"I had a quick look around. I didn't find anything,” she said crossly. For some reason she was finding it hard to breathe. What was wrong with her? It was only Laurie.
A hand came out to touch her, alighting on her breast and disappearing again as if scalded. “Damn it all, Kate,” Laurie said in a low voice. “I want you to promise you'll stop this madness."
There seemed such a gulf between them. She wanted to lean against him and fill it with her body. “Lie down for a minute. We'll talk about it."
"This is madness, Kat,” he said as he lay down beside her. The length of his body through the bedclothes seemed to set hers on fire.
"This is cozy isn't it?” she said breathlessly.
Laurie rolled over partly on top of her. She welcomed the blissful weight of him. “God, Kat. What are you doing to me,” he groaned. His lips found her neck. “You know how much I care for you. Promise me you'll stop this."
"How can I promise, Laurie, when Jason's life is in danger?"
"It's Jason, now is it?” he asked as he moved away. “So that's the way it is. You're in love with the fellow."
"I'm not, Laurie,” she said as she felt him leave the bed. The door opened and closed, leaving her alone in the darkness. “I'm not."
* * * *
Lord Firth called Kate into his study the next morning. He had been sitting at his desk but stood as she entered. He was frowning, the expression in his eyes grave.
"Sit down, Katherine.” He pointed to a straight-backed chair opposite the desk.
Kate sat, feeling as if she were at an inquisition. What had Laurie told him? She eased her skirt over her knees with nervous hands.
"In the absence of your father, my dear, I feel it my duty to take his role. I know he would wish it."
Kate nodded, wondering what he was going to say.
"I am being presumptuous, my dear, forgive me. You are so very young and I feel you may wish to have time to think upon things a little. Sir Harold Austerely has spoken to me and I have reason to believe he will approach your father very soon for your hand in marriage. You seemed content to welcome his advances and I wondered ... he has quickly formed tender feelings for you. Do you welcome this alliance?"
Kate was aghast. So this is what happened when you flirted a little. How could she extricate herself from this predicament? As she sat there, the door flew open and Laurie rushed in. “Father, you have the wrong end of the stick by half,” he protested.
"Laurence, please leave us. I do not recall inviting you into this conversation."
Laurie put his hand firmly on Kate's shoulder. “Kat has something to tell you. Don't you Kat?"
Kate looked at him furiously. “You truly want me to confess all?"
"Yes, Kat,” Laurie said, seriously. “I think it best that you do."
Laurie was becoming intolerable, ordering her about in such a way. But perhaps Lord Firth would come to Jason's aid. “Lord Firth, Sir Harold Austerely is a spy,” she said.
"A ... spy?” Lord Firth laughed. “My dear girl, you have been reading novels."
"You'd better hear Kat's story first, Father."
Kate told the story from the beginning. Lord Firth leaned back in his chair, listening intently as he filled his pipe with tobacco. “So you see, Lord Firth,” Kate finished, “I felt it my duty to try and help Lord Broughton. He appears to be in great danger."
"You really only have Lord Broughton's word for that, my dear,” Lord Firth said, lighting his pipe.
"But ... that conversation between Sir Harold and the other man ... I overheard it. Don't you believe me?"
"Yes, I do believe you, Katherine. I think it most unfortunate you came to hear something that was not meant for your ears."
"Unfortunate?"
"Yes. The Government frequently carries out such secret operations. They are vital if we wish to keep England safe from invaders such as the French."
"But this was against the English government. These were French spies-one of them was a Frenchman."
"That doesn't automatically make him a French spy. These issues can be very complex. And you've told me nothing to verify this. It was something you merely assumed-aided no doubt by Broughton who has been watched since he came back to England."
"You knew he was being watched, Lord Firth?"
"We in the Diplomatic Service learn many things, my dear. We suspect Broughton to be a spy, as was his brother. If that document hidden in Broughton Hall is recovered, I'm sure it will confirm this. Naturally, he wishes to find it first. It's most important, Katherine, that you do not mention any of this to a soul. You must leave it to those whose job it is to pursue it."
