Chapter Twenty-Seven
London
After returning Clem to her home and taking his reluctant farewell, Will strode with confidence and a light step in the direction of Rufus’s office at Whitehall.
He was happier than he had been in a long time, probably since the night before he’d been sent to France, because now Clem was his and they were truly one.
No one could be happier than he was.
His love was right. They didn’t need banns and a church blessing to belong to one another, although he would ensure the formalities were achieved as soon as possible.
Even pulling out of her body as he had wasn’t an absolute guarantee against potential pregnancy, but he hadn’t come prepared with protection to what had begun as a simple visit to his cousin and ended with his dearest longing fulfilled.
Clem filled his every thought, the memory of her glorious body bringing joy while at the same time making him physically uncomfortable. But his smile grew wide as he entered the grounds of the War Office in Whitehall. An ordinary afternoon in London had become the best day of his life.
Arriving at Rufus’s office, Will struggled to bring his focus back to the task at hand.
Rufus wanted to begin establishing a connection with one of King Louis’ recently returned diplomats, and they wanted to bring Laurent St. Giles in on the mission.
Because he and Laurent hadn’t worked together before, they needed to work out the role each would play.
He entered the antechamber where Rufus’s secretary, a young man with an intent expression greeted him. Today, he had a smudge of ink on his chin.
“I’ll ask if he’s able to see you now, sir.”
The secretary returned within moments. Hot on his reappearance and before the young man could utter a word, Rufus called from his office, “Come in, Will. Don’t stand on ceremony just because you’re at Whitehall.”
Will entered a room he had not seen before.
His previous interactions with Rufus, including his debriefing, had occurred in Rufus’s home office.
His friend believed meeting there would distance Will from any association with the War Office and thereby remove suspicion Will was working for them, but since his refusal to go to St. Helena and his acceptance of the proposition of working with Laurent in London, much had changed.
Not that Will believed anyone was watching him, but spies, he had discovered, were often paranoid.
“What news?” Will asked as he crossed the room and extended his hand.
Rufus took it in a strong clasp before letting go to gesture toward a pair of comfortable armchairs positioned on either side of a generous fireplace. “Coffee? I’ve had a tray brought up. I find it helps to keep my head clear in the late afternoon.”
“Thanks.” Will accepted the cup, welcoming the beverage. “So, what progress?”
“Laurent is moving into a small but elegant apartment close to Mayfair. It will work well for his cover, and he’ll also begin trading commodities on the stock market and visiting the more affluent hotels and bakeries in earnest. Basically, he’ll be running his business by day and spying by night, much as you’ll be doing.
You’ll be able to meet openly and discuss establishing a trade route to Canada.
Don’t feel obliged to follow through if it doesn’t make good business sense, but as a cover story, it’s an excellent reason to develop an association with him. ”
Will nodded. “I’ve been thinking about Laurent’s proposition, and there may be untapped opportunities in that market.
I would like to visit Quebec to see for myself.
The fur trade is well established, but I hear there’s a growing demand for fabrics as well as finished clothing from Montreal and New York.
If maple syrup and fabrics prove to be as popular as I think, adding a Canadian route seems sensible. ”
Rufus topped up his coffee, then held up the coffee pot in silent query.
Will held out his cup for a refill as Rufus continued.
“If you decide to make an exploratory trip, time it so you don’t miss the London Season if you can.
Better yet, send someone you trust to set it up.
This honeymoon period following the war will not last, and we need to establish loyal contacts among the French as soon as possible. ”
“I’ll speak with Laurent tomorrow. But speaking of a honeymoon, have your plans regarding Clem come together?”
For all that Rufus was a master of his spy craft, Will noted an almost imperceptible tightening in his body. His own tensed, preparing to hear that little progress had been made.
“As to our situation, I’ve unexpected news for you. I attended a private audience with the regent. He congratulated me on my engagement—” Rufus paused, rising to pour two large snifters of brandy.
Handing one to Will, he said, “You’re to attend an audience with Prinny. Four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why?” Will’s voice sounded strangled even to his own ears. “What can he possibly want with me?”
“I couldn’t say. All I really got from him is that he’s looking forward to meeting Clem at the ball. I believe he wants to associate himself more publicly with the work she’s doing for the soldiers’ hospital.”
If Rufus had been to see the prince regent and he had mentioned Clem, it could only mean one thing: the regent supported Rufus’s choice of bride and had given their union his royal blessing.
Will’s heart missed a beat, then sank under a boatload of guilt and disbelief.
No one, not even Will, who had risked everything to be worthy of Clem, could defy a royal decree. His dream of a life with her was over before it began. Gretna Green was no longer an option.
And then the enormity of what he and Clem had done that very afternoon crashed over the joy and wonder of their union, drowning him in despair.
Clem would never be his now, but he had allowed his love for her to lead them into the ultimate act of betrayal.
Clem floated through her afternoon. Her mother attributed her dreamy state to her being in love with Rufus. She was wrong about the object of her affection, of course, but right about the cause.
So very right, Clem mused.
How wonderful making love with Will had been. In her wildest dreams, she had not imagined her body capable of such bliss.
