A Dangerous Masquerade

by Linda Sole

  Was she making a fool of him? It was true that he’d seen the children for himself and Sister Helene had confirmed that she had been supporting them for several months. However, that did not necessarily make the rest of her story true. He could not be certain that she’d not taken advantage of the situation to steal the comtesse’s identity in order to acquire her jewels and possessions.

  Was she actually a rather clever adventuress?

  A smile touched his sensual lips as he recalled the way her eyes had taken fire that morning. He found it amusing to fence with her verbally and realised that he enjoyed her company – more than he’d enjoyed the company of a woman for years.

  There had been several women in his life. He was not a saint and would never pretend otherwise, but he’d never taken an unwilling woman or deflowered a virgin – though certain people believed otherwise. For a moment his frown deepened. Whatever he said or did, he was damned in the eyes of certain of his erstwhile friends. He had no intention of trying to prove his innocence. Let them think what they pleased. They had condemned him as a traitor when he’d been risking his life in ways they had no idea of – damn them! His pride had made him become reticent and in time bitter. There had been moments when he’d wanted to wipe the look of smug indifference from Pendleton’s face.

  Pushing the angry thoughts to the back of his mind, he bent it to the task in hand. If Renard was the man he thought him, he would not ignore the challenge Moraven had thrown down. Once he returned to Paris and learned that someone had been looking for him, he would do something about it – which meant he might try to kill Moraven.

  Was he risking Constance’s safety by staying at her house? She was already in danger. If she’d been followed from the nuns’ house it meant that they were aware of her and what she was doing. While Moraven was in danger of a knife in the back or a ball through the head, Constance’s fate might be far worse.

  She was too beautiful to dispose of – especially if she was a virgin, as she seemed to claim. There were men who would pay a huge price to deflower her – and others who would use her again and again until she was broken in mind and body.

  A shudder ran through him as he considered her fate. He would die rather than let that happen to her. She might be a thief, she might even be an adventuress – but the thought of men using her, breaking her pride little by little. He wanted to take Andre Renard by the throat and choke the life out of him. Men like that deserved to be hung drawn and quartered – and even that was hardly enough punishment for the men who preyed on young children.

  Moraven had felt sick to his stomach as Sister Helene related some of the children’s stories. He was aware of such things, naturally, but it wasn’t until it was thrust on his notice and the child pointed out that he felt the full force of its meaning.

  He had promised the nun that he would help her and he would do his best to keep that promise. Her most pressing problem for the moment was for him to track down and deal with the man who was threatening her. Most of the children had been run by pimps who worked for Renard and were under his protection. While he retained his network of influential friends and patrons they feared nothing, but cut off the head and the tangled web would begin to unravel. It would never stop of course. Abuse of women, children and some young men would always go on, but this was a particularly nasty group who used violence to coerce their victims. Kill Renard and the men that had died in Spain in that ambush would be avenged – and many children would be able to live without the shadow of fear hanging over them. If he saved Constance’s life into the bargain all the better.

  His expression lightened as he recalled the look on her face when he lain on her bed the previous evening. She had believed he intended to ravish her as payment for the purse she’d taken. While he acknowledged the physical need she’d aroused, he had no intention of demanding payment. However, should she wish to become his mistress he would be more than happy to oblige her. Just thinking of the possibility was enough to make his breeches extraordinarily tight about the crotch.

  A smile played over his mouth as he imagined the situation. He would set her up in her own house when this was all over. Instead of wearing another woman’s gowns and jewels, she would have her own – gowns that became her colouring and jewels that set off her lovely eyes.

  The smile vanished. First of all, he had to find and deal with Renard.

  Constance was returning to the house with her basket over her arm. It was filled to the brim with the ingredients she would need to make her soup, also bread, cheeses and a joint of beef she intended to cook for their supper the following day. It was pleasant in the sunshine and for once she had not bothered to look over her shoulder. Why should anyone follow her to the market and back? If they knew where the nuns were living they would try to snatch the children back. Heloise had warned her to be careful but most people believed she was the comtesse and as such she was surely safe from attack?

