The Spymaster's Men: Persuasion Part 20

Simon took it, marveling at how well Paget appeared. Like Simon, he preferred to go without a wig, and his dark hair was pulled back. He wore a sapphire-blue velvet coat, pale breeches and white stockings, with lace frothing from his cuffs, gold glinting from his hands. Simon had seen him for a moment last summer, and he had been haggard in appearance. The war did that to a spy. Now he seemed well rested and very content. The shadows that had been in his eyes-shadows of doubt, tension and fear, which Simon recognized-were gone. His smile reached his eyes.

"We are never in town at the same time, and I thought it opportune to call and congratulate you on both your marriage and the birth of your daughter," Simon said.

Dominic Paget's smile faded. "And I am so sorry for your loss, Simon."

Simon shrugged. "It is a tragedy. Elizabeth did not deserve to die."

Dominic said, "That will be all, Gerard." When the butler bowed and left, closing both doors, he turned and poured two cognacs.

Simon accepted the drink. "Thank you."

"These days, life is so d.a.m.ned uncertain. How are your children managing?"

Simon took a sip of the cognac, which was French and excellent. He absorbed the reference to the war, not quite ready to go there. "The boys seem to be adapting better than I expected." He hesitated. He did not wish to discuss Elizabeth's daughter. "I have your wife's sister to thank for that."

Mildly, Dominic said, "I have had an earful from Julianne."

"And my ears are burning," Simon said, wondering if he flushed.

Dominic eyed him. "Shall we sit?"

Simon took a seat on the sofa, as did his host.

"Is it true that you pursued Amelia some ten years ago with illicit intentions?"

"We were both very young, and very pa.s.sionate. But I do not believe I ever had illicit intentions, no matter what Lady Paget thinks. My admiration for Amelia knew no bounds then, and that remains true. And now, of course, I am deeply in her debt."

"You do know that, when push comes to shove, I must obey my wife?"

Simon had to smile. Paget was not the kind of man to obey anyone, yet he seemed eager to allow his wife to rule the roost. "So the countess has the final say?"

"Of course she does." Paget smiled. "When she is pleased, I am pleased."

He was entirely besotted, and it was rather charming, Simon thought. "So if I fail to behave as a proper employer, I will pay for my transgressions-and you will be lined up with Lady Paget to collect that payment?"

"I will always take her side. And Amelia is my sister-in-law. I cannot say I know her well, and frankly, once upon a time, she did not like me very much. Of course, I did have very illicit intentions toward Julianne when I first met her. But that is history." He sighed, but he smiled.

Simon was intrigued, but he said, "My intentions were never illicit. My respect for Amelia is even greater than my admiration for her."

Dominic's smile vanished. "You sound smitten."

And Simon knew he flushed now. "My children need her. They adore her. She is genuinely fond of them. I could not manage without her. This is entirely about the children."

"I imagine you could not manage without her, either," Dominic said slowly. "Hmm, this is rather interesting, I think."

"What is interesting? That I have become dependent on my housekeeper? That is probably a trait common to most bachelors and widowers."

"No, that you have become dependent on the woman you once pursued, whom you admire and respect immensely. Amelia is rather attractive, with all that dark blond hair and those startling gray eyes, if one can get past those drab gowns she favors."

He refused to take the bait, and he said nothing.

"Oh, ho!" Dominic laughed, delighted. "You still think her attractive!"

Stiffly, he said, "She is obviously a handsome woman, but frankly, I do not think about it."

"Very well, I will pretend to believe you." Seriously, he said, "I meant what I said earlier. We are friends, and I will always have your back, but not if it goes against my family. I adore my wife and Amelia is a part of my family. Make certain you remember that. Make certain you treat her with the respect she deserves."

Simon took another sip of his cognac. "That is my intention, Paget. Will I have the opportunity to become reacquainted with Lady Paget before I leave?" He did want to say h.e.l.lo, and if possible get past any ancient animosity, but he also wanted to know if she was at home.

"Julianne has gone to call on Amelia, actually, with Nadine D'Archand, an old and dear family friend." He stretched out his long legs. "You seem in rather good spirits, Grenville. How are you really?"

The tension was instantaneous. To cover it up, Simon sipped his drink while recrossing his legs. It was always wise to stay as close to the truth as possible. "Being home is almost like being in a different world. Everything is the same.... Nothing is the same."

Paget was considering. "You are in an entirely different world. I remember the feeling well. It is a feeling of being trapped. You are d.a.m.ned no matter what you do."

Simon jerked. He had no desire to discuss the dilemma he was in. But how right Paget was! "I am thrilled to be with my boys now."

