“You are happy about James,” said Elspeth after they had dropped the earl off.
“It removes his motive,” said Val. “And I will take on that young liar tomorrow and get the truth out of him at last.”
Chapter 34
Val was up and out early the next morning and arrived at the ministry only a half-hour after it opened. He found Sir Humphrey’s office easily enough and there was Devereaux in the anteroom, opening correspondence. Without looking up, he announced in a dismissive voice that the minister was not in and not expected back until later in the afternoon.
“That is neither here nor there to me, Lord Devereaux, since it is you I have come to see.”
The younger man looked up, surprise and annoyance clearly written on his face. “I am very busy this morning, as you can see. I can’t imagine what you want with me. I don’t know you, do I?”
“I am Lieutenant Valentine Aston, my lord.”
“Valentine Aston? Now, why does that sound familiar?”
“Perhaps you heard it last night,” Val suggested.
“Ah, yes, you are the Earl of Faringdon’s…er…eldest son.”
“And one of Wellington’s exploring officers. I was sent from Portugal to speak with you, my lord,” Val added, his voice hard.
The young man’s eyes opened wide. “What do you know of me?”
“Everything,” Val announced bluntly. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately? Perhaps the minister’s office?”
Devereaux shuffled the papers together nervously as he stood up. “We could do that for a short while.”
“So the minister will not be gone for hours,” Val said sarcastically.
“It is my job to protect him from any riffraff that might want a favor.”
Devereaux led Val into the office and closed the door. “Do you wish to sit down, Lieutenant?” he asked, gesturing to two chairs by the window.
“I don’t think so.” Val stood there for a few minutes, letting the silent tension build until finally Devereaux asked desperately, “What do you want?”
“I wanted to see what kind of man would give information to the enemy.”
“I did it to help men like you, Lieutenant,” Devereaux declared with false bravado.
“Men like me?”
“Surely, as the, er, illegitimate son of an earl, you must be stirred by the injustices in our present system of laws. You must believe in liberty and equality and—”
“Fraternité?”
“Napoleon Bonaparte is a living emblem of the Revolution.”
“Napoleon Bonaparte is terrorizing Europe, you young fool,” said Val, willing himself not to grab Devereaux by his cravat and choke him. “He has displaced the lawful sovereign of Spain and put his own brother on the throne. How is that equality?”
“He has been faithful to the reforms of the Revolution, sir. In the end, it will be all right itself,” Devereaux said stubbornly. “And I did not reveal anything that had to do with military matters, after all. I would never have done that,” he added indignantly. “I only made sure that word of the political situation reached Portugal sooner than it would have done. It seemed absolutely sure that the prince would bring in the Whigs and recall Wellington. The war would have been over and the government in the hands of men who had the people’s interest at heart.”
“You really believe that you have done nothing treasonous, don’t you?” said Val, amazed that anyone could be no naive.
“I did what I did for my country’s sake,” Devereaux answered stubbornly.
“Well, let me tell you just a little of what happened because of your childish idealism, my lord.” Val pushed Devereaux’s chest and forced him to step back until he was against the wall, looking up into Val’s eyes. “Because Massena had an accurate account of the situation here, he was encouraged to dig himself in at Santarem. Despite the fact that there was no food. Do you know what it is like to be without food, my lord?” Devereaux shook his head, his eyes wide and frightened.
“The French were starving. And when they finally moved, do you know what they did?”
“N-no, sir,” Devereaux stammered.
“They revenged themselves on the people of Portugal. The peasantry. Those whom you would see as your brothers and sisters. They hung women and their babies and set fire under them to get them to reveal where food was hidden.”
Devereaux closed his eyes. “My God,” he whispered.
“Yes, well, your God wasn’t around, my lord. The stench from the graves lingered for days.”
“I didn’t know….”
“The easiest words in the English language…. ‘I didn’t know.’ Well, now you do,” said Val disgustedly, releasing him. “I want to know to whom you passed information and why.”
“Someone came to me months ago and requested my help. He made it sound…truly, he made it sound like it was all for the good, that it could possibly end the war.”
“Was that whom you sent news to?”
“No. I’ve already told them. I sent the information on to James Lambert, Marquess of Wimborne.”
“You lie!”
“Whatever you think of me, sir, I am not a liar,” said young Devereaux, drawing himself up. “It was suggested to me that the marquess would be willing to do it for the money.”
“How did you pay him?”
“Out of my own funds. I have an inheritance from my great-aunt as well as being my father’s heir. I’m a rich man, Lieutenant, and I wished to do some good with my money,” he added, his voice trailing off.
“Who suggested James to you?” Val demanded.
“I cannot tell you, Lieutenant. I gave my word as a gentleman,” said Devereaux, looking into Val’s eyes proudly, eager to gain back some regard.
“Bloody hell, you still think you are a gentleman?”
“I gave my word, sir.”
“Well, you are going to break your word and tell me,” Val informed him, the threat in his voice almost palpable.
“I can’t, Lieutenant. Not even if they transport me.”
