Lord Philip's Christmas (Regency Belles &Beaux Book 2)

by Michele McGrath

  One evening, he was working late and was alone in the bureau when MacDonald came in.

  “What’s this rumour that I’ve been hearing about you?”

  “What rumour?” Philip asked as he put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He was prepared for the usual sort of revelation. Stories about people’s personal life were commonplace and often entertaining.

  “Two police agents were asking about you. They suggested that you are really an Englishman in disguise, not a Frenchman at all.”

  Philip made himself laugh, although a shiver ran down his spine. “They must be mad. You’ve known me for years. Do you think I’m English?”

  “I don’t know, mon ami, are you?”

  “With a name like MacDonald, why aren’t they asking about you?”

  “They probably are, but it’s you they’re concerned about right now. Someone told them that you had foreign friends, with whom you spent a lot of time, and that you killed an Englishman in a duel.”

  Philip shrugged but he felt icy cold. He thought rapidly. MacDonald was a shrewd man so it was not a good idea to lie to him. Then he realised that there was no reason why he should deny either accusation.

  “My sister married an Englishman in the summer. I met him when they arrived in Paris a few weeks ago. One of my grandparents was English.” He smiled, thinking in fact two of them were. “Put those two facts together and of course I’m English. Their informant did not tell you that the rest of my family are French and I can prove it. As for the duel, that is also correct, but the story has been twisted. The man insulted me when I was in London last year carrying messages for the Emperor. An affair of a lady’s honour, you understand. We never got a chance to settle our differences because I had to return home. His friend recognised me at the Salle and my enemy came to Paris to find me. I didn’t intend to kill him but his bullet hit me in the arm and caused me to fall. It knocked up my arm, unhappily for him, and I made the best shot of my life by pure accident.”

  “I see.”

  “What are you going to do about this? Denounce me to the Police? I’m not a traitor to the Emperor.”

  “I never thought you were, but I had to ask. Rumours like these don’t do the Ministry any good.”

  “Will you speak to the Police, or shall I?”

  “I’ll do it, since I’m likely to be more tactful and I don’t want them sniffing around anymore. Trust them to hear a whisper and make it into a conspiracy.”

  For all that he had answered MacDonald’s enquiry, Philip was uneasy. The fact that the Police would now be watching him was unfortunate. If they dug too deeply, there were things he did not want to be discovered. That evening Philip cut short his usual visit to Grace and went to see Victor.

  “No. Of course I haven’t spoken to anyone about you. Why should I? Who else knows your secrets?”

  “Your parents, but they are too far away and I would never suspect them. Marco, who has no reason to betray me. Grace is staying with him and his wife until I am free to take her home.”

  “The information must have been laid recently, or you’d already be in gaol.”

  “If Marco has betrayed me, there’s no one I can trust.”

  “You would wager your life on him?”

  “I would, as I would wager it on you.”

  “What about the girl then?”

  “I love Grace and she loves me.”

  “Not Grace, idiot! The little servant who used to work for you.”

  “Agathe only knows part of the story but she may have told her mother.”

  “Or others. You said, the last time I saw you, that she parted from you in anger. A woman scorned?”

  “Perhaps. It’s possible I suppose.”

  “It seems to me that whoever laid the information did not know everything. Not enough to arrest you immediately.”

  “Agathe you mean?”

  “Or someone close to her.”

  “But why? I’ve never done her any harm.”

  “Revenge or money. Police agents pay informers as you are aware. Finding an English spy in the Foreign Ministry would be a triumph for them. Give them an excuse to rant against ‘Perfidious Albion’ as if we did not have spies of our own in every country in Europe.”

  “Even if I’m no such thing?”

  “You’ll find it hard to prove your innocence, if they discover your real identity. What did Celia call you?”

  “Philip, of course.”

  “Not Louis?”

  “I never used ‘Louis’ in England, although it’s another of my names.”

  “And Agathe heard Celia call you ‘Philip’?”

  He nodded.

  “Didn’t she ask why you used two names?”

  “I told her that it was my childhood name but I preferred Louis as an adult.”

  “Then the police have a place to start, if she is their informant. An Englishman called Philip. Did anyone mention ‘Sutherland’ in her hearing?”

  “I can’t be sure.”

  “Let’s hope Agathe isn’t the one. You have been indiscreet, mon brave. She knows too much about you. Once the Police know who you are, it will be simple for them to find out everything. If I were you, I wouldn’t stay in France any longer.”

  “Easy enough for you to say, but where can I go? Because I killed Staunton, I may be arrested in England and now I must leave France. Then there is Grace to be thought of.”

  “You’ll do her no good if you end up in prison or worse. The Emperor isn’t merciful to spies and if you believe he’ll listen to your story, you’re mad. Why do you want to stay here?”

  “I don’t, but it’s been my home for years and everything has happened so suddenly.”

  “Then be on the first stagecoach out of Paris in the morning. Take Grace with you or leave her here with me and I’ll make sure she joins you as soon as possible.”

  The cousins debated long into the night considering Philip’s options.

