Considering the suspicious smirk he gave her, he obviously saw right through her falsehood. However, he graciously offered her his arm.
“Then I will return you to the Duchess.” She could do nothing but accept.
He said nothing as they walked across the ballroom to her sister, but he looked around the room and nodded to people as they passed by. His figure was fine, though tailored to an inch of his life, but it did not explain the stares. Amelia had been in London long enough to realize people were beginning to whisper about them. When they reached the Duke and Duchess, Waverley stepped forward and held out his hand to Wadsworth.
“What is happening?” Meg asked.
“Why, my dear, Wadsworth went out to the terrace to ask Amelia for her hand. I assume by the smile on his face that congratulations are in order.”
Amelia let out a gasp and cast a withering look at Lord Wadsworth.
“I will call on you in the morning, sir. Lady Amelia has a headache and would like to return home.”
For the first time in her life, Amelia was speechless. Before she could object, Lord Wadsworth was walking away to receive congratulations from those people within hearing of the conversation. The news would spread like fire before they even left the ball.
Meg whispered in her ear, “I did not think you would come to your senses so quickly.”
“I did no such thing!” she said objected through gritted teeth. “Please take me home before I commit a murder and am thrown in the Tower.”
“Oh, dear,” Meg said, looking at the Duke, who was frowning. He glared at Wadsworth and then escorted them out to the carriage which was outside along the street.
“This is a very serious matter,” he said to Amelia as he handed them inside.
“Are you not coming with us?” Meg asked her husband.
“No. I want to stay and witness what words are being spread. I do not want to take any action until the morning. Amelia, you know we will not force you to marry anyone, but there will be consequences if you decide not to marry him.”
“I do not care what is said, so long as I am not forced to marry such a lying, deceitful, cheat!” She looked away before she burst into tears. She had been so careful, and to fall prey to this rogue in a moment of weakness was too much for her sensibilities.
“Promise you will not call him out,” Meg begged as Waverley closed the door and told the driver to take them home.
Chapter 2
Philip ducked into an alleyway when he saw the familiar face. It had been months since he had seen someone he recognized. He knew Waverley’s man, Tobin, had been searching for him, and he had almost found him. Pangs of guilt washed over Philip as he thought of his sister and the trials he must have put her through. Their parents having died, each other was all they had left. He had told Wellington where he was, of course, but the danger was too great for his sister, Adelaide, to know where he was.
Had they not received his message that he was alive? He watched Tobin go into an inn across the narrow cobblestone near the open market. He would know those green eyes and black hair anywhere.
“Why the devil is he here?” Philip whispered under his breath. “I am too close now for this to fail.”
“Monsieur! I have the delivery ready for the fortress.”
“Oui. I am ready,” he called back.
It had taken him months of living in this small village outside La Glacier’s stronghold to gain access to the fortress, a castle-like manor home sitting atop the great chalk cliffs of Étretat, which disguised a network of rooms, tunnels, cells and caves for Napoleon’s empire. It had been even longer before he became a confidant of those working for La Glacier. Something important was about to happen—Philip could feel it in his bones. He needed to discover what it was before it happened.
He loaded his cart with candles, oil and flour, and set the old chestnut horses on the path up the steep slope. As he drove, he allowed himself to think of England a little. He could not dwell too long, for homesickness would weaken his senses, but he was so tired of being in disguise and living the life of a peasant when his heart was in England. “It is England you are doing this for, un jeu d’enfant,” he chastised himself.
Pulling up to the gates of the heavily guarded fortress, he saw they were already opened.
“What is this?” he asked. No guards were in sight, but he knew them to be there.
The last thing he wanted was to be seen by La Glacier. His disguise would not hold water with her for a moment. He pulled the cart around into some trees and watched. A few minutes passed before he heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs and then he saw them pull through the gate, drawing a white travelling carriage behind them. Quickly the conveyance picked up speed and for a moment Philip debated following, but his two elderly job horses would never keep up, and the risk of being caught was too great. With a curse and a frown, he drove his old nags through the gate and went around to the kitchen. Hopefully, for a little flirtation, one of the maids would have some information again.
“Bonjour, Monsieur,” a buxom maid said as he stood at the door to the kitchen. “I have been waiting for you.”
“Bonjour, Josefina. Have you had visitors? A carriage almost ran over me when leaving the gates.”
“Non. The mistress is on her way to Paris.”
“Does she go there often?”
“Oui. Whenever she needs a new hat.” Josefina winked.
“I would like to buy you a new hat when I become a rich man,” he said flirtatiously, moving a little closer.
“And when will that be, hmm? I might be willing to give more than my kisses for a promise.”
“Sadly, my promises would be empty... unless I could free the Emperor and gain his favours.” He tried to look dejected.
“That is what my mistress is working for. Even now, on her way to Paris, they are scheming,” she whispered.
“Josefina! The eggs will not gather themselves!” the Cook scolded as she came back into the room. “If they start walking in here, you will have to pluck them all by yourself.”