Val could tell by the way the young fool was looking at him that he was stubbornly determined to cling to the one vestige of honor left him.
“You know damn well you won’t be transported, or even punished, because of your family’s position. So much for your equalité and fraternité! You have no problem accusing James Lambert. Why hold back the name of the other traitor?”
“I have never seen nor spoke to Lord Wimborne, except for a few polite words at ton affairs. He doesn’t even know where the information came from. I never promised him secrecy.” Devereaux was quiet for a moment and then said, “I am sure you must despise me, but I give you my word of honor I never realized what the consequences could be. He made it sound so simple and easy and patriotic, really.” Devereaux added with a despairing laugh. “But if I was even partly responsible for such depredations and because of his prompting…. He was very eager to involve the marquess, you know….” The younger man fell silent and Val could see the agony of indecision on his face. He stepped back and kept still.
“I cannot break my word and tell you who he is, Lieutenant Aston. But I could make an appointment with him and with you at the same time. It is rather Jesuitical reasoning, I know, but it is the best I can do and have any self-respect left,” Devereaux added bitterly. “I will regret this to my dying day, sir.”
“I’m at the Blackstone Hotel. Send for me there when you contact this man.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * * *
Young Devereaux was not the only one who believed that England was fighting the war for fear of the revolutionary ideas that had sprung up in France. Many of the officers in the army, like the Napier brothers, felt that the government’s motive was to save rank and privilege, not to counter tyranny.
Val hadn’t given much time to political considerations over the years. But he supposed if he sat down and thought about it he would lean toward the Whigs himself. Look at how rigidly
the nobility held on. He didn’t really want the viscountcy, but legitimacy, well, that would have been a different thing. Yet under the present laws, his father was unable to legitimize him, because property and lines of inheritance were considered more important than individual wishes.
But he couldn’t understand why the radicals did not see Bonaparte as a tyrant who was willing to fill his armies with young boys and sacrifice them to gain more power for himself. It wasn’t “Vive fraternité” that French troops chanted as they marched into battle, but “Vive l’Empereur,” thought Val with a disgusted laugh.
So why James? he wondered, his heart sinking. How could James Lambert, a man he had so admired and, he had to admit it, so loved, act the traitor? Money was no excuse, although it might have been a reason he understood. But James, although pressed for funds, did not seem desperate. He was a Whig, but not one of the radical fringe. Yet someone had known he would be open to suggestion. Someone had told Devereaux that James was his man. Why? Had James been a spy all along, or was this the first information he had passed on? Had he seen this the way young Devereaux had, as a relatively innocuous way of helping to shorten the war?
But Val could not give his friend the same excuse, for James was an experienced soldier and knew that any action, no matter how innocent it seemed, could have far-reaching consequences.
What would they do to James? Perhaps not bring him to trial, since he was a peer of the realm. If Devereaux had gotten off so lightly, then James might. He’d lose his commission, of course. Surely they wouldn’t want a trial at this time. It would be too embarrassing for the government.
How could he look James in the eye again, knowing what he knew? How could he attend Lady Madeline’s ball and act as if nothing had happened, yet knowing that he had information that could condemn James to a life of exile at the very least? He was duty-bound to betray a friend and he did not know how he would live with himself afterward.
He had wanted it to be Lucas Stanton. Damn, but he had been so sure. But it was Stanton, he thought, stopping so suddenly that the man who was walking behind him ran right into him.
“Watch what you are doing, sir.”
“I beg your pardon. I am a bit distracted,” Val apologized, waving him on with his shako.
Lucas Stanton had to be the man he would meet at the ministry office. It fit: He would have known James’s financial circumstances. But why would he have thought James would have sold information merely to buy his sister more dresses for her Season? But what if it was a cruel game that Stanton played? What if he had manipulated Devereaux, set James up, only to blackmail him later? It made some sense, given the way Stanton gained pleasure from exerting power and making others his pawns.
The pieces almost fit together, but there was still a hole. What on earth would have motivated James to agree in the first place? God, he was right back to the beginning.
Exposing Stanton as a traitor would give him the greatest satisfaction. But he couldn’t bring the bastard down without destroying his friend.
The closer he got to the hotel, the more he felt like he was being drawn to it, by the magnet that was Elspeth. There were very few people with whom he’d be willing to share his dilemma, but he knew that Elspeth, with her combination of quiet good sense and compassionate nature, would understand. Would help him sort things through. Please God she was in, he prayed.
He found her in the sitting room, sewing the green ribbon on her dress.
“What is it, Val? You look blue-deviled. Was it your meeting with Devereaux?” She slowly rolled up the green ribbon and, putting her sewing aside, gave him her full attention.
Val let out a deep breath and sat down opposite her. “I have already told you that I am glad you are my wife, Elspeth. But I am even more grateful that you are my friend. There is no one else I can turn to with this dilemma.”
Elspeth was deeply touched, but kept her face calm and merely waited for him to continue.