  “I’ll write to MacDonald telling him that I’m leaving. I owe him that.”

  “Write to him by all means, but tell him you’re sick. If you say that you have gone away, the police will be after you before the cat can lick her ear. They may even have followed you here. Did you go anywhere else this evening?”

  “Marco’s.”

  “Then don’t go back there. I’ll carry any messages for you, if they don’t arrest me first as your accomplice. We’ll have to be careful when we leave here.”

  Philip ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Stupid of me not to think about that. What will you do?”

  “Hide somewhere until the fuss dies down. It should do, given enough time and it’s you they’re after not me.”

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You’re right of course. My thoughts must be disordered.”

  Victor poured the last of the wine into Philip’s glass. “Drink and sleep here tonight. You need to be more alert in the morning, we both do.”

  Next day, the two cousins made a reconnaissance of the area before they left the apartment block. They could not see anyone outside so Victor led Philip to a little used entrance. Philip gave Victor the letter he had written to MacDonald, who took it and said,

  “I’ll get someone to deliver it for me. I want people to forget that I’m your cousin. Don’t tell me where you’re going, then if I’m asked I can’t give you away. Write to Papa once you know what’s happening. He will send me your news. Good luck.”

  “Thank you for all you have done for me, Victor. I’m deeply in your debt.”

  “I’ll remind you of that one day, never fear.”

  Victor embraced him and the cousins parted, going swiftly in different directions. Philip returned to his lodgings, although it was risky. He needed his money to pay for his journey, which he had, as usual hidden under the floorboards. He packed up his few belongings and paid his debts. No one disturbed him or seemed to be following him, when he occasionally looked behind. He was unsure what to do next. It w
ould be sensible to go to the nearest place where the diligences left Paris, but he could not bear the thought of leaving without seeing Grace once more. He turned around again but saw no one, so he decided to take a risk. He changed direction and made his way to Marco’s. He was nearly there, walking down the street, when two men approached him from the opposite direction. He stepped aside to let them pass and would have continued into the building when one of them grabbed him by the arm and halted him.

  “Louis de Vezey?”

  “That’s him, that’s the man you want,” a voice shouted. Philip saw a young workman, who was totally unknown to him.

  “You’re to come with us!”

  “Who are you?” Philip asked. As he spoke, a movement caught his eye. A woman was standing half hidden behind the workman and suddenly Philip saw Agathe, a look of triumph on her face. He did not have time to react. A club hit his head and the world became black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was late when Marco came home from the Salle to find Grace anxiously waiting for him.

  “Have you seen Philip?” she asked as soon as he opened the door. “He should have been here by now.”

  “No. I haven’t seen him all day,” Marco replied. “I expected him to be with you as usual. Perhaps he is still working at the bureau.”

  Hours passed and he did not come. Grace began to infect Marco and Giulia with her nervousness. Eventually Marco put on his coat and said he would go to Philip’s lodgings and enquire. He was gone a long time and Grace was almost beside herself before he returned.

  “I know something has happened to Philip, I just know it!” she kept repeating to Giulia.

  Marco was very tired when he arrived and he had little to tell her. “This morning Louis came to his apartment, paid his dues and took his belongings away with him. Where he went after that I couldn’t find out. I thought he might be at his cousin, Victor’s, so I called there. The concierge told me that Victor had left early and had not returned. I was coming back here when I remembered that friend of Victor’s, Antoine. I eventually tracked him down. He said he would call here as soon as he was free.”

  They did not have long to wait, although to Grace it seemed an eternity. When Antoine arrived at last, he brought Victor with him. Victor caught hold of Grace’s hands and made her sit down before he told her what had happened.

  “Louis came to me last night after he had been with you, because something occurred at his work which worried him. His identity had been questioned and he thought it was only a matter of time before the truth was discovered. I wanted him to leave Paris immediately and he said he would. We parted early this morning and no one has seen him since.”

  “Then he may have already left?” Grace cried. Without saying goodbye to me! Has my wonderful dream ended? No, it cannot be. Philip loves me, I know he does. He would have come to me if he could.

  “Perhaps, but I’m not sure. If the authorities have found out about him, then as his relative and close friend, I would also be suspect. For not laying information against him if for nothing else. So, I asked Antoine to let me stay with him for a while. Unfortunately, in the hurry to leave my lodgings, I left my purse behind in my other coat and Antoine offered to fetch it for me. The concierge knows him and said that some men had been there earlier asking for me. He recognised one of them, a man called Couchet, who is a police informer. He told Antoine to warn me to keep away.”

  “Oh, my God! Does this mean…?”

  “It worried us and we decided to find out. I couldn’t go myself obviously, so Antoine went instead.”

  Antoine took up the story. “There’s a tavern near to the Foreign Ministry where Louis’ people drink. They’re not very discreet, nor are they quietly spoken. It didn’t take me long to overhear that Louis had been taken up as a spy. He’s either at the Ministry of Police or in one of the prisons.”

  “What will they do to him?” Grace asked, clutching at Victor’s hands in fright.

