by Joan Wolf
“Yes, Mama.” There was a quiver in Ginny’s small voice.
“I have never said this to you because I thought you knew it, but I will say it now. You are not the child of my body, but you are the child of my heart. There are no circumstances - absolutely none - under which I would consider leaving you.” There was no emotion in Nanda’s voice, only calm conviction. Ginny’s mouth trembled and tears came to her eyes. She threw herself into Nanda’s arms and clung tightly.
There were tears in Nanda’s eyes as well as she touched her lips to the silvery head buried in her shoulder. Ginny’s mother had died in Germany, and that loss was surely part of what had triggered this reaction. But Nanda did not think the deep-buried memory of her mother’s loss was the only factor involved. Virginie was an extremely sensitive child and she had sensed the upheaval in Nanda’s own emotions. As she held the slender, quivering body close, murmuring words of comfort, Nanda blamed herself for Ginny’s fear.
What she had told Ginny was true; there were no circumstances under which Nanda would abandon her. But during these last months, her love for the children had, for the first time, begun to be a burden. But for them, she and Adam could be together. But for them, her suffocating marriage could be terminated and she would be free to go to the man she loved. But for them.
During the last months it had seemed as if the children’s fingers were on her heartstrings, pulling and tearing at her love and her loyalty. For the first time she had begun to resent them. But now, holding the light body of her stepdaughter and feeling her grief, the resentment died. This trip to Baden was the last move in the dangerous game Matthieu and Adam had been playing. Whatever the outcome between the two men, her job was to protect the children. So she kissed Ginny’s pale curls and tipped her face up to be dried with Nanda’s delicate lace-edged handkerchief.
“I am going to ask Miss Braxton to take you for a walk in the park,” she said briskly. “I need a little peace to get this family packed and ready to go by Monday.”
A smile trembled on Ginny’s lips. “Yes, Mama,” she said. She reached out to hug Nanda once again. “I love you,” she whispered. She pulled back with a heroic light in her eyes. “I will even ride with Marc in the chaise and help keep him out of Papa’s way.”
Nanda laughed. “Your reward will be in heaven, my darling,” she teased. “Come.” She rose to her feet. “Let us go and find Miss Braxton.”
# # #
While Nanda was organizing her household, Adam was organizing a move of a very different order. The first thing he did was to make certain Gacé would be under surveillance during the entire journey to Baden. Nanda had told him they were traveling with Marc’s nurse, Ginny’s governess, her own dresser, and Gacé’s valet. Adam proceeded to bribe Gacé’s valet to tell the Duc he didn’t want to leave England but that he could recommend a friend who would be glad to take his place. As Adam had hoped, Gacé, who was pressed for time, hired the new valet immediately.
Gacé’s new valet had served under Adam in the peninsula. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Adam warned. “I think his contact is in Baden, but I don’t want to take any chances of his passing along that memorandum during the journey.
“I’ll watch him like a hawk, my lord,” Captain George Ross assured Adam. “But I’m afraid he’ll find me an odd sort of valet.”
Adam shrugged. “By the time he gets around to sacking you, the game will be over.”
“Yes, my lord. How am I to get in touch with you in case something does happen on the journey?”
“I will be in touch with you. Their boat is landing in Stade and they plan to drive directly to Hanover. From Hanover they go to Kassel, from Kassel to Frankfurt, and from Frankfurt to Niederwald Castle, outside Mannheim. I’ll be in touch with you at every stop.” While Adam was almost certain Gacé would not make his move until he was at Niederwald, the inclusion of Ross in the Duc’s party made him feel more comfortable.
He held out his hand and Ross grasped it firmly. “We’ll get that memorandum back, my lord,” he said.
“We had better,” Adam replied grimly.
# # #
In a long conference with Menteith, Adam set up their plan for entrapping Gacé. As a result of that meeting, four men set off for Dover in order to catch the morning tide. Their destination was Gluckstadt in Holstein, whence they were to proceed with all haste to Baden, there to prepare a welcome for the Duc de Gacé.
