by Jane Feather
“I know what it’s like to be a newcomer to London society,” Alex said amiably, shaking hands with a courteous bow. “How long have you been here, Don Antonio?”
“Several weeks only. Thank you, Sir Greville.” Don Antonio accepted a glass of sherry from his host.
“Won’t you sit down, sir.” Aurelia sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside her in invitation.
He took the offered seat, and Lyra, who until now had not changed position or posture, came forward and sat at Aurelia’s feet. Her ears remained pricked, and her head was lifted, her eyes alert. Don Antonio reached out a hand to touch her and a low growl came from deep in her throat. He took his hand back swiftly. “Not the friendliest of hounds. I would never have guessed, having caught sight of her playing so well with your daughter.”
“She was trained as a guard dog,” Aurelia said. “Of course, we have no need of such protection here in London.” She gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “But my husband likes to have her around.”
“How interesting,” Don Antonio said in a tone that indicated he found it not in the least interesting.
Greville offered his bluff laugh. “I’m a country man, and I’m not comfortable without a dog at my side. I feel my wife and stepdaughter should have the same comfort.”
Alex gave no indication of how interesting he was finding this exchange. Aurelia was behaving in a manner quite unfamiliar to him. In all the time he’d known her, he’d never encountered either the simper or the artificial little laugh. And unless his instincts were way off course, his host was up to something, too.
Alex knew from Harry that Aurelia’s husband was connected to the War Ministry. And he knew that Harry assumed the colonel was working on something for their chief. But Harry had known nothing beyond this assumption and, of course, had followed protocol and not broached the subject with Falconer. Now Alex wondered if this Spaniard could be a part of whatever it was. It would be logical, given that the colonel by his own admission had spent the better part of the last two years in Spain and Portugal.
But none of that explained why Aurelia was behaving so oddly. She couldn’t know anything of Falconer’s business. An honorable man didn’t involve his wife in his own dangerous missions. He himself had kept Livia as far away as it was humanly possible from his own mission.
And where had that got him? If it hadn’t been for his wife, he’d have spent his last days in Arakcheyev’s torture chambers.
He sat back, idly twirling his glass by the stem, and watched closely. After five minutes he was incredulously convinced that Aurelia and her husband were operating as a team and the Spaniard was their quarry.
At an appropriate moment Alex said casually, “Forgive me, Aurelia, but I must go. I have yet to visit Cornelia. I have a letter for her and she won’t take kindly to it being too delayed.” He rose to his feet.
Aurelia jumped up at once, only too glad for the opportunity to get away from such proximity to Don Antonio. “No, of course not. Give Nell my love, and tell her I’ll see her this afternoon. I’ll fetch Franny myself.”
“Of course.” Alex kissed her on both cheeks, turned, and bowed to the Spaniard, who remained seated on the sofa. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Don Antonio. Shall I see you at White’s perhaps?”
“Lord Lessingham has been good enough to put my name up at White’s and Watier’s,” Don Antonio said with a thin smile. “I daresay we shall meet at the tables. I look forward to it, Prince Prokov.”
Greville said, “Let me walk you to the door, Prokov.” He moved ahead, opened the drawing room door, and ushered his guest into the hall, closing the door firmly behind them.
“Thank you.” Alex glanced back at the closed door. “I didn’t get the impression that Aurelia cared over much for Vasquez.”
Greville’s dark gray eyes showed a glimmer of amusement. “Really? I understood from her that she finds him pleasant company.” His lips quirked in a half smile. “Of course, you’ve known her rather longer than I.”
“But perhaps not as well,” Alex returned, holding Greville’s gaze.
“No. Perhaps not. Aurelia and I understand each other very well.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Alex gave a brief nod and offered his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality. I hope to return it in Cavendish Square soon.”
“I look forward to it. And I look forward to meeting your wife.” They both smiled the correct smiles as the pleasantries were pronounced and hands were shaken.
Greville opened the front door and held it wide. Alex stepped through it. Then he turned. “Aurelia is very precious to her friends, Falconer.”
