A Kind of Honor

by Joan Wolf

  “I have asked him.” Her cheeks were almost scarlet. “He won’t go.”

  He stared at her for a moment in silence, his face grim. He said, “I think you had better tell me what this is all about.”

  “It’s quite simple, Robert,” she replied. “I am in love with Adam Todd and there is nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing I intend to do about it. However, I don’t enjoy being tortured,” her voice quivered, “by his presence in my house.”

  He swore under his breath, but she heard him.

  “Precisely. You can imagine the depth of my own feelings since I found it necessary to confide in you.”

  “What are Stanford’s feelings?”

  “He says he loves me too.”

  Menteith passed his hand over his face. “I knew that damned marriage was a mistake. I should never have let you go through with it.”

  She reached across the space between them and took his hand. “Please don’t blame yourself, Robert. It was my mistake, not yours. And I can’t even say I’m sorry I made it.”

  He looked at the lovely, earnest face of his younger sister. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not sorry you married Gacé? Don’t try to fool me with a story that your life with him has been pleasant!”

  She shook her head. “No, but how can I regret the change in Ginny? Or be sorry I had Marc?”

  He said impatiently, “I understand what you’re saying, Nanda, but I can’t bear to see you sacrifice your life this way. We would all support you if you decided to leave Gacé.”

  “Robert, don’t you think I have been through this a hundred times in my head? Possibly, because of family influence, I might keep Marc. But Ginny? I haven’t a hope of getting Ginny.”

  “But would Gacé want to keep her?”

  “Keep her? His daughter with royal blood in her veins? Of course he would keep her. And no doubt marry her into some royal European family where she would be miserable. But,” her eyes glittered with determination, “he won’t do that if I am around to stop him. And I plan to be around, Robert, so there’s nothing else to say.”

  He said somberly, “Nanda, for five years you have tried to fool all of us into believing you were happy. You fooled no one but you tried. This feeling you have for Stanford must be strong indeed to force you to reveal yourself like this.”

  She looked down at her hands, avoiding his gaze. “As you say.”

  He took a deep breath. “Nan, I can’t get him transferred from the Horse Guards.”

  Her eyes jerked up. “Why not? You have a very important position there.”

  “The work he is involved in is too vital. It can’t be turned over to anyone else.”

  She frowned. “Does this have something to do with the spring campaign?”

  “Yes.”

  “But Robert,” she said reasonably, “if Lord Stanford hadn’t been available because of his wound, someone else would have done the planning. Don’t tell me there’s no one else at the Horse Guards capable of organizing a campaign.”

  “No one half as efficient as Stanford,” he replied truthfully.

  Her brown eyes narrowed with sudden comprehension. “There’s more to it than the campaign, isn’t there?”

  He pretended exasperation. “Of course not, Nanda. What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered slowly. “But there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  His voice softened, “Possibly. But if I don’t tell you, Nan, it’s for a dashed good reason.”

  His heart ached as he saw the bleak look that settled over her face.

  “Here’s what I can do, though,” he offered. “I’ll invite him to stay with me. I would have initially if Sally had been home.”

  The shadows under her eyes deepened. “Don’t bother. He won’t go.”

  “When I get through with him he will,” Menteith said, his jaw thrust slightly forward.

  “No!” It was a cry of pure distress. “Robert, I won’t be able to bear it if you tell him I’ve talked to you.”

  “But Nanda…”

  “No!” Her eyes were blazing. “I spoke to you in deepest confidence, and if you betray me, I shall never speak to you again.”

  He regarded her furious face, sighed and reluctantly acquiesced. “All right, I’ll hold my tongue. But Stanford’s assignment should be ending shortly. As soon as it does I’ll send him packing.”

  He rose and bent to kiss her warm cheek. “Another month or two, my dear, and he’ll be gone.”

  She saw him to the door and when he bent to kiss her cheek again, he said, “It won’t be long, I promise.”

  “No,” she replied bitterly. “Just another month or two of hell.”

