“Tread softly, Cecily, you impugn my wife’s good name!” he spoke quietly.
“You still wish to protect her, don’t you? After all that happened in Paris and here in Brussels with Crawley!”
“That is enough! I don’t want to hear another word from you about the Viscountess!”
“Very well, it shall be as you wish. But answer me just this one thing. Why does she send and receive secret communiqués from Beauchamp?”
“You are mistaken!”
“Am I indeed?” she continued sarcastically. “Then I did not see with my own eyes just some half hour ago your loving wife, the Viscountess, with a letter in her hand marked Phillippe Beauchamp’ on its envelope.”
Shaking his head, Valentin brought himself back to the present. Ruthlessly he took possession of Nicole’s chin forcing her head back. “When I think of how sweetly you pleaded for me to go on to the theater without you…”
“Valentin, do not prejudge me, I beg…”
He cut in, “Of course not, madame! I am anxiously waiting to hear how you explain this all away.” He laughed cynically, dropping her chin suddenly, as if he had been burned. Then scornfully he continued, “Actually I am surprised, my dear, I thought you had more… sensibility. Crawley… perhaps… but Beauchamp?”
“How dare you!” she cried outraged by his insinuations. “How dare you imply that I… I have never been unfaithful to you! Never!”
“Then how do you explain this?” He swept his arm around the room.
“What difference will it make? You will not believe me anyway.”
“Try me.”
“And if I can not convince you?” She met his cold gaze.
He reached out for her, his eyes narrowing as he encircled her throat with his hands. “Then so help me I will strangle you here and now.” For an instant the strong hard fingers tightened meanacingly about her throat. She did not struggle or cry out but closed her eyes and whispered in despair, “So be it.” Immediately his fingers slackened their hold on the long white column and slipped away.
He studied her closely. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and her lips trembled involuntarily. Quickly crossing to the window before his inclination to comfort her got the better of him, he clenched his hands behind his back and stood facing her. “I am waiting!”
She could no longer hold back the tears, and seeing them he turned his back to her and stared out of the window until she regained her composure. Then she whispered, “Where shall I begin?”
Facing her, he uttered angrily, trying to cover his own pain, “Beauchamp! You love him?”
“No! I loathe him!”
Relieved, but not convinced, he asked bitterly, “If it is not Beauchamp, then what are you doing here?”
“He… he was blackmailing me,” she blurted it out.
“Blackmail? Why? Whatever for?” Disbelief rang through his words.
“A packet of notes… foolish notes I wrote.”
“Notes? To whom?” His face darkened.
“To…” she paused reluctant to tell him anymore, dreading his reaction, “to Lord Crawley.”
“Crawley!” Valentin thought he saw it all now. “And in them you wrote of your love for him,” he mocked icily covering the jealous rage which was about to consume him.
“No! no, it was nothing like that I swear!”
“Then what?” he demanded.
“Different things. Foolish things. The ballet for one.”
“The ballet?” He shook his head. “What does the ballet have to do with it?”
“The notes are vague and can be easily misinterpreted.” She looked directly at him. “I could appear to be a spy.”
His eyes narrowed and his facial features hardened as the import of her words struck him. “You better tell me everything that has passed between you and Beauchamp.”
And Nicole did including Geneviève, the Ardsmore earrings, and the initialed handkerchief. When she finished some time later, Valentin paced the room in silence for several minutes. Then he demanded, “Why did you not tell me all this days ago?”
“Because you always think the worst of me.”
“That is not true!”
They stared at each other uncomfortably until the Viscount broke the silence. “What did you think to accomplish by coming here tonight?”
“If I could have found the notes and freed myself from Beauchamp, you would never have had to know what a fool I have been.”
“Do you realize what could have happened if Beauchamp had surprised you here instead of me?”
“But I have to find those letters, Val!”
Torn between his concern for her and the enormity of the situation just thrust upon him, he did not answer her immediately. Finally he said, “I doubt whether they are here.”
“There is still the trunk.” Nicole bent to it and began rummaging through the papers. “Nothing,” she cried hopelessly.
“I didn’t think so.” He pushed the trunk under the bed.
“I have to find them!” she insisted.
“Never mind. I have an idea. Come on, let’s go.” He grasped her arm, but she shook free of him.
“But the letters…”
“Hang them! I have a plan.”
“You do? What is it?” she asked eagerly.
“Not now! I’ll tell you on the way home. Right now let’s get out of here before someone sees us.” This time he held her hand firmly as he drew her through the doorway and quickly along the passage. As they came to the bend in the stairwell, Valentin saw the proprietor leaning over the registration book. He stopped abruptly holding Nicole to him. They remained frozen in each other’s arms until the owner disappeared into the back room. Almost reluctantly Valentin disengaged himself from his wife and led her quickly out of the inn. After securing his horse to the back of the hack, Valentin joined Nicole inside. Once he was seated, Nicole questioned him about his plan. He smiled at her eagerness but sobered soon enough as he began to explain.
