London Gambit

by Tracy Grant

  "Darling—" Instead of stepping round glass, she now felt as if the glass was bottled up in her throat. She couldn't deny it. If Malcolm ever did see her completely, she still wasn't sure he'd like her very much. "That's nothing beside what you and I share. The children. The speeches and articles we've written together. The cases we've investigated. The home we've made."

  "You've made." He gave another quick smile. "He's your past, and in a way the only family you have left. Having dragged you into this life, I'd be a selfish brute if I wanted to deny you that."

  She shook her head. "You didn't drag me into anything, Malcolm. Raoul and I—"

  "Brilliant as you are, you and O'Roarke couldn't have done anything if I hadn't asked you to marry me."

  "That's—"

  "Perhaps not the whole truth, but a piece of it." He lifted a hand to push her loosened hair behind her ear. "There are things I shared with David growing up that I'll never share with anyone else." His gaze was steady on her face, but she sensed he was choosing his words with the care of one moving round mines and mantraps. It was always that way on the rare occasions Malcolm talked about his feelings. As though he feared that a wrong step would lay an emotional demand he had no right to make. "That will always be between us. It doesn't lessen what I share with you or what David shares with Simon. But it's an unshakable bond. I think it's much the same for you and O'Roarke, for all there was never anything romantic between David and me." He gave a faint smile. "Despite the rumors."

  She nodded, afraid to speak. "It's very like that, dearest. But I wasn't sure you'd ever understand."

  "I'm trying. And if O'Roarke's forming a romantic attachment doesn't affect what's between the two of you—Well, you can't blame me for being pleased at the corollary, can you?"

  She turned her head, pressing her cheek against his hand. "Darling—" Her voice was thick.

  "There's still a lot to sort out," he said. "But I'm managing some of it. Including the fact that I'd just as soon O'Roarke not disappear from our lives either." His slid his hand down so he could wrap his arm about her.

  Suzanne leaned against the comforting warmth of his shoulder. "Laura cares for him. And he's got her through a hell I can scarcely contemplate. But I can't tell—"

  Malcolm's fingers stirred against her collarbone, above the black satin that edged the neck of her gown. "Nor can I. I think it rather comes down to what Laura decides she wants as she comes back to herself. And if O'Roarke can give it to her."

  Suzanne lifted her head from her husband's shoulder to look into his familiar gray eyes.

  "He doesn't give of himself easily," Malcolm said. "I know a bit about that. One might say I inherited it from him. You know better than any how difficult that can be to live with."

  "You're not nearly as difficult to live with as you claim, dearest. And you put your family first. Raoul's never going to stop tilting at dangerous windmills." She shivered, because she was keenly aware these days of just how dangerous those windmills were.

  Malcolm tightened his arm round her. "You don't find it a bit ironic that we're trying to arrange O'Roarke's life for him, given his tendency to try to do the same to us?"

  "No. Well, perhaps a bit. But one could say we're balancing the scales. Or returning the favor. He's not remotely as well able to take care of himself as he thinks.

  Chapter 18

  Laura walked into the breakfast parlor with Emily, who had come bounding into her room in the early hours of the morning. Fortunately, some time before that, Raoul had kissed her and slipped from the bed and then back out the window. He'd been asleep—she'd woken once to feel the even stir of his breath and to see his face relaxed as it so seldom was—but he had an uncanny knack for waking at just the right moment.

  Jessica was in Suzanne's lap, displaying her dexterity at eating cut melon with a fork. Colin was finishing a bowl of porridge and peppering his parents with questions about the Julio-Claudian emperors stirred by a talk with Uncle Harry.

  Emily released Laura's hand and ran over to Colin. Laura bent to pet Berowne, who was lapping a saucer of milk on the floor, and went to pour herself a cup of coffee, feeling as though the events of the previous night were somehow branded on her forehead. Given how long she had effectively been a spy in the Rannoch household, it was ironic that now so many secrets were in the open she was acutely aware of dissembling in front of Suzanne and Malcolm.

