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“I do beg your pardon,” John interrupted. “But what you are saying is impossible,” he protested, certain of his footing in this matter. “It is treason! I am an Englishman, regardless of our relation, I cannot possibly betray my loyalties by joining with Napoleon or having anything to do with whatever you are planning. It is most decidedly out of the question.”
“By joining with your Emperor, you are not betraying any loyalties, you are honoring them. You may have been raised in this bloodless, passionless land, but I know that the fire of France pulses through your veins. You have fought against it all your life, thinking to blend in with these dull Englishmen, but now you may liberate yourself,mon Cousin, and find true glory. I can help you.”
“Help me be executed as a French spy, no doubt.” Sir John laughed bitterly. Toussaint’s words stung him, because they were true. Johnhadspent his life attempting somewhat unsuccessfully to blend in with his English peers. He was deeply disappointed to have found the family he had once so desperately wanted only to be set at cross purposes, especially now, when his marriage to Lady Charlotte was within reach. The thought of her softened him somewhat. John realized suddenly that this man could jeopardize that union. That he would not allow. Charlotte had spoken jokingly of the adventure if he had been a French spy, but the reality was another thing indeed. Marrying her was the only adventure he wished to take. In addition to his duty to the Crown, John would not endanger Charlotte. “I cannot help you. You should take your leave, sir.” John said succinctly.
“The words of a coward do not befit one of our proud and free lineages,” Toussaint said, as if disappointed. “I shall put the blame solely upon the ill-effects of being raised in this dull country, and hope that in the future you may learn to show more spirit. We have much to accomplish, you and I.”
“Wedo not,” snapped Sir John, finding himself at an end of his tolerance for this condescending, poorly-dressed spy. “I hardly think it can be termed cowardice if I refuse to betray my King and Country on the whim of some stranger who claims relation to me.”
“Your king? You claim the madman as your king? Or his spendthrift son perhaps? George is as bad as Louis, and should share his fate.”
Sir John took a sharp breath. The man spoke of open treason. He hardened his tone. “Forgive me, sir. I have had an exceedingly eventful day and wish for nothing more than to be left in peace. It is time for you to take your leave. Ibeg you,for the sake of any relation we share to put this ridiculous scheme out of your head at once, or at least out of my house and hearing.”
“You are in earnest?” Toussaint asked, raising his eyebrows. “You would sit there and deny our kinship entirely, deny the rightful claim to the throne of France to one of her sons of liberty?”
John felt the beginning of a raging a headache between his eyes. It was terribly disappointing to find the family he desired and to find the man’s purposes at such odds within the space of a single evening.
“What evidence of any kinship have you given me? Only a fool would accept such a notion blindly. And France has no rightful claim upon me simply because it is the country of my mother’s birth. My father was an English gentleman and I have lived here nearly all of my life. I am English, and have no desire to see matters otherwise. If it comes to that, I should tell you frankly thatifI were to fight in this war it would be most decidedly against Napoleon. He is as much of a madman as Robespierre.”
“Perhaps you say that only because the Emperor holds your mother’s property?” Toussaint suggested slyly. “Perhaps you think you owe him a grudge on that account. But by acknowledging your true loyalty you could regain your inheritance. Perhaps, a wealthy English gentleman such as yourself has no need for those vineyards, wineries, and all the fine and fertile estates. But it must gall at least a little to know that your rightful property has been taken from you. Join me,mon Cousin, aid our homeland in this great cause, and it can all be restored. The Emperor can grant you back your lands and a title besides.”
Sir John scoffed in disbelief. “I have heard that Napoleon has given outmarquisateslike favors at a house ball. I will have no part of it. Likely, all I will receive is my head removed from my neck.”
“Are you a coward, then?” The man rose and stalked across the floor to where John stood still holding his half full drink.
“What I am not is a fool,” Sir John said, turning to the man, his tone harsh. “You expect me to believe that you have the authority to make such promises?” He asked, eyeing Toussaint’s disreputable appearance pointedly. “I suppose Napoleon will sign it all over merely upon your say-so?”
