by Rue Allyn
Sir Campion had already wasted too much of her time. She’d spend not another instant thinking of him. She settled back in her chair to peruse the letters from Jennings. Reading them was difficult. Thankfully, her aunt left the room on some pretext. The tears she refused to allow Richard to see fell unheeded.
My dearest, darling Mari,
At last we have shelter tonight. I cannot say where, but we’ve been on the march for an eternity. Only the thought of coming home to you kept me on my feet and allowed me to encourage my men . . . .
Heartache forced her to stop from time to time, but she was determined to finish. She dried her eyes and continued to read every word of love and longing. She had missed him so very much. She was grateful she inspired him, and that he thought of her. But she would rather have had him home. She’d just opened the last missive when Tante Vivienne burst into the room.
“René is in danger. We must save him.” Wringing her hands, she paced the small parlor.
Mari dropped the unread letter and went to her aunt, grasped her by the shoulders, and stilled her movements. “Aunt do not panic. Here, sit, have some tea and tell me all.”
Turning a pleading look of worry on Mari, Vivienne did as instructed.
Mari sat beside her and poured. “What makes you think René is in danger?”
“I . . . I was so confused by his letter to me that I went to his rooms to search out anything that might help me understand.”
“Tante Vivienne,” Mari uttered with mock surprise, “you invaded my cousin’s privacy.”
Vivienne sniffed and squared her shoulders. “He is my son. I have every right to examine his things if I choose.”
Her cousin was as old as she was, and at twenty-three, long past the age of needing parental supervision. However, arguing would serve no useful purpose. “I gather you found something.”
“I did. I found this note in the fireplace.” She handed a charred, crumpled scrap of paper to Mari.
The time is ripe. If you will have your revenge on Napoleon, it must be now, while he is distracted by events in Paris. The poison you need is arranged, as is a minor position in Bonaparte’s household. I have rendered all possible assistance. The deed will be done at Fontainebleau, where the emperor is sure to stop on his way to Paris. Any help you need you may receive from Madame Leonis Cochinat. Godspeed. The world will thank you for ridding it of the Corsican Scourge.
Yours,
M
“René is planning to assassinate Napoleon?”
Vivienne nodded. “Vraiment.”
“Incredible. He must be stopped. Napoleon’s assassination would plunge Europe into chaos.” A plan began to form but refused to take shape as her aunt hovered.
“Do you know who this M is?”
“Non, ma chère Please, you must save René.”
Mari thought quickly. “The Duchess of Stonegreave cannot be seen fleeing to France without escort, and arranging such a journey would take much too long.” Yet that is precisely what she knew she must do.
Vivienne’s face fell. “You are right, of course. What is to be done?”
“I will go to London for help.” That is what she would let the world and her aunt believe.
“But from whom, ma cherie?”
Mari’s friends in the ton were few and none of them were men. She’d taken care over the years to avoid any relationship that might cause speculation and gossip. “Perhaps Richard Campion will know how to proceed. Someone at the War Office will know how to reach him.”
“’Tis a good idea, oui, but I did not think him overly enchanted with you while he was here. You were not very kind to him.”
“He was Jennings’s friend; I will appeal to him on that basis,” she assured her aunt. But Mari would do no such thing.
“It will not take long to convince Richard, or perhaps his commanding officer, that England’s safety requires René be stopped. However, I may be in London for a few weeks. I’ve much business to attend to in person. I’ve avoided those duties for too long.” She had to account for the time it would take to travel to France, find René, stop him, and return. No one, not even Tante Vivienne, must suspect Mari of traveling alone.
Vivienne set her tea aside and clasped her hands in her lap. “Very well, my dear. I would go with you, you know how much I love London, but I could not enjoy myself with René in such great danger.”
“Very wise.” Mari nodded. “I will order my luggage and the carriage prepared to leave at first light.”
“Que Dieu vous bénisse.” Vivienne embraced Mari.
Mari hugged her back. “Thank me when René returns safely to England.”
“I will. I will. I wish you did not have to do this, but I thank you with all my heart.”
Mari wished she did not have to travel to France, but the journey was an absolute necessity. René could not be allowed to plunge Europe into war again. Mari would suffer the consequences of her own foolish actions for her entire life. For the sake of her family name, for the sake of René’s future, and for the sake of peace.
• • •
Three days later, Richard once again followed the butler into General Bruskingly’s library.
“Captain, Sir Richard Campion,” the butler intoned, then left the room.
Richard positioned himself at attention, his back to the hearth, and waited.
The general did not look up from his writing. “Have a seat, Richard. No need to stand on ceremony when we’re private.” Bruskingly gestured at one of the pair of wingback chairs now facing the desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
A small smile flashed across the older man’s features as he signed the document with a flourish of hand and pen. He dusted the paper, set it aside, then moved to sit in the chair beside Richard.
“I’ve another assignment for you. But first, tell me of your visit with her grace, the Duchess of Stonegreave.”
