“You lead them?” Halsey asked pointedly.
Corsini brushed his trouser leg. “I run the French ring, appointed by Lord Ashley and his wife. The Ramseys, too. But hundreds more exist all over the Continent.”
“And the young woman Vaillancourt took away this evening?” The image of the blonde beauty rising to that man’s command boiled Halsey’s blood. “Is she yours?”
“Our protocol is that an agent knows only to whom they report and from whom they receive. So I simply cannot answer you. But I will say this—she does not have to be a suspected agent to warrant Vaillancourt’s interest. She could be anyone. Or simply a young lady whose looks appeal to him. I do not know.” Corsini shrugged.
“Still,” Halsey said as he winced and stared out at the star-studded sky, “that is the infamous Vaillancourt. I am afraid for her.”
“As am I. Tomorrow when I visit DeMoray, I will ask him if the lady has returned to her protector.”
Chapter One
October 25, 1805
Carlisle House
Richmond upon Thames
Inès Bechard was pleased with herself tonight—and she deserved an escape.
She cast a glance back at the corridor to the dining room. No one was watching her—they were too engrossed with each other—so she picked up her skirts with one deft hand and ran.
Three times now, she’d come here visiting Giselle, her dear friend and the new Countess of Carlisle, so Inès knew the order of the rooms…and where the garden was.
She needed the garden. Badly.
The clatter of all those people speaking English made her head ache. She could blame it on her unfamiliarity with hearing and speaking that language every day and hour. Or she could blame it on the poor wine—from the Belgiandepartments,no less. She couldn’t blame it on the supper menu. That had been delicious, superb delicacies that tickled the palate, a treat when most other British food she’d tasted since she arrived in England had been dishwater. The dessert, themille-feuille, had been the most heavenly with the layers and layers of cream, pastry, andchocolate. But then, Giselle had made it herself especially for this event for her.
Terrible to have to flee it. The dinner party was for her to become acclimated to theton. And she was grateful to Giselle and her new husband. But she required a little peace.
This new Society wore on her. The language, the niceties, and the infernal, eternal formalities had become a major challenge to her need to regain her natural self. How did a woman rest when the world revolved around her like a spinning top, and most strangers whom she met were all so saccharine about her presence?
“Delighted to meet you, mademoiselle.”
“Was the crossing so terrible?”
“Did you encounter any buccaneers? I hear they run amok even in the blockade!”
“You must be so relieved to be here away from all that chaos in France.”
Oui. The Channel crossing was long, chilling to the bone. No pirates disturbed our crossing. Although a few French privateers out of Cherbourg did. Only storms terrified us, night and day. Am I happy to be in the United Kingdom, sir? How do I answer that?
She hadn’t. Instead, she had given that gentleman one of her enigmatic smiles. He could conclude what he wished from that, but, of course, he would never know the truth. Not from her lips. Nor, if she could help it, from anyone else’s.
She prayed he could not. Instead, he—whoever he was—went on to his next thought. What did she think of her countrymen losing days ago to the British at Trafalgar?
She had learned from an early age how to prevaricate, but she told the truth. “I am pleased. Perhaps now that Bonaparte sees his navy is useless, he will see if hisGrande Arméeis useless against the Austrians, the Prussians, and the Russians.”
In truth, Bonaparte had moved his two-hundred-thousand-man army from the plains of Boulogne on the Atlantic coast and turned them toward the east. He harried them onward across the Continent to confront the newest coalition of three powerful enemies determined to defeat him.
Inès found her companion was so happy with that answer that she could have sworn he’d swoop her into his arms and kiss her right there in the Carlisles’ crowded drawing room.
He did not.
With glee, she gave him her best regards, an excuse—and left him where he stood.
She needed air and the sky and stars. The dark wrap of a velvet night’s infinity would give her solace.