“After Crawley’s death, I discovered that he was about to be arrested as a spy. With his help the Foreign Service had hoped to find out who the other agents were. Unfortunately, their hopes were dashed by his demise. Now, however, this might give us another opportunity to discover who those men are.”
“I still do not understand.”
“I have not had time to consider all the details as of yet, but just suppose Beauchamp and his colleagues could be trapped at some clandestine meeting. Through your assistance we might be able to arrange it.”
“You are suggesting that I act as a go-between?” Her eyes were wide with astonishment.
“Something like that. Then I should be able to retrieve the correspondence and the other things without difficulty once you have proved your loyalty.”
“Proved my loyalty?” she cried in disbelief.
He realized his error. “I should not have put it that way.”
“But that is what you meant! You still do not trust me!”
“Have you made it easy for me to trust you?” he retaliated, and she turned from him. “Look at me, Nicole!” But she refused to do so. “I will not talk to the back of your head!” He seized her and turned her so that she was pinned between him and the side of the hack. “It is not important at this moment whether I believe you or not! But if those letters fall into the wrong hands, you do know what it could mean!” He released her, and she sank into the corner of the dark coach.
It was quiet for several minutes, and then almost inaudibly she spoke. “I will do whatever you wish.”
“Good.” Realizing that he had been unduly harsh with her, Valentin slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I am sorry, my dear, I did not mean…” Nicole shrugged free of his embrace unwilling to accept his apology. By the time they arrived home each was suffering from a sense of injury and had retreated into a shell of hurt pride.
Deploring his behavior of the night before, Valentin approached Nicole in the morning with misgivings. At his request
she reluctantly accompanied him to the library where she now stood stiff and aloof. He offered her a chair, which she accepted disdainfully. Deciding he had to make his peace with her before broaching the subject of Beauchamp, he began, “Nicole, you have every right to be angry with me. I behaved badly last night.”
Surprised by his admission, she unbent a little and admitted, “You only stated the truth.”
“I went too far, and I ask your forgiveness.”
She was flustered by his apology. “Please, let us not talk of it further.”
“As you wish.” He nodded his agreement.
The arrival of the butler with coffee helped to alleviate the strain between them.
“Will you pour a cup of coffee for me?” the Viscount asked his wife when the butler withdrew from the room. As she handed him the coffee, he said, “I suppose you are anxious to know what I was able to accomplish after leaving you last night.” He went on to tell her that he had gone to the Duke of Wellington and explained the coil they were in. The Duke called in Sir Thomas Chaldoner, a member of the British Foreign Service and a plan was formulated by the three of them to ensnare Beauchamp and his cohorts. Nicole’s part would be to deliver messages to her cousin and arrange a meeting with the others. At that point she gasped.
“Do not let it worry you,” he assured her. “Certainly, you will not be expected to attend the meeting. When the time and place are set, your part is done. You will be home when we break up that gathering.”
“But you will be there?”
“I will go as a representative of the Duke. Your name will never be mentioned. It should work out very well. I can’t wait to get my hands on that loathsome cousin of yours.”
“Val, you will not do anything rash?”
“Of course not, my sweet, have you ever known me to do so?” he asked mischievously and hugged her. Valentin noticed the worried frown that creased her lovely brow. “The best part of it is that no one but Wellington and Chaldoner will ever know that you were involved in this intrigue, and your correspondence will be discreetly returned to you. Do not look so gloomy,” he chided. “Everything is going to work out, I promise you.”
“I hope so,” she managed to smile.
On the night that Valentin had unexpectedly left the Tilfords at the theater to search out Nicole, Cecily’s hopes of replacing Nicole in Valentin’s affections had foolishly risen. Despite her marriage to John Tilford, Cecily could not give up her secret yearning for Valentin, stubbornly clinging to the notion that in his heart he did not truly love Nicole.
In the days that followed Cecily could glean nothing of the private turmoil masked behind the Ardsmores’ polite, but withdrawn, exteriors. She cared nothing about Nicole’s coolness toward her, but Valentin’s rebuffs upset her. His continued reserve made her aware that she had wounded him deeply when she revealed Beauchamp’s involvement wth Nicole.
But why had he been so disturbed, Cecily asked herself as she paced the empty drawing room. The answer she had been blindly resisting thrust itself through to her unwilling conscience—Valentin really loved Nicole! It wasn’t merely a marriage of convenience—for either one of them. Regardless of all that had happened between them, Nicole and Valentin loved one another, and it was useless to hide from that fact any longer.
So where did that leave Cecily Fairfax… Tilford, she asked herself.
Out in the cold.
And what could she do about it?
If she persisted in fighting the truth, she would succeed in estranging Valentin completely. And as she faced that fact, she discovered that the prospect didn’t frighten her as much as it once had. If the full truth were known, John Tilford had something to do with it. Maybe he meant more to her than she realized.
All at once Cecily knew it wasn’t going to be as unbearable as she had thought. She could relinquish her hidden desire for Valentin at last.
What would Nicole think when she stopped baiting her? Cecily laughed and determined to improve her relationship with the Viscount’s wife before another day passed.
