At the sound of his name, he glanced back toward the steps.
Rafe Durham took them at a jog. “Wait! I do have news.”
When Durham got to the bottom of the stairs, he asked Halsey not to leave. “Pardon us, will you?” he said to the footman. “I must have a private word with my friend.” Then he waited until the servant disappeared inside the front door. “After you and I left off in the library, I got into a discussion with Langley and Carlisle. They both tell me that they’ve had word that the Hastings shoreline has been cleared of debris.” That was code among them for a French spy’s capture. “One less mess to deal with, eh?” He inched closer to Halsey for discretion.
Halsey welcomed the news. “Are you finished dancing for the evening, Durham? If so, allow me to offer you a ride around Hyde Park. You can tell me all you’ve learned from them…and afterward, I can bring you back if you wish. What say you?”
“Happy to join you.” Rafe turned for the front door. “A moment, eh? I just need my coat and hat.”
“Excellent.” Halsey hoped for a sound discussion of business to settle his musings over Inès Bechard. “I have a full bottle of cognac in my coach.”
“Ah, the benefits of knowing a crafty smuggler.” Durham clapped him on the back, and they made their way out.
Chapter Six
20 Grosvenor Square
London, England
Inès closed her book and slid her tiny reading glasses off. Resting her head on the back of the winged chair, she closed her eyes. She could see him.
Halsey.His image walked and smiled and never left her brain. Too tall, too muscular, too strongly sculpted of Gallic nose, sharp cheek, and lantern jaw, he had become an obsession.
How was he so devil-may-care? So nonchalant in his interactions with her? There was such a mystery in his character that she’d been readingDebrett’sdiscussion of his ancestry and finding that it was no surprise his blood ran so pure. That his estates ran to the south in Sussex and Kent, and to the north near the Scottish border. That his fortune derived from farming, shipbuilding, and mining.
She rose to tend to her teapot on the far table. She poured her brew and wished for a petite glass of her brother Luc’s fine Sancerre. Dear Luc. He wallowed in his cell in La Force.No wine or tea for you, mon cher. Only me between you and Madame La Rasoir National. Vaillancourt be damned.
Halsey was a preoccupation to which she had no time to devote. Nor his sturdy-looking friend, either. Sir Raphael Durham.That man had not been pleased that I appeared and intervened in their meeting.
Neither was I happy to have found the disturbing Earl of Halsey. He was too savvy, a mind reader.
She had referenced them both inDebrett’s—men of lineage so renowned for so many centuries that they both owned piles and piles of houses, mines, cottages, and God knew what else.
She had planned to find a different sort of man here in London. Someone necessary to her cause. Someone with access—and yes, someone so devoted to her that he let her have loose rein. Someone who was concerned with policy and progress, not agents and secrets and runners.
Gus and Amber thought she was on a marriage hunt. Innocent enough, that gave her reason to dance and entertain any man she wished.The problem is that, at the moment, the only one I wish is this Halsey.This earl. The tenth of his line. With good Norman ancestors and others from the Perche near the city of Chartres. Only one came from the Loire valley, but she had been a count’s daughter.
None of that matters. Aristocrats have never drawn me. Yet I find him compelling.
“Inès?”
She turned toward the door of the library.
Gus stood on the threshold.
“Come in, please. I pour tea. Would you care for any?”
“I do, thank you.” Gus came and took the settee closest to Inès’s chair and open book. “I don’t wish to disturb you,” she said as she noticed the small notebook. “I can drink my tea and leave you to it.”
“Please stay. I am finished for today, I think.”
Gus took the cup and saucer from her hands. “I notice you’ve decided to do some genealogical work.”
“I have.”
“Anyone interesting?”
“A few.” Inès did not wish to be obvious about her needs. Plus, she had tried to complement her searches for eligible men with backgrounds of others whom she knew were influential. Even those who remained in France. One in particular, whom Inès had met and admired, was Gus’s aunt and the woman who had adopted Amber after her parents’ deaths.“Your Aunt Cecily is an English countess. Her husband, Earl Nugent, has a long pedigree.”
