt safe from discovery. Still, while night had fallen and she expected the tavern would be crowded, she did not intend to enter through the front door.
The older man by her side was dressed simply, blending in with the tavern’s customers. He spoke with insistence. “You really shouldn’t be here, mademoiselle.”
“I know, Henri, but tonight our leaders gather. This is the most expedient way to tell them what I have learned, and I need to hear of their plans. I need to be a part of the discussion. Our time draws near.”
Henri’s pained look proved he knew it was futile to argue. “Does Maurice know you intended to come?”
“I sent word to him this afternoon.”
The guard at the back door nodded, so her message must have arrived. She and Henri entered and found men already gathered and sitting at small tables. As usual, they were reminiscing about the days of Napoleon and grumbling about the king. Their conversations quieted as she stepped over the threshold, however. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke, sour wine and unbathed men. It was not a place a lady would come unless she was in the wrong place—or involved.
There was only one other woman present. Theresa’s eyes spotted the buxom brunette as soon as she entered. Her swaying walk said she was aware of her allure. It was apparent she was the companion for the night of one of the men. Theresa’s face twisted into a look of disgust.
She approached the aide to their leader. “Franz, where is Maurice?”