  It was just as she reached the house that she realised someone was behind her. She glanced back, shocked to discover two burly men standing so close that it was obvious they intended some harm.

  ‘I have no money to steal,’ she said, her heart thumping. ‘If you want the food in my basket, take it…’

  ‘It’s you we want, my pretty one,’ the man nearest to her said and grinned in a way that sent shivers down her spine. ‘Come along nicely now. Someone wants to see you. You’re to explain why you’ve been interfering in his business, madame.’

  ‘No,’ Constance said, stifling the scream that rose to her lips. ‘I shall not come with you…’

  ‘We’ll hurt you if you force us,’ the second man said. ‘It would be a pity to mark that lovely white skin but you’ll heal…not that it matters much where you’re going.’

  The leer on his thick lips made Constance shiver. His meaning was so plain that she could not doubt she was in mortal danger.

  ‘Let me be, sir. I shall not come with you. If you try to touch me, I shall scream…’

  ‘And who will listen? No one will risk their person to save you, madame. Especially a cheating impostor…’

  ‘No…’ Constance let out a cry of fear. ‘Do not touch me. My friends will avenge me. You’ll be sorry…’

  ‘What friends? Who will stop me?’

  ‘I should be happy to oblige the lady,’ a harsh voice spoke from behind him. ‘At this moment a loaded pistol is pointed at your head, rogue. Lay one finger on the lady and I’ll shoot you like the dog you are.’

  The man grunted and turned his head just as Moraven brought the side of a second pistol crashing against his skull. He yelled in pain, reeling away and holding his hand to his bleeding flesh. His companion, seeing that the newcomer was still holding a pistol trained on him, turned and ran. The wounded man stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer and then took off after his accomplice.

  ‘Are you all right? They did not harm you?’

  ‘No. Your arrival was timely, sir,’ Constance replied, taking a deep breath to steady herself. ‘They wanted me to go with them – to explain myself to their master, Monsieur Renard, I think.’

  ‘Go inside the house, Constance. You look as if you could do with a glass of cognac.’

  ‘I am not sure we have any. I have never ventured into the comte’s wine cellar.’

  ‘It’s just as well I have,’ Moraven said with an odd smile as he pushed her inside the house. ‘Whatever else he may have been, the comte was a good judge of cognac.’

  Constance swallowed hard as the door was closed behind them and the bolt shot. ‘Thank you. I’m not sure what I should have done if you hadn’t arrived. There were people about but whether they would have helped me I do not know.’

  ‘It depends. Some might have stepped up to help, but many prefer to ignore an altercation for fear of being hurt themselves.’

  ‘Yes, I know…’ Constance realised her hands were trembling and set down her basket. ‘How foolish of me. I feel a little shaken…’

 
‘It is hardly to be wondered at. Come, sit down and I shall fetch the brandy for you.’

  Constance obeyed. It was so stupid of her for she did not normally give way to nerves, but her knees felt like jelly and she thought she might fall if she did not sit.

  Moraven returned in such a short time that she knew he must have brought the brandy up from the cellar earlier. He handed her a glass and she took it with both hands.

  ‘Drink it all. It will sting your throat but you’ll feel steadier.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She lifted it to her lips and drank a sip. It did sting her throat but she drank some more, then set the glass down still a third full. ‘That is enough. I am much better already. I suppose it was the shock. I’ve walked safely at night for months – now in the middle of day someone tries to abduct me. Why?’

  ‘I think you know the answer.’

  ‘They knew I wasn’t the countess. How can they know? Madeline never went out in company.’

  ‘Then someone must have come here and seen her – one of her husband’s friends perhaps? That someone must have told your enemy.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps…’ Constance stood up. ‘I must prepare the soup for our meal.’