“It was blessedly short but long enough for our purposes.”
The general’s brows quirked. “I gather you did not find the duchess appealing?”
“Oh, she’s attractive enough if you like that kind of dark, exotic physicality. But her manner is less humble than it should be. She seemed unaware of her responsibility in her father’s demise. She’s also become incredibly high in the instep.”
Bruskingly chuckled. “I’m well aware of your opinion of the idle members of the ton, as you call them.”
“Foolishness and snobbery of that sort is what took the French court to the guillotine and eventually allowed Bonaparte to run rampant over Europe. I confess to being disappointed in Her Grace of Stonegreave. She didn’t used to be like that.”
“I’ll not debate the French Revolution with you. After more than seven years of war and the wounds you suffered at Salamanca—for which I must confess to be grateful, since they brought you to the War Office—you’ve earned your right to your private opinions. However brief your visit, will the duchess see you as a friend?”
“Friendship is too generous a term. The woman presented an icy hauteur that cracked only when I first mentioned the message from Jennings—and then only briefly. I could not see in her any sign of either the reckless fool or the callous seductress that gossip paints her. If anything, she appeared overly composed, save when she expressed a few pithy comments to me.”
“Such as?”
“She called me on account for not fetching help when Pugh died and for the delay in delivering his dying words.”
Bruskingly snorted. “You could have done nothing about the first, and duty caused the second. Did you tell her of your own wounds?”
“I saw no purpose in sharing my personal experiences. She would have seen it as a ploy to gain her sympathy. I doubt Her Grace of Stonegreave possesses much of that commodity.”
The general nodded. “I’m not surprised to hear she’s somewhat cold. A woman trained from birth to act the duchess does not seem to me the type to make public contact with a known agent of Napoleon or
disgrace her family so thoroughly that she caused a duel resulting in her father’s death. Rumor has it she’s bent on restoring her family’s good name. The ton has long memories, and I doubt she’ll succeed if that’s her aim. Nonetheless, she’s rarely been seen in the three years since those incidents. It’s hard to tell what such a long rustication might do to the thinking of a woman I know only by reputation and circumstance.”
“I was a newly minted lieutenant when those events occurred. As you said, in any other young lady, her meeting with Malveux might be excused as the result of exuberance and inexperience. However, as long as I’ve known her, she’s always had more worldly wisdom than a good woman should.” Richard strongly suspected she had become like most of the high-ranking ton, the kind his father loved and emulated—overly conscious of her station and indifferent to the needs of those around her. Witness the subtle frowns she cast to her chatterbox of an aunt.
“Well, for the present, you’ve succeeded in laying a foundation for future encounters.”
“I cannot say that either the duchess or myself will find much pleasure in any future meetings.”
“No fondness for old times’ sake?” Colonel Bruskingly steepled his fingers beneath his chin.
“Not a mite.”
The colonel tilted his head.
Richard resisted the urge to run his finger under his cravat and loosen the sudden stricture around his throat.
“Her antipathy is hardly surprising since I made clear my feelings about her behavior.” Her cold reception of Jennings’s message and missives was indefensible. Or was it? “Her regard for me is neither here nor there. I intend to conclude this business as quickly as possible. To that end, I placed my own man at the Stonegreave country seat and will do so at the house here in town as well.”
“We already have men in place to watch her movements, as you know.”
“And I know that more eyes on a potential enemy is better. Stonegreave is a large duchy, and even two men are probably not enough to watch everything there. However, introducing more than that is not only impractical but could rouse suspicions.”
“While I regret the deaths that led to her grace’s retirement, we must be grateful that circumstances keep her at Stonegreave, and even there restrict her activities. With two men on site, anything out of the ordinary concerning her will be reported.”
“I spoke with both before departing Stonegreave and discovered that her grace has not left the priory for months. They also report that she has no odd or suspicious habits, and her correspondence seems to be limited to local merchants and a few close friends. In addition, her disposition is not of the, er, friendly nature a spy would need to be able to pluck information from the unsuspecting by way of conversation. So if sensitive information is leaving the country from Stonegreave, the duchess is either entirely ignorant of activities going on under her own nose or deeply involved in treason.”
“Ignorance is highly unlikely if your assessment of her character is true. And it matches other reports I’ve received.”
Richard nodded. “No doubt she’s in this spying thing up to her neck.”
“Much more likely, but we have no proof. His Grace of Margris, I, and the Crown are counting on you to get that proof for us.”
“Short of marrying the woman, I will do everything possible to achieve that goal. However, I need a more complete picture of Malveux’s recent activities.
“After his duel with the duchess’s father, Malveux fled to Le Havre and from there manages a network of spies in England. He reports to both Napoleon and Fouché, although we suspect Malveux’s loyalties are to himself alone. One would imagine that Her Grace would be an unlikely accomplice for a man who killed her father. But Malveux would think public antagonism the perfect cover for covert activity. We can’t be certain she is involved, nor can we be certain she is not. That said, you put my mind to rest. If she is in collusion with Malveux, she has not been actively so for the past several months. If she remains at Stonegreave, we can safely ignore her and pursue other avenues to eliminate all of Napoleon’s spies in England.”
