Once a Spy

by Putney, Mary Jo

  The duke turned his appreciative gaze on Suzanne. She managed a greeting, but felt absurdly shy. He’d been a distant, godlike figure in her mind, and here he was in person. Not godlike, but certainly a man who radiated power and authority, and one who was on easy terms with her husband.

  Simon said, “I heard that you traveled from Vienna to Brussels in a mere week?”

  “Not a week I care to repeat,” Wellington said tersely. “I heard you sold out?”

  “After the emperor’s abdication, it seemed time to tend to my own affairs.” He smiled fondly at Suzanne. “Which have gone very well, as you can see.”

  Other people were beginning to come after Wellington. “I’ve business to attend to as well,” the duke said. “Call on me first thing tomorrow. There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

  “Of course, sir.” They settled on a time before Wellington’s attention was claimed by a flirtatious and very expensively dressed lady.

  As Simon took Suzanne’s arm and they resumed their journey from the park, she said, “I wonder what he wants of you.”

  “Perhaps he’d like me to become an unofficial staff member,” Simon said thoughtfully. “I know the work, and since I’m not a serving officer anymore, I could be brought on quietly, with fewer political complications.”

  Suzanne bit her lip, not saying anything. With war coming, this couldn’t be good.

  Chapter 27

  Wellington greeted Simon promptly when he showed up for their meeting the next morning. “Sorry to invite you over so early, but it was the only time available for the next several days.”

  “I can only imagine the demands on your time.”

  “Not only military and political, but social,” the duke said wryly as he gestured Simon to a chair. “The population needs to be reassured that Bonaparte isn’t going to march into the city next week.”

  Simon seated himself. “That’s not likely, but with Napoleon, who knows?”

  “Exactly, which is why I wanted to talk to you.” Wellington sat opposite his guest, his expression serious. “The emperor has always been an impatient devil. It was a mistake for him to break out of Elba while the Congress of Vienna was still in session. With leaders from all the Allied nations there, we immediately declared him outlaw for breaking the Treaty of Paris.” The duke gave a dangerous smile. “And we were able to agree on a strategy to defeat him once and for all.”

  “His error is our good fortune,” Simon said. “I gather that the plan is for the Allies to field half a dozen armies in a great arc across half of Europe, then to all march on France and crush Paris. Britain and the Dutch-Belgians are here at the western end of the arc, the Prussians are immediately to the east, and the Austrians and Russians on the eastern end.”

  Wellington nodded. “But it will take time for the Allies to organize those armies. Napoleon can move much more quickly. He may not have the support of all the citizens, but the army is solidly behind him, and they’re some of the best, most experienced soldiers in Europe.” He scowled. “While my best troops were sent to North America to teach the Americans a sharp lesson. They’ve been recalled, but moving my Peninsular army back here will take time, and I don’t think we have enough of that.”

  “Napoleon has always preferred attack to defense,” Simon agreed. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’ll try to defeat the different armies one at a time rather than waiting for them to surround him. Belgium is closest to Paris and he thinks of it as part of France and rightfully his. He’ll probably try to split the British and Prussian troops so he can hammer the armies separately.”

  Wellington gave an approving nod. “I see your wits haven’t dulled since you sold out. You are officially out of the army now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s official. I’m a civilian again.”

  “Good.” Wellington frowned. “There’s a damnable shortage of military intelligence available. Because we’re in a limbo of not quite war, I’m forbidden to send cavalry scouts into northern France to see what’s going on.”

  “Have you been able to bring Colonel Colquhoun Grant in? He’s extraordinary at intelligence work.” Simon knew that, having worked closely with Grant.

  “He’ll be in charge of the official intelligence operation, but he’s regular army. You no longer are.” The duke fixed Simon with a gimlet stare. “You’re as good at intelligence work as Grant, and you’re no longer an officer. Plus, with your French heritage, you can travel through France as a Frenchman.”

  Simon had sensed this was coming. “So you’d like me to go into France as a civilian to see what I might observe.”

  The duke nodded. “I need to know which way Bonaparte is going to jump and you might be able to figure that out. But it could be dangerous since you wouldn’t be in uniform. If you’re caught and charged as a spy, you’ll likely be shot.”

  Which had almost happened to Simon in Portugal. He thought about it. His ability with languages had led to his doing other intelligence work out of uniform, and he’d damned near died because of that.

  In the past he’d accepted the risks as part of his job, but then he didn’t have Suzanne. Life was more appealing now than it had been in his army years.

  But the simple fact was that he could not say no. Not to Wellington, and not to his own sense of himself and his duty. “I have personal business that gives me good reason to travel to Paris. If I should happen to see something interesting, naturally I would want to share that information.”

  “Good man,” the duke said as he rose to his feet. “Sorry to be so abrupt, but now I must meet with some of my staff to look at maps.”

  “And tonight you’ll probably have to go to a dinner party and look calm, all knowing, and completely certain that victory will be ours.”

  The duke gave a bark of laughter. “Exactly. On your way out, give my secretary your address so that you and your lovely lady will be put on the various invitation lists. It’s going to be a spring filled with frivolity, and that’s another kind of war.”

