by Stella Riley
Jem looked blank.
‘She don’t know,’ muttered Archie, reluctantly helpful.
‘So where the hell is he?’ began Jem. And again, to Pauline, ‘Last night here not sleep.’
Pauline smothered something between a laugh and a sigh of exasperation. She wasn’t about to tell this pair of reprobates where the Colonel was. She particularly had no intention of letting Archie Stott know that Ashley was currently in his daughter’s bed. So she said, ‘Then I’m sure he had a good reason and will doubtless re-appear in due course. Was that all?’
Archie grinned sourly at Jem and said, ‘That’s her telling us to mind our own business and bugger off. Mind the door for an hour, will you? I got to take my morning constitutional.’
Pauline watched them go and then set about getting breakfast ready for herself and the other members of the household. She was just wondering whether Ashley would presently appear hand-in-hand with Athenais or beat a discreet retreat to his attic in order to materialise later, when Francis walked up behind her saying, ‘Good morning, Duchess.’
The knife Pauline was holding fell from her fingers, bounced off the table-edge and embedded itself point down in the floor three inches from her foot.
She stared at it, then looked across at Francis who was also staring at it. She opened her mouth to speak but was forestalled.
‘I know.’ Francis held up one hand in a gesture of surrender. ‘You want me to sew bells to my clothes or announce my approach with bursts of merry song.’ And then, differently, ‘You were very nearly hurt. I’m sorry.’
Pauline bent and retrieved the knife, weighing it absently in her fingers.
‘Merry song? Can you?’
‘Actually, no.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘In truth, I can’t carry a tune to save my life.’
‘Pity,’ said Pauline. And, with a half-smile as she turned back to the business of making breakfast, ‘Bells it is, then.’
Francis eyed her thoughtfully for a few moments and then wordlessly began putting knives, platters and mugs on the table. It occurred to him that it would be quite easy to brush against her, apparently by accident but he realised that this was more likely to damage his cause than to advance it because she’d recognise any stratagem he used for exactly what it was. He sighed, reflecting that she had more spines than a hedgehog and an uncanny knack of cutting directly to the point. In short, she was probably the most difficult woman he’d ever met and he would need to play a very clever game indeed if he hoped ever to find a way past her defences. He suddenly wondered if she thought he just wanted to lure her into bed and, if she did, how he was to combat that – since, naturally enough, he did want to take her to bed. It just wasn’t the only thing he wanted.
She turned to place a basket of bread and a pat of butter on the table and said, ‘There’s some ham left, if you want it. Or I could fry some sausage.’
‘Neither, thank you. Unlike Ashley, I’ve lost my taste for meat at breakfast.’ He paused, ‘And, speaking of Ashley … since he didn’t sleep in his own bed last night and his hat and sword are still upstairs, I couldn’t help wondering if …?’
‘Yes. He’s with Athenais.’
‘Ah.’ He shot her a swift glance. ‘And has he your blessing?’
She shrugged. ‘Why should he want it? It’s no business of mine.’
‘No? You’re as good as a sister to Athenais. Better, in fact. Family is about more than blood.’
‘I know that. But she’s twenty-two years old and entitled to make her own mistakes – if mistakes they are. She’s in love with him. If it turns out that all he wants is a body, she’ll find out soon enough.’
‘He doesn’t,’ remarked a cool voice from the door.
Pauline turned slowly without any sign of discomposure.
Francis thought, Oh damn. And looked reluctantly round at Ashley.
His expression appeared bland enough if one discounted the chill in his eyes. He said, ‘I accept that speculation must be rife and that you both mean well. However, if you have questions I’d prefer they were addressed to me directly. And, in the meantime, I promised Athenais some hot water.’ Upon which, he crossed to the hob, hefted up a filled kettle and walked out.
‘Ah,’ said Francis. ‘Yes. Well, you can’t blame him for that.’
‘I don’t,’ replied Pauline. ‘I do, however, occasionally wonder what he’s doing that sends Jem – and now Sir Nicholas – out at all times of the day and night … and whether you’re part of it, too.’