Laurie cornered her in at the bottom of the stairs. “So that's that, then,” he said. “You'll leave it alone now, won't you?"
"You are becoming insufferable, Laurie,” she said in frustration. “You are no longer the boy I knew. That Laurie would not betray me. He would back me up on this."
Laurie looked stung by her words. “And you are not the girl I grew up with. She would respect my opinion."
"I shall leave as soon as I can,” Kate said flouncing away up the stairs. “I'll travel by mail coach."
As she climbed, she hoped he would come racing up after her and take her in his arms. On reaching the landing, she looked down, but he was nowhere to be seen.
A sob escaped her throat and she ran to her room.
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Chapter Nine
Jason entered the breakfast room to find his guest already seated with a plate of bread and butter before her.
"Good morning,” he said. “You continue to surprise me, Angelique. I doubted I'd see you before luncheon.” Her gown was the color of green apples, which suited her fair coloring to perfection. He found it remarkable that one used to keeping Parisian hours in smoky drawing rooms could turn up at breakfast looking fresh as the morning dew.
"You are staring,” she said raising her cup to her lips.
"I do apologize,” Jason said nodding slightly with a grin. “You must be used to being stared at, surely?"
"By ill-mannered oafs.” Her fine eyebrows rose. “But you were never that, Jason. Quite to the contrary in Paris. I trust living in the countryside has not turned you into one.” She gazed at his immaculate attire. “You certainly do not dress like one."
"I hope not, Angelique,” he said feeling piqued.
"Surely you remember the ball, you, Peter, and I attended, where Napoleon himself called you to dance with Josephine, because she thought you the best dancer in Paris?"
"I remember.” The memory was bittersweet. He should have worked harder to repair the rift with his brother.
"Such a lover, Napoleon,” Angelique said, sighing. “Josephine showed me some of the wonderful letters he wrote her."
"They were about to divorce,” Jason said acerbically.
"Still, he did have charm."
"He was an enemy of England,” Jason said. If he could just get his hands on that document, he would make amends to his country, for both Peter's and his sakes.
"And that duel you fought, you were certainly passionate about Madame Lamont."
"No. Just misguided.” Jason put down his cup and pushed his chair back.
"You have not yet eaten,” Angelique said.
He saw the laughter in her eyes. It had been a foolish, boyish crush, and luckily, no one had died. He wanted to laugh with her, but his sense of humor seemed to have deserted him. “I'll dine later. I have work to attend to,” he said stiffly.
* * * *
Jason yawned as he rose from sofa. “Sorry, Angelique, we keep country hours here."
She tilted her head and smiled, gathering up her skirts in that charming way she had. “You do not look in the least tired, my lord, but have your way. I am getting ample beauty sleep."
"You certainly don't need it."
She laughed and wagged her finger at him. “Ah ha. You are learning, oui? You should return to Paris w
ith me and try out your newly found charm in Parisian drawing rooms."
Jason felt a strange yearning to do just that. Although he knew that her beauty would test him, he had not anticipated her intelligence and delightful sense of humor. It made her irresistible. He steadied himself for the work at hand. Nighttime was his time for searching.
* * * *
Despite her horrid argument with Laurie that caused her to toss and turn all night, Kate couldn't leave it alone. She thought over the conversation she'd overheard and felt sure she was right. She believed what Jason had told her. She was determined to get into Sir Harold's house. It would be more difficult now that Lord Firth had informed Sir Harold his interest in her would bear no fruit.
She almost had to relinquish her plans as an impenetrable fog had descended on London. By mid-morning, it had lifted and she went to find Lady Firth to tell her she planned to go and view the Elgin Marbles at the museum.
She found Lady Firth in the morning room, arranging flowers in a vase. The sweet smell of lilac brought on a bout of homesickness that took Kate by surprise.
"You know you can't go alone, my dear,” said Lady Firth. “And unfortunately, I cannot accompany you today."
