They were the ones who had written Simon to tell him of Lucas’s presumed death. Keeping in touch with them over the years was a way of keeping in touch with the memories of Lucas.
“So you are family for them,” Suzanne said quietly. “I imagine they’ll be happy to know you’ve married. Something positive after too many losses. Our marriage may be . . . unconventional, but it seems very real to me.”
“You understand well.” He was feeling a strong desire to kiss her in a very carnal way, so he swung from the bed. “I’m thinking of more and more things that need to be done today, so it’s time for me to start moving. Shall I see you at breakfast, or do you prefer to rest a little longer?”
She sat up in bed and stretched, as supple and graceful as a cat. “I would not deny you your breakfast fantasy,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
He returned to his bedroom by way of the sitting room. He needed to wash, shave, dress, and work on his willpower. Not in that order.
* * *
The Foxtons’ house was modest but welcoming, the furnishings a mix of comfortable English with exotic Indian accents. It had changed little since Simon’s last visit several years before.
The Foxtons had also changed little, though they were a little grayer and more wrinkled. William, Lord Foxton, was tall and lean, his face permanently weathered by years of harsh Indian sun. Anna, his wife, was petite and welcoming, with a sweep of striking white hair. She greeted Simon with a hug. “My dear boy! How is my favorite young rogue?”
“No longer so young and now retiring from the rogue business.” He shook Lord Foxton’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, sir.” He drew Suzanne forward. “I wanted you both to meet my wife, Suzanne Duval. We were distant cousins by marriage who hadn’t seen each other for years. It was a great blessing to meet again here in London.”
“This sounds very romantic!” Lady Foxton clasped both Suzanne’s hands. “Welcome to our home, my dear. I’m so happy for you both.”
“Thank you,” Suzanne said, her smile warm. “I am a fortunate woman.”
“Come in and sit by the fire,” Lady Foxton said. “I’ll ring for refreshments while we catch up on the news.”
The two couples chatted easily over tea and cakes before the Foxtons exchanged a sober glance. Her ladyship said, “There is one piece of news. Not news, really, more of a rumor.” She crumbled a cake into small pieces with nervous fingers. “But an intriguing one.”
When she fell silent, her husband picked up the story. “An old friend thought he saw Lucas in Brussels last year after the emperor abdicated. He was dressed as a monk.”
“A monk?” Simon said incredulously. “That does not sound like Lucas. Surely it was a chance resemblance.”
“That seems likely,” Foxton agreed. “But Carter had met Lucas several times and swore the man looked just like him. The resemblance was that strong.”
“Did Carter talk to this monk?”
Foxton shook his head. “No, he said that the monk turned away when he saw he was being watched. Carter tried to intercept him, but the streets were crowded and he lost sight of the man.”
Simon felt as if he couldn’t breathe until Suzanne took his hand in silent comfort. He swallowed hard. “It’s the sort of thing one wants so much to believe, but it seems impossible. You’ve never received a letter from him, have you?”
“No, nor has his bank ever received a request for money. And yet . . .” Lord Foxton shook his head.
“It is impossible not to hope,” Suzanne said softly. “But I’ve heard it said that we all have someone who looks like a twin somewhere. When I first saw Simon here in London, for a moment I thought he was my late husband, who was his second cousin. Sometimes a simple movement by a stranger conjures someone you know well. That can be very disturbing when it happens.”
“What a very down to earth young lady you are,” Lady Foxton said. “I’m sure you’re right, that it was a chance resemblance. But I wish Mr. Carter had caught up with that monk so he could be sure.” Her mouth twisted in self-mockery. “I read too many Gothic novels. I’ve wondered if Lucas received a head injury and has amnesia so he doesn’t know how to come home. Or maybe he was dressed as a monk because he’s been working as a spy and dares not reveal his true identity.”
“That was my job,” Simon pointed out with a touch of amusement. “With the wars over, there is less need for spies, but Mr. Carter’s story is interesting. Perhaps I should look into it more deeply.”
