by Lucy Ashford
Ellie’s attire was completely, utterly inappropriate for a young female who had not yet made her début in society. And Lord Franklin’s guests—wealthy men, men of overwhelming power in the British government—were transfixed.
‘Messieurs,’ Ellie said, smiling. And curtseyed low to them.
* * *
All through the meal, even the well-trained footmen could hardly hide their astonishment at her transformation. What Lord Franklin thought was impossible to say, but he was a master at concealing his feelings. Ellie had never, ever seen that polite mask slip from his face—except when she’d told him, in London, that someone had searched her room.
Had that person been Gerald Malone? She’d not seen Malone in Lord Franklin’s Mayfair house—but he was, without a doubt, the man who’d been following her in Brussels. He was sitting at the far end of the table now, and something cold trickled down her spine when she saw him suddenly lift his pale eyes to watch her.
He had tracked her down in Brussels for his master. Lord Franklin probably hoped you had information about Napoleon, Luke had suggested. Names. Contacts.
But Lord Franklin was a clever man, and now, as the first courses were brought in, Ellie’s so-called protector hid his thoughts and emotions as well as ever, behaving towards her as if he were the caring relative he claimed to be. ‘My long-lost French cousin’ was how he described her again and again to his guests, as if she were an amusing trinket. ‘I was so glad to be able to offer her a home here.’
‘But what a shame,’ they chorused, ‘to hide such loveliness away in Kent!’
‘It was her choice.’ He turned to her. ‘Wasn’t it, Elise my dear?’
‘Of course,’ she answered softly.
He was amusing and polite, but Ellie saw how Lord Franklin’s mouth said one thing and his eyes another. Outwardly, he was appreciating the food and making light conversation. But his eyes were always moving, she’d noticed, always carefully scanning the company. He was listening, too, she realised, absorbing everything that was going on around him and aware of every murmur, every glance.
Especially since most of his guests’ glances were directed towards Ellie, and that gown.
She smiled at them all demurely from beneath lowered lashes. She pretended to be lost sometimes for the appropriate English words, and the men competed to supply them for her. As the main courses were brought in, one of them said, ‘It must be terrible for you, mam’selle, to hear that Napoleon Bonaparte is free again and is raising his army against France’s rightful king. You were perhaps hoping that soon you might return to your homeland.’
Before Ellie could reply, Lord Franklin answered for her. ‘There is no need to alarm Elise,’ he said. ‘No need to trouble her with politics. The rabble Napoleon calls his army will scatter soon enough. And Elise knows that, as my relative, she has a home with me for as long as she wants.’
‘You should bring her to London, Franklin!’ someone else was saying, glancing admiringly at Ellie. ‘Truly, she’d take the ton by storm!’
Ellie saw Lady Charlotte give her a look of utter fury. But Ellie carried on play-acting. Flirting, even, until Lady Charlotte, almost puce with displeasure, announced when the desserts were about to be served that she and Ellie would retire to the parlour. ‘We shall leave the gentlemen to their important business,’ she said pointedly, ‘of which there will no doubt be much. They can certainly do without silly distractions!’
The men competed to express their regret at her departure. ‘Perhaps you will join us later, mam’selle?’
And another said, ‘Lord Franklin has mentioned that you play the piano. It would be delightful if you could spare the time to entertain us!’
‘I do hope so,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘It has been such a pleasure to meet you all.’
‘Elise!’ Lady Charlotte rapped out. ‘Follow me, if you please!’
The minute they got outside, Lady Charlotte turned on her. ‘You will go to your room for the rest of the evening, Elise. I will not have you insulting Lord Franklin and his distinguished guests a moment longer, with your state of—of déshabillé.’
‘Very well, my lady.’ Ellie curtseyed and walked steadily across the hall to the stairs.
Just what she wanted. To be dismissed. Just what she’d planned.