Adam also planned to leave for Germany. Before he left, however, he visited his solicitor and had him draw up a will.
# # #
Later that evening, after dinner with Menteith, Adam called at Crosby House to see his father. Lord Seaton was preparing to accompany his sister and brother-in-law to the opera, but he excused himself when he saw his son. “I’ll see you later, Frances,” he said in response to Lady Crosby’s protests. “Adam can hardly come with us; he isn’t properly dressed.”
Lady Crosby looked with hauteur at her nephew’s polished boots and beautifully cut coat of blue superfine. Adam said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Aunt Frances, but I really do need to speak to my father. He’ll join you for the second act, I promise.”
“Very well, Adam.” Her voice snapped with annoyance. “We shall see you later, Richard.” She swept from the room, her amused spouse trailing behind her.
Lord Seaton, correctly attired in knee breeches, black coat and white waistcoat, seated himself in a green silk armchair and said a little warily, “Now, Adam, what is this all about?”
“I have come to ask a favor of you, Papa.”
A slight frown appeared between Lord Seaton’s shaggy brows as he contemplated the son who never asked for favors. “Certainly. I will be happy to do you a favor.” He looked more closely at Adam, who looked to be strung as tight as a bow, and added cautiously, “If I can.”
“What I have to tell you must not go any further. Ever.”
The earl’s frown deepened. “For heaven’s sake, sit down, Adam. You can rely on me to keep a still tongue in my head.”
Adam obeyed his father, sitting in a matching chair facing the earl’s. “It has to do with Nanda,” he said carefully. “You asked me earlier how I planned to get Gacé to give her a divorce and guardianship of the children.”
“I remember.”
“I was going to blackmail him.” The earl said nothing in response to this revelation, and Adam went on, “You’ll recall I was sent for originally because of a security problem.”
“I remember,” Lord Seaton said again.
“The problem was that someone at the Horse Guards, someone highly placed, was passing information to the French.” Adam paused. The earl remained silent. Adam went on, “That someone is Gacé.”
“I see.” The earl kept his voice neutral. “When did you discover this?”
“A few months ago. At about the same time that I fell in love with his wife.”
“I see.”
“No one at the Horse Guards knows except myself and Menteith. I persuaded him to go along with a plan I devised to catch Gacé, save the family from scandal, and free Nanda to marry me.” Adam’s hands moved for a moment, restlessly, then were stilled. “Unfortunately, the plan misfired.”
“What happened?”
“Gacé slipped through the trap, slick as a weasel. He is now planning to remove himself and his family to Baden.”
“You have no proof of his treachery?”
“Nothing that would stand up in a court of law. And even if I did have proof, how could I subject Marc and Ginny to the horror of knowing the truth about their father?”
The earl watched the play of emotion on Adam’s normally reserved face, then asked quietly, “What are you going to do now?”
“They leave on Monday for Baden; I am leaving for Baden tonight. Whatever else may happen, Gacé must be stopped. He has in his possession a secret memorandum he cannot be allowed to pass on to the French.”
The earl repressed a shiver at what he saw on his s
on’s face. “What do you need me for, Adam?”
“Whatever happens, Papa, it’s not going to be pleasant for Nanda. When it’s over, we’ll come home by sea and I should like to bring her to Trenent Castle instead to Dover. We can come right into the bay and be at the castle in half an hour. Staying with you will give us time to decide what to do and what to tell her family and friends. I must warn you, sir,” he concluded steadily, “I plan to marry Nanda as soon as possible.”
“I see. And what about her husband?” Lord Seaton asked this stranger who was his son.
Adam stared at his father and didn’t reply.
Lord Seaton read what was in those eyes, and his face set. “Very well.” His voice was grim. “You may bring the Duchesse to Trenent. I shall be there to receive her.”