Lord Foxton’s expression eased. “Thank you. I felt the incident should be investigated, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. You will have a much better idea how to go about such inquiries.”
“Yes, but I’ll need as many details as possible,” Simon replied. “Exactly when and where Mr. Carter saw this person. What color was the monk’s robe? What was going on around him in the streets? Anything else that might help narrow down the possibilities. Where can I find Mr. Carter?”
“He’s returned to his estate in Durham, but I asked him the same questions you’ve asked,” Lord Foxton said. “I’ll give you my notes.”
“That will be very helpful. But you know that it was almost certainly a chance resemblance,” Simon said soberly.
“We know,” Lady Foxton said. “But we’ll feel better if the incident is investigated to the extent possible.”
“I’ll get on this right away.” Simon rose. “It’s been wonderful to see you again. Now that I’m back in England, I hope to see you more often.”
“So do we.” Lady Foxton stood and smiled warmly at Suzanne. “And by all means, bring your lovely wife with you when you call!”
Suzanne blushed a little and the two couples parted with goodwill. But Simon was already thinking about where to start his search for a monk who was almost certainly not Lucas.
As she settled into the curricle, Suzanne said, “Is it possible that Lucas might actually have become a monk?”
Simon said slowly, “Anything is possible, but that seems very unlikely. He was never religious. He barely managed to be an Anglican, much less a Catholic. Perhaps he was disguising himself as a monk for some reason, but it still seems unlikely. If he was spying, why didn’t he come home after the emperor abdicated?”
“As you say, anything is possible.” She gave a sidelong glance. “You’re going to talk to Kirkland about this?”
Simon nodded as he set the horses in motion. “Yes, but first I’ll study Lord Foxton’s notes. Maybe there will be some clue that will give us more to work with.”
“Do you have a portrait of Lucas you could lend to Kirkland? That might be helpful.”
He gave a sharp nod. “That’s an excellent idea. I have a miniature that’s a good likeness. I’ll take that along.”
After riding several blocks in silence, Suzanne asked in a neutral voice, “Would you rather not go to your estate so you can focus on this investigation?”
He had a painfully intense memory of her warm, pliable body in his arms that morning. “I absolutely do not wish to forfeit my honeymoon, ma chérie,” he said immediately. “Do you?”
Her smile lit up her eyes. “I’m looking forward to a few days having you to myself. We still have much to learn about each other.”
Yes, and he would relish every moment.
Chapter 10
The weather was cloudy but dry for their trip to White Horse Manor. It was late afternoon and the sun was just beginning to emerge when Simon said, “Chérie, we’ll be on my land once we turn this corner.”
Suzanne had been drowsing in the corner of the carriage, but she came alert at his announcement. “Good! It’s been some time since our luncheon and I’m ready for tea.”
“We’ll make a quick stop here.” Simon signaled for the driver to pause when they rounded the curve. When the vehicle had rumbled to a halt at the side of the road, Simon opened the door, flipped down the steps, then offered her a hand down. “There’s a fine view across the valley.”
She stepped
from the coach, glad to stretch her legs, then gasped with surprise. She hadn’t thought much about the estate’s name, but now it made perfect sense. There was indeed a splendid view across the valley with quilted fields, hedges, copses, and a small, tree-lined river running along the valley floor.
And on the opposite side of the valley, a vast white horse was galloping along the hills. “What is that?” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“Meet the white horse for which this valley was named. These hills are part of the Berkshire Downs, which are made of chalk. The figure is cut deeply into the turf and the depression is filled with crushed white chalk.”
“It’s remarkable.” She studied the abstract shape, which said “galloping horse” without any real details. “Why doesn’t vegetation grow over it?”
“Plants try, but the figure is scoured regularly to keep the image clear.” He gestured at the white horse. “It’s visible from all front windows of the house. Rather magical to wake up in the morning and see that ancient image galloping across the vale.”
