by Tracy Grant
David's mouth twisted. "Nothing about her was true, was it?"
"Except the woman she is."
"Malcolm, as someone who loves you, I can't bear to see—"
"Think what you will of me, David. But I've made my own choices as well.
"In Vienna," David said. "Christ, at Waterloo. When I remember her nursing soldiers—"
"Many of whom survived because of her efforts. Waterloo was particularly hard for her. I can't imagine quite how hard. I wish I'd known at the time."
"You wish—Jesus." David turned on his heel and strode to the door.
"David—" Malcolm crossed to his friend's side in two strides.
"Don't, Malcolm." David put out a hand to forestall him. "We have nothing more to say to each other."
"Darling." Suzanne looked up with a smile as her husband came into the drawing room, then went still at the sight of his face. It was set in a tight, pleasant mask. But beneath the easy smile for the children, his gaze had the controlled focus he wore in the midst of a mission. All else subsumed by the task at hand.
He stopped to admire the arrangement of the castle in the center of the room and the doll table that had been transformed into the Round Table, then drew her over to one of the windows. She knew Raoul and Laura, who stayed kneeling beside the children, were both aware something was wrong, though both gave an excellent impression of not having the least idea anything was out of the ordinary.
He took her hands. His fingers were cold, but his gaze, oddly, was warm with compassion. "We have to leave, Mel. Tonight."
"For where? Dunmykel? Have you heard from Andrew and Gisèle—"
"Italy." His voice was flat and even, his gaze steady on her own. "Carfax knows. He told David."
She heard the words, but her brain refused to comprehend them. A roaring filled her ears. The blood rushed from her head, leaving cold, dizzying horror. And comprehension. For the second time in six months the unthinkable had happened. Her world had cracked open. The sword of Damocles had fallen. And all she could think was that she had been a fool not to see it coming.
"Sweetheart." His fingers tightened over her own. "I don't know how long he's known. I don't know whom else he's told. But I'm not sure David can keep it to himself."
She scanned his face. "Was it—?"
For an instant, beneath the control, she caught a glimpse of a pain he probably didn't even realize he was feeling. Yet. "Everything I feared."
"Darling. That's—"
"Between David and me." Whatever he was feeling, he wasn't, might never be, ready to share it with her. "I've sent word to Bertrand," he continued. "He'll have a boat meet us at the docks at midnight. Pack—"
"Only necessities." It was a mission, after all. Not the first time she'd been off at a moment's notice. She could do this. She had to focus on practicalities and forget that life as they knew it was falling apart. She glanced across the room at the children, subduing the impulse to snatch them up in her arms. "They'll think it's a great adventure. Thank God they're good travelers."
It was Malcolm who looked across the room at Raoul and Laura and inclined his head. When the other couple joined them, he merely said, "Carfax knows. We're leaving for Italy tonight."
Raoul's gaze told Suzanne he had already guessed. His mouth was a taut line, his shoulders tensed as though braced to go into battle. "What can we do?" he asked in a clipped voice.
"Everything's already prepared," Malcolm said. "We only have to put the plans in motion. I've already seen Bertrand."
"I've always wanted to see Italy," Laura said. "I can be ready in an hour."
"You don't need to come," Suzanne told her friend. "You didn't ask for any of this. The house is yours—"
"Stay in London without you? No thank you. Italy sounds much more interesting." Laura glanced at the sofa where Emily was helping Jessica arrange some of the dolls while Berowne rolled on his back and batted at the dolls' skirts. "And I wouldn't separate the children."
"Nor would I," Suzanne said, "not willingly. But your parents—"
"I'll write to them. Surely there will be a way for them to visit. Or for Emily and me to come back."
"You have to consider—"
"Mélanie." Laura took a step closer to Raoul. "I would go with you in any case. But if Carfax knows about you, he almost certainly knows about Raoul. Which means that if Raoul has a scrap of sense"—she cast a glance at her lover that indicated she wasn't entirely sure this was the case—"he won't show his face in Britain for some time either. So you see, I don't really have any choice about it."