“She is also very precious to her husband, Prokov.” Greville gave him a benign smile that was returned in kind, then stepped back and closed the door.
He had known Frederick’s widow would have friends, but he hadn’t expected the friendships to be quite so intense and protective. And he had certainly failed to anticipate that they would extend to the husbands of her friends, which, in the circumstances, given these particular men, could be either extremely annoying or very useful. He’d have to come to a decision on which way the dice fell on that one sooner rather than later.
He stood in the hall, gazing thoughtfully at the closed drawing room door. Then he turned and made his way to the library. He would leave Aurelia to her work with the Spaniard. She could come to no harm in her own drawing room, with Lyra at her side. And Greville had no intention of going anywhere out of the house until Don Antonio Vasquez had departed.
Maybe she would get a clue to his plans, maybe something would be said that would give Greville an inkling about the trap Vasquez was going to spring. If all else failed, if Aurelia became close to the Spaniard, she would be able to set the trap that would give Greville his chance to eliminate El Demonio once and for all.
• • •
In the drawing room, Aurelia refilled her guest’s glass and offered him a honey cake. “I did so enjoy Countess Lessingham’s soiree.” She popped a cake into her own mouth with a little moue of pleasure. “And I do so adore sweetmeats.”
“The ladies do in general,” he said, taking a savory tartlet for himself.
“Oh, yes, a sweet tooth is our besetting sin,” she tittered.
“I’m sure you have others,” he said with a suggestive twitch of his eyebrow.
Aurelia dabbed at her mouth with a linen napkin. “I daresay, sir. Are you free of them?”
He shook his head. “No, alas. I have many.”
“Dare I ask what they are?” She leaned into him a little.
He put his hand on her knee. “I fear they’re too many to list.” He increased the pressure of his hand for a moment, then withdrew it. “But I love to ride in the park, Lady Falconer. Could I persuade you to join me one afternoon?”
“How lovely, yes, I should be delighted, Don Antonio.” Aurelia tried to disguise her relief that he had moved a little away from her. She had never been good at flirting, it always made her want to laugh at the most inconvenient moments, but for some reason Don Antonio frightened her to her marrow, and this game was so deadly serious that she had not the slightest urge to laugh.
He rose to his feet. “Shall we say tomorrow afternoon, then? I will call for you at five o’clock.”
“I look forward to it, sir.” She rose and led the way to the door, Lyra padding quietly beside her. “Let me show you out. Our butler is very old and his substitute is very young, as I daresay you noticed. Sometimes it’s easier to do things for oneself.”
“It would be considered very strange in my country, but when in Rome, as they say.” He laughed lightly.
“Indeed,” she agreed, opening the door for him and giving him her hand.
He kissed it, murmured, “Until tomorrow, my lady.”
“Tomorrow.” She managed to wait until he was halfway down the steps to the street before she closed the door. Then she shuddered, feeling as if a slug had crawled down her back leaving a slimy trail. She w
ondered for an instant if she was out of her depth, then put the doubt from her. Greville was her protector. She had nothing to fear.
Lyra pushed her nose into her hand and Aurelia tugged her ears gently.
She had nothing to fear.
Chapter Twenty
HARRY BONHAM WAS AT home when Alex arrived at Mount Street. He came out of the library at the familiar voice in the hall.
“Prokov, we were expecting to see you any day.” Harry greeted him with genuine pleasure. “How are Livia and the baby?”
“Doing well…very well, in fact.” Alex shook Harry’s hand vigorously. “I’ll be escorting them to town in two weeks in plenty of time for Cornelia’s ball.”
“Cornelia’s not at home at present, some charity-visiting as I understand it. She’ll be so cross to have missed you, but come into the library.” He led the way into his bookroom. “Sit down.” Harry gestured to a deep leather armchair beside the grate where a small fire burned. “Sherry?”
“Please.” Alex sat down. “I’ve just come from South Audley Street.”
“Ah.” Harry handed him a glass, then took the opposite chair with his own glass. “Did you meet Falconer?”