‘You’re very suspicious.’
‘But not stupid.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘There is something, isn’t there?’
‘Nothing any of us are at liberty to talk about.’
‘I see. Should I be worried?’
Francis hesitated slightly and then said, ‘No. I don’t believe so. It’s totally unconnected to this house.’
‘Aside from the four of you who happen to live here, you mean?’
‘Well, yes. Aside from that.’
‘So you’ll all take care to keep it from our door, I hope.’ Pauline paused and sat down at the table. ‘I saw the Marquis d’Auxerre in the theatre last night. It may mean nothing – or it may not. But with a potential problem like him, I’d rather we didn’t have to start contending with nefarious English issues as well. Clear?’
‘Very.’
‘Good. Then you’d better sit down and eat.’
Francis sat but, before he could take so much as a bite, the peace was shattered by the violent pealing of the doorbell. Immediately pushing back his stool, he looked at Pauline and said, ‘It’s rather early for callers, don’t you think?’
‘Jem is in the yard. Shall I call him?’
‘If you wish – though persons with murderous intent don’t generally arrive on the doorstep in broad daylight,’ he replied. And walked out to answer the door.
It was Celia, her face incandescent with fury.
‘You idiot!’ she stormed, pushing past him into the hall. ‘You complete and utter imbecile! What on earth do you think you’re doing – making me a laughing-stock this way? I could positively murder you!’
Francis closed the door and looked back to where Pauline stood framed in the kitchen doorway.
‘On the other hand,’ he said with something approaching resignation, ‘there’s always a first time.’ And to his sister, ‘Good morning, Celia. Won’t you come in?’
~ * * ~ * * ~
EIGHT
While Francis suffered under the lash of his sister’s tongue, Athenais and Ashley made a discreet dash for the kitchen where Pauline was attempting to glean any clue from the barrage of shrill English emanating from the parlour. Ashley had his arm about Athenais’s waist and she was looking up at him as though he lit the entire world.
‘Poor Francis,’ she murmured vaguely. ‘Do you think you ought to rescue him?’
‘No. Do you?’
‘No.’ She laid her head briefly against his shoulder and then, becoming aware of Pauline’s frown, said coaxingly, ‘Don’t be cross, Pauline.’
‘I’m not.’
‘And don’t worry. Just be happy for me.’
‘I am,’ came the terse reply. ‘But at the moment I just want to know what that hell-cat is screeching about.’
Although he was fairly sure he knew the answer to this, Ashley tilted his head long enough to catch a few words of Celia’s diatribe and then said, ‘The play.’
‘Ménage?’ asked Pauline blankly. ‘Why? Didn’t she like it?’
‘I imagine she liked it very much – until she found out who’d written it. Then, of course, she decided that Francis – who is, after all, a Viscount – was debasing the family name.’
‘Since she doesn’t go by the family name,’ snapped Pauline, ‘not to mention the fact that she’s married to one man and living with another, I don’t see what she’s got to complain about.’
Ashley pulled out a chair for Athenais and waited for her to sit.
‘You’re using logic, Pauline. I don’t think it’s a concept Celia is familiar with. Also, I suspect she has other things on her mind at the moment.’ Smiling, he took Athenais’s hand and dropped a light kiss on it. ‘Forgive me. The King has summoned me to the Louvre – and, if I can find Nick, I’ll take him with me to pay his respects. But I promise to be back before you leave for the theatre.’
She shook her head.
‘You don’t have to do that. I’ll be perfectly all right with Francis and Pauline.’
‘I know. But I’ll be here anyway.’ He winced at the sound of something breaking behind the parlour door. ‘God forbid that she’s just smashed the mirror.’
Nicholas returned while Ashley was upstairs retrieving his hat and sword and, on being informed that he was to have the honour of calling on the King, made speedy repairs to his appearance. Ashley made his leisurely way back down the stairs, paused outside the parlour where Celia was still in full flood and, after a moment’s hesitation, rapped on the door before sticking his head around it.