  He looked at her helplessly, and, for the first time all morning, she smiled. It was a forced looking smile, but better than nothing, he thought. “Keep him busy, Robert.”

  “I will, my dear,” he returned. “I will.”

  # # #

  Gacé had received word from his cousin at the court of Frederick William in Berlin that Prussia and Russia had signed a treaty of alliance. Also, Bernadotte of Sweden was on the point of concluding a treaty with England. The final coalition against Napoleon was beginning to take form.

  Gacé’s French contacts had assured him that the emperor believed Austria and the German states would not join such a coalition. Napoleon’s wife was an Austrian princess, and the emperor had also married members of his family into the princely families of Germany. Napoleon was sure that Austria and the German states would either join with France or remain neutral. Finally, Napoleon had collected a large new army, which he was certain could defeat anything an enemy might throw at him.

  That is what his French contacts were confidently telling their top spy in England, the Duc de Gacé.

  However, Gacé didn’t believe the world picture was as rosy as his contacts painted it. The Duc did not think that Austria and the German states would remain neutral. He thought they would eventually join the new coalition. He knew, from his wide correspondence, that Emperor Francis of Austria would like nothing more than to see his son-in-law toppled and European leadership restored to Austria. Nor would the German princes’ ancient connections with the Hapsburgs and the Romanovs be easily outweighed by a few marriages to the upstart Bonapartes.

  Taking all of these facts into consideration, it was clear to Gacé that Napoleon’s whole future depended upon a definitive French victory in Spain. Lately the Duc had been infuriated by the shut-down of intelligence from the Horse Guards. Fortunately for him, the young Viscount Stanford had lately shown signs of confiding in his host. Gacé had high hopes of being able to get information about Wellington’s plans to send along to Paris.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jem Martin stood inside Fawley’s Bookshop in Piccadilly, his gaze intent upon a copy of Childe Harold. In the next aisle, separated from him by one row of bookcases, was Matthieu de Vaudobin, Duc de Gacé. Martin had followed Gacé to this bookstore once before and was interested to notice that on both occasions Gacé had met the same man. A frog from the sound of his accent, Martin thought.

  The tall aristocrat and the small, dark Frenchman stood very close to each other, apparently absorbed in the shelf of books before them. They spoke together in low tones and, though Martin’s straining ears managed to catch a phrase here and there, they were speaking in French, which he didn’t understand. When the men departed they left separately, but Martin observed a phenomenon he had been told to look for.

  “You were right, Mr. Devon,” he told Adam several hours later at the Green Oak. “When the Frenchie left he was carrying the Duc’s book bag.

  A light glimmered in the blue eyes regarding him. “I think we’re finally getting somewhere, Jem. Well done.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jem replied.

  “Now, the next time the Duc meets this gentleman in the bookshop, I want you to follow the Frenchman.”

  “Leave the Duc you mean?”

  “
Precisely. Leave the Duc and follow the Frenchman. I want to know where he goes. I suspect he’ll head for the coast. If he does, it’s very important you find out if he’s boarded a ship, or if he’s made contact with another man who is going aboard a ship. Do you understand?”

  Jem understood only too well. “Spies, are they?”

  “Possibily.”

  “Well, you need have no fear, sir. I’ll track that Frenchie or my name ain’t Jem Martin.”

  “Thank you, Jem.” Adam rose from behind the public house table and leaned slightly toward the nondescript man sitting across from him. “Remember. Everything you do must be kept confidential. You report only to me.”

  Jem looked into the steely blue of Adam’s eyes and nodded vigorously. “Aye. Aye, Mr. Devon. I ken what you’re sayin.”

  “Good,” Adam said. “I’m leaving now. Wait fifteen minutes before you go.” He put a handful of coins on the table. “Have another beer while you wait.”

  Jem looked at the coins and grinned. “That I will, Mr. Devon. Thank ee.”

  Adam nodded, turned and went out the door. Jem waved a hand and ordered another beer.

