Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
T wilight deepened, the hazy rose and gold hues of sunset giving way to the dusky purples presaging the fall of night. From his vantage point under the eaves of an old warehouse, Jack observed the entrance to the tavern, keeping careful watch on the coming and goings. Satisfied that Camille had not been followed, he eased away from the slatted wood and hurried to join her inside.
She was reading a piece of paper, and the single guttering candle in the wall sconce played over her alabaster skin, accentuating the delicate planes of her profile.
Draw in a lungful of air , he reminded himself. Her beauty always seemed to leave him bereft of breath.
She looked up and smiled.
His body seemed unable to obey even the most basic command from his brain. Against all reason, a surge of longing seemed to bubble through his blood.
“Have I come to have freckles on my face?” she asked in a sultry voice.
“There is nothing wrong with freckles,” he replied, a sudden vision of Harriet’s sun-dappled cheeks popping to mind. Shaking it off, he added, “But no, you are, as usual, the very picture of perfection.”
Her smile crooked down at the corners. “You are, as usual, too kind. I look a fright. Your English weather—rain-sun, rain-sun—is very harsh for those of us used to the softer climes of the south.”
“Then it would be wise to avail yourself of protection from the elements,” Jack said softly.
The candlelight flickered, casting her eyes in shadow. “Come. Sit,” replied Camille after darting a look around the taproom. “We ought not to draw attention to ourselves.”
Too late for that , he thought as he slid into his chair. Despite the hooded cloak she was wearing, the peek of her profile and glimmer of honey-gold hair was already drawing furtive stares.
“Any news?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice dropped a notch. “I’ve received a message—I know not from whom—saying Pierre has been located.”
“ Where ?” he asked urgently. “We can now begin to unravel this knot and get him released.”
“I... I don’t know.”
Her slight hesitation stirred a frisson of alarm in the back of his head.
“I was only told it was somewhere in the north.”
Jack frowned, his suspicion sharpened by the fact that her gaze slid away from his. His fingers slid across the rough wood and gently clasped her wrist. “Camille, look at me. I sense there is something you are not telling me.”
She turned, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I have told you all I know,” she insisted. “I have been ordered to be patient, and not to press any inquiries. Mon Dieu , can you blame me for appearing frightened and confused?”
Feeling like a bullying brute, Jack released his hold and leaned back. “I’m sorry. It pains me to see you suffering and I want to help.”
“I know that, cheri . But truly, it would be best if you stay... how do you say it in English... at arm’s length from this.”
His arms yearned to have her far closer than that. But quelling the ungentlemanly urge to enfold her in a hug, Jack merely gave a gruff nod. “I understand your fears, Camille. But I think you underestimate my powers to help you out of this coil. The Jack Greeley you nursed back to health was a weak, dispirited fellow who had lost the fire in his belly. I’m a different man now.”
She was staring at him intently. “Yes, I can see that.”
“By some miracle, my cousin also survived the battle. I returned home and found him alive and well at Hendrie Hall.”
“That must have been a joyous reunion.”
“It was. I felt as though I had been granted a second chance in life.”
For an instant, he recalled Harriet’s admonition to make the most of that gift and felt an inner twinge of guilt. So far he had been doing precious little with his time, save for drinking and brooding.
“And you shall have a joyous reunion too,” he quickly added. “Of that I am sure.”
She gave a Gallic shrug. “Life is filled with uncertainties, Jack. Who can tell what the future will bring? For now, I have decided to follow the instructions I’ve been given.”
“But—”
“Please, you must honor my wishes. I have friends here—French friends—who are counseling me on how best to deal with the different factions of the émigré community here in England. Despite all your formidable strengths and your kindness, you cannot understand the intricacies involved. I know you mean well, but one misstep could mean...” She drew a slender finger across her throat. “You have seen what my countrymen are capable of when their passions are aroused.”
Jack fought back a protest, knowing her words held some truth. But there were also dangers involved in letting her try to navigate the swirling currents and rip tides of Royalist politics on her own.
“Camille, it appears we could argue until Doomsday and not agree on what is the best way to solve this conundrum. At least agree to meet with me regularly, so that I may be assured you are well.”
She bit her lip, and her eyes darted to the folded paper by her reticule before meeting his. “For the moment, I will agree. But I cannot promise that won’t change.”
“I understand.” Yes, much could happen to change things, including his own clandestine inquiries into Pierre’s disappearance. There had to be some clues, some trail to follow. A French officer couldn’t just vanish into thin air.