“If you join with me, we will provide the Emperor with something of such value that you would not needmyword to make such a thing happen. I have friends in high places, and our success here could help the Emperor to victory much sooner than anticipated. He would of course be anxious to reward any involved in such a triumph.”
“Leave, sir.” Sir John pronounced again, and this time, firmly. If nothing else, the bizarre conversation had served to clear his head of the confusion over his feelings for Lady Charlotte. His duty in this matter was clear. “I will most certainly not take part in such a treasonous plot as you are describing, and I do not wish to hear another word of it. Leave this instant. In light of your claim to be my cousin, I will not take any adverse action against you, but that is quite the extent of the assistance that I shall offer. Remain at your peril.”
Henri rose to leave, but the man hardly looked disheartened. “You will change your mind,mon Cousin,” He commented as Carlton showed him the door. “Mark my words.”
Sir John resisted the urge to slam the door behind Toussaint for bringing this trouble to his doorstep.Whatever could he have meant by that final statement?Their conversation left John in an even greater state of unease and agitation.
He tried to get his mind off of his strange visitor. Was the man truly his cousin? He barely remembered Henri. He had not been close with his aunt or his cousin in France, but he did remember his Father had tried to save them…and had gotten killed for his trouble.
John sat heavily at his desk where he realized the number of letters and accounts that awaited his attention. He closed his eyes, so as not to look at them. His financial status had not changed. There was one way, and one way only out of the dilemma. He had known for months of the need to marry a rich heiress, and Lady Charlotte was almost within reach.
Indeed, thoughts of her calmed his troubled heart as well as heated his blood. She would be no hardship, indeed, but for Lady Charlotte…He shook his head at the direction of his thoughts. He could not reveal his troubles to her. She would not understand, and would feel put upon. He would not blame her for reacting so, but he also could not risk losing her, no matter how soiled the whole affair made him feel. He swore to himself that he would be a good husband. He would protect her. He would devote himself to her happiness. That would have to be enough.
* * *
20
Several days later, fully recovered from her bout of illness, Charlotte could hardly contain her happiness at the prospect of spending an entire evening with Sir John. They were having a small gathering at the Keegain London townhouse, mostly family and a few close friends. She could not wait for John to meet her more extended family. He had so little experience with a large and loving crowd, and she thought that deep down he was really quite lonely. Lady Charlotte noticed the night they had run into each other at the concert, that Sir John had not seemed particularly close with his friends, and he had gradually become more comfortable with the friendly noise and banter within her home. Charlotte had always taken such welcome atmosphere for granted. The man needed family, she decided.
By the time Sir John Ashbrooke was announced, the parlor was already filled with the bustle of people, and the moment of panicked shyness that crossed his face went straight to Charlotte’s heart. It was so far removed from the smooth sophistication that he seemed to be able to call up at will. She felt she could now see through to the true Sir John Ashbrooke beneath his charming façade.
“Sir John, what a delight it is to see you,” she called to him, and was rewarded with the vision of his deep blue eyes lighting up at the sight of her.
“Lady Charlotte, you are looking much recovered. You are feeling better, I hope?” he asked.
“Oh, entirely recovered. My only complaint is now having to listen to everyone tease me for being so stubborn and refusing to admit that I was ill.”
“You would think that pronouncements of ‘I told you so’ would be worn thin by this time,” remarked a passing cousin, “but Charlotte’s stubbornness has been famous since she was a small child.”
“Yes indeed, almost as famous as your clumsiness, Carlyle,” Charlotte shot back with a quick grin. The room erupted into laughter when her tormentor unfortunately tripped over the edge of a rug at just that moment. He caught himself on a table, but the table tipped with his weight, upending a Meissen porcelain statue which he just managed to save as he sat most ungracefully on the floor, cradling the thing in his lap. The table however, was not so lucky and overturned with a crash.