Then she heard the sound of dogs. Out in the grounds, baying in the distance. Her heart went cold. Luke. Had he received her message, and the key? Was he in the house yet?
If so, she had to to warn him. Now.
* * *
With the aid of the light of just one candle, Luke quickly explored the library. Joseph had let him in at the back of the house less than twenty minutes ago, then silently checked that all was clear as Luke unlocked the door to the library. After that Luke dismissed him. ‘Go back to your work, Joseph,’ he told him. ‘I’ll find my own way out.’
And he would—as soon as he’d got what he wanted.
From time to time, he heard the noise and laughter of Lord Franklin’s guests in the distance; heard footmen, too, sometimes, hurrying to and fro. With luck, the meal would last for a long time yet.
Luke paused briefly in what he was doing and caught his breath—all those important people, with Ellie alone in their midst. He hoped she would have the sense to stay out of the way. To leave everything to him. This was dangerous business.
He worked on through the various letters and papers, thinking and making plans. If he found proof that Les Braves had been betrayed, perhaps he could force Lord Franklin’s hand—get some kind of official declaration that Anthony and his comrades were loyal heroes and not traitors to the British cause. Though that would be little enough compensation, he thought grimly, for the grieving widows and children of those who’d died.
And Lord Franklin and his friends knew it. Knew that the revelation of those gallant men’s betrayal and deaths would cause outrage if the truth were revealed. That, Luke guessed, was the reason why the files were about to be moved to London, for destruction. If war was to break out again, the government certainly wouldn’t want it to be known that the reward for loyalty to one’s country was disgrace and death. Besides...
His thoughts halted. His breathing stopped, because amongst the letters he’d been scanning was one written in broad black handwriting.
Your idea, Lord Franklin, is a sound one. You are right in saying this whole sorry episode needs to be obliterated—
He sprang to his feet as the door slowly opened. Elise. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. She looked exquisite, with her dark curls piled to the crown of her head. And she was wearing a flimsy pink-silk dress that made her appear like a creature of his imagination. Of his dreams.
She was hurrying towards him. ‘Oh, Luke. Have you found them?’
‘Yes... But oh, God, Ellie, you shouldn’t be here—’
‘I decide what I should and shouldn’t do.’ She spoke calmly, but he thought he could hear a slight tremor in her voice. ‘Luke, you told me I mustn’t involve myself any more in the matter of your brother. But then, I was handed the library key—and I knew I just had to give you this one last chance to clear Anthony’s name.’
He groaned inwardly. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and cover her face with kisses, then run with her from here—run anywhere, so she would be safe, so she would be his... ‘Ellie,’ he said again, his voice raw with tension, ‘I know that I owe you the utmost gratitude. But I repeat that you shouldn’t be here. And I must leave—’
‘But you can’t, Luke. That’s why I’ve come! The dogs are out—I heard them!’
His heart sank, but he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then I will wait here.’
‘But you might be discovered here. When they finish their meal, Lord Franklin and his friends—’ he thought he saw her shiver ‘—might even come in to continue their business.
There’s nothing else for it. You will have to hide in my room.’
‘Oh, Ellie. If we should be caught...’
Her expressive face was white, but utterly determined. ‘We’ll go up the back stairs, so you’re not seen.’ She nodded to the paper he held in his hand. ‘You must bring whatever you’ve found and stay with me until you can escape. Hurry.’
He blew out the candle, ushered her from the library and locked the door.
* * *
In her room a fire had been lit and Luke saw that two wax candles cast their soft light over the exquisite furniture, over the rich carpets and thick curtains at the windows. Luke breathed in the delicate scent of lavender, conscious of his rough clothes, his obtrusive masculinity. Aware of the hideous danger he was putting her in.
She’d shut the door and locked it. Turned at last to face him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘What for? Why should you be sorry?’
Something tightened inside him, because even now, in this frankly impossible situation, he found himself looking through to the bedroom, imagining her on that bed and in his arms, yielding sweetly to him... Fool.
