Courting Miss Vallois Page 13

  ‘Sometimes very little is required. Besides…’ his smile grew smug ‘…after our drive in the park, I believe she now looks upon me with more favour than she did in the past. And only think, Lady Longworth, if Miss Vallois were to become my bride, she would become your equal in society.’

  His bride. ‘I am well aware of what you would be able to give her, Mr Oberon,’ Lavinia replied quietly, ‘but I think it only fair to tell you that Miss Vallois has no interest in marriage.’

  Oberon laughed. ‘Yes, so Silverton informed me. But you and I both know that’s not true. All young ladies wish to be married. Even poor Jane.’ Oberon glanced towards the refreshment table where she and Antoine were still chatting in a most amiable fashion. ‘Pity. She is so obviously smitten, yet he, by virtue of being French and what he hopes to become, can offer her nothing. And soon he returns to Paris. No doubt thoughts of marriage are far from his mind.’ Oberon smiled. ‘Please give my regards to your husband, Lady Longworth. And perhaps you might tell him…’ he took a last look towards Robert and Sophie ‘…tell him there is something I wish to discuss with him at his earliest convenience.’

  Chapter Nine

  Robert was reading the newspaper when Jane finally came down the next morning. She wore a morning gown of pale lavender and the soft colour put roses into her cheeks and deepened the green in her eyes. ‘Good morning, Robert.’

  ‘Jane.’ He put down his paper. ‘You look in fine spirits today.’

  ‘I slept better than I have in days and awoke to the sound of a robin singing outside my window.’ She helped herself to coddled eggs and toast from the sideboard. ‘Did you enjoy yourself last evening?’

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘Sophie looked so very lovely. I would never have thought to dress up a plain white gown with lace in quite that manner. But it was most flattering.’

  Robert decided it best to withhold comment. As far as he was concerned, Sophie could have draped herself in burlap and still looked beautiful.

  ‘She dances quite well,’ Jane said, spreading a thin layer of marmalade on her toast. She took a bite and paused in thought. ‘Do you think I would have been a good dancer had I not been troubled with this wretched foot?’

  ‘I think you would have been a very good dancer if it was something you enjoyed doing.’

  ‘Does that matter? You do not particularly enjoy dancing, yet you are very good at it.’

  ‘Sometimes we do things whether we like them or not.’ Robert remembered the long hours spent with his tutor learning the intricacies of the steps so he would not embarrass himself when the time came. ‘Dancing is a necessary part of a gentleman’s education.’

  ‘Mr Vallois acquitted himself very well,’ Jane commented in an offhand manner. ‘I saw him partner Miss Templeton in the minuet and she is not an accomplished dancer at all.’

  Robert shrugged as he returned his attention to his paper. ‘I suspect dancing is as widely done in France as it is here.’

  ‘But one would not expect a man who intended to become a doctor of having time for such frivolous pastimes. Although Mr Vallois does not strike me as being like other doctors.’

  ‘How many other doctors have you known?’

  ‘You know what I mean. Mr Vallois is passionately interested in a wide variety of subjects, not only in the study of medicine. He can speak intelligently on matters pertaining to science and archaeology, and he is very well read. He can recite Shakespeare as well as any actor on the stage today.’

  Aware that Mr Vallois’s name was coming up a little too often for his liking, Robert said tersely, ‘A talent that will no doubt prove useful in his chosen career.’

  ‘That was unkind, Robert.’

  He looked up. ‘Was it? I thought I was simply being honest.’

  ‘Why do you not like Mr Vallois? Apart from that one occasion when he paid me a compliment to which you took exception, he has been the perfect gentleman.’

  ‘I never said I didn’t like him.’

  ‘You didn’t have to. I can tell from the way your voice changes when you speak of him. It’s because he’s French, isn’t it?’

  ‘My voice does not change when I speak of him,’ Robert said, putting the newspaper aside. ‘But he is due to return to Paris at any moment, so there is no point in you losing your heart to him.’