“Thank you, sir.” For the first time Adam smiled. He rose to his feet, turned to leave, then turned back again. “It’s not her fault, Papa. She was eighteen when she married him, and she has been loyal to him for five hellish years. She has courage, the kind of courage that not only knows how to give, but how to give up. She was ready to sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of two children who love her and need her. It’s not just that the innocent should be made to suffer.”
“No,” the earl said slowly. “No, I suppose not.”
Adam came to his father’s side and for a moment his long fingers grasped the earl’s shoulder. Then, without another word, he walked rapidly to the door, his long stride slightly impeded by the limp that was his legacy from Burgos. Lord Seaton’s eyes were deeply troubled as he watched him go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
At eleven o’clock on Monday morning the Duc de Gacé and his family left for Dover to board the yacht the Duc had hired for their journey. Gacé and Nanda rode in the first coach, the crest on its door informing any interested parties of the ducal rank. The Gacé coachman, who was accompanied on the front seat by a footman, drove four shining black horses. Behind the ducal carriage came a coach carrying Marc and his nurse, and Ginny and her governess. The last coach in the procession bore Gacé’s new valet, Nanda’s dresser, and mounds of luggage.
They stopped at Rochester to change horses and have something to eat. The children were in good spirits, both excited about their coming sea journey. Ginny expostulated about her last boat ride and how she had never been seasick even though other people were. She was describing the sea sickness when Gacé said, “My dear Virginie, if you mention one more word on this repulsive subject I shall ask you to await us in the coach. It is hardly a topic for the luncheon table.”
Ginny flushed and subsided.
“Your father is right, darling,” Nanda said gently. “Let’s choose a more pleasant topic for conversation.”
“Nanda, I think….” Gacé was beginning to say when Marc cut in.
“Can I help steer the boat?” He was so excited he was drumming his heels against his chair legs. “Ginny says I’m too small, but I’m not! I’m four years old, Mama.” He reached out to grasp Nanda’s arm and knocked over her glass of wine.
Wordlessly Gacé got to his feet and left the table.
“I didn’t mean it, Mama,” Marc cried. “It was an accident!”
“I know it was an accident, Marc,” Nanda answered, resignation in her voice. She moved Marc aside so the servant could clean up. “No, please don’t change the linen. We are finished, I assure you. Then, as Marc was still pulling on her arm, she turned to him in exasperation. “What is it Marc?”
His lip quivered and his dark eyes brimmed. “You yelled at me,” he said reproachfully.
She took a firm trip on her temper and shook her head at Miss Ferguson, who had stepped forward to claim Marc. “I know you’re excited, darling, but you must try to be more careful. And try not to talk so much when Papa is around. He’s not accustomed to dining with small children and he likes a little peace with his meals.”
Both Marc and Ginny looked at their mother’s face and nodded solemnly. With the unfailing instinct of the young, they had always known they must always stand up for their mother against their father. “Yes, Mama,” they chorused.
“I will try very hard to be good,” Marc added, his brown eyes big and earnest.
Nanda gave them both a smile. “Good.” She gestured to Miss Ferguson to come and, as she moved away, she heard Marc saying to his nurse, “I’m going to steer a little bit, Fergie. Not all the time. Just almost.”
Nanda heaved a weary sigh and went to join Gacé where he was standing beside their coach, a thin line between his brows. She thought with a gleam of humor that, after a long journey in close proximity to his children, he might well be glad to hand them over to her permanently.
They arrived in Dover in time for dinner. Gacé had hired a private parlor at the King’s Inn and they dined en famille once again. To Nanda’s relief, dinner was peaceful. Both children were on their best behavior, and they were hungry, which kept them occupied. Nanda determinedly kept up a flow of light conversation, which she addressed mainly to her husband.
Then Marc put down his fork and said to Nanda politely, “May I be excused, Mama? I have to relieve myself.”
There was a white line around Gacé’s mouth. “Good God, Nanda,” he said to his wife. “The child has no more manners than a barbarian. Is this your idea of child-rearing?”
Marc was interested. “What is a barbarian, Papa?”