‘I’m sorry for putting you,’ he said, ‘in this more-than-difficult situation.’
‘You didn’t put me in this situation,’ she said steadily. Her hair was tumbling from its pins and she was trying to fasten it up again—completely unaware, he realised, of how her actions were making her breasts strain against the tight silk of her gown. Luke’s throat was dry.
‘I wanted,’ she went on, ‘to help you get into the library. I wanted justice to be done, for your brother—’
A dog howled almost beneath her window and she broke off; Luke remembered what she’d reluctantly told him about the time she and her father were chased by dogs. He wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and to make everything all right for her, but of course soon enough he felt the inevitable bitter self-
mockery roiling through his veins. Make everything all right? Good God. He was the worst thing that could possibly have happened to her. And—
‘I hear footsteps,’ he whispered harshly. ‘Someone’s coming.’
At almost the same time they both heard a light knock at the door and a girl’s hesitant voice. ‘Miss, it’s Mary. Are you in there?’
Already Ellie had flung a wrapper over her gown, as if ready for bed. ‘It’s my maid, Luke. Quickly. Go through to my bedroom.’ She pointed, then went to open the door. ‘Mary,’ he heard her say. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘I didn’t realise you’d retired for the night, miss.’ The maid sounded confused. ‘I didn’t even know the banquet was over, until Mr Huffley mentioned you’d gone.’
Ellie’s voice was light. ‘Oh, I was so tired after the sixth course, Mary, that I really couldn’t face any more. So I decided to prepare myself for bed without troubling you.’
‘It wouldn’t have been any trouble at all, miss. Are you sure there’s nothing you want? Your fire building up, perhaps? Your clothes putting away?’
‘Nothing at all.’ Luke heard Ellie feign a slight yawn. ‘Although I wish it was in your power to silence those dogs outside—have you heard, Mary, how much longer they’ll be making that dreadful noise?’
‘Mr Huffley said that with all these important guests, the dogs are likely to be let loose all night. And he told us, too, that armed guards have been posted at all the gates—some of the youngest maids were ever so frightened. They say they won’t sleep a wink tonight for fearing that the French might be landing in secret, miss!’
‘I’m sure it’s highly unlikely, Mary. But thank you for calling—I hope you sleep well and the others, too. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, miss!’
The door closed, and Luke emerged from the shadows to see Ellie leaning with her back against the door, with a faint pulse visibly beating in her throat and fear in her eyes.
But she smiled at him. She smiled and shrugged. ‘That was only my maid. But you’ll have heard what she said, I’m afraid—that the Hall is well guarded.’
‘No matter,’ he said steadily. ‘I’ll find some way to get out. Ellie—you left the banquet early. Might people not have wondered why?’
She shook her head. ‘But I didn’t leave, you see.’ For a moment Luke thought he saw the slightest hint of mischief in her eyes.
‘You didn’t...?’
‘I was sent away before the end of the meal by Lady Charlotte. She told me I was a disgrace and a distraction.’
His eyes glittered with laughter, too. ‘The gown, I suppose?’
‘The gown. I wore it deliberately to annoy Lady Charlotte and to get myself banished.’
He smiled, but then his face shadowed. ‘And that was all so you could get to see me, in the library?’
She was suddenly serious, too. ‘I was anxious about you. And then, when I heard the dogs, I knew that I had to see you. You’ve found something, haven’t you?’ She pointed to the letter he held.
‘Yes. But, Ellie...’
‘Do you think,’ she said, ‘that I cannot keep a secret? Whom am I going to talk to, about this? Lord Franklin? Lady Charlotte? Who, Luke? Don’t I deserve to know?’