“I did speak with Devereaux. An idealistic young fool whose stupidity cost many lives. He swears…and he is very concerned that I believe in his sense of honor,” Val added sarcastically. “He gives his word that James was his contact in Portugal.”
“Oh, no,” Elspeth whispered.
“James was suggested to him by a man he will not name, having given his word as a gentleman! However, he is willing to set up a meeting with the man and inform me of the time, so that I can be there myself.”
“Who would even think to suggest James, and why?”
“I am convinced it is Lucas Stanton. Everything fits and the letter Mags found makes perfect sense. But no matter how I twist it and turn it, there is still an unanswerable question: Why did Stanton suggest James in the first place?”
“Because he knew James needed money?”
“But we know he is not bankrupt, Elspeth.”
“No, but perhaps with Maddie’s come-out?”
“Can you see James Lambert betraying his country over a come-out ball? As a last resort, he could have married for the money.”
“No, I can’t,” responded Elspeth immediately. “But then, I can’t imagine him marrying for money either.”
Or marrying at all. The thought was there before she knew it and she sat very quietly, turning her idea this way and that. It made sense, she realized. Much more sense than anything else. And it had taken her all this time to see it. “Val, what if Lucas Stanton was already blackmailing James and that is why he knew he would be open to the offer of money?”
Val thought for a moment. “It does make sense of everything,” he admitted. “But what on earth could James have done?”
“You might want to ask James,” Elspeth replied quietly.
“Then you think I should warn him? A confirmed traitor?”
“And a good friend.”
Val groaned. “I have to warn him,” he confessed, “and what does that make me?”
“Also a good friend.” Elspeth could see the agony in her husband’s eyes and reached out and took his hands. “Could you live with yourself if you said nothing to James and then reported him to Captain Grant? He could be hung.”
“More likely transported, but even that would bring such disgrace upon him and his family.” Val squeezed her hands tightly. “But if I warn him, that also makes me a traitor. I would betray my honor as an officer—and a ‘gentleman,’ ” he added ironically.
Elspeth looked steadily into his eyes. “I am glad that I have you as my friend, Val. You are a most honorable gentleman to me, no matter what you decide.”
Val let go of her hands and cupped her face. He leaned over and kissed her gently. “Elspeth, I…I am very lucky to have married you.” He had almost said, “I love you.” It was almost out before he thought. But what if she still only saw him with the eyes of friendship? He couldn’t bear to put her into a position where she would feel she had to apologize for not loving him.
“Tomorrow is Lady Madeline’s ball, thank God. I cannot confront him and ruin the evening. But I will warn him, Elspeth, and give him a chance to explain. And by God, if it’s Stanton who set this thing up for his own perverted pleasure, he will pay!”
Chapter 35
The earl insisted on calling for them in his carriage and so the next evening they were all together, waiting in the long line of vehicles stopped in front of the Wimborne town house.
“You are both very quiet,” observed the earl. “I hope I have not intruded upon a newlyweds’ quarrel,” he added humorously.
“Not at all, Charles,” Elspeth replied with a reassuring smile. “It is only that we are both tired. We are unaccustomed to such social activity.”
“I think it has gone well, though, Valentine, don’t you?”
“The gossips fall silent with you at our sides, sir,” Val admitted. “And especially for Elspeth’s sake, I thank you.”
“Have you given any thought at all to selling out?” his father asked. “Staying in England and taking a place in Society?”
“My place is with the army, sir, at least as long as the war goes on,” Val replied bluntly.
“But what of your wife?”
“Oh, I could never be happy outside the army, Charles,” she said, taking Val’s hand and giving it a little squeeze.
“Look, we are finally here,” announced Val, grateful that their conversation couldn’t be continued. He had no desire to speak of the future with his father.
* * * *
“It is a most satisfying crush, isn’t it?” said Maddie, smiling up at Elspeth and Val as they came through the reception line. “James is the best of brothers,” she added.
“ ‘Tis only what you deserved, Maddie,” said James. “But now it is up to you to manage one of your beaus into a declaration!”
James led Maddie into the first dance and then looked on indulgently as she was swept off for every one after that.
“You do not dance, James?” Val and Elspeth had just danced a quadrille and had come over at Elspeth’s prodding.
“You were right about the young men, James. They are fighting over who will lead Lady Madeline into supper. She seems to have written both their names down,” Val said with a laugh.
“The little minx!”
“Do you think she has a preference, James? She has not said much to me,” said Elspeth.
“I don’t think so, though I would be happy to see her with either one. They are both fine…young men.”
“You were about to say ‘lads,’ ” Val said with a quizzical grin.
“I know I am only a few years their senior, Valentine, but I feel positively like an old man compared with either.”
“I know what you mean, James,” replied Elspeth with a commiserating smile. “I always felt that with my schoolmates.”
“They are striking up again, Elspeth. May I have the honor? You don’t mind, do you, Val, if I dance with your new bride?”
“Not at all, James.”
* * * *
Val was relieved, for he had seen Devereaux. He wandered over to where he stood chatting with a group of young people. “I wonder if I might have a word with you, my lord?”
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