If the viscount had returned from New York, he had probably already discovered that his pick-pocket spy had moved up in station to become a mistress, and he would wonder why. He might realize the truth at once, that Ethan and John Smith were one and the same. At the very least, if he came to the ball, he would demand to know what she was doing gallivanting around Boston with Ethan Harding when she ought to be working at the Mermaid to discover the truth about John Smith.
None of that would matter, she supposed, when she turned Ethan over to the viscount. Suddenly cold, Katie wrapped the shawl more tightly around her ribs against the chilly spring wind, but she could not keep the chill out of her heart when she thought of what she had to do.
“What happened at Holbrook’s last night? Did you find out anything about Lowden?”
The question only vaguely penetrated his thoughts, and it was not until Adam shouted his name that Ethan paid attention.
Startled out of his reverie, he looked up, frowning at his secretary across the desk. “Sorry, what did you say?”
Adam repeated the question.
“Yes. It seems the viscount has been sent here for the sole purpose of finding proof of sedition against the Sons of Liberty and forcing Gage to make arrests.”
His secretary let out a low whistle. “And how is he planning to do this?”
“He is recruiting spies and informants. Katie and I discovered letters written to Holbrook from Gage that confirm this fact.”
“Katie assisted you in this? She is proving to be a rather good spy, isn’t she?”
The mention of her name was enough to send Ethan’s thoughts back to that morning once again. Adam continued to speak, but Ethan didn’t really hear what his secretary was saying. All he could hear was Katie’s voice, filled with bitterness and fear.
I am a rich man’s mistress. I have become my mother.
To Ethan, her fear seemed out of proportion. She wasn’t at all like her mother had been. Couldn’t she see the difference? But then, women could be the most unpredictable, unaccountable creatures God ever made. He would never use her as her mother had been used. It wasn’t the same thing at all.
“Ethan, have you come up with a plan for the ball tonight?”
He heard the tenor of a question from across the desk, and he nodded absently in reply, but his thoughts remained with Katie.
If I say yes, will you send the constables after me? Will you have them send me back to Willoughby?
He tried to see the situation from her point of view. He could understand that she was scared. He knew she was afraid of going back to Virginia, and he knew he had always used that threat to ensure her silence and her loyalty, but after last night, how could she still believe he would do that to her?
Because you didn’t deny it, that’s why.
He hadn’t denied it because he could not afford to let her go. Not now, not yet. He had told her the truth this morning that he needed her help at the ball. He had a plan to meet with Chevain, but it would only work with her help. If he freed her from their bargain, he could not use her. Guilt washed over him, for the first time overpowering the fact that she had brought their bargain on herself.
“Ethan, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Adam’s explosive question forced thoughts of Katie from his mind. He couldn’t think about her right now. He had crucial things to do and not much time. “Let’s discuss the Governor’s Ball tonight.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” his secretary said with some exasperation. “If you’re ready to stop wool-gathering and listen.” He pulled out a sheet of foolscap from the leather portmanteau at his feet and handed it to Ethan. “This is a list of everyone in Chevain’s entourage. The whole party arrived from Quebec yesterday.”
Ethan scanned the list quickly. “Marie LeBlanc will be there. Excellent.”
“Marie LeBlanc is Chevain’s mistress.”
“Yes, I know. I have been making inquiries.”
“If you make your own inquiries, I don’t know why you ask me to do so,” Adam complained good-naturedly. “What do you have in mind for tonight?”
“This visit is a diplomatic one, made in the guise of friendly relations, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“But you know as well as I that France will take any opportunity to irritate England that it can get. So, Chevain will probably be willing at least to listen to me if I can get him alone.”
“Agreed. But getting him alone will not be easy. You have spent many years making yourself known among your Tory acquaintances to be notoriously uninformed about politics, though you are the man to consult if one wants a well-made waistcoat or a fashionable new way to tie a cravat. Are you planning to use that as a basis for conversation?”