  “If we find him in time, nothing,” Victor told her.

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Let me go, my dear. We ought to hurry.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Grace said as firmly as she could, although she could feel her voice shaking.

  “No…”

  “Don’t argue please. A woman can sometimes hear things a man can’t. I must try at least.” She unhooked her coat from behind the door and crammed on her bonnet. She did not see the quick glance the men exchanged but Giulia did and said,

  “Let her go with you. It won’t do her any good to wait here and it’s right what she says. A woman can ask about things in a different way or even act as a distraction if you need one.”

  When they reached the street, they immediately separated into two groups. Marco and Victor set out to visit the various prisons while Antoine escorted Grace. It had been decided that, since Antoine was not closely associated with Philip, he was unlikely to be under suspicion. Therefore, he was the one to go to the Ministry of Police.

  “Let’s go to the nearest tavern instead,” Antoine suggested when they were nearby. “People say more in their cups than they would if we questioned them directly. It worked this afternoon and we may be lucky again.”

  Accordingly, they found a drinking house not far from the Ministry. The place was crowded and Antoine guided Grace to a small table in an out-of-the-way corner before he spoke to the landlord. Grace sat down, looked around her and sniffed. The place was dirty and foetid with stale fumes of wine, brandy and the reek of unwashed humanity. She wondered how anyone could bear to come in here. She was not the only woman present, but the others were rather bedraggled creatures who carried drinks to the men and exchanged loud sallies with them. Grace realised that she was under observation and some of the women were making remarks about her. She tried to appear unconscious of the scrutiny, until one woman walked over and plopped herself down beside her. Grace made an effort not to wrinkle up her nose at the sour smell surrounding her.

  “What are you doing here? The Palais Royale is the place for the likes of you,” the woman asked in a harsh voice.

  “I’m searching for my brother, Louis. He’s about the size of that man over there.” Grace pointed at one of the drinkers. “He has reddish hair and blue eyes. Have you seen him today?”

  “I may and I may not. What’s it worth to you if I have?”

  Grace frowned. “If you can prove it, a lot. If you can’t, nothing.”

  At that moment Antoine returned and seeing him the woman immediately scurried off.

  “Do you have any money on you, Grace?”

  “Not much.”

  “Give me what you have.” Grace fumbled in her pocket and gave him a few coins. “I won’t be long.”

  He walked away and Grace stood up. There were a few women standing in a group talking together and they turned to watch her as she came towards them. The woman she had spoken to was at the other side of the room, sitting on a man’s knee and laughing uproariously.

  “Can you help me please?” Grace asked.

  “Why should we help a dressed-up bitch like you?”

  “Because I’m a female too.”

  “Are you? Done up in those fine clothes, you’re not one of us. We have to earn our bread.”

  “I do too.”

  “Not flat on your back you don’t, dearie.”

  Grace blushed but replied clearly enough so they could all hear, “No, but I teach horrible children instead or take care of nasty old ladies. All I want to know is if any of you saw or heard of my brother.” She described him again.

  “Wasn’t that the one that Diderot was talking about?” another of them asked.

  “Shut up, you. Do you want his fist in your face?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time. Look at the poor cow, she cares about this man. Why bother yourself, chérie? None of them’s worth a sou.”

  “This one is.”

  “Oh what’s the harm?” an older woman, more painted than the rest
cried. “A friend of mine said they’ve got him inside that place.” She waved her thumb in the direction of the police building. “And lucky he’ll be ever to get out again. If you want to help him talk to Herbin over there.” She pointed to a burly man sitting at the far end of the room. “He’s always short of cash. Drinks it away.”

  “Or spends it on the whores. If money don’t work, offer him something else,” another woman said with a chuckle and the whole group started to laugh. “Maybe he’d like to bed a rich bitch like you for a change.”

  Grace could feel her cheeks burning as she murmured, “Thank you.”

  “Thanks aren’t enough…” The woman held out her hand. Grace slipped off her silver bracelet turned and handed it to the older woman who had given her the information.

  “I haven’t anything else.”

  “What about those earrings, give me those…”

  “What’s going on here?” Antoine said.

  “Why nothing, my dear, just women’s talk. Which one of us do you like?”

  “None of you. Get back to your work and leave this lady alone.”

  “Lady, is she? Sure of that?”

  “Go. Get out of my way.” He raised his hand and the women scattered. Antoine caught Grace’s arm and pulled her away. She quickly told him what the painted woman had said and they walked over to the man she had been pointed out.

  “Are you Herbin?” Antoine asked.

  “Who wants to know? I saw that doxy pointing me out. What was she saying about me?”

  “She told us that you work for the Police and might be able to help us.”

  “That depends on what it is and how much you pay me.”

  “Generously for the right information. We’re looking for a young man called Louis de Vezey. Word has it that he was brought in to you this morning. We want to know if it’s true for a start.”

  “People get banged up all the time. What’s this one like?”

  “Slight, a bit shorter than me, sandy hair and blue eyes.”