Three
Jonathan and Xavier Vistoire walked behind the cart, the gap widening as the oxen pulled the load up a hill.
Jonathan’s reluctant companion nodded toward his walking stick. “Allow me to hazard a guess. You have a blade hidden inside.”
“One can never be too careful, Mr. Vistoire.”
His shrewd eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t agree more, especially when it comes to Englishmen.”
“Trust should be earned, so I take no offense. I cannot place your accent, sir. It’s not quite French.”
“Neither am I,” Mr. Vistoire said. “I come from the Louisiana territory, New Orleans.”
“Ah, still resentful about the skirmish a few years ago? Your side won the war. If anyone should be bitter…” He smiled sheepishly, hoping to lower the other man’s defenses.
Mr. Vistoire’s lips thinned. “My distrust stems from more recent events, monsieur.”
Jonathan nodded, considering his own troubles with his fellow countrymen. A traitor in the midst of the Regent’s men, a deplorable assignment that eroded his morals, and veiled threats against his former fiancée unless he toed the line.
“I don’t trust many Englishmen either,” he admitted. “We have that in common.”
Mr. Vistoire’s gaze was locked on his wife. “But we are not the same, non?”
Jonathan suppressed a sigh. His usual clumsy charm appeared to have no effect on the other man. Xavier Vistoire could be a problem.
The sisters leaned their heads close, sharing Miss Darlington’s parasol while Mrs. Vistoire peeled an orange. Deep furrows formed between her husband’s brows. The man was clearly worried by her marked fatigue and pallor.
“Orange and lemon trees grow at the villa,” Jonathan said. “After a few days of fresh-squeezed juice, your wife may recover from what ails her.”
The rigid set of Mr. Vistoire’s jaw softened marginally. “Do you suspect scurvy?”
“It happens on ships. I’m surprised you and your sister-in-law were spared.”
“Regina had no appetite. She couldn’t keep anything down, so she stopped eating very much.”
“Possibly started by seasickness,” Jonathan said. “I’ve seen it often on my journeys, but she should recover now that she is back on land.”
The other man kept pace with him as they climbed the steepest part of the hill, neither of them winded. Mr. Vistoire wouldn’t be easy to overcome in a fight unless Jonathan took him by surprise.
“Forgive me if I am overstepping,” Jonathan said, “but I noticed the ladies are traveling without a maid.”
“Oui, their ladies’ maid stayed in London to assist their younger sister. Miss Sophia is participating in the Season. I will hire a maid after we are settled.”
Husband hunting. Jonathan curled his fingers into a fist, then released it. Last year he’d returned to London to find a wife and build a family of his own, but once a Regent’s man, always a Regent’s man. And he had been reminded quickly there was only one way out—death.
“Most of the maids are Athenian and speak no English,” he said. “If you would like assistance translating during interviews, I offer up my services.”
“That would be helpful. Thank you, Sir Jonathan.”
“Call me Jonathan, or Hackberry if you prefer. I’ve never felt Sir was a good fit. It sounds stuffy.”
Mr. Vistoire smiled reluctantly and thrust out his hand. “Xavier.”
Jonathan gave it a firm shake. “You are welcome, Xavier. Perhaps one of Dom’s servants will fulfill the role of ladies’ maid this evening.”
“If there is room with my wife’s uncle, we might not require lodging.”
“And if not, your wife and her sister will have a safe place to stay.”
As they entered the city, they walked the narrow, winding streets in silence. Regina Vistoire sagged against the high wall of the cart with her eyes closed while Miss Darlington took in the sights, her head swinging this way and that.
“Oh, my,” she murmured as the Acropolis loomed in the distance, the setting sun creating a colorful backdrop for the stark columns of the Parthenon.
Her excitement reminded him of his first glimpse of the ruins. He had been a boy, traveling with his father and mother. He wished their situation were different so he could show her around the ruins.
The cart creaked around the final bend, and Lord Dominic's villa came into view. It was another whitewashed facade in a long line of fashionable residences dotting the hillside.
Long shadows stretched between the buildings while sunlight glinted off the windows of the merchants' homes across the narrow street. Behind the walled courtyards, children laughed and women spoke to one another in rapid Greek.
Jonathan shouted for the guide to stop at the iron gate at Dom’s villa.
“The servants will carry in the trunks,” he said to Xavier.