“Would that you did,” she whispered cryptically.
“Camille...” he murmured again, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
She reached out and touched a finger to his lips, the quicksilver gesture happening so fast that a part of him wondered if he had just imagined it. “Don’t ask for more than I can give right now, cheri . As for the future... who can say what will happen.”
Harriet arrived early at Gunter’s Tea Shop for her appointed rendezvous with Theo and found a free table by one of the large windows looking out onto Berkeley Square. Nearly a week had passed since the ball, and her friend was in a flutter of nervous anticipation about coming along on the morrow to the meeting at Lady Catherine’s townhouse.
Her lips quirked as she ordered a pot of gunpowder tea. What sort of sparks am I setting off in Theo’s normally placid temperament? It was all very well to risk stirring up nasty gossip regarding her own actions. She was used to being different from other young ladies, and didn’t mind being considered eccentric by the ton . But Theo came from a more conventional household. She was having second thoughts about encouraging her friend to risk clouding her reputation.
Society did not easily forget or forgive.
“Sorry to be late.” Theo sat down, sounding a bit breathless from walking with unladylike haste. “I stopped at Hatchards to purchase a book.” Her reticule thunked against the marble tabletop. “Several books, in fact.”
“Novels or illustrated volumes on garden design?” asked Harriet. Both were great favorites with her friend.
“Neither,” replied Theo. “I realized that although you have told me much about Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s ideas on the rights of women, I had never actually read her writings. So I found a copy of her A Vindication on the Rights of Woman .”
Harriet eyed the bulging bag. “And?”
“And a work by John Locke on education reform.” A pause. “And the new novel everyone is talking about— Pride and Prejudice .”
“I fear I’m a pernicious influence on you.” She smiled. “If your parents spot those in your possession, they will likely forbid you to see me.”
“I do have a mind of my own, Harry,” responded Theo quietly. “I may not be as outspoken as you are on certain subjects, but I think about the things you say, and form my own ideas and opinions—not all of which agree with your point of view.”
Stunned, Harriet felt her shoulders slump. Was that how her friend saw her—as a vain, pompous prig, puffed up with the conceit of her own self-importance?
“If I’ve given you the impression that I have anything less than the highest respect for your intellect or opinions, then I’ve expressed myself very badly,” she said in a half-whisper. “And for that I am heartily ashamed. Please accept my apologies.”
Theo’s flushed face turned even pinker. “No, no, you’ve no need for recriminations. If anyone is at fault, it is I. I should be more forceful in expressing my thoughts and feelings.”
“This sounds like a very intriguing conversion.” James had come up behind them. “Do you mind if I continue to eavesdrop?”
“Yes,” responded Theo in a surprisingly strong-willed voice. “As a matter of fact, we do.”
James ignored her. Turning to Harriet he asked, “What subject it is that you ladies wish to be forceful about?”
“The new novel, Pride and Prejudice ,” she answered quickly. “Have you read it?”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” replied James.
“What did you think of it?” challenged Theo.
Well, well, thought Harriet. Her friend seemed to have lost no time in putting her new resolve into action.
“I enjoyed it very much,” he answered. “The author is sharply observant and captures human foibles with excruciating accuracy.”
“You seem a trifle surprised that a lady is capable of such perception,” murmured Harriet.
“Not at all,” assured James with a lazy grin. “I have three sisters. I have long ago learned not to underestimate the capabilities of the female mind.”
Theo opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it.
“And you, Lady Theo?” His attention once again shifted to her friend. “What is your opinion of the story?”
“I—I have not yet read it,” she answered reluctantly.
“I look forward to hearing your reaction.” A pause as his lips twitched. “Expressed as forcefully as you wish.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed and a scowl pinched on her face.
A scowl? Theo never scowled. She was good-natured to a fault... Stirring thoughtfully at her tea, Harriet looked up through her lashes and waited.
But before any further sparks could fly, a young lady of perhaps sixteen, rushed up and took James by the arm. “Jamie, Louisa and I have chosen our ices, and you did promise to pay?—”
“No need for shouts and swoons, Georgie. The waiter will not snatch them back and feed them to the pigeons if I am a moment or two late in opening my purse.”
The young lady flushed. “I am not shouting,” she said in a deliberately low voice. “And I’ve never swooned in my life.”
James raised a brow. “You did when I put a frog in your bed.”
“I was nine. And it wasn’t precisely a swoon.”