  # # #

  At Berkeley Square, Nanda had found a way to avoid being alone with Adam. Whenever he was in the house, she made certain to have one or both of the children with her; in the evenings she went out. There was scarcely a dinner party that lacked her presence. She went often to the opera and the theatre, and several hostesses were thrilled to have the unexpected honor of her presence at their events.

  Adam, who knew perfectly well what she was doing, watched her from a distance and bided his time. He, too, was to be seen at numerous social affairs, and the ton was interested to note that his liaison with Lady Sophia Lowestoff seemed to have ended.

  Breaking with Lady Sophia was difficult. She had always been the one who called a halt to an affair, and being given her dismissal by a lover was a new and unpleasant experience. She was suspicious, and she asked a great many questions. Adam, fearful that she would stumble on the truth, finally said that he was thinking of getting married and felt he would have a better chance of being accepted if he didn’t have a mistress.

  “Is it the Marenby chit?” Lady Sophia had demanded.

  “The name of the girl is not your affair, Sophia,” Adam had said, and left with a guilty feeling that by not denying an involvement with Miss Marrenby he had not behaved well toward her.

  # # #

  Nanda was aware of Stanford’s watching eyes. Try as she might to avoid him, he seemed ubiquitous. To make matters worse, he had only to be in a room for her to be sharply aware of his presence. She had no need to look at him; she could feel him there, watching her with those dark blue eyes. Her nerves became tauter and tauter, until she felt like a too tightly strung bow, ready to snap at the slightest pressure.

  He finally managed to catch her alone. She was in drawing room at Gacé House, dressed for the opera in a fawn-colored silk gown of elegant cut, her hair dressed high and caught with rubies. Rubies shone too in her ears and on her breast. She had been sitting on the sofa waiting for Gacé, and she jumped to her feet as soon as Adam came in.

  “I thought you were going out with Charles,” she said.

  He was dressed for the evening in a perfectly fitting black coat, snowy white waistcoat, shirt and perfectly tied neckcloth. “I am,” he replied briefly.

  They stood looking at each other, and Nanda thought the pain and longing in her heart would surely kill her. The moment seemed to stretch out interminably. “Go away,” she finally said. “Can’t you see you are wearing me out?”

  “And what do you think you are doing to me?” She turned her head and he said sharply, “Look at me, Nanda! I love you. Do you think I enjoy playing this cat-and-mouse game any more than you do?”

  “Then why won’t you go away!” she cried, anguish in her voice.

  “Because I can’t.” His intent blue gaze seemed to pierce right through to her heart. He took a step toward her, saying, with amazement in his voice, “You don’t believe me, do you? You don’t believe I love you?”

  “Oh, Adam.” She gestured helplessly. “Can’t you understand that, whatever we may feel, there is no future for us? If I had met you five years ago, when I was free…”

  “Five years ago you were a girl,” he interrupted. “Don’t you understand? It’s the woman, not the girl, that I love.”

  Unconsciously, her hand went out to him. He stepped closer and took it in his grip. Then Nanda heard a sound outside the door.

  She jerked her hand away and seconds later Gacé was in the room.

  “Stanford,” he said in surprise. “I thought you were dining with my brother-in-law.”

  “I am. I just stopped in to have a word with her grace.”

  To Nanda’s ears Adam’s voice sounded almost normal, a far cry from the bitter Hell! that had sounded as Gacé appeared in the doorway. She managed to greet her husband with a smile, rested her hand on his arm, and let him escort her out the door.

  Nanda was distracted all evening. She scarcely heard a word of the opera and stared into space at the intervals, unconscious of the smiles directed at her as she sat between the red, festooned curtains of their opera box. As the evening progressed, belief grew in her heart.

  It’s the woman that I love.