‘Francis – forgive me for interrupting. A brief word, if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Mind? I’d be delighted,’ said Francis dryly. And, without so much as a glance at his sister, joined Ashley in the hall and shut the door behind him. ‘You’re a man who probably knows how these things are done. If I strangle her, where shall we hide the body?’
‘The river is generally the most popular.’ Ashley paused and then said bluntly, ‘It’s not any business of mine … but last night Will Brierley told me that Verney is either having an affair or possibly courting a wealthy widow by the name of Angelique Latour. Apparently the relationship has been going on for some time – and I’ve seen them together myself. You might want to warn Celia – or you might not. I just thought you ought to know.’
‘Oh God.’ Francis gazed distractedly at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know if I can stand more screaming. But thank you for telling me.’
Ashley nodded. ‘Nick and I are waiting on the King but will be back later. In the meantime, good luck.’
Francis walked moodily back into the parlour with no idea of what to do for the best. Celia, of course, didn’t wait for him to say anything at all.
‘How kind of you to re-join me,’ she snapped. ‘Perhaps now you’ll do me the honour of explaining yourself.’
‘No. I don’t think I will. My actions and my life have nothing whatsoever to do with you, Celia – so I reserve the right to do as I see fit. I wrote a play in which Pauline Fleury agreed to return to the stage. Personally, I’m delighted. And if you don’t like it, that’s your problem.’
‘People will laugh themselves silly --’
‘Since the play is a comedy, one would certainly hope so.’
‘At you, you fool!’
‘I doubt that. And even if they do, I don’t see what difference that makes to you.’
‘Oh for God’s sake – how many times must I say it?’ She stood up and paced to the windows, kicking furiously at her skirts. ‘I don’t want my friends sniggering behind their hands because my brother is no better than a common actor!’
He gave a slow, malicious smile.
‘Not as good, actually. If you’d been paying attention, you might have spotted me amongst the walkers in Mariamne. I found the experience rather enjoyable.’
Just for a second, she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe her ears. Then she spat, ‘You are not – you are not ever to do that again. Do you hear me? Haven’t you any care at all for our name?’
‘Don’t start that again. You go by Verney’s name – though you’ve no right to it. And you tossed your reputation in the midden the day you walked out on Eden.’
She flushed. ‘But I’ll get it back. I’ll have it back when Hugo and I are married. And if you carry on this way, I’ll never speak to you again.’
‘Is that a promise?’ drawled Francis. And then, making his decision, ‘As for when Verney marries you … if my information is correct, it’s more a question of if.’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Last time we spoke of this, I suggested that he might have another interest.’ He paused and, with a shrug, added, ‘He has.’
‘What?’
‘Her name is Angelique Latour. Perhaps you know her?’
Celia dropped like a stone on to the sofa.
‘The widow with the vulgar jewellery?’
‘I can’t speak for the jewellery – but a widow, certainly.’
For the first time since she’d arrived, Celia seemed lost for words. Then, shaking her head, she said, ‘It’s not true. You’re lying.’
‘I’m not – but suit yourself.’
‘He wouldn’t … Hugo wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t.’
Francis managed to stop himself remarking that, if she treated Verney to the kind of scene she’d just inflicted on him, no one could blame him for wanting to walk away. He said, ‘Well, doubtless you know him better than I. But if you’ll take a word of advice, you’ll think carefully before confronting him over this. It’s likely to do more harm than good. And now, you’ll have to excuse me. I have a rehearsal to attend.’
* * *
With Francis occupied in the parlour, Pauline waited until she heard the front door close behind Ashley and Sir Nicholas, then sat down at the table and watched Athenais toying absently with a piece of bread. Her skin was faintly flushed and the dark grey eyes glowed. She had never, thought Pauline, looked better.
‘It appears I don’t need to ask if you’re happy,’ she said.
Athenais shook her head, laughing a little.