  Malcolm and Suzanne greeted her with careless smiles that gave no indication that either of them had any notion of her late-night visitor. But then they were experts at dissembling too.

  "But what did Caligula do that was so awful?" Colin asked. "Uncle Harry usually explains things, but he wouldn't really explain that."

  "It's like he put a spell on people," Emily said.

  Malcolm and Suzanne exchanged glances over the children's heads. "Caligula wasn't a very good ruler," Malcolm said. "At least according to many sources." Malcolm Rannoch was scrupulously fair-minded and an excellent scholar.

  "You mean he passed Corn Laws and suspended Habeas Corpus?" Colin asked.

  "Something like that," Malcolm said.

  Colin frowned. "It has to be more than that or you'd tell me more."

  Laura dropped down at the table and reached for a piece of toast, just as the door opened and the man she had spent the night with walked into the room.

  "Uncle Raoul." Caligula forgot, Colin sprang to his feet, closely followed by Emily and Jessica. Raoul was lost in a tangle of childish arms and legs as all three children hurled themselves at him.

  Laura saw relief flash into Suzanne's eyes. More surprisingly, she saw the same relief cross Malcolm's face. Malcolm might not know about the messages his wife and Laura had sent to Raoul, but they were all relieved to see him unhurt.

  "O'Roarke." Malcolm gave a quick smile. "I was wondering when you'd put in an appearance."

  Raoul scooped up Jessica and moved to the table with Colin and Emily on either side of him. "Forgive me for not writing in advance. I was able to get away unexpectedly."

  "If you sent advance notice, we'd all be sure something was wrong." Suzanne poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of the chair Raoul had moved to.

  "I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Colin," Raoul said. "But I've some presents in my bags."

  Colin grinned. In point of fact, Laura suspected Raoul had deliberately avoided arriving for Colin's birthday for fear of intruding. "We didn't think you'd be able to get back from Spain again so soon," she said, realizing something was required from her if Suzanne and Malcolm weren't to guess that she'd already seen Raoul. Oh, devil take it, they'd probably guess anyway. Not that it really mattered. It wasn't as though they weren't both well aware of her relationship with Raoul.

  "I was still in France, as it happens." Raoul sat down, Jessica in his lap, and pulled Emily up onto his other knee. "I had business that pulled me back to London."

  That was a private message, for all he wasn't looking at her, and very agreeable even if not precisely prudent.

  "Can you make us another boat?" Colin scrambled onto the chair next to Raoul.

  "Can we go to the park?" Emily asked.

  "I can certainly make another boat," Raoul said, taking a sip of coffee before Jessica could reach for the cup. "And the park sounds like an excellent idea, if your parents agree."

  Laura had no doubt that he genuinely wanted to spend time with the children. But she also understood the spy game enough to know it would provide the perfect cover for him to talk to Suzanne.

  Malcolm swallowed the last of his coffee and pushed himself to his feet. "I need to see Harry. We're in the midst of an investigation, as it happens, O'Roarke. Suzette and Laura can catch you up on the details. It would be good to have your perspective. We're going to a ball at the Lydgates' tonight. I'm sure they'd want you to join us." He bent to kiss Suzanne. "If not before, I'll see you all at dinner."

  Suzanne released her breath, gaze on Colin and Emily scrambling up a tree and Jessic
a reaching up to grasp a branch from Laura's arms. "Thank you," she said, keenly aware of Raoul standing beside her.

  "Of course. You couldn't have thought I wouldn't come."

  "I wasn't sure you'd be able to. At least, not so soon." Colin was pulling Jessica up to sit on a branch. Laura steadied her.

  "I was already on my way to London, as it happens. England has an unusual pull on me these days."

  Suzanne shot a look at her former lover. "I'm glad. Laura's missed you."

  Raoul's gaze lingered on Laura. "I've missed her."

  After seeing the careful casualness of Raoul's and Laura's greetings to each other in the breakfast parlor this morning, Suzanne was quite sure Raoul had slipped into Laura's room during the night. She had no desire to dwell on the details, but she was rather glad he could act on emotional impulse.