  ‘Rest for a little longer. Can you recall any of the men who visited here when the comte was alive?’

  ‘He did not encourage visitors but there were a few.’ Constance wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘I recall one man…he was not ill favoured but his eyes made me feel as if he were stripping me naked when he looked my way. The comte was pleased with his company. He sent for wine and he made Madeline join them for dinner. She told me afterwards that they had business together. She did not know what but she didn’t like the visitor.’

  ‘Renard…’ Moraven looked thoughtful. ‘Could it have been he?’

  ‘Perhaps. I had never heard his name then. It was only after…he called himself Devallier…yes, the man who came here was the Comte Devallier.’

  ‘Another of Renard’s names.’ Moraven nodded. ‘It was good fortune that I returned when I did. Renard knows what you’ve been doing and he knows you are not the comtesse. He believed you to be friendless, apart from your servants and the nuns. Had he succeeded in snatching you, I think you know your fate?’

  ‘Yes.’ Constance’s face was pale as she stood up once more. ‘I must take more care in future. I shall ask Pierre to escort me to the market in future – and I shall not go out at night alone.’

  ‘If that were enough we should be fortunate,’ Moraven said grimly. ‘I do not think you can stay here alone when I leave – unless I stay in the house until I have dealt with him. Even then you may not be safe in Paris. He may have friends who will try to avenge him.’

  ‘What do you mean? I thought you meant to stay for a few days…’

  ‘We could make it a permanent arrangement. Not immediately, of course, but in time you might become my mistress.’

  ‘No! How dare you? I shall never agree to such an arrangement.’

  ‘As you wish, it was merely a suggestion for your protection. I am perfectly happy to continue as we are until my business here is done.’

  ‘Exactly what is your business, sir – if I may ask?’

  ‘My business is to find a traitor, an enemy and an evil man who deserves his fate. What I do then is best left unsaid. Suffice it that he will not trouble you again in person once the score is settled.’

  Constance felt chilled as she saw the ice in his eyes. ‘He is a ruthless man. Have you considered the chance that he may kill you?’

  ‘He will certainly try.’ Moraven smiled. ‘However, as you saw this morning, I am prepared. I shall do my best to bring him to justice without losing my life – but what happens, happens. My life is not of paramount importance here…’

  ‘I see…’ Constance inclined her head. ‘Thank you for telling me the truth. I believe we are safer with you living here than we were. You may stay for as long as you wish – but on the terms we previously agreed.’

  ‘Certainly, madame. I shall take you to my bed only when you are willing and eager, though I might wish otherwise. It would be a pleasant arrangement I believe, one that could bring us both pleasure.’

  ‘That will never be!’

  ‘Indeed?’ A smile played across his mouth. ‘I would wager you will change your mind one day – and now I shall not keep you for I believe you have work to do…’

  Constance gasped. The arrogance of the man was unbelievable. She would not give him the pleasure of seeing her discomforted.

  ‘I do thank you sincerely for helping me, sir – but if you hope for more you shall be sadly disappointed.’

  ‘Please excuse me, I shall take these things to my room. At what hour do we dine?’

  ‘At the hour of three and thirty, sir.’

  ‘Ah, country hours.’ Moraven smiled. ‘I have business I must attend but I shall return in good time. I am promised a good fish soup and already my stomach growls.’

  ‘I have cheese and bread if you need something to sustain you until then.’

  ‘No, I think not,’ he said, then laughed and moved towards her with lightning speed. She was in his arms, his mouth caressing hers before she guessed what he was about. ‘There, that shall sustain me until we dine…’

  Constance was left to gasp and fume inwardly as he swept up his bags and left to take them upstairs.

  Damn the man! For two pins she would send him packing – and yet he had saved her from a terrible fate and she would feel safer with him here. Besides, he needed a place to stay until he could transfer his funds from England and she owed him that at least.