  ‘I have not lost my heart to him!’

  ‘Then why does your voice change every time you speak of him?’

  Jane said nothing, obviously loathe to answer a question to which Robert already knew the answer. ‘It wouldn’t work, Jane,’ he said more gently. ‘What Antoine Vallois wants from life and what you want are entirely different. He would not make you happy and I would resent him for not being able to do so.’

  ‘You know nothing about him,’ Jane whispered. ‘You resent him because he is French.’

  So, they were back to that, Robert thought wearily. A subject neither of them wished to discuss and for which there were no acceptable answers. ‘If my resentment of the French was an issue, I would hardly be spending time in Sophie’s company, now would I?’

  ‘It was a man who shot our brother, Robert. I suspect that is how you are able to rationalise your interest in her.’

  He folded his napkin and stood up. ‘I’m going out. Is there anything you would like me to fetch for you?’

  ‘Yes. A book. From Hatchard’s.’ She scribbled the name on a piece of paper and thrust it at him. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

  He took the piece of paper and tucked it in his pocket. ‘It never has been before.’

  She had the grace to look embarrassed, but she did not relent. She glanced towards the window, her back as rigid as her voice. ‘Shall I tell Cook to expect you for lunch?’

  ‘No. I’ve sent a note round to Lawrence Welton, asking him to meet me at his club.’

  ‘Mr Welton?’ Jane frowned. ‘Is he not a close friend of Mr Oberon’s?’

  ‘He was, but they seem to have fallen out and I haven’t seen Lawrence in weeks. I just wanted to make sure everything’s all right.’ He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I’ll see you later this evening.’

  ‘Fine.’

  He stood up, hating the brittle tension between them. What was he supposed to say? That he was happy about her affection for Antoine Vallois? That he liked the idea of her marrying a Frenchman and possibly moving away to France? It would take Edmund Kean himself to make that performance believable. ‘Look, why don’t you order the trap? It’s a lovely day for a drive and it might be pleasant for you to get out of the house for a while.’

  For a moment Jane refused to look at him, her expression as stiff as her posture. But Robert knew his sister well. She could no more stay angry with him than he could with her—and as if realising the argument would only serve to prolong an unnatural state of conflict, she gave in with a sigh. ‘Yes, it is a lovely morning. Far too nice to waste on pointless arguments.’

  ‘I only want what’s best for you, Jane,’ Robert said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  She looked up at him and eventually nodded. ‘Yes, but sometimes I wonder if either of us knows what that really is.’

  Lawrence Welton did not arrive at Watier’s at the specified hour, nor within the half-hour Robert waited for him. Both struck him as strange, given that Welton was normally a very punctual fellow. But finally giving it up as a bad deal, Robert turned and headed towards St James’s. He’d send Lawrence a note later, suggesting they reschedule.

  He was just passing White’s when he heard someone hail him. ‘Mr Silverton!’

  Turning, he saw Lord Longworth crossing the street in his direction. ‘My lord.’

  ‘I’m just on my way in for some lunch. Care to join me?’

  Robert inclined his head. ‘That would be most agreeable.’

  Being a predominantly Tory club, White’s was not an establishment Robert frequented. But Longworth was greeted by several gentlemen whose names were well known in society and then sho
wn with some deference to a table next to the tall window. After ordering a bottle of claret, Longworth said, ‘I was supposed to have lunch with Mr Oberon, but he sent word he would be unable to attend.’

  ‘Really.’ Robert smoothed the linen napkin across his lap. ‘It would appear his loss is my gain. But I am surprised by your invitation, given my current standing in society.’

  ‘Yes, well, I expect that will resolve itself soon enough,’ Longworth said. ‘Once Lady Mary marries, all will be forgotten and society will find someone else to pick apart—’ He broke off as the butler arrived with their wine, and waited until after he’d left to continue. ‘Besides, you’ve had far more serious matters to contend with. Tell me,’ he said casually, ‘with regard to Michael, did you ever find out how your brother came to be where he was?’