He chuckled, then gestured at Harriet and Theo. “Allow me to introduce you to my friends, so they won’t think you’re a hopeless hoyden.” To them, he added, “My youngest sister, Georgianna. And despite the evidence to the contrary, she is capable of ladylike manners when she so chooses.”
“Beast.” Georgianna’s flush deepened as she turned to Harriet and Theo. “Oh, please do forgive me. But my brother can be?—”
“Irritating in the extreme?” suggested Theo.
The young lady expelled an aggrieved huff. “Yes! Precisely.”
James laughed again, and performed the introductions.
Georgianna responded with polished poise, earning a wink from her brother. She shot him an aggrieved look before drawing a deep breath and then ventured to add, “I heard you speak at the Horticulture Society on the subject of climbing roses, Lady Theo. Your watercolor sketches were absolutely delightful. I-I wish I could paint half so well.”
“Why, um...” Theo looked flustered. “They are only rough dabbles. It is my good friend, Lady Kyra Sterling—now Mrs. Greeley—who is the real artist.”
“Lady Kyra is prodigiously talented,” intervened Harriet. “But so are you.”
James was regarding all of them with an enigmatic look.
“Indeed,” agreed Georgianna. “You have a wonderfully whimsical quality to?—”
“Your strawberry ice is likely melting,” pointed out her brother. “And we ought to leave the ladies to enjoy their own treats.”
Looking horribly embarrassed, Georgianna quickly apologized, but Theo quickly put her at ease by asking if she was going to attend the upcoming Society lecture and, on hearing the affirmative, inviting the young lady to sit with her.
“That was kind of you,” murmured Harriet as the two of them returned to their waiting sister.
“Lord Osborne was teasing her unmercifully.”
“Brothers do that.”
Theo flashed a rueful smile. “Yes, I suppose they do, don’t they?” Her gaze seemed to lock on some distant point outside the window. “Rumor has it he is an unrepentant rake.”
There was an odd note to her friend’s voice that she hadn’t heard before.
“All handsome young men are wont to sow their wild oats,” replied Harriet after a moment of thought. “I’m not sure whether that makes them unrepentant rakes. We both know that rumor can be much exaggerated. Only look at the ugly things that were said about Kyra.”
Theo nodded, but she still looked a little troubled.
“And Jack—some of the whispers floating through the drawing rooms would make your hair curl.” On recalling the one she had heard just this morning, which involved a voluptuous ladybird and an ornate fountain on Half Moon Street, she felt an unaccountable tightness take hold of her throat. A quick sip of tea did nothing to help—the brew suddenly tasted bitter.
Knowing her friend’s fondness for sweets, Harriet set down her cup and turned her gaze to the display case of pastries. “The almond tart looks divine,” she observed, looking to cheer them both up. “Shall we each order a slice?”
Theo hesitated, then shook her head. “You go ahead. I think I shall just have tea.”
“Are you feeling ill?”
“No. It’s just that I was thinking about what you told me concerning Mrs. Currough and her notions of beauty being all about the art of illusion. If she’s right and fabrics can be draped and shirred to trick the eye, it might be wise to give a dressmaker a little less of me to hide.”
Theo seemed to be taking the idea of the League of Wallflowers turning over a new leaf quite literally.
As if reading her thoughts, Theo made a wry grimace. “I know it’s silly to think anyone, even a fairie sorcerer, can turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse.”
“You’re not a sow’s ear, Theo. You’re a vibrant, smart young lady who glows with vitality. That is real beauty. Why, Jack said as much at the Duke of Pierpont’s ball.”
“The lens of friendship distorts the view. I am also plain and stout, and that is what most people see.” She quirked a smile. “Not that I mind being a wallflower. But occasionally, it would be nice to be asked to dance by a dashing gentleman.”
“But you danced with Lord Osborne.”
“Yes, I know,” came the cryptic answer.
Harriet decided not to try to delve deeper into her friend’s odd mood. Her own was confusing enough. Instead, she ordered two fresh pots of tea from a passing waiter, and resolved to put all disquieting thoughts of handsome gentlemen out of her head.
“Speaking of fashion,” she said. “You will very much enjoy meeting Mrs. McNulty tomorrow. She’s not at all high in the instep, and has a very earthy sense of humor.”
“It is hard to imagine that the celebrated Madame Deauville, London’s most elite modiste, actually hails from the rookeries of Seven Dials.”