  But if he imagined that his kiss had changed her mind about becoming his mistress he would soon discover his mistake. Fighting the heat that suffused her body and the strange feeling spreading through her lower regions, Constance picked up her basket and went into the kitchen to prepare their meal.

  Chapter Four

  Moraven was fuming inwardly as he went to meet his contact. Although to all intents and purposes he had a free hand in his dealings with the French spy, he was not alone. Far from it in fact! His contact was an important diplomat, a member of the English network of secret agents. Outwardly, a small but important cog of the ambassador’s staff, he was here to speak with Moraven about the progress he had made in tracing a formidable adversary. There were also a dozen sleepers at Moraven’s disposal, on whom he could call if necessary. However, he preferred to work alone for the most part.

  ‘It is a good day for walking, monsieur,’ his contact gave the signal that all was clear as Moraven took his seat at the open-air café. ‘Do you care for a cognac?’

  ‘Thank you, monsieur, I prefer wine,’ Moraven replied and signalled the waiter, who brought him a flagon of the house wine. ‘The fox is out of his lair but has yet to break cover.’

  ‘Have you need of the hounds?’

  ‘I have a lure. I may need the hounds when my fox breaks cover, but for the moment I hunt alone.’

  ‘Good fortune with your hunting, monsieur. If there is anything you need…?’

  ‘Ten thousand francs into my account.’

  ‘That is a large sum?’

  ‘Hunting is an expensive pastime.’

  ‘I’m not certain I can raise that much, perhaps five immediately – more later if necessary.’

  Moraven drank a glass of wine, pulled a wry face and stood up. ‘It will do for the moment,’ he said, threw a few coins on the table and walked away.

  He was owed that ten thousand and more for past services but he had asked nothing before this and the money was not for him. Moraven had already arranged a transfer of funds for his own uses, but since he was using Constance and the nuns as bait to draw out the traitor he saw no reason for them not to benefit. He would personally see to Constance’s future, because he was confident of winning her over in time, and Sister Helen’s little band would be secure for some years with an endowment of five thousand francs plus whatever further funds he could squeeze from his
contacts.

  While he was perfectly able and willing to fund them himself if need be, it amused him to make the English government pay. They were a tight-fisted lot in Westminster and he would enjoy squeezing them a little.

  He had been walking for a few minutes before he sensed he’d picked up a tail. Deliberately lingering with a lad selling newssheets, he watched as his shadow bent to fiddle with a buckle on his stout boots. If Renard’s slave was watching him so much the better, but it might be best if he lost the man rather than lead him straight back to Constance’s house. Seeing a cab draw up across the road, he moved swiftly between the traffic and jumped in, giving the driver the address of a hotel two streets from her home. Hopefully, by the time his shadow caught up, he would have given him the slip. He wasn’t quite ready to confront Renard yet and when he did, he intended to have the advantage.

  Constance’s stomach rumbled as she stirred the thick soup. She was hungry and it was past their time to eat but Moraven had not yet returned. Looking anxiously at the silver watch she wore pinned to her gown, she wondered how long he would be. Much longer and the soup would be spoiled.

  ‘Why do you wait for him?’ Heloise grumbled. She had taken her portion and eaten it as soon as it was ready. ‘He will not consider your feelings and may not return at all.’

  Just as Constance was pondering the truth of her words, the knocker sounded. She smiled. ‘I think that is Moraven now. Please let him in and try not to be rude, Heloise.’

  ‘You’ll rue the day you let him stay here,’ the old woman prophesised as she shuffled out of the kitchen.

  Constance was ladling soup into bowls as he entered. She placed two bowls onto the table and then a dish of fresh crusty bread and a crock of butter. Cheese, apples and biscuits were already on the table.

  ‘I am sorry to be late,’ Moraven said. ‘You should have eaten, Constance. In future please do so. I may be delayed and there is always the chance that I may not return at all, through no fault of my own.’