  ‘You mean in a deserted barn miles from anywhere?’ Robert shook his head. ‘Very little information was made available to us. I know my father tried to get details, but it was almost as though no one wanted to talk about it. Other men were given heroes’ burials, but it seemed to me Michael’s death was hushed up.’ He raised the glass to his lips. ‘I thought it damned unfair.’

  Longworth rubbed his finger along the stem of his glass. ‘There are things you don’t know, Robert. Things that couldn’t be made public at the time.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I won’t go into detail. Suffice it to say we were in a difficult situation in the days leading up to Waterloo. Napoleon intended sweeping into Brussels and had established a presence at both Mons and Charleroi. But from which place would the main thrust be launched?’

  ‘I thought Wellington suspected Mons because it was on the main Paris to Brussels Highway and ten miles closer to Brussels than Charleroi?’ Robert said.

  ‘But did that mean his presence in Charleroi was simply a diversionary tactic? We couldn’t know for sure. Though Napoleon was outnumbered two to one by the coalition forces by the time he reached Beaumont, Wellington knew better than to underestimate him, especially after what happened at Leipzig. But with no idea how many men Napoleon had, it made it difficult for Wellington to plan any kind of counter-offensive. So, a handful of men were sent out to collect whatever intelligence they could.’

  ‘Sent out,’ Robert said, his eyes narrowing. ‘You mean, as spies.’

  ‘Exactly. And eventually, a report came back from Mons indicating that Napoleon intended to launch the offensive from Charleroi. Wellington received it in time to plan a counter-offensive and the coalition forces intercepted Napoleon at Waterloo.’

  Robert had no trouble following the series of events. The news of Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo had been front-page news and the cause of much celebration. What he didn’t understand was why Longworth was bringing it up now. ‘What has this to do with Michael?’

  ‘The men selected for that mission were the very best Britain had,’ Longworth said. ‘They were men who could be counted on to get the job done. And they did get it done, but not without casualties. The reason I’m telling you this now is because I think you need to know why no one told you the truth at the time. You see, Robert…’ Longworth looked around, then dropped his voice even further ‘…your brother Michael was one of them.’

  For a moment, shock stole the breath from Robert’s lungs. Michael, an intelligence agent for the Crown? Impossible! His brother would never have kept such a secret from his family. He had been the most honest, the most decent man Robert had ever known.

  And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he realised it made sense. It explained why Michael would abruptly leave London and not tell anyone where he was going. It explained why he would be absent for weeks on end and then suddenly reappear, but not be able to tell them where he had been. His brother an agent for the British Government. Why the hell hadn’t he figured it out for himself? ‘Why weren’t we told?’

  ‘The Department felt it too dangerous, so the men were sworn to secrecy. Most wives never knew their husbands or sons were employed by the government.’

  ‘We never even suspected,’ Robert said ruefully. ‘And yet, now that you’ve told me, it all makes perfect sense. But why am I hearing this now? And why are you the one telling me?’

  ‘Because I think it’s time you knew the truth. Something went badly wrong on that mission, Robert,’ Longworth said bluntly. ‘Michael wasn’t supposed to be on his own the night he was killed, but the letter that should have gone out advising him the mission had been cancelled was never sent. He was betrayed by one of our own—the same man who killed several of our best agents.’ Longworth’s blue eyes blazed. ‘The same man who tried to kill me.’

  Robert stiffened in shock. ‘Dear God, you’re one of them too?’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Longworth said. ‘Yes, I was, and though I didn’t work with your brother, I know many of the men who did and they all said he was as brave as any man out there. He did a lot of good before…’

  ‘Before they got to him.’

  Longworth nodded, his eyes heavy with regret as he took a deep swallow of wine.

  Robert said nothing. It was almost too much to take in. Being told of his brother’s true occupation. Of hearing Longworth’s admission as to his own involvement in the covert operations. Of hearing how badly the mission had gone wrong… ‘Does Lady Longworth know about your involvement?’