“I look forward to that.” Suzanne climbed back into the travel carriage. “Now I’m even more impatient to see the house!”
“Not much longer,” Simon promised. “Many of the servants and their families have been there since my grandfather first bought the manor and they take pride in running the estate well. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley are the butler and housekeeper, Mr. Roper is head groom. They’ve made my life much easier and they’ll do the same for you.”
The road had been following a stone wall. Just around the next bend the carriage turned between stone pillars into a long drive, which was lined on both sides with rows of trees and led to a handsome manor house.
Suzanne smiled as they approached. Built of golden-tan stone with a slate roof, the structure seemed to have grown out of the hill. It was friendly, unlike the vast, sprawling palaces of her life in France. “I think I am going to like White Horse Manor very well. How long until I can visit the stables?”
Simon chuckled at her impatience. “Almost immediately, though it’s too late in the day to go for a proper ride. But you can choose your mount for tomorrow.”
Suzanne was almost bubbling with excitement. The more time she spent with Simon, the younger she felt.
Since the servants knew they were coming, when the carriage pulled up before the house, a dozen interested people swiftly emerged to greet them, led by a middle-aged couple with an air of authority. After helping Suzanne from the carriage, Simon said formally, “Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, allow me to present my bride, Madame Suzanne Duval.”
“About time you returned, you rascal!” Mrs. Stanley gave Simon a robust hug, then turned to Suzanne and bobbed a curtsy. “Welcome to White Horse Manor, ma’am. A proper home needs a mistress and a nursery full of children.”
The hug Mrs. Stanley gave to her master was proof that she was an old family retainer. Wincing inwardly at the comment about children, Suzanne offered a hand. “I’m so happy to be here! My husband has spoken very highly of you and the other servants.”
The housekeeper gave a nod of approval. “Aye, I’ve spent my whole life here at White Horse Manor. This is Mr. Stanley, the butler.”
Her husband bowed, less effusive than his wife but equally interested in appraising his new mistress. “Welcome to White Horse Manor, madam.”
Simon looked along the row of servants that had lined up in front of the house. “More introductions are needed. Some faces look familiar, but others have grown from children to adults since I last saw them.”
Introductions were performed and Suzanne did her best to remember names and positions. Luckily the number wasn’t huge, but it would still take time to learn them. As Simon had implied, they seemed to be a contented lot.
After the introductions, Simon escorted her up the broad stairs and into the house. “The bedrooms are arranged like the town house. The mistress’s room is to the left, the master’s to the right, and a sitting room in between. The rooms are larger here, of course.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Which bedroom has the largest bed?”
He grinned down at her with a warmth that curled her toes. “Both beds are large enough for two.”
She blushed, a bit embarrassed by how much she enjoyed sleeping with Simon after a mere two nights. She loved having his warm, strong body next to her, and she loved falling asleep in his arms.
Since her wedding, she’d acquired a much better understanding of why marriage was so popular. Passion was fleeting and she’d always felt sad and empty when Jean-Louis finished with her and retired to his own rooms. Or to a mistress. She hadn’t wanted to know which.
Marriage based on friendship without the unruly problems of passion was turning out to be as wonderful as Simon had said it would be. Despite his resemblance to Jean-Louis, the two men were so different. Simon saw her as an individual and cared about her. She hadn’t known how precious such caring was because she’d never known it. Now she didn’t want to be without it.
“I’ll wash up quickly,” she said. “Then the stables?”
“As you desire, milady. Join me in our sitting room when you’re ready.” He opened the door to her bedroom with a flourish. “I’m sure you’ll find the room comfortable if a little worn. Think about what changes you’d like to make.”
The bedroom could use some refreshing of draperies and other fabrics, but it was cozy with warm colors and a soft carpet. The four-poster bed was definitely wide enough for two, with room for a cat and a dog as well. She turned and gave Simon a swift hug, saying, “I know we’ll be very comfortable here!”