“You haven’t asked me about my meeting with the minister.”
“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, Mama. I was just—”
Mama’s smile was soft, and her eyes filled with understanding. “Being in love with your best friend is truly a gift. I am glad you persuaded us to give you time to know your own mind. While you and Lord Marsden were enjoying a friendship, love grew.”
Heat rushed into Clem’s cheeks. Wrestling with their mild deception, she prayed her parents would be as accepting of her true love when her engagement to Rufus ended.
Challenging times lay ahead. The next couple of weeks would not be easy, and she had no idea how Rufus planned to manage their presentation at the ball, but they would, all three of them, weather it.
“Your blushes are revealing. Your fiancé kissed you, didn’t he? Thoroughly, I would say.”
Stunned at her mother’s perspicacity, Clem’s lips parted, and she almost touched her mouth, a sure giveaway if she did. Denial was impossible.
“How did you know?” The heat filling her cheeks ran down her neck, suffusing her body as she recalled every place Will’s lips had kissed. Every intimate, wonderful, secret place his mouth had tasted, touched, and caressed. Kisses that had taken her to Heaven.
“You look different.” Mama tipped her head, a small frown settling on her forehead. “It’s more than your faraway expression. You’re—aglow. Oh, please tell me you didn’t—” Horrified disbelief reflected in her face as she pressed a hand to her bosom.
Worry gripped Clem. Fearing her mother was on the verge of fainting, she leaned over and took her hand. “I can promise you that Rufus and I did nothing wrong. But I did kiss the man I love.”
She was equivocating, speaking truth while the whole truth belonged only to her and Will.
What they had shared was personal and private, and no one else’s business.
Beyond that, however, her white lie would protect her mother from knowledge that would give her pain and add to the difficulties of the coming days.
Breaking an engagement was a serious business, especially when an earl and a viscount’s daughter were that couple.
“Are you well, Mama? Should I ring for tea?”
“No, child, I am well.” One hand pressed her bosom as she released a breath in a long but soft exhale.
Satisfied by Clem’s confession, her mother settled back into the softness of the sofa and then met her gaze. “The archbishop himself will officiate. It will be the biggest Society wedding of this Season.”
“As you hoped, Mama.” She cared little who officiated in the end, so long as the man standing in front of her when she said “I do” was Will.
Would her mother still want the archbishop to officiate when the groom was not an earl but a mere mister?
Will’s lack of a title meant nothing to Clem, but it would weigh heavily on her parents, especially on Papa.
He placed great store in lineage and was proud of the longevity of his own title.
Of course, Phillip would inherit that in due course, but Clem foresaw strong objections from Papa about Will’s lack of any title at all.
“Shall we begin the hunt for your wedding dress material in the morning? I know Lord Marsden said a September wedding would suit him best, but it’s never too early to begin looking.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Mama, I’d rather wait until our fundraising ball is over. Lavinia and I have so much to do, and—” Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth.
“How could I have forgotten to tell you! I was told in strict secrecy that the regent will attend.”
“The prince is coming, oh my! The success of your ball is assured now, Clementine.”
“As long as his presence opens purses wide.”
“You can count on that.” Mama’s smile was radiant with the news. Any event attended by the Prince Regent would be well received.
“The wars with Napoleon have taken a terrible toll on so many men, and I heard it is important to the prince that he is seen to be supporting programs that assist returning soldiers.”
“Naturally, he supports them. Why don’t people see that?” Her mother was a fan of the regent, who could be charming when he chose.
Diverted by news of the regent’s attendance, Mama turned her attention to more immediate practicalities. “You must share this news with Lavinia. The prince has grown somewhat stout of late and it would be sensible to reinforce the royal seat to more comfortably accommodate him.”
“An excellent suggestion, Mama. I will be sure to pass it on.”
“I understand now why your attention cannot see beyond the ball. Such an honor, and if His Highness is also inclined to attend your wedding, your position in Society is assured.”
A gentle tap at the door preceded the entry of a maid carrying a small silver tray on which reposed a note. She bobbed a curtsy. “Your pardon, my lady, but a note was just delivered for Lady Clementine.”
Mama nodded, and the maid offered the tray to Clem.
She took the note, recognizing Will’s hand immediately. Meeting Mama’s eyes, Clem stood, holding the note close. “It’s probably about the ball.”
“Go. Given the august person who is now attending, you should make everything about it a priority. I will see you at dinner, my dear.”
Clem smiled distractedly. Eager to discover what Will had written, she walked as slowly as she could make her feet go until she was out of Mama’s sight before rushing to her bedroom and closing the door.
So many times while Will was in France, she had longed for a single word from him, and now—She kissed his writing on the note, savoring the moment of holding his words in her hand before she threw herself onto her bed and broke the seal.
His message was disappointingly brief; two lines of scrawl with a single ‘W’ for his signature. No salutation, nor declaration of love. Just a notation of place and time beside heartbreak.
As she read, Clem’s world shattered, and the room went dark.
The note fluttered to the floor from her nerveless fingers, heralding the end of her world:
Regent has given blessing for your wedding to R. We are undone. HP230.
W.