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Chapter Two
A well-ordered mind had been Roman’s gift from birth and had revealed itself in his early childhood as he toddled about their large playroom. He’d been told by his nanny that he’d stacked his wooden toy blocks in perfect symmetry. Long, long. Short, short. Higher and higher.
Until one of his brothers knocked them away and he had to start over.
His nanny also said he never cried. Not that he was without emotion, but he could contain that too. Stack it, box it, keep it hidden from the world.
And so he stacked information for the Crown. A whisper here, a whisper there. Secrets hidden. Lies told. Conspiracies revealed. It all made sense to him. There was no such thing as coincidence when dealing with matters of security and state secrets. The political players he encountered, man or woman, were rarely completely loyal, which helped him make sense of their motives and machinations.
Maybe that’s why he was also proficient at playing cards. The small tells of honesty, deceit, trustworthiness and treachery were revealed in each twitch of the eye and every flick of the wrist.
And then there was Shelene. Even in her denial of him, she’d been loyal and was loyal still. No man had tempted her into an unseemly indiscretion or an honorable marriage.
She was steady, unyielding. Devoted in a way that defied explanation and appealing to his perception of orderliness.
And her word was iron. Until,if ever, he left service, she would not be his.
He was feeling anything but orderly at seeing her again. His heart tripped erratically, and the back of his neck burned like a hot coal.
Shelene was the only woman he’d ever met who disrupted his natural order, and she did it so thoroughly that he could not think clearly of his purpose as he entered Bathurst’s office, a domain he hadn’t entered for the past several months. And when the door shut behind him, he placed thoughts of Shelene aside, as he often had to do, to think of the unpleasant task before him.
Conflicts in Greece, Turkey and the Balkans kept him busy as the Empire negotiated peace. The Ottoman Empire was crumbling under the weight of revolt, and the Russia Empire was exerting its influence in the region. His job was to see Britain prevail.
Normally, he would have his sights on a clear goal, a defined mission. Not today. Shelene haunted him as he slept last night, walking through his dreams and tempting him with visions that no honorable man should have about a virtuous woman.
“I got your message,” Bathurst stated as he shook Roman’s hand. “If it is as you say, we are all aggrieved over your family’s tragedy.”
“Thank you. You understand this must be confidential for now, until we know the full truth for all the families involved. And if there was something nefarious afoot in the region.”
“Certainly, but you know how gossip tends to spread.”
“A bunch of old women,” Roman said, thinking of his mother and her group of confidants. And the ease with which supposed secrets seemed to slip out of the Home Office.
Bathurst strolled toward a sideboard and poured drinks. “Are you still drinking madeira?”
Roman nodded. Madeira had become a habit during his time in Spain and Portugal. And it was a melancholic reminder of those happy, lazy days of his youth.
“I obtained the travel itinerary from the War Office for theVictorious,” Roman said.
“You realize this is probably a futile effort? A naval vessel would not report such a tragedy if it weren’t certain of what it saw, even if the ship was French.”
“It’s something I must do.”
“I trust your judgment, but emotion can cloud a person’s decisions.”
“Henry, have I ever allowed emotion to interfere with anything I’ve done?”
“I wouldn’t know about that, but he was your brother. It is my duty to point out the obvious.” Bathurst lifted his glass in a quick toast.
Their conversation turned political, a relief since Roman needed to expunge the troubling feelings caused by seeing Shelene, along with the still distasteful and unacceptable news of his brother’s death. Roman supplied Bathurst with weekly written reports, all properly coded, and quickly rehashed.
Until they came back around to theVictorious. Roman shared the information he’d retrieved about his brother’s voyage and its route.
“Do you know why theVictoriouswas in South America?” Roman asked. “The War Office was rather vague when I asked the question.”
“We’ve taken a neutral position in most political matters there, so no.”
“Officially?”