Josefina giggled and planted a kiss on Philip’s lips. “Until later, Monsieur. Wednesday is my half-day.”
“I will see you in the village then,” he called as she ran back to her duties.
It was as he suspected; there was a plot to free Napoleon. But how? And when?
He unloaded his cart and continued around to the stables. He had become friendly with some of the grooms, and he liked to admire the horses. He missed his own trusty steed, Scipio, who had saved him time and again in battle. He was now housed with Wellington’s cattle, and he longed to be reunited with him.
No one noticed Philip, so intent were they on their tasks. Philip left the cart and horses near a grassy area where they could graze, and crept around to observe.
“They are preparing for a long trip,” he observed, feeling his frown deepen.
Footsteps crunched in the pebbled drive, so Philip moved casually away from his spying post into the stable yard.
“Monsieur Lefebre! ’Ave you come to admire the horses again?” a groom asked as he put down a pail of water he was carrying.
“But of course. How else will I ever come close to such beauty?” He followed the plump, jovial groom into the stable.
“I suspect you have your fair share of les amoureux, but none compares to the horse, oui?”
“Non. A horse does not betray its master like the fickle ladies.” Philip picked up a brush and began to rub down the horse.
The groom looked at him with sympathy and they brushed down the white mare—all of La Glacier’s horses were white—in comfortable silence. When the mare had been given her oats, Philip nodded towards the barn outside. “Expecting a harsh winter? I noticed the extra stores being placed in the barn, and I had more orders than usual.”
“The mistress.” The man waved his hand flamboyantly as if it explained everything.
Philip grunted knowingly.
“She goes to visit the Emperor soon. We
were told to be ready when she returns from Paris.”
“Ah, lovesickness. Perhaps she will stay with him.” Philip chuckled.
“Non. She has gone before and always returns.”
“I need a woman who knows when to leave!”
The men laughed and shared a pint of ale and Philip left without asking more. It would not do to make them suspicious. It had taken months for the groom to confide that much.
He left feeling a new sense of purpose. There had been an undercurrent of energy running through the fortress. Something was about to happen. He had to let Wellington know and consider how he was to stop whatever La Glacier had planned.
On his return to the village, having stabled his horses and locked up his cart, he hurried to his rooms. They were far nicer than they should have been for his meagre occupation, but he had spent enough time in the trenches whilst at war.
The two small rooms were in the attics of a widowed lady’s home. He helped her with some of the heavy tasks around the house, and she kept him in good food.
He sat at his small writing desk and pulled out a piece of paper to write to Wellington.
“I can deliver that for ye,” a deep Irish brogue said from behind him. Philip jumped to his feet and turned in one, swift movement, his knife unsheathed.
“How the devil did you get in here?”
“I walked in, mo charid,” Tobin said with a smirk.
Philip let out the breath he was holding and threw his knife on the desk. “How did you find me?”
“Wellington sent me.”
Philip slumped down into his chair and glared at Tobin while he waited for the explanation.
“Well?” he demanded at last.
“Ye have led me a merry dance for the past few months. Not to mention yer sister, and all of yer comrades. Oh, I danced with yer sister at her wedding. She looked beautiful, by the way.”
That hurt deeply, as Tobin no doubt intended, but he would not let this rascal know how much. So Adelaide had married. At least she had someone else to protect her.
“Who did she marry?”
“Major Fielding.”
Philip whistled. He supposed if anyone could have leg-shackled Fielding it would have to have been his sister, and he could think of no finer man for Adelaide.
“You have been in the military long enough to know that secrecy is a necessary evil, Tobin. Are you going to tell me why Wellington compromised my position and sent you here?”
“Don’t be daft. I did not compromise anything.”
“Is that why I saw you walking through the village this morning?”
Tobin scoffed. “I am trying to decide whether to darken your daylights before I tell you why I am here.”
“You are welcome to try,” Philip retorted, and raised a haughty eyebrow. “I have plenty of spleen I could expend on you.”
“That will do neither of us any good jus’ now,” Tobin said wisely.
“So what message does our commander have for me?” Philip held out his hand for the usual coded message.
Tobin shook his head. “He did not wish to put it in writing.”
Philip narrowed his eyes but waited.
“La Glacier has gone to Paris as you likely know.”
Philip inclined his head.
“Wellington wants to know what her meeting is about.”
“She would know me in a heartbeat. That is what has made this assignment so difficult. I can only get information from servants.”
“Wellington also requested Waverley to bring the Duchess and her sister to visit their aunt. He expects them within a week.”
Phillip’s heart sped up. A beautiful redhead with a brilliant smile flashed through his memories.
“I see you have not forgotten the Lady Amelia,” Tobin said knowingly.
Philip picked up his knife and tossed it at Tobin’s head, hitting only a few inches away for fun.
Tobin held up his hands. “No need to become possessive. She is yours if you can catch her.”
Philip crossed his arms and glared, ignoring Tobin’s insolence. “What does Wellington want me to do?”
“Resume your position as the dashing Captain Elliot and join their party.”
“The servants will recognize me.”