Raoul opened his mouth to protest. Laura gripped his arm. Suzanne met her friend's gaze and nodded.
"I have travel documents for you, as it happens," Malcolm said. "Though at the time I put them together, you were still our children's governess. You're traveling as my sister. I used my great-grandmother's name. Fraser. You're Laura Fraser." He glanced at Suzanne. "I used Mélanie for you, so that's easy enough to remember. And I used my middle name."
"Not Alistair?" Suzanne said.
"No, my other middle name. Charles. Blessedly free of associations. Everything's in place. I need only leave a few letters to be posted once we're gone."
"I'll come with you on the way back to Spain," Raoul said.
"It's very out of your way," Malcolm said.
"My dear Malcolm, if you think there's a chance in hell I'm going anywhere until I've seen all of you safely settled in Italy, you are very much mistaken."
To Suzanne's surprise, Malcolm touched Raoul's arm. "Thank you."
The necessary words spoken, silence gripped them. The silence of realization. Suzanne looked at the wall hangings she had chosen. The furniture she'd had recovered. The corner of the wall she'd had moved to enlarge the room. Images shot through her mind. Walking through the house with Malcolm after Alistair's death. Conferring with the builders. Visiting a silk warehouse with Cordy and the children. Testing paint samples in the light. The children playing in the square garden. Colin and Emily sliding down the stair rail. Standing at the head of the stairs for their first party.
Like a slap it hit her. What they were leaving. This house. The square garden. London. Dunmykel. Britain. A country she had hesitated to come to. That she had fought against. A world in which, in many ways, she was still an outsider. And yet, in many ways, it had become the closest she'd had to a home since her father's death.
Malcolm squeezed her hand. "I need to write some letters. I've sent word to Harry. He should be here soon. Probably Cordy, as well, if you want to talk to her."
Suzanne nodded. Cordy was going to learn the truth now. She wanted her friend to hear it from her.
Malcolm glanced from Raoul to Laura. "Make sure she's ready to get on the boat."
"Really, darling." Suzanne managed a tone approaching normalcy. "It's not the first time I've made a middle-of-the-night departure."
"But never in these circumstances." He leaned in, heedless of Raoul and Laura, and kissed her.
As he drew back, there was a rap at the door, and Valentin entered the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir. But Lord Carfax is below."
Chapter 41
Malcolm always tensed with wariness at the sight of Carfax. Today he felt as though he were approaching a coiled snake. No, a dragon. The fiercest dragon from Colin's storybooks.
Paradoxically, when Malcolm opened the door of the study, Carfax turned to him with a look that held more compassion than Malcolm had ever seen on the earl's face. "You needn't reach for your pistol. I haven't brought soldiers. Or an order from Bow Street. In fact, I can promise to hold off the dogs until you put into effect the escape plans I have no doubt you made long since. I just wanted to see you first."
"What do you want?" Malcolm pushed the door shut and set his shoulders against the panels. As if somehow by keeping Carfax in the room, he could protect Suzanne and the children. Laughable.
"To apologize." Carfax began to tug off his gloves. "I hoped it would never co
me to this."
"Have you known from the first?" Better not to have said anything, but the question came unbidden.
"Oh, no." Carfax pulled the second glove from his fingers. "Suzanne did real damage. There's no letting any of us off the hook so easily. My lack of perspicacity remains on my conscience, as it does on yours. I should have seen the truth far sooner. So should you." He slapped the gloves down on the table.
"I don't deny it."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, my boy. She's very, very good at what she does. And you were in love with her, which doesn't help. I didn't have any such excuse. In the end, I didn't learn about her activities until after Waterloo, and only then through an agent of mine."
"Julien St. Juste."
"No, as it happens. He has an odd loyalty to her himself. But he told Sylvie St. Ives. And she told me after Waterloo when she needed something from me."
"You've known for three years?"
"Give or take."