  ‘She had to. On my last mission to France, after I was shot by the man who killed your brother, I was found by a young French couple who took me in and saw to my injuries. But when I returned to England, it was with no memory of who I was or what my life had been. Because I was engaged to Lavinia at the time, my commanding officer felt she might be able to help in my recovery, so he told her the truth about what I was doing in France. We still needed to find the man who’d shot me and murdered a dozen other agents. Eventually, we did.’

  Robert sat back, digesting what was turning out to be an incredible story. ‘How many people are aware of this?’

  ‘Very few and I’d like it to remain that way,’ Longworth said, his tone leaving Robert in no doubt as to the seriousness of the matter. ‘Napoleon may be banished, but some men carry grudges for years. I only told you this so you would understand how your brother came to lose his life. The Englishman who shot him—’

  ‘The Englishman?’ Robert gasped. ‘But the note found in Michael’s pocket—’

  ‘Was put there to throw us off the track,’ Longworth admitted. ‘Havermere was a double agent. He’ll likely spend the rest of his life serving at his Majesty’s pleasure, but before he was apprehended, he took a lot of good men down. Your brother was one of them.’

  In that split second, Robert’s world turned upside down. Everything he’d come to believe about the French since the night his family had received word of Michael’s death shattered like glass. His hatred of the French was completely unfounded. His brother’s murderer had been one of their own.

  It was nearly two o’clock before Robert said his goodbyes to Lord Longworth, but still in need of time to review all he had learned, he decided not to go home, but to take a stroll through the bustling streets. It was easier to hide one’s confusion in a crowd than to face a sister who was far too perceptive for her own good. He lost track of time as he walked, his mind going over and over what Lord Longworth had told him. Michael, an agent for the Crown. His only brother, murdered by an Englishman. What a fool he’d been—

  ‘Silver! What the devil are you doing? Didn’t you hear me calling?’

  Pulled from the turmoil of his thoughts, Robert lifted his head and saw Oberon striding towards him. ‘No.’

  ‘Bit out of your area, aren’t you?’

  Robert looked up and realised he was almost at Grosvenor Square. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

  ‘Obviously not. But never mind that. I want to talk to you about Miss Vallois.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Only that I saw you with her last night and wondered what you
were playing at.’

  The proprietary note in Oberon’s voice set Robert’s teeth on edge. ‘Playing at?’

  ‘You assured me you weren’t interested in the girl. That your only concern was that she not get hurt. Yet last night, I could have sworn I saw something between you.’

  ‘What you saw was an apology being offered for the way I spoke to her the other morning. I was endeavouring to set things right.’

  ‘Is that all you were doing?’

  Robert’s eyes narrowed. ‘I fail to see what business that is of yours.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ll have a better understanding when I tell you I intend to speak to Lord Longworth about Miss Vallois. I would have done it today, but I was held up. And I would take it as a personal favour if you were to stay away from her. I can’t have my future wife associating with people like you.’

  People like him? Robert bit back the reply that sprang to his lips, saying instead, ‘If the lady chooses to seek out my company, I’m not going to turn her away. But speak to Longworth if you must. The choice will ultimately be hers.’

  ‘The choice? Are you saying you intend to go after her?’

  There it was. The question, poised like a sleeping cobra. A line had been drawn and Robert knew that if he stepped over that line, the cobra would strike. But the time for doing nothing had passed. ‘That is a matter between Miss Vallois and myself.’

  The hiss was audible, the creature awakened. ‘You’re a fool, Silver. What have you to offer her in comparison to me? Not wealth. Not title. Certainly not a position in society. How will she feel when doors keep closing in her face? When the invitations don’t come and your social life dwindles to a handful of people as dull as yourselves. I can give her everything,’ he said. ‘Beautiful clothes. The finest jewels. A silver carriage drawn by four white horses, with her very own tiger to ride behind. And in time, people will make their curtsies to the exquisite Viscountess Oberon. You can give her nothing. Face it, Silver, Miss Vallois is as good as mine.’