“I’m delighted I could be of some assistance.” Richard made to rise.
“Do not be so hasty.” Bruskingly held out a palm. “We have more to discuss.”
Richard settled back into the chair. “Ah yes, the ‘other assignment.’”
“We received confirmation of the surrender in Paris and Bonaparte’s retirement to Fontainebleau. The courier who brought that message also delivered a coded missive intercepted on its way to Malveux with the information that, within the next two days, a special courier will be on his way to Fontainebleau as Napoleon ordered. The letter also mentioned that orders regarding Louis XVIII’s disposal would follow within the week.”
Alarm pushed Richard to the edge of his seat. “So the plot to murder Louis XVIII is true.”
“It appears so.”
“It must be stopped.”
“We could not agree more. Which is where you come in.”
“You want me to act as bodyguard to Louis XVIII?”
Bruskingly shook his head. “Nothing so simple. We want you to discover the identity of Malveux’s courier, pursue him, and before he reaches Napoleon at Fontainebleau, substitute these documents for those he carries.” The colonel walked over to his desk and retrieved the document he’d signed earlier. He handed the papers to Richard before resuming his seat.
To a uniformed mind, they would seem innocuous. But to an officer trained in breaking ciphers, the information was ominous.
“And if substituting false documents is not possible?”
“Then you must eliminate the courier. The information about Louis’s movements and plans must not reach Napoleon or anyone associated with him.”
“I would think it would be obvious that the French king intends to go to Paris.” The consequences of Louis’s death, especially by assassination, were impossible to calculate. One thing was certain, however: the country would be thrown into disarray rife with opportunity for Napoleon and his supporters to seize control.
“Certainly, but assassinating Louis XVIII will be much easier outside of Paris. So the details of his travel must remain secret. Any other questions?”
Richard nodded. “Why me, sir? I’ve enjoyed serving at the War Office but do not believe I’ve demonstrated any special talent for subterfuge. I would think with the continent now open to English travelers you would have plenty of candidates to choose from. Men with more experience and better reason to travel to France.”
“You have a valid point, and I will not mince words. You were not our first choice or even our second. However, those men with greater experience are already assigned to missions and cannot be taken from those tasks. In addition, the regent requested that something be done to appease your father’s interests, so that he would be persuaded to cease requesting a private audience, which might place the regent in a difficult position. You know how petulant the prince can be if forced into an unpleasant confrontation.”
“All of Europe is aware of our prince’s desire to smoothly get his own way.” Richard smiled.
“Precisely. The regent wants a reason to give your father a greater title. Your service in this instance—already offered by your father—will provide the prince the excuse he needs to elevate Baron Gadleigh and give him estates in the far north of Scotland, which will require your father’s attention and keep him away from court for a long while.”
“So not only the security of Europe but the peace of the English Crown rests squarely on my shoulders.”
The general grinned. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“When is this courier departing? Is anything known of his route?”
“We only know that this person plans to leave from Brighton—the closest port to Le Havre—in the next forty-eight hours. A meeting is arranged with Malveux, but we doubt the courier will linger over long in Le Havre. We have people in place watching Malveux to see who he meets wi
th coming from England.”
“And you are certain the courier has not yet left England?”
“No, we are not. But you can be in Le Havre before word can reach us from any of our men who watch Malveux. Here’s the name of your contact in Le Havre.” The general slid a scrap of paper across the desk. “Memorize that and destroy it before you leave this room.”
“Yes, sir.” Richard looked at the paper, crumpled it, then rose and tossed it in the fire. “I should be on my way. I have a few small details to attend to, but I can be on the road to Brighton by late afternoon.”
“If that’s the best you can do, then so be it. You won’t reach Brighton before tonight’s tide, even given your skill with a curricle.”
“True, but I can probably get passage on the first ship in the morning, assuming they have resumed sailing to France. If not, I’ll hire one.”
“The permissions for resumption of trade were sent the moment we received news of Napoleon’s surrender, so you should not have any difficulty. You don’t mention using your father’s yacht, which I believe is docked here in London.”
“The less attention I draw, the better. The Gadleigh vessel is nothing if not ostentatious.”
The colonel nodded and stood. “Well enough. I can see you have a good grasp of what’s required. Godspeed, captain.”
Richard rose and saluted. “Thank you, sir. With luck, I’ll return, a positive report in hand, within a fortnight.”
The general returned the courtesy. “I have every confidence in you.”
“I appreciate your praise, sir, but respectfully, I have my doubts that I am the right man for this task.” He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to be charming to the Duchess of Stonegreave, a much less dangerous opponent than a courier experienced in espionage.