"For how long?"

Simon set his drink down. "I imagine I will have a month, maybe two."

Dominic was grim. "When I was trapped in Warlock's world, I did not have children and I did not have Julianne. At the time I was engaged to Nadine, but I thought her dead. I cannot imagine how you do it, Simon. How the h.e.l.l do you return to France-to Paris, of all places, where the Terror reigns? How do you leave your family behind?"

Simon did not stand. "I had relatives in Lyons. Did you know that? My maternal grandfather was French. Almost the entire town was executed for its opposition to the Republic-including all of my relations. I know all about the retribution le Comite is capable of." But he felt sick.

He was most definitely trapped. It was a fact-a feeling-he lived with every single day of his life.

"Death is everywhere, and no one grieves more than I do, because I am as much a Frenchman as I am an Englishman," Dominic said. "But it is worse now than it was last summer, before Robespierre took power, so much worse. G.o.d knows, I should not tell you what to do. But let me tell you this much, I have never been happier, Simon. I am deeply in love with both my wife and my daughter. I used to have terrible nightmares. It feels like a miracle to awaken in the morning, with a smile on my face, looking forward to the day!"

"I am happy for you," Simon said, suddenly yearning for even a semblance of what Paget had. But he was trapped between Lafleur and Warlock, which Paget did not know-which he could never know. "One of the reasons I begged Amelia to take up as my housekeeper was that I knew she would take care of the children in my absence, the way their mother would."

He nodded. "So you will not contemplate getting out of the G.o.dd.a.m.ned game."

"Warlock would never let me out, and you know it." He spoke mildly.

"He actually has a heart. It may be buried beneath extra thick skin, but it is there, trust me," Dominic said.

Simon shrugged. He'd believe Warlock had compa.s.sion when he saw it himself. But even if that were true, he could not get out without compromising his sons' safety-not unless he were dead. "We need to win this war. If the French are defeated, the Republic falls and the revolution ends."

"Did you hear the latest news? The French crossed our lines and have taken Menin and Courtrai. We will surely invade Flanders now."

Simon made certain his expression did not change when he was surprised. He hadn't heard. Lafleur needed information before the invasion. "I imagine we may already be on the march. Have you heard any details about the impending invasion?"

"I have heard some gossip. There is an argument amongst the Allied command over leaders.h.i.+p. I have also heard that Coburg has mustered some sixty thousand men. I doubt the French can raise as many troops," Dominic said.

"Do not be too sure. Times have changed since the conscription became law last August," Simon said bluntly. "I heard it projected before I left Paris that the army would total one million troops by this fall."

Dominic paled.

"Hopefully they will not even come close to that number, but I myself have seen how rabid the common man has become. The army offers mobility now that no one could dream of before. Privates quickly become sergeants. Cobblers become generals. I am afraid."

Dominic clasped his shoulder grimly. "Think about getting out now, while you can. Your children need you, Simon."

Simon almost laughed. His entire raison d'tre was his sons. But he would not tell his friend that. "I will get out when I can, but that time is not now." He looked Paget in the eye. "I need something, Dom, something that could save my life if I am ever uncovered after I return to France." He realized he was sweating. He doubted Paget had anything that valuable to impart, or that he would give up such information if he had it, but it was worth a try.

"I may have something for you," Dominic said thoughtfully.

Hope flooding him, Simon just looked at him.

"There is a mole in the War Office."

Simon almost choked.

"Warlock knows. The mole is working closely with Windham. In fact, Warlock even knows who it is, and he has known for some time. He is being kept in place, and being carefully used against the French."

Simon was almost dazed. There was a French spy in the War Office.

He had just been given information that could save his life and those of his sons. If he ever told Lafleur that his man had been made, he would be trusted completely. But Warlock's clever game would be over.

He managed to speak. "I am not sure I should ask, but who is it?"

"I happen to know, because I helped uncover him. However, I believe that the fewer people who know the mole's ident.i.ty, the better."

"You are right," Simon said, still shocked. But he had all the information he would ever need now-if he ever had to go so far as to betray his country. "Warlock is playing a dangerous game."

"Yes, he is, but no one is better at such subtlety and subterfuge."

"No one," Simon agreed. But he felt like he was lying, because just then he was the one up to his neck in deception and lies.

"AND FROM THAT MOMENT on, they lived happily ever after," Amelia said softly, her hands clasped in her lap. She had just told the boys an outrageously sensational but eventually happy story of a dark knight and his princess. The story had been filled with gypsies, thieves, sorcerers and even flying dragons.