"Perhaps Annie can go with me. Would that be respectable enough?"
Lady Firth hesitated. “I suppose so. If it simply can't wait-I declare you are impatient, Katherine."
"Thank you, Lady Firth. I wouldn't dream of dragging you to a place I know you'd find a complete bore,” Kate said smiling.
Lady Firth smiled in return. “Not a complete bore, Katherine. But close, I grant you. If you attend my charity tea today, I promise to go with you tomorrow."
Kate knew Lady Firth was teasing and laughed. “Thank you again. I suspect the day will come when charity teas shall be my passion but not yet."
Kate dragged a complaining Annie along the filthy streets to the corner of South Audley Street where she had a good view of Sir Harold's town house without being seen. “I have something important to do before we go to the museum, Annie,” she told her. “I need to get into that house while the owner is away from home."
"Ooh, Miss Katherine, that sounds unlawful,” Annie said, breathing heavily.
"Of course it is, you goose. You are not to say a thing to Lord or Lady Firth or you won't get that bead necklace I promised you."
"I'm not comin’ with you, Miss Katherine, so don't ask me."
"No, no. That's fine with me.” Kate felt Annie would only be in the way. “You can go on to the museum and I'll meet you there in an hour or so. Sir Harold told me he attends Parliament every day."
As if on queue, the door opened and Sir Harold came out, tucking his cane under his arm and putting on his hat. He walked away up the street.
"Lady Firth told me stay with you and I'm not leaving,” Annie said stubbornly.
Kate turned to frown at the young woman. “Well, you can stand guard for me."
"Stand guard? Oh no, Miss Kate. I wouldn't know how."
"Oh, Annie. Don't worry so. Go to the museum.” Kate gave Annie some coins. “Have something nice to eat. I haven't time to argue.” And she had no wish to stand breathing in the foul air from the gushing gutters. Dashing across the road, she tried to avoid the dung and filthy straw. She knocked at the door of Sir Harold's house. Turning, she saw Annie hovering uncertainly across the road. The door opened and the butler stood looking at her with raised eyebrows.
"Graves, isn't it? I was here for dinner a few days ago. Remember me?"
"The master is away from home, Miss.” Graves looked deeply disapproving and began to shut the door. Before he could close it completely, Kate pushed it open and slipped inside.
"That doesn't matter. I left a bracelet upstairs the other night. I'll just go and fetch it. It won't take me a minute."
Graves stepped back in surprise as Kate raced past him up the stairs. Turning back at the first landing, she saw that he was following. “There's no need for you to accompany me. I know exactly where it is,” she called down to him.
She'd almost reached the second story landing when a hawker selling brooms arrived at the open front door. Graves returned to deal with him, clucking his tongue. Kate heard him say, “Go around to the tradesman's entrance, my man.” She ran along the hall and through Sir Harold's bedroom with a quick glance at the florid bed hangings, and went straight to the desk drawer. She picked up the pistol, tucking it into her reticule. The keys were still there. She grabbed them and moved to the safe. Averting her eyes from the gruesome painting on the wall, she began to try each key in the lock. Minutes later, a satisfactory click sounded and she pulled at the handle. It was stiff. She almost hung from it before it budged and the safe door swung open. Stacked inside were bundles of money and jewel boxes. Ignoring these, Kate pulled a sheaf of papers out. She moved to the desk and sorted through them. One in particular caught her eye because it bore an official looking seal. Looking closer, she saw Napoleon's signature at the bottom. It was written in French-she had no time to decipher its meaning. She folded it and put it in her reticule with the pistol. This had all taken far too long. Kate replaced the papers in the safe and closed it then returned the keys to the drawer. She left the study just as Sir Harold entered the bedroom with a man close behind him.
"So, it's Miss Katherine Kilgarth. What a pleasure.” Sir Harold said. “You find my bedroom most intriguing it would seem."
"I came to fetch my bracelet,” Kate said, holding up her wrist.