“Yes, he came in while I was visiting with Aurelia. She’s looking well.”
Harry nodded. “Marriage seems to suit her.” He sipped his sherry. “Let’s not beat about the bush, Prokov. What were your impressions of the colonel?”
Alex didn’t answer directly, asking instead, “Have you ever worked with him?”
Harry shook his head. “Different fields. I tend to be deskbound as you know. Falconer is a field agent. One of the best ever according to my chief…and believe me that’s high praise coming from that quarter.”
“Is he working now?” Alex asked directly.
Harry shrugged. “I believe so, but he won’t confirm it and neither will Simon Grant. But I was asked to ease him back into London society if he needed it. A couple of invitations, a few introductions, that kind of thing. But he really didn’t need my help. It took all of a week and the man had established himself comfortably. And then, of course, he married Aurelia, which opened a whole other circle for him.”
Alex nodded, regarding Harry shrewdly. “How did that happen?”
“No one is entirely sure. Apparently they met in Bristol while Aurelia was at the bedside of some ailing relative. They took to each other, decided marriage would suit both of them, and got on with it.”
“A marriage of convenience, do you think?”
“No, not at all. According to Cornelia, it’s a marriage of wild, impetuous passion. So much so that they eloped overnight, almost as soon as the engagement was made public. And I’ve never seen anything to disagree with such an interpretation. Aurelia seems happy, and she’s certainly happy to have her own establishment in town.” Harry sipped his sherry again. “Did you not think she seemed happy?”
“Certainly. Rather more than that, in fact.” Alex held up his sherry glass to the light, tilting it to catch the amber glow in the liquid. “There was a Spaniard there, a Don Antonio Vasquez. Mean anything to you?”
Harry shook his head. “Émigrés from the courts of Europe are in plentiful supply these days as Bonaparte knocks kings off their thrones with depressing regularity.” Harry looked shrewdly at his visitor. “Why don’t you come clean, Alex, and tell me what you’re getting at?”
“It was just a feeling.” Alex crossed one booted leg over the other. The tassels on his highly polished Hessians swished against the leather as he swung his foot idly. “A sense if you like that Aurelia and Falconer were working in concert. Something to do with the Spaniard.”
“I haven’t met the Spaniard, so I can’t speak to that,” Harry said thoughtfully. “But I, too, have had a sense once in a while that in public there’s something more going on than a simple marital outing. Certain looks they exchanged, and certain mannerisms and gestures that seemed new to Aurelia.”
“Exactly. I had the same impression this morning. But could the man actually be using Aurelia, Harry? It beggars belief.”
“Does it?” Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “I doubt he’s using her without her consent. And Aurelia is hardly a naïf. She won’t be doing anything she doesn’t want to do. Or at least, that’s Cornelia’s firm conviction, and she knows Aurelia better than anyone, apart from Livia.”
“So you’ve discussed this with Cornelia?”
“En passant. If Falconer’s working undercover as we suspect, then it’s not for us to probe, or even speculate. I’ve hinted several times, but he always freezes me off with a polite but utterly impermeable smile, and just a faint hint of menace.”
Alex nodded grimly. “I noticed. So what do we do?”
“Nothing, of course.” Harry refilled their glasses. “If Aurelia’s working with him, then he’ll have trained her himself and he wouldn’t use her if he thought she wasn’t up to it. I’ll also lay odds he’s safeguarding her with that wolfhound.”
“We could at least make certain he knows Aurelia’s friends are looking out for her.”
Harry laughed a little. “Oh, I believe he’s all too aware of that, Alex. I’ve even offered my own services somewhat obliquely. Politely declined, I might add, but he knows the offer stands.”
“Then I suppose that must be—”
Alex broke off as the door flew open and Cornelia came in, the skirts of her russet riding habit whirling around her with the energy of her step. “Alex, Hector said you were here.” She came forward hands outstretched in welcome.
He embraced her warmly, then sneezed as the black plume of her hat tickled his nose.