“A barbarian is someone who ought not to be allowed in civilized company,” his father told him blightingly.
Marc frowned in bewilderment, but his physical needs were more pressing. “I have to…” he began to say again, when his nurse, who had been eating, along with the coachman, footman and governess, at a small table in the corner, appeared. “I’ll take him upstairs, your grace,” she said.
Marc said, “Papa said I was a barbarian, Fergie. Do you know what that means?”
“Go, Marc. Now,” Gacé said in a frigid voice.
Marc went.
“He’s tired, Matthieu,” Nanda said placatingly. “It was a long day for such a little boy.”
“He was very good in the coach, Papa,” Ginny said. She and Marc might squabble with each other, but they always stood united against their father.
Gacé ignored her. They finished their meal in silence and Nanda excused herself with Ginny. “I’ll just run along to see how Marc is doing,” she said lightly.
He was almost asleep, looking very small in the big bed. He stirred sleepily when she bent to kiss him. “Are you angry with me, Mama?” he murmured.
“No, darling, I’m not angry.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
Reluctantly, Nanda smiled. “Those words should be on your coat of arms, Marc. Goodnight my darling.”
She went straight to her room instead of returning downstairs. She didn’t trust herself to see Gacé again. She soaked in a hot bath, donned a fresh lawn nightgown, and let Howes brush and plait her hair. “Thank you, Howes,” she said gently. “You must be tired as well. Go to bed. We are leaving on the early tide.”
“Yes, your grace.” The dresser went to the door and almost collided with Gacé, who was coming in.
“Excuse me, your grace,” she murmured and went, leaving Gacé to enter and close the door behind him.
He stood for a moment looking at his wife. Nanda had to stop herself from reaching for her robe to cover herself.
“I thought you were coming back downstairs,” he said.
“I’m tired so I decided to go straight to bed.”
“Marc and Virginie would wear anyone out,” he agreed.
As Nanda stared at his finely modeled, sensitive face the remark she had been suppressing popped out of her mouth. “You only had two meals with them. It’s been years since you spent any time in their company.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? I would be perfectly willing to spend more time with my children if they behaved according to my wishes, not as English versions of Attila the Hun.”
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She felt herself flush. “Children aren’t small adults, Matthieu. It isn’t natural that they be made to behave as if they were.”
“Perhaps not. But they certainly should be made to behave. Marc is appallingly undisciplined, Nanda.”
Nanda pressed her lips together. She knew Marc lacked discipline, but he was learning. It was impossible to explain to Gacé that his cold, blighting manner was profoundly harmful to a warm, loving child. Marc responded very well to the guidance of her brother, and he listened to Adam too. His father inspired fear in him, not obedience. She shook her head. “We’ve been through all this before.”
“Yes, we have,” he replied smoothly. “And I allowed you the freedom to rear my children in whatever fashion you felt best. But you must not expect me to praise the result.”
“I don’t,” she said shortly.
He leisurely crossed the room until he was standing before her. “Do you also remember that you agreed to conform to my idea of what a wife should be?”
“Yes,” she said, through a suddenly constricted throat.
“You have not exactly done that, ma belle, have you?” He tipped her chin up so she was forced to look at him. At the expression on his face, she felt her blood run cold.
“I have tried, Matthieu,” she said breathlessly. “I agreed to come to Baden with you. But you must give me time.”
“Time?” His gray eyes narrowed. “We have been married for five years, ma belle. I am hardly a stranger to you.”
Yes, you are, she thought, and that thought gave her courage. This was not Matthieu, her stiff, proud husband who couldn’t help it if he lived in a world of restrictions that suffocated and withered her soul. This was a man who was ready to betray the nation and the people who had befriended him; to betray as well the trust and the fellowship of his own monarch, who believed him an ally. There was neither love nor loyalty in him; only a monstrous egotism that saw others as objects to be used for its own glorification. Her spine stiffened. No matter what happened, he should never touch her again.