“Ye’ve a good disguise. When back in yer fancy toff’s dress and clean shaven, speaking the King’s English, no one will know.”
“I suppose I should go to Paris, then, and refresh my wardrobe?”
“That is why I’ve come. Make a big fuss about leaving town and we will depart in the morning. You will return with the party from Paris after the meeting.”
“Waverley knows?”
“And Major and Mrs. Fielding.”
“My sister will be there?” he asked, but daring to hope.
“We couldna keep her away.”
Philip smiled. “I will be ready.”
Amelia and Meg sat up, waiting for the Duke to return. They had exhausted all the possibilities of what to do, but now, mostly Amelia wanted to go to bed and wake up to find the whole evening had been just a nightmare.
“We were so close to leaving Town,” Meg opined. “How could this have happened?”
“Wadsworth is under the hatches. He was desperate,” the Duke answered from the doorway.
“I did not hear you come in!” Meg said, looking at her husband.
“So you have nothing good to report,” Amelia declared. “Then I am going to bed.”
“I think you should stay,” Waverley said. “I have had some news.”
Amelia sat back down in her chair in Meg’s sitting room. Rarely did Waverley ask or command her to do anything, thankfully. He went to pour himself a drink, which only served to increase the suspense she felt.
When he had loosened his neckcloth and was sitting in his favourite chair by the hearth, he finally spoke.
“I have had a letter from Wellington.”
Meg looked as though she would cry. “I do not understand,” she said. “What does he want?”
“He has asked us to go to France. All of us…to visit your aunt.”
Both ladies looked at him blankly. They had barely spoken of their aunt since the incident where Amelia had been kidnapped and the Duke’s man, Tobin, had rescued her. Tobin had been taken captive and the Duke and her sister had rescued him. That had been when Captain Elliot had gone missing. Amelia preferred to not think of those horrible events. Her aunt, whom she had not known existed, was the famous La Glacier—one of Napoleon’s ex-mistresses—and her uncle Hawthorne had been committing treason against England by consorting with her. Amelia could not help being intrigued by this aunt but had not been allowed to communicate with or see her.
“Why would Wellington want that?” Meg asked.
“She has been having meetings. It seems she is carrying on with Napoleon’s work in his absence. There are rumblings of an uprising. There is also a meeting in Paris next week.”
“He wants us to spy on our aunt?” Amelia asked. “How very singular!”
“You do not need to do anything,” Waverley said to his wife.
“I do not want either of you in danger, especially not in your condition, my love.”
“She would not hurt us,” Meg protested.
“I think you underestimate her, especially if she was aware you had betrayed her,” Waverley retorted. “She ordered Hawthorne’s ship to go down.”
Amelia and Meg both let out a gasp. Meg covered her mouth with her hands. “I cannot believe it of her!”
“Perhaps she cares more for her own flesh and blood, but she is ruthless for her cause nonetheless. Hawthorne deserved his death, but other, innocent people did not.”
Amelia could not keep from thinking of Captain Elliot, whom she had not seen since that whole incident.
“I would like to go. Why not take me and leave Meg behind in safety?”
“Absolutely not!” Meg protested. “She is my aunt, as well. If we can do something to right the wrong
s committed by our family, we should go.”
Waverley looked hesitant.
“I will not let you leave me behind,” Meg insisted in a firm voice that she rarely used with the Duke.
Amelia sat back and waited for him to object.
“You know very well I can refuse you nothing. However, you must promise me you will be extremely careful. Do not let her fool you because she is your aunt.”
“I promise. I still remember that day.” Meg made a face of disgust.
“She did return Tobin to us, and I have not forgotten that,” he conceded.
“Hopefully, she is doing nothing wrong and we can have a pleasant visit with family,” Amelia added sardonically.
Waverley scoffed at her comment. “If hell has frozen.” He leaned over his chair and kissed his wife on the cheek. “It is late. We must be up early in the morning.”
“But the servants will have to spend all night packing!”
“Unfortunately, yes, but duty calls. We pay them well for such service, my dear.” He assisted her out of her chair, and they started across the room to retire.
“Wait!” Amelia demanded. “What about Wadsworth? Are we just to leave Town and allow rumours to swirl?”
“I took care of him.” Pausing with Meg’s hand on his arm, the Duke spoke with a wave of his other hand before once more turning to leave.
How nice it must be for him to hold such power, Amelia thought. “Do not leave me in suspense!” she cried.
Waverley turned back again with a harsh look on his face which softened when he saw her pleas.
“Forgive me, I am tired. He was willing to back away from his claims for a financial incentive.”
“He gets away with his misconduct so easily?” she asked, realizing she sounded ungrateful.
“You know me better than that. I have put it about in the clubs, what really happened. He will have to leave Town for some time.”
“And my good name?”
“Is still intact. We are leaving for Paris on a holiday. I ordered you to leave and recover and consider your future.”
“I suppose it is the best I could hope for, all things considered. Thank you for coming to my rescue. I only hope it did not cost my entire dowry to reward him for his deplorable behaviour.”
Not Forgotten Page 2