“Of course. You were a prisoner of war.”
“And I can call him an illegitimate man because of that?”
“Is he illegitimate?”
“I have no idea.”
“He is not,” Williamson added.
“Then why would you call him illegitimate?” She asked.
“Because you said I could?”
She smiled gently. “You may call Napoleon any name under the sun, but he is the only exception.” Then she changed the subject back to the business at hand and ask Sir Williamson, “Do you believe the Comte to be a spy?”
“I don’t know. This was the first inkling I’ve heard questioning his status as an emigre. However, I’ve done some checking and learned that he’s been here since 1792 as a voluntary emigre. His family stayed in France at that time but were executed in 1795. He has a home in Marylebone as well as one in Bath. He does work as a financial advisor, has two mistresses, and three illegitimate children whom he supports.”
“I’d hate to know what very little you know about me,” Simon said dryly.
“Oh, I know quite a bit about you.”
“Of course you do.”
Williamson nodded as if that were the way of things, and Simon folded up the letter and returned it.
“Why would I take in a man who was working with Ross if you suspect Ross of being involved in her father’s death?”
“I don’t suspect the current Duke of Ross of anything.”
“But you said he was responsible.”
“I said the Duke of Ross was responsible, but I didn’t say which Duke of Ross. That said, we will probably never know how your father died Lady Bredlebane, or who was responsible for his death.”
Caillen nodded, but her eyes were shining with tears.
“You allowed us to believe the current Duke of Ross was a suspect, not his father. You are an utter jackarse.” He turned to Caillen. “My apologies.”
“None necessary. I was going to call him bastard.”
He stared at her in complete befuddlement.
“What?”
“You called him illegitimate.”
“Well, in this instance it’s acceptable. Just as it was in Napoleon’s case.”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” Williamson cut in.
“None of this makes any sense.”
Williamson stood up and walked toward the door. “I will send Mr. Payne over straight away.”
“I didn’t say I would accept him,” he called after the man exiting his drawing room.
“Good evening, my lady.” Williamson waved his top hat in the air, but didn’t turn around as he continued to walk toward the front door.
“What name will he be using?” Simon called after him.