  "Not that she'd say so," Suzanne added. "She's very like you in a number of ways."

  "She's getting out more. That's good."

  "I think she's remembering there are things she liked about society. I don't think she'll ever go back to the girl she was."

  "It's good for her to live a less confined life."

  "You mean so she can meet a sadly conventional man and marry him?"

  "I don't think Laura would look twice at a sadly conventional man. But"—he stared down at his hands—"she deserves a lot more than I can offer her."

  Suzanne put a hand on his shoulder. "Malcolm deserves better than me. But we're what they've got. And what seems to make them happy."

  Raoul gave a wry smile.

  Suzanne gripped her hands together. "I didn't tell her. I haven't told Malcolm."

  "So I gathered."

  "And you think I'm a fool."

  "I assume you have your reasons." He glanced at Laura and children, lifted his hand to return a wave from Emily, then looked back at Suzanne. "What is it, querida?"

  She drew a breath. Suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted the answer. "Is there a plan to get Bonaparte off St. Helena?"

  Raoul stared at her with naked shock. At least, seemingly naked shock. With him one could never be sure.

  "Damn it, I know." The impossibility tore at her chest, a knife twisting in an old wound. "You probably wouldn't tell me even if there were. I'm not sure I want to know. But—"

  "What have you heard?" Raoul asked in a level voice.

  "It was a man who called himself Louis Germont, who Bertrand just got out of Paris. Germont was wounded, and I tended him two nights ago at Marthe's house. He was feverish, but he definitely mentioned the Phoenix. You know what that's always meant."

  "What did he say about it?" Raoul's gaze was level, his voice tense.

  "Just that he had to warn someone. And then he slipped out of Marthe's house in the middle of the night." She swallowed a bite of frustration. "I should have—"

  "No sense refining upon that now. Have you—"

  "Sancho was approached about the plot, and he went to Manon. Flahaut was approached as well."

  She saw the flinch in Raoul's eyes. Flahaut wasn't a trained agent. And his high-profile position and connection to the Bonaparte family left him very exposed.

  "None of them are involved in the plot," she said. "At least, not that they admitted to me. And then last night Manon told me Jennifer Mansfield was approached, but by a man who sounds like Germont. Which means his warning to me was probably an effort to embroil me in the plot."

  "And you were afraid Malcolm—"

  "I couldn't put him in that situation. I couldn't ask him to keep secrets that were treason. And I couldn't—"

  "Yes?" Raoul said.

  Suzanne swallowed. A gust of wind off the Serpentine cut more sharply than one would expect in June. The ribbons on her bonnet seemed to bite into her skin. "God help me, I'm not sure I want Bonaparte to escape. But I'm not sure I don't want it either."

  "There's no denying it would turn our lives upside down," Raoul said. "There's also no denying there are some things in France now it would be good to turn upside down." He regarded Suzanne for a moment. His gaze was steady, but his eyes were the gray of turbulent seas. "I know of no such plot. I have no idea if you'll believe me. I don't know that I would, in your shoes."

  Suzanne released her breath. Her chest ached with what might have been relief. "I believe you. Which may mean I've gone dangerously soft."

  Raoul's mouth lifted with familiar irony. "That doesn't mean there isn't a plot. Things are more diffuse these days."

  "You still have your ear to the ground."

  Raoul glanced ahead at Laura and the children. They had moved to the water's edge, and Laura was passing out bread to throw to the ducks." "It could be a trap."

  "To draw us in?"

  "Or other Bonapartist agents. That would fit with this Germont's approach to you." He waved again and Jessica waved back with enthusiasm. She was dancing on the balls of her feet while Laura crouched down behind her, holding her steady. "Whatever it is, Malcolm is likely to learn the truth."

  Suzanne's fingers clenched on the jaconet of her skirt. "You think I should tell him."

  "I think it's your decision, and a difficult one."

  "I'd be putting him in an appalling dilemma. I can't ask him to protect my friends at the cost of his country."

  "You don't know that your friends are involved."