  They shook hands and Simon left, leaving his address with the secretary as requested. He’d thought his spying days were over, but apparently not.

  Interesting times.

  * * *

  Suzanne was waiting for Simon when he returned from his visit to Wellington. Seeing his expression, she took his arm and guided him into his small office. After closing the door, she said, her lovely face sober, “I’m not going to like this, am I? Will you be joining his staff on a volunteer basis?”

  He turned and enfolded her in an embrace, absorbing her warmth and inhaling her familiar scent of woman and tangy lemon. “Something you’ll like even less, I’m afraid.”

  She stiffened and moved away, looking up into his eyes. “What?”

  “Wellington isn’t allowed to send cavalry scouts into France, so he wants me to become a civilian spy because I can be an authentic Frenchman,” Simon said succinctly.

  Her face became so pale that he feared she would faint. She folded into a chair and said, “Tell me how you intend to proceed.”

  He took the other chair, hoping to God that this didn’t destroy the sweet, hopeful relationship they’d been building with such care. “I thought I’d pay a visit in person to Monsieur Morel in Saint-Denis. I have legitimate business with him and it will give me a good excuse to travel through northern France and Paris.”

  She considered his words, then gave a short, decisive nod. “It’s a good reason since it’s true. We need a well-used carriage for the journey. We don’t want to look too prosperous.”

  “We?” he said, startled. “I’m going alone, Suzanne.”

  “No, you are not,” she said calmly. “We shall be quite unexceptional if we travel as a couple of modest means going to Saint-Denis to inquire about a possible inheritance. It’s a story that even a suspicious policeman will believe because it’s true.”

  “I don’t want you to risk yourself, Suzanne,” he said vehemently. “I couldn’t bear it if you were hu
rt.”

  “What a coincidence.” She gave him a cherubic smile. “I feel exactly the same about you.”

  He glared at her. The intelligence officer in him realized that she was right: an unremarkable couple traveling together was less likely to attract attention than a man traveling alone. “You are too beautiful to travel unnoticed.”

  “It isn’t difficult for a woman to make herself look drab and careworn,” she retorted. “You will also have to change your appearance to look less like an officer because you move with too much confidence and authority. You must already know how to do that since you’ve done this work before.”

  “I have, and I’ll do it best alone! I don’t want you to come with me.”

  “Is it that you don’t want me with you, or that you don’t want me to risk myself? Those are two different things.”

  He gave a sigh of exasperation. “You know I always want you with me under ordinary circumstances, but not when going into possible danger. In a difficult situation, I’d be distracted by worry about you.”

  “And vice versa.” Her gaze was serious. “I’m not completely useless, you know. You have taught me how to fight when that’s required and how to defend myself.” She frowned. “Before we leave, I’d like a few practice sessions in that shooting gallery you and Jackson have been visiting.”

  He stared at her, his heart hurting. Hellacious to imagine anything happening to her at any time, but if he was responsible? The thought was unbearable.

  “A quiet carriage ride to Paris is not such a dangerous matter, is it?” she said in a soft, coaxing voice. “French citizens do it all the time. We would be taking well-traveled roads and we’ll both be armed. We traveled to Château Chambron and back with no trouble. This would likely be the same.”

  He shook his head. “France is worried and soldiers are gathering and eager to fight. Nor can we know what orders might be issued that would affect travelers. Napoleon might close the northern borders.”

  “France is a large, vigorous nation. Napoleon and his ambitions may be center stage in the eyes of the world, but below that most of the population is going about their usual business, which includes notaires and wills and legal proceedings.”

  “We might have a safe, easy journey,” he admitted. “But we can’t know if that’s what will happen. France might explode with us in the middle of it.”

  “Life is always uncertain and potentially dangerous. We could step into our street and be flattened by a runaway carriage,” she pointed out. “Why not allow me to join you on this first journey? We can be there and back in less than a fortnight. If it is clearly a detriment to your work to have me with you, I’ll accept your judgment and be an obedient wife.” She frowned. “Well, perhaps I will. I can’t promise.”

  He had to smile. “As always, your honesty is admirable and rather terrifying.”

  She smiled back, knowing she had won. “I do think I might be useful. Women can learn things that men can’t, just as the reverse is true.”

  “But don’t look so beautiful that women hate you and men always remember you.” His brow furrowed. “We need to get official French citizenship papers and I don’t know if I can arrange that from Belgium.”

  “Why don’t we travel as Belgians? We can pass as Belgian as easily as French. The accent is only slightly different.” In the middle of her words, she slid into the accent of Brussels, and did it very well. “There has always been much coming and going between France and Belgium and it shouldn’t be difficult to arrange the papers since we are living here at the moment.”

  “That makes sense,” he agreed. “Should we leave in about a week? We’ll need new clothing and the chance to develop the characters we intend to play.” He concentrated for a moment, donning the persona of a quiet man of middle means who was content with his lot in life.

  She started to reply, then blinked. “You’ve changed how you look! You don’t seem like a soldier anymore. Your posture is less upright. But it’s more than that. You’re easier to overlook now.”