“No. Chevain is known to be completely uninterested in fashion, and I’m sure Gage’s spies will be watching him very closely. If we are seen talking together, it will arouse suspicion.”
“Do you have to meet with him at the ball? Is there any other way to have a meeting?”
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t see how. His schedule for today is completely filled with diplomatic talks, and his ship departs for France tomorrow afternoon. No, I must talk with him tonight. It’s my only opportunity. And not meeting with him is unthinkable. I must know that we have French support. If we cannot count on help from King Louis, we have no hope of freedom from England.”
“But how are you going to get him alone? And what does his mistress have to do with it?”
“If I remember the way rooms are laid out at the governor’s mansion, some of the bedrooms on the ground floor have doors leading into the gardens.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“People have romantic liaisons at balls all the time,” Ethan went on. “Both Chevain and I will have our mistresses at this affair. If we were to lead them into bedrooms that were side by side, each with a door giving onto the garden—”
“You would simply switch places with Marie LeBlanc,” Adam finished for him. “If people think you are with your mistress and Chevain is with his, no one would disturb you.”
“We would also have good reason to lock the doors,” Ethan pointed out.
“How are you going to inform Chevain that this is what you wish to do?”
“I already know from my informants in France that Chevain is willing to meet with me. I’ll dance with Madame LeBlanc and tell her. The only concern is not being seen slipping in and out of the bedrooms by anyone in the garden. We can only hope that the early spring chill in the night air discourages people from strolling outside in the gardens.”
“Is it wise to involve Katie in this?”
“I don’t have a choice.” Remembering his promise to her that morning, Ethan went on, “By the way, I want you to make arrangements with Willoughby to purchase her indenture. Go to Virginia to conduct the transaction yourself.”
His secretary frowned, looking troubled. “If she is afraid to return to indenture and you free her, what will you have to hold over her head in future?”
“I promised her I would buy her indenture and free her if she helped me to discover Lowden’s purpose here, and she has kept her part of the bargain. I intend to keep mine.”
“But there is nothing to prevent her from selling what she knows and making more money.”
Ethan rubbed a hand across his forehead. God, he was tired of this—of leading two lives, of never letting down his guard, of questioning the motives of everyone he met. “If she wanted to betray me for money, she could have done it two weeks ago. She knew my identity, and she saw my Liberty medal. Yet I am still getting accurate information from Gage’s officers. If Gage knew I was passing secrets to Whig leaders, my sources would certainly not be so forthcoming.” He shook his head. “No, she has not told anyone about me. Nor has she tried to blackmail me with what she knows.”
“But—”
“For God’s sake, Adam,” he interrupted impatiently. “Just do it, would you? And stop w
orrying about it.”
“All right, all right. But as you once told me, you pay me to do your worrying for you. I’m just doing my job. There’s no need to be cross.”
“I know.” He held up one hand in a gesture of apology. “It’s just that after my adventures at Holbrook’s house last night, I haven’t had much sleep. To return to the subject at hand, what do you think of my plan to meet with Chevain?”
“I think it’s perfect.”
“Perfect, perhaps,” Ethan conceded. “Let us pray it works.”
16
Monsieur Jean-Paul Chevain, the French ambassador, might indeed be one of the most influential statesmen of Europe, he might have the respect of kings and the power to alter the fate of nations, and his support might be vital to Ethan’s plans for revolution. But all that didn’t change the fact that the man could not dance.
Ethan watched as the Frenchman danced with Katie, and though the seriousness of the evening’s events made him feel tense and on edge, he could not help some amusement as he watched Chevain’s hapless attempts to master the minuet. The poor fellow missed steps, bumped into other people by turning the wrong way, and caused such havoc that Ethan was sure all the participants were dreaming of ways to kill him before the dance was half done. The entire process was made worse by the fact that Chevain was enormously fat.