  Jessica was leaning out over the water, bread in her hand, Laura's arm securely round her. "I'm going to tell him." Until she said the words, Suzanne hadn't been quite sure that was her decision. "Before I did, I needed to be sure—that you weren't involved."

  "That's more consideration than I deserve, querida."

  "I couldn't do that to you. But more important, I couldn't put Malcolm in a situation where he felt he had to betray you."

  Raoul was silent for a moment. His gaze moved over the water, though she was keenly aware of its pressure. The wind carried back an excited cry from Jessica.

  "Putting personal considerations ahead of larger loyalties," Suzanne said. "Malcolm should appreciate that I'm starting to think like him."

  Raoul's breath grated through the air. "If there is a plot—"

  "Do you want there to be?"

  She saw the tug of competing loyalties in his gaze. "I want what's best for France. And I want you as far away from it as possible."

  She gave a quick smile, scrabbling for her defenses. "Nothing to be done until we know more."

  "No," he agreed. "I'll make some inquiries. I have a few sources you don't."

  "And they may be more likely to admit knowledge of a plot to you than to the wife of a British agent."

  "Possibly. As you say, we need to learn more before we can speculate." He drew a breath, as though warding off what the future might hold. "Speaking of speculating, tell me about this investigation."

  "Didn't Laura tell you about it last night?"

  He shot a look at her.

  "Sorry," Suzanne said. "I'm still rather proud when I can see past your deceptions."

  His mouth twisted in a smile that was faint but less dry than usual. "I always knew we hadn't a prayer of deceiving you and Malcolm. Especially after last April."

  "But you still felt obliged to climb in the window? And then back out again—or did you go out the door?"

  "The window. You have an excellent and very trustworthy staff, but I was trying to preserve Laura's reputation."

  "You're a remarkably thoughtful man, Raoul."

  "Don't talk twaddle, querida. Do you want to tell me about the investigation? You needn't, if you'd rather not."

  "No, I'd welcome your perspective." She outlined the Whateley & Company investigation as concisely as she could. Raoul listened in focused silence.

  "Clever of Carfax," he said when she had done. "Something like Whateley & Company would have been extremely useful during the war."

  "But you never had anything like it?"

  "Do you imagine I could have kept it from you?" Raoul frowned. "Unless Ennis is lying about only eng
aging Coventry, Coventry must have been killed by someone hired by someone else."

  "Presumably the same person who broke into Brook Street last night. The carnelian bracelet doesn't put you in mind of any agents you knew in the Peninsula, does it?"

  "No, but I can hardly claim an intimate acquaintance with the jewelry of every agent I worked with. Or worked against."

  "Simon tackled the intruder outside the nursery." Suzanne's gaze moved ahead to Laura and the children. "Probably coincidence that the thief was escaping that way. But somehow that, on top of the threats by the men two nights ago—"

  "You're doing everything you can to protect the children. As you always have." Raoul's voice was steady, but his gaze had gone to the children as well. Emily was kneeling on a rock outcropping to toss bread to the ducks and appeared to be having a conversation with them. Colin was holding her hand, part in comradeship, Suzanne thought, part to steady her. A few feet away, Jessica had snatched up a leaf and was holding it out to Laura.

  "You don't ever forget," Raoul said, "no matter how far you are away from them."

  "No," Suzanne said.

  Chapter 19

  Harry stared down at the bracelet, glittering in a patch of morning sunlight on his desktop. "You're sure the intruder dropped this?"

  "As sure as can be," Malcolm said. "It was by the window the intruder escaped out of. David and Simon didn't recognize it, and it was on the passage floor outside the nursery, where it's unlikely a guest would have dropped it."

  "No." Harry's gaze continued trained on the bracelet, neutral in a way it only was when he was holding his feelings in check. In a way he rarely did with Malcolm these days. "I don't suppose she would have been a guest there."

  "Harry?" Malcolm asked. "You recognize the bracelet?"

  "Oh, yes." Harry looked up and met Malcolm's gaze, though his own was still armored. "I bought it."

  Malcolm stared at his friend. It seemed highly unlikely the bracelet was Cordelia's, for any number of reasons. "Harry—"