“Illusion,” murmured Harriet.
Unfortunately, the tall, lean figure who entered the tea shop at that moment was all too real.
So much for banishing men from my mind.
“Ah, there you are, Harry.” Jack gave a friendly nod to Theo and pulled up a chair to join them. “I was hoping you hadn’t left yet.”
“How did you know I was here?” she inquired.
“There is no great mystery to it—I saw your maid on Bond Street.”
Would that she could unknot all the mysteries plaguing her thoughts. Beginning with why, at the sight of him, her heart gave a strange little skip and thudded up against her ribs.
“Is something ailing you?”
Her gaze jerked up to meet his teasing smile.
“I thought all ladies adored sweets. Yet here you are, in a place renowned for its sublime confections and the two of you are having naught but tea.”
“Mayhap,” said Theo quickly, “it’s because we are still recovering from indulging in far too many of your cousin’s delectable chocolate treats.”
“Had I realized chocolate was such a seductively sweet temptation for the opposite sex, I would have offered to serve as his apprentice in the kitchens.”
“I have a feeling you have no need to sharpen your skills with the ladies,” said Harriet tartly. “Was there a reason you were looking for me—other than to discuss cooking?”
Jack raised a brow at her tone, but his response was merely a curt nod. “Yes,” he replied, his playful grin giving way to a more serious expression. “I was...”
His voice trailed off abruptly as his gaze seemed to lock on some spot at the far end of the room.
She waited, but the silence stretched out for another few moments.
“Never mind,” he muttered.
Harriet leaned back in her seat, just enough to dart a sidelong glance and catch sight of James approaching, accompanied by his two sisters and a gentleman she didn’t recognize.
“Ladies, Louisa insisted on being introduced to you. I hope you don’t mind.” He nodded at Jack. “You have had the misfortune of knowing her since she was in leading strings.”
Louisa’s cheeks turned flame red as she let out a little huff of outrage. “I swear it wasn’t me who set the tails of His Lordship’s coat on fire,”
“However,” continued James. “I don’t believe you’re acquainted with Comte Amirault.”
Harriet pricked up her ears. Amirault—one of the three Royalist names Jack had given to her.
As James made the round of introductions, she was quite sure she saw a subtle signal pass between him and Jack when their eyes momentarily met.
Yet another mystery.
She had also caught the dismissive look on Amirault ‘s face when his gaze flicked over her and Theo. The Frenchman clearly had no interest in two plain-as-biscuits ladies. However, at the mention of her name, his expression quickly changed.
“How delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss Farnum.” With a Gallic flourish, he inclined a bow. “Perchance is your father the distinguished diplomat, Sir William Farnum?”
“Yes,” replied Harriet coolly, giving a pointed look at Theo.
The Frenchman turned to Jack. “And what an honor to meet one of England’s brave war heroes.”
Jack murmured a polite reply.
Some sort of intrigue was clearly afoot. If there was one thing Jack abhorred, it was toadeaters.
While she was momentarily distracted by such thoughts, it was James who took note of Theo sitting calmly through the flurry of compliments, betraying no dismay at being totally ignored.
“Indeed, this is quite an illustrious trio,” he announced. “Lady Theo is an accomplished artist. Her paintings of roses are much admired here in London.”
Harriet shot him a grateful look while Amirault made a perfunctory show of greeting her friend.
After a few more exchanges of pleasantries, James took his sisters in hand. “I see Aunt Imogen’s carriage across the square, and you know how cross she gets if you keep her waiting.”
The young ladies both made a face.
“Lord Osborne has kindly invited me to join him for a glass of port at White’s after he has delivered his charming sisters to their relative,” said Amirault. “Might we tempt you to join us, Lord Leete? I should very much like to hear your views on how the war is progressing on the Peninsular.”
Jack quickly rose. “Something more potent than tea would be very welcome.”
“Excellent,” exclaimed the Frenchman.
It wasn’t until the group had moved out onto the pavement that Harriet noted a small scrap of folded paper beneath Jack’s chair.
“What is that?” asked Theo as she leaned down to retrieve it.
“I don’t know.” The paper crackled invitingly between her fingers. “It could be anything—a bill from his wine merchant, a list of wagers to make on the upcoming races at Newmarket...” She hesitated. “A billet doux from some secret paramour.”
“Or it may not even belong to Jack at all,” said Theo reasonably. “Perhaps you should open it, so you know whether it’s important to return it.”
“Perhaps you are right.”