Katie, however, handled her partner with skillful finesse. Though her hair was concealed beneath an elaborate powdered wig just like those of all the other women dancing, and her blue silk gown was the exact shade of at least four others on the ballroom floor, Ethan had no trouble keeping her in view. Even without the clumsy maneuvering of her partner, her slender, graceful figure would have been easy to find.
He had already made his suggestion for a meeting to Marie LeBlanc, and during a previous dance she had informed the ambassador of Ethan’s plans.
Now he was watching Katie and Chevain, waiting for some indication on the ambassador’s part that the other man would agree to meet with him.
Only moments before the dance ended, Chevain turned in his direction, met his gaze, and nodded slowly. Ethan nodded in reply. The die had been cast, and Ethan was about to have the most important meeting of his life. In one hour, he would try to persuade King Louis’s emissary that France needed to provide the colonies with powder, weapons, and money, and the fate of a new nation could very well depend on how persuasive he could be.
A few moments later, Katie rejoined him, and Chevain returned to the members of his own party on the other side of the room.
“Well?” he asked Katie in a low voice, keeping his gaze fixed on the ambassador, who was now talking with Governor Gage, Sir William Holbrook, and Holbrook’s wife.
“You will need to dance with Marie LeBlanc just before eleven,” Katie told him. “By then, Chevain will have inquired of his host which rooms are free for romantic liaisons.”
Ethan cast a sideways glance at her, and he knew she was thinking of the night before. Memories of it flooded his own mind, and it must have shown on his face, for she hastily turned away and grabbed a glass of Madeira off the tray of a passing maidservant. She swallowed the wine in one quick draught.
“Have you spied Lowden in the crowd?” she asked, tossing her wineglass into a potted fern and earning a stern look from the man by her side.
“No,” he answered. “But Holbrook might know. He is headed this way.”
“Oh, how lovely.” Katie made a face.
Ethan threw back his head and laughed. “Be polite,” he ordered. “Our good governor is with him.”
“Well, Harding,” Holbrook said as the two men approached them, “every time I see you with this woman, you are laughing.”
“And that surprises you, Sir William?” Ethan asked.
“Not at all. I know Mrs. Armstrong to be quite entertaining company.”
His implication was clear, and Ethan’s mouth tightened. Katie spoke quickly to fill the awkward silence. “He only says that because I can dance an Irish jig on my fingertips.”
“A skill I would dearly love to see firsthand,” Holbrook said, and gestured toward the ballroom floor. “I’m sure there is room for you to demonstrate.”
“And show my knickers to a Frenchman?” she countered in mock horror. “Laud, Sir William, I couldn’t possibly.”
The men laughed at that, including Governor Gage. When she was introduced to him, Katie engaged the governor in conversation, and Ethan did the same with Holbrook, much to her relief. She found that Thomas Gage was not what she would have expected. He was an intelligent and soft-spoken man, with deep lines of worry carved in his forehead that spoke of heavy responsibilities. Katie sensed that he was also very kind.
When she expressed this opinion to Ethan after the two men had strolled on toward the refreshment tables, he agreed with her, much to her surprise.
“Isn’t he your enemy?” she murmured, glancing around to make certain no one could hear them.
“That doesn’t mean I cannot appreciate the man’s good qualities, Katie,” he answered, his voice as low as hers. “In truth, I have a high opinion of Thomas Gage. He is just, which is more than I can say for his predecessor, Hutchinson.”
She shook her head. “You astound me, Ethan, to speak so fairly of the man who could end up hanging you for sedition.”
“If it were up to Gage, that would never happen. He believes very strongly in the letter of the law. Unfortunately, the decision to arrest the Sons of Liberty will be made by Lord North, and that man is anything but just.”
“Then let us hope Lord North decides to retire to his country home and grow a new species of rose or something.”
Ethan smiled, but there was a grave expression in his eyes. “If he does, it will have to be soon. By the way, Holbrook did not know if Lowden would be here this evening or not. The viscountess has already arrived, so perhaps he has been detained in New York.”