He gave her a long, warm hug in return. “Till tonight, milady.” Then he left her to explore her new quarters.
She was well pleased with what she found. There was a good-sized dressing room, the chairs and sofa were pleasantly padded when she sat in them, and the windows offered a splendid view of the white horse.
After her brief exploration, it only took a few minutes to freshen up. The sturdy half boots and plain cloak she’d worn in the carriage would do for this visit to the stables.
She opened the door to the sitting room and found Simon standing at the wide windows with his hands linked behind his back as he gazed at the white horse on the opposite side of the narrow valley. She paused in the doorway to admire his wide shoulders and compact strength. Very masculine, and very appealing.
He didn’t turn when she entered the room. “It’s lovely to watch the horse at dawn, Suzanne,” he said pensively. “Especially when there is a little mist and the shape emerges gradually as the sun rises. A shadowy horse turning into light.”
She went to stand beside him, so close their sides touched. “Magical.”
His arm went around her waist. Standing here with Simon, gazing at a green and lovely England, it was easy to imagine this place as her forever home after too many travels. “Time to see some real lovely horses?”
“You have been deprived of riding for far too long,” Simon said with a chuckle. They turned from the window to head downstairs and out the back of the house.
Suzanne took Simon’s hand as they walked the short distance to the stables. “I think holding your hand would be far too forward if we were English,” she murmured, “but if anyone is shocked, we can explain it’s because we’re French.”
“I’m only half French, but we shouldn’t have to explain anything when we’re on our honeymoon,” Simon said, a smile in his voice.
“You’re French enough,” she purred in that language.
His hand tightened over hers before he said, “I’m not sure what we’ll find in the stables. Mostly workhorses, but there should be a couple of good mounts.”
The wide double doors of the stable were open, releasing the familiar scent of hay and horses. As they entered, a wiry man stepped forward to meet them. “Roper!” Simon said, pleasure in his voice. “It’s good to see you again. My wife is looking forward to a good ride in the morning, and so am I. W
hat do you have for us?”
Voice sober but eyes bright, the groom touched the brim of his hat. “Welcome, Madame Duval. Colonel, I believe I’ve found a beast that meets your requirements.”
The stables were clean, the loose boxes were spacious, and the horses had sleek, well-brushed coats. Suzanne sighed happily. As a child, she’d haunted her family’s stables. When she married and became a countess, such boyish behavior was discouraged, and in the harem she was never near a horse. She had much to make up for.
Wordlessly Simon gave her a handful of carrot chunks. She offered one to the massive plow horse that ambled over to investigate her. “Such a handsome fellow,” she crooned as she reached up to scratch behind his ears. He whuffled at her in an interested way, so she offered a chunk of carrot. He lipped the carrot from her open palm, then gave her a friendly head butt that almost knocked her from her feet.
She caught her balance as Simon steadied her. “You haven’t lost your touch with horses,” he observed. “It will be dark soon. Do you want to look at the riding horses before we return to the house?”
“Of course!” She smiled at the head groom. “Your charges are beautifully cared for, Mr. Roper.”
It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he looked as if he was blushing. “We do our best, ma’am. The riding horses are down at this end.”
She and Simon followed him down the aisle between the loose boxes. She caught her breath when they reached the end and she saw an exquisite dapple gray mare. “Oh, she’s beautiful!” Suzanne breathed.
The mare turned her head and regarded the visitors with dark, gentle eyes. On impulse, Suzanne opened the door and stepped into the loose box despite Simon’s sharp, “Suzanne!”
“She won’t hurt me, will you, my darling girl?” The mare approached and Suzanne offered a chunk of carrot. Daintily the dapple gray accepted a piece of carrot, then another. “What’s her name, Mr. Roper?”
“Luna,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “A silver moon mare.”
“I assume she’s the horse you found when I asked you to look around for a mount suitable for my wife?” Simon said as he crossed his arms and leaned on the half wall to watch the unfolding scene.
Once a Spy Page 8