William was hugging his knees to his chest as he sat in his bed. John was soundly asleep in the adjacent bed, a small smile on his handsome face. But it was past nine, and that was terribly late for a four-year-old child. "Did you make up that story, Miss Greystone?" William asked seriously.

Amelia approached and he scooted down under the blue covers. "I most certainly did," she said.

William yawned as she turned to pull the covers up high over John. "Prince G.o.dfrey reminded me of Father."

Straightening, Amelia tensed. Her heart lurched. Simon had not joined them.

All day, it had been an act of sheer will not to think about last night. The kiss they shared had been haunting her throughout her duties. But so had her newfound comprehension that he was lonely. She felt certain she was right. Simon was lonely; he missed his family.

She wished that Simon had joined them for the telling of the tall tale she had just fabricated. But she had not been given an opportunity to ask him upstairs. In fact, there had been no casual conversation after supper at all, much less any sense of intimacy or any hint that he had ever thought about her in any way other than as his housekeeper. He had thanked her perfunctorily for the meal while arising. And then he had asked her if she was going to read to the children. She had replied that, yes, she intended to do so. He had nodded and left the dining room, abruptly ending the brief exchange.

She knew he would have enjoyed the past hour, no matter what had happened last night, but she also knew it was probably better this way.

She smiled at William now. "I suppose there were a few similarities between your father and the prince. After all, they are both very handsome men."

William started. "You think Father handsome?"

"Yes, I do. Now close your eyes and dream sweet dreams," Amelia said firmly.

But William surprised her by saying, "My mother did not think him handsome."

Amelia had just blown out one candle. She tensed. "I am sure she admired him, William," she managed to say.

"I don't know. She did not like him very much, and he did not like her." He was watchful.

Amelia felt her heart break. She returned to his bedside, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "Sometimes, husbands and wives do not get along as well as they should. But sometimes they get along famously. It rather depends on the individuals, and their reasons for marrying in the first place."

"Did your parents like one another?" he asked.

She started. "The truth is, they did love one another, but my father had an obsession for gaming, William. He left us in the country, because he preferred the gaming halls of cities like Paris and Amsterdam. And in doing so, he hurt my mother terribly."

William nodded grimly. "Father leaves us all the time, but not to gamble. He has great estates in the north. One day, he has said he will take me with him when he goes."

Tears welled. "I know he cannot wait to take you with him." Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. "But you must be a bit older, I think. So in the meantime, you must excel at your lessons and make him proud." As she stood, she added, "But he is already terribly proud of you!"

William smiled at her. "I know."

Amelia smiled back and went around the bedroom to blow out every taper. But her temples throbbed. Simon should have been present for the boys' bedtime story. Tomorrow, she would make certain he joined them!

She paused to glance through the darkness at the sleeping boys. Her heart surged with the affection she felt for them. Surely Simon was not risking his life out of some sense of patriotic duty, not when he had a great estate to run and William to groom as his heir.

She stepped out of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. She went across the hall to the nursery, where Lucille was sleeping. She wanted to spend a few minutes with the infant, and then she would say good-night to her mother.

Mrs. Murdock was not present, and Amelia knew she had the habit of going down to the kitchens before bed to make tea with honey. Amelia sat in the chair that was stationed by the cradle.

Lucille was sleeping on her stomach, her thumb in her mouth. She was beautiful even in sleep, with her blond hair and plump cheeks. And her pink nightgown was adorable. Amelia stood and brushed her tiny back with her fingertips. The baby did not stir. How could Southland not come for her? How could Simon not take one look at her and fall madly in love?

Was Southland going to take her away?

Her heart lurched with dread. As far as she knew, he hadn't replied to Simon's letter. It had been three weeks. He could be traveling. Otherwise, it meant he intended to ignore the fact that he had sired a daughter.

Amelia wondered if she should suggest that Simon send a servant to Southland's London flat to find out if he was in town or not. She dreaded doing so, but Lucille belonged with her natural father, not Simon Grenville, and certainly not with her.

"I wish you were my daughter," she whispered, stroking the sleeping baby another time.

She knew she would be heartbroken when Southland came-if he came. And she knew she had to consider the possibility that he would not come. Simon had yet to acknowledge the baby. But if he held Lucille only once, he would surely begin to thaw toward her.

There was no time, she supposed, like the morrow.

Mrs. Murdock returned in her nightclothes, her gray hair sticking out of her nightcap like tiny wires. Amelia and the women exchanged whispered good-evenings. "Are the boys settled?" the governess asked.

"They are both soundly asleep. I will see you tomorrow." Amelia smiled and stepped out of the nursery.

Her gaze veered down the hall. The door to Simon's suite was at the end, not far from the stairs, and it was closed.