She laughed and unpinned the hat, tossing it onto the console table by the door. “How’s Liv? Tell me all the news.”
“You can read it in her own words.” Alex gave her a fat packet similar to the one he’d given Aurelia, then produced the miniature of his son. Cornelia laughed when Alex told them that the twins had seen both Livia and himself in the baby’s portrait.
“Come to dinner tonight,” Cornelia said as Alex prepared to take his leave. “I’ll make sure Ellie and Greville come, too.”
Alex thanked her and promised to be there, then he said casually, “So, you approve of Aurelia’s husband?”
“Of course,” Cornelia said simply. “Aurelia does, so of course I do.” She frowned at him. “Did Liv tell you to ask me directly?”
“Yes,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “She said she couldn’t be certain from your letters. They seemed a little ambiguous, but that if I asked a straight question, then you would give me a straight answer.”
“And so I have. But I will admit that he’s a little difficult to know. I think he keeps his real self well hidden. However, Ellie seems to understand him, and that’s all that really matters.” Cornelia gave him a half smile. “We didn’t really know you all that well for a long time, Alex, but we followed Liv’s lead.”
He acknowledged the hit with a faint smile and a nod. “Until this evening then.”
• • •
When Don Antonio left her, Aurelia went in search of her husband. She found him in the library as she expected.
“Our friend has left,” Greville said as she came in. “I heard the front door.”
“Yes, thank goodness.” She crossed her arms over her breast, clasping her elbows. “He makes my flesh creep, Greville.”
“I’m not surprised.” He got up and came over to her. “Not to put too fine a point upon it, he’s a deeply unpleasant man.” Greville tilted her chin and looked closely into her eyes. “He frightens you.” It was a plain statement.
“A little.”
“It’s good that he does.” Greville ran a thumb over her mouth, his eyes grave. “It means you won’t take any chances. And, trust me, my dear, you cannot afford to drop your guard with Vasquez for one moment.”
Aurelia shivered a little. “It’s his eyes. There’s nothing there, nothing behind them.”
“He works in espionage. I
t’s the nature of the beast,” Greville said as if it was an obvious point. “Did you make any arrangements to meet?”
He didn’t appear to connect that statement with himself, Aurelia reflected, wondering whether to point it out. Instead, she answered his question. “Yes, tomorrow afternoon. To ride in the park.”
He frowned. “Your new coachman will accompany you. He’ll keep a discreet distance, but he won’t let you out of his sight.”
“There’ll be plenty of people around.”
“Nevertheless,” he said quietly, turning to the decanters on the sideboard.
Aurelia felt a little nugget of warm reassurance. “What do you want me to get out of him?”
“What we’ve discussed. Get him to talk…about the people he associates with, both English and Spanish. I need to find out what he’s up to. If he’s setting up a network, we need to know whom he’s recruiting, and if he’s interested in any particular individual, I need to find that out. So I want you to draw him in…ensure that he’s a frequent visitor here, find out who his friends are, whom he’s cultivating. Establish a flirtatious friendship with him, and we’ll see where it leads.”
His back was to her and she didn’t see the grimace that crossed his countenance. The last thing he wanted to imagine, let alone encourage, was Aurelia flirting with Vasquez. But the closer she became to the man, the easier it would be for her partner to find a way in to set his own trap for the assassin before the assassin sprang his.
“It sounds simple.” Aurelia sat on the window seat, tugging gently on Lyra’s ears. “I just wish I didn’t find him so distasteful.”
“It’s a good thing that you do, although it will make your task harder.” He turned back to face her. “He’s considered one of the best agents in Spain.” He gave her a fleeting smile. “Which means we take him very, very seriously. You mustn’t let your guard slip for one minute.”
Why did she have the feeling that Greville wasn’t telling her everything?
Of course, she told herself, he never did tell her everything, and he was quite open about it. Information was shared only if he felt she needed to know something, and she understood that. But this felt a little different, almost as if he was being evasive. And while he’d refused to answer her questions on occasion, he had never evaded them.