"You didn't—"
"Consider moving against her? It would have been different if the war were still going on. I'd have been obliged to take action, like it or no. Perhaps even have her removed. But I had it on good authority that she'd stopped spying."
"And you believed it? That doesn't sound like you, sir."
Carfax coughed. "I confess that even I am not immune to the influence of having seen someone play with my grandchildren. It seemed enough to watch her. That's part of why I had Oliver keeping an eye on you."
"My God, are you saying Oliver—"
"No, he didn't have the least idea about that. Credit me with some sense, Malcolm. But I was confident it was safe merely to watch you both."
"And you had a valuable bargaining chip."
"Which I hoped I wouldn't have to use." Carfax dropped into a chair. In the light from the windows, he looked tired. "I said Suzanne had done incalculable damage. She's also a brilliant agent. I can admire her. And I'm quite fond of her. She's undoubtedly been good for you. I'd have been quite happy to have her continue to write outrageous articles and charm everyone at parties and you make impossible arguments in Parliament. Except for—"
Malcolm stared at Carfax. His spymaster. His best friend's father. "David. You told David because you wanted us to quarrel."
Carfax met Malcolm's gaze. His eyes held apology but no regret. "I needed my son back. Something drastic was called for."
"Because you know David will tell Simon. And you know which side Simon will take."
"I think I do. I hope I do. I'm generally rather good at reading people."
"That's like saying a dragon is generally good at breathing fire."
"It's not the way I'd have liked it to happen, for any of us. But it became clear to me in recent months that it would take something drastic to bring David to his senses."
"And we were collateral damage."
"In a sense," Carfax said without hesitation. "You should understand, Malcolm. I think you, more than anyone, should know what it means to protect one's family. I've been all too inclined to put the needs of my country ahead of those of my family. If nothing else, the unfortunate events of last March reminded me of the need not to neglect my obligations to my family."
Impossible not to feel for the pain in Carfax's gaze. Malcolm knew what it was to feel regret, but he could scarcely imagine the weight of regret the earl lived under. When he spoke, he heard more concern than anger in his own voice. "I would have hoped the events of three months ago would have shown you the importance of letting your children find their own happiness."
The gaze Carfax turned to Malcolm was stripped surprisingly honest. "You've been a good friend to David, Malcolm. I have no doubt he shares things with you he doesn't with his parents. But as a father yourself, you'll have to allow that I know my son in a way others can't. Ultimately, David won't be happy if he doesn't do his duty. I think the same thing is true for you, though you define your duty very differently."
"I also wouldn't be happy without the woman I love."
"But you aren't David."
For all the risks to his family, in that moment the fear that shot through Malcolm was for his friend. And perhaps for Carfax himself. "You'll break him."
"You're a good agent, Malcolm. And an undeniably brilliant man. But you've always been inclined to overemphasize the personal. David knows what matters for his country and his family. Let me see to my son. Look after your own family."
The threat to his family washed back over Malcolm like a deluge. Whatever else he had been to Malcolm, the man standing across the room from him had the power to destroy his wife and children and everything that mattered to him.
"I have no intention of spreading this further," Carfax said. "But you're right. Now the news is out, you can't be sure who will hear of it. I can think of a number of people who'd be only too happy to use it to bring you down. I can't protect you. But as I said, I can hold the dogs off long enough for you and Suzanne and the children to get out of England."
"Why on earth should I—"
"Trust me? You're far too good an agent to do that. But as it happens, I am telling the truth in this case. It's the least I can do for you."
"And you want me away from David."
"That too."
Malcolm gave a curt nod and turned to the door. Carfax could see himself out.
"Malcolm," Carfax said.
Malcolm turned back to the man who had shaped so much of his life. "There was a time when I would have been afraid something like this would break you. I'm not anymore."
"At least it will be warm in Italy," Blanca said in a bright voice. "Not like a gray English summer." She bit her lip and cast a quick glance at her husband.
Addison took her hand and smiled, though myriad questions darted through his gaze. "We've known this might happen for some time."
