AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How I envy them! But I won’t ask any more questions now. Have a nice rest, dear.” She gave Niema another hug, then let herself out.
Niema looked down at the note. “Don’t assume you can trust everyone who works in the embassy,” Mrs. Theriot had written. “Stick to your cover at all times.”
She wadded up the note and started to toss it into the wastebasket, but on second thought tore the paper into tiny pieces and flushed it. She yawned mightily; that nap was becoming more necessary by the moment.
Her luggage arrived, carried by a serious young man who called her “ma’am.” Once he was gone and the bedroom door was locked, Niema pulled the curtains closed, then stripped off her clothes and took a quick shower. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she toweled dry and stumbled to the bed, not bothering with a nightgown or pajamas. Using the two-step stool, she climbed upon the bed and stretched out between the cool, fragrant sheets. She groaned in relief as her tired muscles relaxed.
When was this ball at which she was supposed to meet Ronsard? She couldn’t remember. Not tonight, for certain. Tomorrow?
Was she ready? She went over the details of her cover, even repeating “Niema Jamieson” to herself over and over, to make certain she responded when someone addressed her by that name. She couldn’t just pretend to be Niema Jamieson, she had to become that person. Ronsard was sharp; he would notice if she appeared not to recognize her own name.
John had been thorough in building the cover identity. The documents would stand up to any inspection and investigation. She didn’t have to worry about that aspect of her cover. No, what she worried about was her own ability, John might not have doubts about her, but she did. She had never played a role before, unless it was when they were in Iran, if wearing a chador and not speaking was the same as playing a role.
She didn’t, however, doubt her ability to plant a listening device in Ronsard’s office. When it came to that part of the job, she was confident she could handle it.
“Let the games begin,” she murmured to herself, and went to sleep.
PART
THREE
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Paris
Louis! It is wonderful to see you. You are looking as handsome as always.” The prime minister’s wife beamed up her toothy smile at him as she took both his hands and planted kisses on each cheek.
Louis carried her hands to his lips and returned the salute, briefly kissing her knuckles. He was actually fond of Adeline, who was good-natured and inherently kind. Her strong features bore an unfortunate resemblance to a horse, but in the Parisian way she made the most of her best features, her eyes, and after one got to know her, one saw only her nature and didn’t think of the long boniness of her face. “I would never miss the opportunity to see you, my dear.”
“Flatterer.” She beamed at him. “I must continue greeting the guests, but promise me you won’t leave without speaking with me again. I don’t see enough of you, you rogue.”
He promised, an easy thing to do, then left her to the receiving line and mingled with the throng of guests crowding the ballroom and adjacent rooms. A small orchestra was discreetly installed in an alcove and partially blocked from view by a gauze curtain.
Black-clad waiters carried trays of delicate flutes half-filled with golden champagne, while others offered a dazzling array of hor d’oeuvres. Ronsard plucked a glass of champagne from one passing waiter and a delicate pastry from another. He had just taken his first sip of the rather mediocre wine—it was always mediocre at such parties—when he heard his name being called.
He turned to see his sister, Mariette, bearing down on him with her husband in tow. Eduard Cassel’s expression was indulgent, as always. Mariette was a bubbly froth of a woman, as giddy and harmless as a butterfly. She was three years younger than Ronsard and he had always been protective of the pretty creature. When she married, she had chosen a man fifteen years her senior, and Eduard had taken over as her protector.
Eduard had been beneficial to Ronsard on several occasions. Positioned as he was in the Ministry, he often knew inter
esting little details about the government, the economy, and some high-ranking officials’ personal lives, which he passed along to his brother-in-law. In return, Ronsard had set up and regularly added to a substantial trust in Mariette’s name, allowing the Cassels to live in a level of comfort that far exceeded Eduard’s salary.
“Louis!” Mariette flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I didn’t know you would be here tonight. This is wonderful. How is Laure?”
“She is well.” Louis’s voice was flat, his tone pitched so his words didn’t carry. He didn’t discuss Laure in public. Many of his acquaintances had no idea she existed.
Mariette wrinkled her nose in apology. “Forgive me,” she said contritely. “I forgot.”
“Of course,” he said gently and kissed her forehead as he held out his hand to her husband. “How are you, Eduard?”
“Well, thank you.” Eduard was slightly heavy, balding on top, and his features could best be described as “not ugly.” His expression was usually bland, disguising the shrewdness that lurked in his eyes. “And you?”
“Well.” Those social niceties out of the way, Ronsard settled his arm around his sister’s waist. “You look stunning. That gown is very becoming.”
She beamed and smoothed a hand down the shimmery pink fabric that brought out the color in her cheeks. “You don’t think it too young?”
“My dear, you are young.”