He sighed. ‘Shall we sit down?’ He indicated the sofa. And there, as they sat side by side—Not too close, Luke reminded himself heavily, you mustn’t get too close—he began to tell her. All of it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘I think,’ Luke began, ‘that I’ve already explained to you how, in the early autumn of 1813, my brother, Anthony, and his colleagues, Les Braves, were sent on a secret mission to the south-west of France. Their task was to investigate the possibility of sending British troops there to help Napoleon’s enemies.’
‘They sailed to La Rochelle.’ She nodded. ‘You told me a British navy ship was supposed to collect them and never came. You said they were abandoned. Betrayed by their British masters.’
‘Exactly.’ He was still holding the folded letter tightly in his hands. ‘Abandoned to their fate. Worse than that, the rumour was spread deliberately that they had to be left there—because they were traitors. And I believe that their fate was largely due to none other than Lord Franklin.’
She clasped her hands together. ‘Oh, Luke. How do you know?’
He looked at her steadily. ‘I’ve been aware for a long time that Lord Franklin was an unofficial adviser to the Home Office. His travels in search of art treasures and his mastery of foreign languages made him an ideal secret observer—and I believe he strongly advised that the plan for the British to be involved in the west of France should be abandoned. When questions were raised by the family and friends of those who were lost, it was Lord Franklin’s idea to say that were guilty of treachery—thus blackening forever the names of those brave men who had given their lives for their country.’
Ellie was looking at the letter he held. ‘And you’ve found something that proves it?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Take it. Read it.’
She unfolded the paper in silence.
Your idea, Lord Franklin, is a sound one. You are right in saying that this whole sorry episode needs to be obliterated. I agree with you that our men—Les Braves—must not, after all, be rescued. If Napoleon’s soldiers capture them, then it is a sad but necessary sacrifice. To also declare, as you suggest, that they are turncoats and traitors may unfortunately be necessary to ensure that their names are never mentioned again. Thank you, Lord Franklin, for your advice on this matter.
Luke was watching her. ‘You’ll see,’ he said, ‘that it’s signed by the head of the Foreign Office.’
She was gazing at him steadfastly. ‘Then this is your proof, Luke. What are you going to do next?’
He’d risen to his feet. ‘The first thing I must do,’ he said, ‘is to make sur
e that you, Ellie, are not put in any more danger.’
She rose, too, and stood defiantly in front of him. ‘Luke, listen to me, please. I don’t regret in the slightest what I’ve done to help you. I would do the same again and more. I’ve known all along that Lord Franklin was not to be trusted and I know it even more now, because there was a man following me in Brussels, spying on me. And I saw him today.’
‘You saw him?’
‘Yes. He is Lord Franklin’s secretary. Lord Franklin must have sent him last year to Brussels, to find my father and me—for information, perhaps, as you suggested.’ She walked over to the fire, then turned to face him. ‘And now—now that you have that letter—I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you at all. I wanted to help you achieve justice, do you understand?’
‘What will you do now, Ellie?’ he breathed.
Luke wanted her, and badly. He wanted to pull aside her wrapper and slip that silk dress from her exquisite form, and hold her and kiss her with the harsh desire that was becoming more and more relentless. And yet, it was, he realised, her dauntless courage that stunned him as much as anything. The way she coped with being alone. She had no family. No friends. And yet, even so, her sense of justice, of what above all was right, made her fight and fight and fight...
‘What will I do now?’ she echoed. He saw her shrug and try to smile—it tore at his heart. ‘Some would say I have a wealth of opportunities ahead of me. For example, I attracted a great deal of attention amongst Lord Franklin’s guests tonight. I could, I suppose, find myself a rich and eligible man to marry—’
He lifted his hand to stop her. ‘Don’t,’ he said. Something was hurting in his chest. ‘Please don’t throw yourself away. Don’t let yourself be deceived by any more false promises—’
She stared up at him, her face very pale now. ‘Have you made me false promises, Luke?’
‘I’ve tried not to,’ he breathed. ‘God knows, I’ve tried my hardest not to. But, Ellie, you must know, you must realise—’