Concerned as she was about what might be transpiring between Malcolm and Carfax, Suzanne had used the time to tell Blanca and Addison about the need for their imminent departure. They sat with Suzanne, Raoul, and Laura at one end of the drawing room while the children continued to play at the other end. The sight of the three small figures grouped round the castle anchored Suzanne to reality. At the same time, it tore at her with the reminder of all they were about to lose.
"I have everything in readiness, Mrs. Rannoch," Addison said. "I'll begin to pack at once. It shouldn't take long."
Suzanne met Addison's steady gaze. He never blinked when drawn into a mission. Yet this mission would upend his life through no choice of his own. No choice but loving Blanca and working for Malcolm. "If there's anyone you need to see—"
"Thank you, madam. I already have letters written to my parents."
Blanca bit her lip. Her hand curved over her abdomen. So often it seemed impending parenthood made one truly aware of the bond with one's own parents. "Querido—"
Addison lifted her hand to his lips, a rare, public gesture of affection. "It's all right, sweetheart. Mr. Rannoch has promised to bring them to Italy, should it come to that."
Suzanne's nails curved into her palms. How often had she grimaced at the way the beau monde, including Malcolm's family, including sometimes Malcolm himself, took for granted the presence of servants in their lives. And yet she, the Republican revolutionary, had smashed Addison's life as he knew it to bits in the wake of her own betrayals. When she went into her marriage she'd scarcely considered what she was doing to Malcolm, let alone to his valet. And she certainly hadn't considered Addison's parents.
"The fewer people we speak with before we leave, the better," Raoul said in a level voice. "For their sakes."
Addison met Raoul's gaze. They all knew Carfax's power. If they had ever doubted it, today's events had reminded them. "My thoughts precisely, Mr. O'Roarke."
"I'll pack for the children," Blanca said.
"I'll see to it," Laura said. "Perhaps you could try to keep them occupied. I don't think we should tell them we're leaving just yet." She forced a smile to her li
ps. "And if anyone really wants to be helpful, try to figure out how we're going to pack the castle."
Malcolm returned to the drawing room to find Addison had joined Suzanne, Laura, and Raoul. Addison looked pale but determined. Blanca had taken the children up to the nursery. "She was the most matter of fact of any of us," Suzanne said.
"She's used to upheaval," Addison said. "She won't blanch at leaving Britain, provided she can take the people she cares about with her."
His gaze was on Malcolm as he spoke, dark with concern. Malcolm sent his valet a look intended to be reassuring and briefly recounted the pertinent parts of his interview with Carfax. Not Carfax's motivation regarding David, but Carfax's promise to hold the dogs off until they got out of the country. Addison gave a crisp nod and said he would see to the packing. Suzanne, pale, shoulders ramrod straight, hands locked together, said she should do so as well. Malcolm squeezed her hand and then kissed her again. Her lips were cold, but she returned the pressure of his hand and gave him a quick smile.
Laura went upstairs with her. Malcolm looked after them, then turned to Raoul, who had lingered in the drawing room. "Watch her," Malcolm said to his father in a soft voice.
Raoul's gaze darted over Malcolm's face. "You think she'd try to run on her own?"
"No. But I can't entirely rule it out."
Raoul nodded. "Mélanie's a survivor. And not the self-sacrificial sort."
"So I keep telling myself. But we've never been in these circumstances before. And she'll go a long way to protect those she loves. You should understand that."
"That may be the very thing that stops her from running. Mélanie doesn't really believe her children would be better off with anyone but her." Raoul drew a breath, rough with unspoken words. "Malcolm—"
Malcolm looked into his father's dark gaze. "It's not your fault, O'Roarke."
"That's highly debatable."
"The only way I'd be in a position not to run is if I didn't have Mélanie or my children. Which I can't imagine. And in the end this wasn't really about me or Mélanie or you."
"Carfax wanted to separate you from Worsley and Worsley from Tanner?"