But if Cecily ceased to be a problem, Phillippe Beauchamp remained to plague Nicole’s peace, even though the first message delivered to him brought Nicole his praise when next they met.
“Très bien, chère cousine, your information was interesting.”
Nicole tried to hide her agitation behind a small tight smile, remembering Valentin’s advice to appear natural and friendly. The only bad moment occurred when he asked how she was able to obtain the intelligence. Somehow she managed to prevaricate speaking evasively until he seemed satisfied and let the subject drop. During the following days several other communications were passed on to him, each containing enough truth to appear useful to the enemy and establish Nicole’s importance as an accomplice. Because Beauchamp seemed well satisfied with the arrangements, Nicole was unprepared for his sudden demands at their next meeting.
“We need a schedule of the Duke’s plans for the coming week. I want specifics—times and places. I will meet you here in two days. Have it for me then.”
“But that is impossible!”
“Pourquoi?”
“I cannot do it…”
“What do you mean? Have you forgotten your vulnerability so soon?”
Conquering the desire to take her riding crop to him, she replied between compressed lips, “No, I have not forgotten, but it will take time to get what you ask. As you have so often reminded me, my husband is a wary man. Do you wish to arouse his suspicions?”
Beauchamp pondered her words before replying shortly, “Very well, see what you can do. I will ride here every morning. Come as soon as you can.”
When Nicole relayed Phillippe’s demands to the Viscount, he immediately went to see the Duke of Wellington. Late that night he returned and awakened her from a sound sleep. Not remembering the urgency with which he left her earlier, Nicole smiled invitingly up at him, winding her arms about his neck, but he kissed her briefly then withdrew from her arms. “I must talk to you about your cousin.”
“Now?”
“Yes, it is important. The Duke and Chaldoner feel this may be what we have been waiting for.”
“And what have you been waiting for?”
“Until now Beauchamp has accepted the information you have been willing to supply. Suddenly, however, he is demanding specific facts. It may be very important.” He stood up.
“I see.”
“Chaldoner thinks this is the time for you to demand to see Beauchamp’s superiors.”
“I will have to give him some reason for wishing to see his superiors.”
“You’ll have one.”
“What is it to be?” She looked up at him innocently as he paced the floor in front of her.
“Tell him…” He stopped pacing. “Tell Beauchamp you will give him exactly what he wants if you are no longer treated as an outsider but as one of them.”
“He’ll never believe that!” Nicole claimed from her lounging position among the pillows.
“You must convince him it is true. Explain…” he faltered, “that the situation between us has become… impossible. Say you wish to return to Paris. That you believe Napoleon will win and you want to be presented at the French court. Tell him you wish to meet with his superiors to discuss your future.”
“You… you want me to tell him that?” She stared at him in disbelief.
Ignoring the implication of her remark, he added grudgingly, “I don’t think he will find it too hard to believe. After all, he is aware that we have had our differences. It seems everyone is aware of our past difficulties, including the Duke and Chaldoner.”
Deeply wounded, Nicole continued to stare at him. Then swallowing her misery, she replied bitingly, “I agree with you. He probably will believe it. Is that all?”
“My God, isn’t that enough?” He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Is there anything else I should know?”
“After you make the arrangements for the meeting, tha
t’s it.”
“Well then, if you don’t mind, I will go back to sleep. I am extremely tired.” She proceeded to yawn, roll over, and bury her face in the pillow.
Valentin stared down at the inert form of his wife. He knew it would be impossible to talk to her while she was in this frame of mind. Grinding his teeth together and swearing an oath under his breath, he snuffed the candles and left the room. Nicole then cried herself to sleep.
Phillippe’s eyes narrowed as he listened to the Viscountess’s tale, but his only comment when she finished was that he would see what could be done. When next they met, he told her that everything had been arranged for three days hence.
“I will meet you outside your home at ten o’clock.”
“No, just tell me where to go. I do not think we should risk being seen together.” My God, I can’t go with him to that meeting! Nicole thought.
He laughed derisively, “What kind of a fool do you take me for?”
Frightened, she replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do not think I am stupid enough to trust you?”
Astonished, she stared at him. “But… but I told you it is imperative that I get away from my… my husband.”
“That may be and then again…” he shrugged his shoulders, “who knows what game you perhaps play, eh?”
“I am in deadly earnest,” she said with conviction. “If I do not get the reassurances I need, I will never give you the information you want. And you can do your worst because I no longer care to save my marriage. All I want is to be free of it.”
“You are very convincing, little cousine.” He eyed her speculatively before adding, “You wish to return to Paris. I wish for the schedule of the Duke. So we shall strike a bargain, n’est-ce pas? Come with me, and you shall have your assurance and I… I will have the schedule, oui?”
Nicole hesitated trying to think of some way out. But further protest on her part might only make him more suspicious. “Very well, I will go with you… under one more condition.”
“And that is?”
“My correspondence must be returned to me at the same time I give you the schedule.”
He did not answer her immediately. Then he nodded in agreement and after a few more words left her.
Sweet Bravado Page 22