  “I’ve done this sort of thing before,” he pointed out. “But are you sure you can look suitably drab for a journey to Paris?”

  She laughed, then closed her eyes for a long moment. Her face became still and she somehow became less lovely. Less memorable. It was as if she was turning down a lamp and had gone from illuminating a room to being a faint hallway night light.

  “You really can make yourself look almost average!” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, ma belle.”

  “I have had to be an actress often in my life,” she said ruefully. “I’m glad I don’t have to act with you, but I still have the skills.”

  She stood and leaned into him for a hug. He enfolded her in his arms, wanting to stay in this safe, warm moment forever. Yet danger lay ahead. How much, he couldn’t know. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that the world was about to come crashing down all around them.

  Chapter 28

  After leaving Suzanne, Simon went in search of Maurice. He found the older man sitting in the sun in front of the small stable behind the house, smoking a pipe, and looking content with his life. “Given your long acquaintanceship with Kirkland,” Simon said, “I’m guessing that if I want to get papers that prove my wife and I are native Belgians, you would know how to go about it?”

  Maurice’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I expect I could. What names would you want on them?”

  “Our own. We’re not pretending to be different people, we just want to travel into France to visit a notaire. Given the uncertainty of the times, it might be easiest if we’re Belgian, not French or English. Duval is a common name.”

  “Very sensible.” Maurice gave a puff on his pipe. “Anything else you need?”

  “A small, somewhat worn but respectable carriage. French currency. Maps of France and Paris to guide us on our way. We’re just two average people making inquiries about a possible inheritance. We don’t want to attract attention.”

  “Hard to do with a woman like madam.”

  “She has promised to look drab and unmemorable,” Simon explained.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Maurice snorted, unconvinced. “Do you want me to drive you?”

  “We would seem too prosperous. We’re respectable, but far from wealthy.”

  “A good choice when traveling in uncertain times,” Maurice agreed. “Finding a coach is easy, but it’ll take a few days to get your Belgian identification papers.”

  Simon nodded. “While you’re at it, could you have a set of papers made up showing us to be French citizens? I’ll give you the names and places that make sense for that. We want to leave in about a week.”

  “That will be enough time.” Maurice rose in a leisurely fashion. “I’ll get to work on the papers right away.”

  Simon returned to the house, mentally listing what else needed to be done. He’d arrange for Suzanne’s target practice. He’d also find a small, easily concealable knife for her to carry. He still felt uneasy about taking her into a potential war zone, but since she was determined, she’d be as prepared as he could make her.

  That meant both prayers and weapons.

  * * *

  The next days were busy as Suzanne prepared for her trip to Paris. Working together, she and Simon drew up a Duval family tree to the extent they knew it. There were too many limbs cut off by violence. Too many question marks. She had the impression that Monsieur Morel had served the Duval family for many years, so perhaps he would be able to fill in some of the blank spaces.

  She was glad to have several practice sessions at the shooting range. Not only did her marksmanship improve, but she became more at ease with handling her new pistols. If she ever needed to use them, she must be quick and confident.

  Simon also gave her advanced lessons in self-defense, including a hold that cut off blood to the brain and could render a person unconscious in seconds. She accidentally knocked him out when practicing it. He’d woken blinking
a horrifying couple of minutes later and emphasized that the hold shouldn’t be held for long or she’d risk injuring the brain of her victim.

  Just as important but less dramatic was augmenting her wardrobe. The city’s most fashionable modistes were too busy to produce new garments quickly, so Suzanne ordered only some grand gowns to be worn after they returned from France. She was able to buy a plain bonnet and a ready-made cloak, and she and Jenny made several garments that suited her role as a modest wife of modest circumstances.

  But when shopping for fabric, Suzanne found a length of beautiful, blazing red silk that gave her an idea. She bought enough material to make a gown that could easily be made flamboyant, working on it privately so no explanations would be required. She’d almost finished the gown and was hemming the full skirt when Jenny came looking for her with a question.

  Jenny’s gaze immediately fastened on the scarlet gown. “Goodness! It’s . . . very bright. But the fabric is beautiful and that color looks well with your dark hair.”

  “It’s not a very respectable color, though, is it?” Suzanne held up the garment to her face, which showed the color but not how very low cut the bodice was. “I don’t know that I could bring myself to wear it in public, but . . .” She gave a delicate pause. “I think the colonel would like to see it in private. Don’t mention this, though. It’s to be a surprise on the right occasion.”

  Jenny smiled conspiratorially. “I won’t mention it even to Edgar!”

  Happy to change the subject, Suzanne said, “He seems much happier these days.”

  “Oh, yes! He’s almost his old self again now that he has a job and he’s useful. The exercises the colonel suggested have been helping, too. His left hand will never be what it was, but it’s much better. He can do almost anything with it.”

  “Good for patting his sweetheart?” Suzanne said teasingly.

  Jenny blushed and excused herself. Smiling, Suzanne finished hemming the scarlet gown, then carefully wrapped it in plain linen and put it at the bottom of her travel case. She might not need this gown, or the pistols, but she liked to be prepared.