  Adam understood. Like her he didn’t regret the past - those difficult painful years when she fought for the future of her children. For them she had learned to be sagacious and smiling, tactful and dignified, watchful and ruthless. The fierce and passionate heart that beat within her today would have been unrecognizable to the sweet gentle girl she had been at seventeen. Everything that was strong in her had come from last five years.

  It was the woman that he loved. And the woman loved him. With an aching need that tore at her vitals and rent her heart, she loved him. But this new knowledge only made more agonizing the lesson she had already learned. There could be no relationship between them.

  Several times during the course of the evening Gacé looked at her, a slight frown between his fair brows. He had to repeat himself almost every time he addressed her. Finally he asked, “Are you well, Nanda? Do you desire to go home?”

  “No.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry to be such poor company, Matthieu. I’m all right, really I am.”

  “If you are sure…”

  “I am.”

  The curtain began to rise again and Nanda turned to the stage with relief.

  # # #

  Adam continued to watch her. Perhaps, if he hadn’t known about Gacé’s treachery, he would have respected her loyalty and left her alone. Perhaps. But knowing what he did about her husband, he could not do that. When Gacé’s treason became known, as it inevitably would, she and her children would need a champion. And Adam planned to be that man.

  But he wanted a commitment from her, and he wanted it before Gacé’s treachery was exposed. He couldn’t take a chance on her rejecting him – either because he was the instrument of her husband’s downfall, or because she didn’t want to taint him with the ugliness of Gacé’s crime. He wanted an unbreakable commitment now, and he knew of only one way to get it.

  Nanda de Vaudobin was a woman rare in her class and age, a woman to whom the sexual act mattered. It would be more than a moment’s pleasure to her, lightly given and easily forgotten. For Nanda it would be what Adam wanted – a commitment, a promise not lightly given, and never to be forgotten.

  At the moment her formidable conscience stood between them, but Adam was determined to win this particular struggle. And Adam, when he set his mind on something, could be utterly ruthless.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Charles Doune was worried about his sister. She looked as if she had lost weight, and her brilliant eyes were too large for her pale face. Since Nanda would tell him nothing, he decided to take the matter up with his eldest brother.

  He sought out Menteith at the Horse Guards and caught him as he was comin
g out of a meeting. There was such a look of satisfaction on his brother’s face that Charles’ eyebrows rose. “You look like a cat who’s just finished a saucer of cream, Rob,” he said.

  Menteith laughed. “Not quite, Charles, but I am pleased. The organization for the upcoming campaign is going very well. Thanks, in good part to Lord Stanford. I don’t know how the man did it, but he has actually won willing cooperation from the navy.

  Charles laughed. “A remarkable achievement.”

  “It is,” Menteith replied emphatically. “If you knew the trouble I’ve had in the past! And now Stanford has the admirals eating out of our hands. I call it a remarkable achievement indeed.”

  “It seems it was a good day’s work when you decided to bring Stanford into the department. All too often the men who are brilliant in the field are useless when it comes to administration.”

  “Fortunately, Stanford is brilliant at both.”

  “Lucky for you, he still limps. Otherwise I’m sure he’d be heading back to the Peninsula.”

  “I’m not sure that leg will ever be 100% again,” Menteith said with barely concealed satisfaction.

  Charles frowned, but let his brother’s comment slide. They had been standing near Menteith’s desk, and now Charles sat firmly in one of the two extra chairs that faced it, pointedly waiting for his brother to assume his accustomed seat behind the desk. Menteith did so and looked attentively across the neatly ordered expanse at his younger brother. “Can I help you with something?” he asked pleasantly.

  “I came to see you about Nanda, Robert,” Charles said in a business-like tone.

  Menteith’s face froze. “Nanda.”

  “Yes, Nanda. Our sister. Our only sister.”

  “What about Nanda?”

  “I don’t like the way she has been looking lately.”

  “Looking?”

  Charles growled. “Dammit, Robert, stop repeating everything I say! Yes – ‘looking!’ As if something tragic has happened to her.”

  “Trag…” Menteith stopped himself. “Dash it all, Charles, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”