‘He is … I don’t know. There aren’t words. He’s just more than anything I could ever have dreamed of. And he loves me, Pauline.’ She said it with awe, as though it was the greatest miracle in creation. ‘He really loves me. But he’d convinced himself that he shouldn’t because of his – oh, his circumstances. He actually said he had nothing to offer me. How can he have thought that? As if it mattered!’
‘Of course it matters,’ replied Pauline prosaically. ‘He wouldn’t be the man he is if he hadn’t thought it. His pride would have him bleed to death rather than live off a woman. And, in your case, he knows you’re already supporting your father and can’t afford another burden. No – I know you don’t see it that way and that he’ll move heaven and earth not to let it happen. But it isn’t what we need to talk about right now.’
‘What, then?’
‘I assume you don’t want to get pregnant?’
Athenais opened her mouth, then closed it again, suddenly realising how surprisingly alluring the idea of having Ashley’s child actually was.
‘Stop that,’ said Pauline, flatly. ‘You can’t afford those kind of notions. What you need to be doing is taking charge of things so he doesn’t have to.’
Finally Athenais said slowly, ‘I don’t know how.’
‘That’s what I thought. Time for one or two long overdue lessons, then.’
* * *
On their way up to the King’s apartments in the Louvre, Nicholas said, ‘Has His Majesty ever told you how he managed to get away after Worcester? I’ve often wondered.’
Ashley, who was finding the seemingly interminable stairs a trial, managed a short laugh.
‘Yes. He’s told me … and I’ve heard him tell the tale on numerous other occasions.’
‘He likes to talk about it?’
‘Actually, I don’t think he does but he’s asked so often, he has to. Interestingly enough, the story is never quite the same twice running.’
Nicholas looked blank. ‘He lies? Why?’
‘To lay false trails and litter the true one with red herrings.’ Ashley paused on the landing to ease the incipient cramp in his leg. ‘A lot of people helped him escape, Nick. He’s just doing what he can to protect their identities.’
Charles received them immediately in his shabby rooms where the fire did little to combat the December chill. As soon as he sa
w who Ashley had brought with him, he strode forward holding out his hand, saying, ‘Nicholas, by all that’s holy! This is an unexpected pleasure. We thought you must have been taken.’
Flushing with gratification, Nicholas clasped his King’s hand and said, ‘I’m happy to see you safe, Sir. And yes – I was taken. But due to this,’ he gestured to his empty left sleeve, ‘and the fact that I’m no one of importance, they didn’t detain me for long.’
Sincere regret informed the swarthy face.
‘I’m sorry that you’ve suffered so grievously on my account. Be assured that it won’t be forgotten.’
‘Plenty of our friends went through worse,’ said Nicholas. ‘I count myself lucky.’
‘He wants to hear of your adventures, Sir,’ interposed Ashley with a grin. ‘I thought the version you gave that fellow of the Cardinal’s was the best so far.’
‘Then that’s the one I’ll tell – if I can recall which it was,’ retorted Charles. Then, ‘But first … I’d like to speak with you privately. Nicholas, perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting in the other room for a few minutes?’
Nicholas bowed and removed himself without further ado. As soon as he had gone, Charles gestured to a chair and said, ‘Some time ago, I spoke to you of certain papers in Lucy’s possession.’
Ashley sat down and nodded. ‘I remember.’
‘I need to get them back.’
‘Ah.’ Hell. If it’s burglary he wants, I’m not exactly in the best physical shape for it right now. ‘How urgent is it?’
‘Moderately. I’m negotiating with Denmark for some ships and talks are reaching a delicate stage. Lucy, however, is once more being difficult and making wild threats. If she goes so far as to make certain things public, the Danish envoys will walk away without a backward glance.’ Charles dropped into a chair on the far side of the hearth. ‘I can’t afford for that to happen, Ash. Can you help me?’
‘I’ll do my best – though, if you want me to attend to the matter myself, it may not be possible for a few days. My leg isn’t quite up to scaling walls and climbing through windows.’
‘Of course. I’d forgotten. Sir Edward said you were set upon by cut-purses?’