Evermore would he honor his wife for her extraordinary heroism in the face of enormous odds.
#
As they approached the house, the young footman who had served them these past days stood at attention just inside the front door. He looped their coats over one arm, but looked anxious as he dug from inside his frockcoat a sealed envelope and handed it over. “My lord?’
Evan saw his distress. “What’s wrong?’
The youth indicated the note. “A message from Sir Raphael.”
Evan could see that whatever disturbed the young man, he contained his anguish. It raised Evan’s curiosity. “Do you know what’s in here?”
“I can guess, sir. The news is not good, sir.”
Evan tore open the envelope.
H~ ! Return to London. Pitt needs you. Our runner from Paris confirms: Bonaparte has won a major victory over Austria and Russia on a plain called Austerlitz. Devastating losses to his enemies. Bony sent word back to Paris. At theaters there, people stood and sang La Marseillaise. The army set off fireworks. Apologies to cut short your honeymoon.
Evan passed the note to Inès.
She read it, then stared at him. “We will pack.”
“I am sorry, my love.”
She shook her head. “This is important.”
He inhaled, anger building inside him. “Pitt has raced against time to pour money into our army. It’s not been enough, soon enough.” He gazed at her with a sad smile. “I hate to leave here.”
“Nothing will change. You are mine. I am yours.”
“Now I must share you with the world. Was it ever so with newlyweds. We will be stellar together.”
She would make it so. Be his hostess, and their house a haven for his family, his associates, and his friends. His work would be hers, too.
Truly, had not they shared that even before they met?
She would find a way to get Luc free. She’d create a plan. She would never have to use theetuiof arsenic she’d sewn into the hem of her wool winter coat.
She kissed his lips and hurried with him up the stairs.
Chapter Eighteen
Halsey House
16 South Audley Street
Mayfair, London
Inès took the stairs down the next morning to find her mother-in-law and her sister-in-law, young Fee, in the small parlor.
“Good morning, my lady. Fee.”
“Come sit with me, Inès.” The lady indicated the chair beside her own, while Fee gave her excuses and disappeared.
“I am glad we have this chance to talk,” Inès told the lady. “Evan told me this morning, ma’am, that he wishes to host a gathering of his colleagues here tomorrow night. Ten men. The prime minister, too. Evan told me that Pitt has a very finicky palate.”
The dowager winced. “He is ill. Did you know?”
“No. I did not.” She had noticed that Pitt was pale and often did not finish many meals set before him. “Please tell me what he must avoid.”