Katie heartily hoped so. In her opinion, Lowden could stay in New York until hell froze over.
During the hour that followed, there was still no sign of the viscount, and Katie began to hope he was not coming. Ethan did as Chevain had instructed and danced with the ambassador’s mistress, who told him which bedrooms they would use. A few minutes before eleven, he and Katie each took a glass of wine and slipped out of the ballroom, leaving the impression on anyone watching them that they were departing for a romantic tryst. They went into the bedroom Marie LeBlanc had instructed them to use. Once inside, Ethan slid back the bolt that locked the doors leading into the back gardens, then sat down beside Katie on the edge of the bed in the dark and waited.
Neither of them spoke, and with every passing moment the tenseness in the air grew. After they had waited a few moments, her hand reached for his, as if seeking reassurance. He entwined their fingers and held her hand in his. “Everything will be fine,” he whispered.
“What if this meeting does not go as you hope?” she whispered back. “Would all be lost?”
He simply lifted her hand in his and kissed her fingertips, but he did not answer her question, and both of them fell silent, waiting.
It seemed like an eternity to Ethan before he heard the sound of a door handle turning. One of the double doors leading out to the garden opened with a lingering squeak and swung wide. In the moonlight, he could see the shapely silhouette of a woman framed in the doorway.
He let go of Katie’s hand, set aside his glass of wine, and stood up. As he approached the doorway, the moonlight spilling into the room confirmed that the woman was indeed Chevain’s mistress.
Without wasting any more time, he nodded to Marie LeBlanc and slipped past her through the doorway into the cold night air outside.
“Good luck,” Katie whispered.
“Wait here, and keep quiet,” he ordered both women in a soft whisper, and closed the doors behind him.
No light illuminated the room next door, but when Ethan turned the door handle, he found it unlocked. He drew a deep breath a
nd stepped inside the room. Though no lamps were lit, moonlight through the windows and the glass doors he had entered enabled him to locate Chevain. The stout, balding diplomat was seated in an overstuffed chair in one corner of the room, a glass of wine on the small table beside him.
Though Chevain might not cut an impressive figure, Ethan knew better than to be fooled by appearances. Chevain could doom the rebel cause to fail or enable it to succeed. It was Ethan’s task to persuade Chevain to present the latter course to King Louis, but he did not have much time to do so, since neither of them could afford to linger too long.
Fortunately, Chevain was of a like mind and wasted no time on preliminaries.
“So, monsieur,” he said in a low voice, “if I have correctly grasped the situation here, if my sources are correctly informed, you plan a war with England.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his generous belly. “But you need the help of France to accomplish this, and that is why you come to me?”
Ethan sat down on the edge of the bed so that he might face the other man. “Yes.”
“And why should France agree to help a group of paltry colonials fight a war they cannot win?”
Ethan felt his jaw tighten, and he forced himself to relax. He leaned back on the bed, resting his weight on his arms and smiling at Chevain with a confidence he was far from feeling. “With French weaponry in our hands and French loans to back our efforts, we cannot fail to defeat England,” he said. “We can succeed, sir, and we will.”
“Not without our help. And I do not recall agreeing to anything as yet. Again, why should France finance a losing cause? What is in this for us?”
“A very generous usury rate,” Ethan answered, his smile widening as he dangled the bait. “Loans to us would generate a high profit for France in the form of interest.”
“Only if you are able to pay those loans back,” Chevain answered dryly. “Even with our assistance, there is no guarantee that you will defeat England. Financing a war is expensive, and you colonials have nothing—few weapons, little powder, and no means of manufacturing what you need. We know of your discontent with your king, and we are sympathetic, since George is known across the Continent to be insane, but we are not certain it is in our best interests to become involved in your squabble. France would have to make enormous loans to you to finance your efforts, and the profits you promise are by no means assured. I am not at all sure Louis would be willing to plunder our treasury for a venture of such high risk.”
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