"I doubt that. Something has fired your sense of adventure. Are you going to tell us, without our having to persuade you?"
Kate's knees began to shake. “I don't know what you mean."
Sir Harold went into the study and gave it a quick glance. Apparently satisfied that all was well he returned. “Who knows that you came here?"
"The family, of course."
"I think you prevaricate. They would never have allowed you come alone. Quite a pretty piece is she not, Pierre?"
"Oui." Pierre was the other man Kate had overheard that night. He was a short dark-haired man, powerfully built. His jet-black eyes looked at her now with cold disinterest. Sir Harold's eyes were quite the opposite, moist with a pleasure Kate had never witnessed before and the tone of his voice lacked the respect usually afforded her. Her breath caught in her throat. She knew she had foolishly placed herself in great danger.
Sir Harold moved closer and stroked Kate's hair. As she stepped back away from him, he grabbed her, running his hands over her breasts and pulling greedily at her skirt. She let out a sob as he twisted her roughly in his arms, turning her towards Pierre. “Would you like to have first sampling?"
"Idiot," Pierre spat. “We have no time for that now."
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Chapter Ten
When Jason walked into the study at Broughton Hall to find Angelique pulling books from the shelf, he paused and silently watched her. Hers was not the measured action of someone merely seeking reading material.
"What are you looking for?” he asked her.
She spun around to face him, clutching an old tome in her hand. “I've found it. Peter told me you had this, an original Francois Rabelais. I'd like to have it. You don't mind do you?"
"Of course I don't mind. I have to confess I'm surprised, though."
"That I read such things? Or that I read at all?"
Jason spread his hands wide, encompassing the lofty room filled almost to the ceiling with row upon row of books. “Take whatever you wish."
He sat down on a sofa and crossed his legs, inviting Angelique to join him. She wore a pastel-blue gown with a bow of silver ribbon above the waist, her beautiful hair caught up with silver combs.
His fingers itched to reach across, remove the combs and watch the silky cascade cover her perfect shoulders. For a delicious moment, he allowed himself to dwell on what might happen between them should he take her to bed. He knew it would be good. The best perhaps. After spending several minutes dwel
ling on what he would love to do to make her cry out in passion, he grew annoyed with himself, but couldn't resist saying, “You're looking very fetching today."
"My, a compliment, Jason. Now I am surprised."
"You make me feel I lack gallantry, Angelique. I thought you might tire of empty flattery."
Angelique leaned towards him, placing her hand on his arm. “What woman tires of admiration, Jason? Perhaps I do not get compliments from the right people."
Her fingers seemed to burn into his arm. He fought to keep his voice calm and even-toned. “I asked you a question the day you came. You chose not to answer it. Will you do so now?” He had first met her as his brother's bride and he had not forgotten the swift, overwhelming jealousy that had coursed through him, stunning him. It had done him no credit. Too long ago now to matter.
"Why I married your brother? I did love him.” Angelique sighed and gestured in a Gallic manner that caused a smile to flit across Jason's face. “Until I found he had feet of clay."
It was Jason's turn to lean towards her. His eyes studied hers closely as he said, “What did you find out about him, Angelique?"
"That he had not been honest with me ... about who he was."
"He was my brother."
"Yes. A pale copy of you."
"Now you flatter me."
"It's not empty flattery, I promise you. But you are not honest either, Jason."
"How so?"
"You are searching. I do not know for what you look, but there is a sense of urgency in how you do it."
Jason looked into Angelique's questioning eyes. He felt a strong desire to confess all, but he could not trust her. What did she really want? Why was she here?
"You imagine things, Madame,” he said stiffly.
She paused, studying him. “I think not my Lord."
Rising, she crossed the room, giving him the full benefit of her graceful figure. He followed as she opened the French windows and walked out onto the terrace. Leaning over the balustrade, she inspected the newly restored rose arbor. “I like what you're doing here,” she said. “That is a lovely, romantic nook."
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