The other man nodded and went to help the ladies climb from the cart. Miss Darlington dusted off her skirts, smiling as she gazed up at an orange tree.
“Thieves beware,” she said, her voice lilting like a pleasant melody.
Jonathan chuckled. “I feel much safer with you in residence, Miss Darlington.”
Offering his arm, he escorted her through the arched gate and up the front walkway, where the scent of jasmine sweetened the air. Xavier and his wife walked close behind.
“I had hoped to call on Uncle Charles soon,” Miss Darlington said. “Do you know how far it is to Mrs. Bellini’s home?”
“Perhaps we should allow your sister to rest and call at Mrs. Bellini’s in the morning,” Jonathan said. It would be easier to carry out his orders if he didn’t see the ladies interacting with their uncle.
“No,” Regina Vistoire said. “I will rest easier once I’ve seen him.”
“Are you sure, mon amour? I did not see a carriage anywhere.”
“The streets are too narrow, so nearly everyone walks,” Jonathan said, looking over his shoulder as they stepped into the shadow cast by one of the red-tiled balconies jutting from the second floor. “But it isn’t far to Mrs. Bellini’s villa. In fact, her roof is visible from the balcony.”
Dom’s butler opened the door as they approached. He was English and had traveled to Athens with Dom.
“Sir Jonathan, you’ve arrived with guests.”
“I have, Mr. Wilcox. Allow me to present Mr. and Mrs. Vistoire and Miss Darlington. They may be lodging overnight.”
“Yes, sir. I will have the south wing prepared in case.”
“And the ladies need a maid assigned.”
The butler turned to one of the lower-ranking servants and spoke to him in flawless Greek. “See to their trunks and send for Leda to bring lemonade and a plate of kourabiedes.”
“Nai, kyree,” the younger servant answered.
While the ladies were shown to a private sitting room, Jonathan led Xavier into the first-floor library, gesturing toward the brandy. “May I offer you a drink?”
“Non, but merci. If you would have refreshments sent to Regina and Evangeline, though, I would be grateful.”
“They are being served lemonade and kourabiedes as we speak,” Jonathan said, also foregoing a drink. “They are like almond biscuits. Lord Dominic’s servants will take good care of the ladies. If you are newly married, I assume you’ve not met your wife’s uncle?”
“I have not.” Xavier half-grimaced, half-smiled. “It is too late if he doesn’t approve of me, but my wife will be très disappointed. She admires him a great deal.”
“For his academic accomplishments?”
“Evangeline is the family scholar,” Xavier said. “My wife is especially close with him for different reasons. The earl raised her and her sisters in a loving home after they were orphaned.”
Jonathan rocked back on his heels. The dossier he’d received mentioned Wedmore was their guardian, but Jonathan had assumed that, as a Regent’s man, the earl’s presence in their lives was limited to rare visits home bearing gifts and entertaining tales from afar.
And they would be entertaining. After all, spies were excellent at hiding their clandestine activities.
To hear he’d stepped in to raise three orphaned girls when he could have sent them to boarding school or distant relatives cast him in a different light.
“That is admirable,” Jonathan murmured.
“Oui, and he arranged for his aunt to come live with them so they would have a mother figure.”
Wedmore didn’t sound like a man who would betray his country for profit, not when his family’s future would be endangered. Unless he planned to relocate.
“When did their parents die?” The question slipped from Jonathan before he could stop himself. He didn't want personal details. It would only make his task harder.
“Regina was eight or nine, so Evangeline was seven and Sophia was four.”
“Damnation,” he mumbled. “I was seventeen. I cannot imagine losing parents and being that young.”
He invited Xavier to have a seat before sitting in the matching butter-soft leather chair next to him. Then he steered the conversation toward more neutral ground, asking about their voyage—the weather, port stops, and other mundane topics that didn’t seem to interest either one of them.
Eventually, the sound of footsteps padding against the marble floor outside the study interrupted their conversation.
“The gentlemen are in here, ma’am,” Mr. Wilcox said in his cultured tones.
Jonathan and Xavier stood, anticipating the ladies.
Regina Vistoire appeared in the doorway, looking more refreshed, but she still moved as if her legs were waterlogged. Miss Darlington, by contrast, swept into the room behind her.
“We should go while there is still daylight,” Miss Darlington said. “We might not find our way back in the dark with the way the streets wind. Did you ask Sir Jonathan for directions, Xavier?”
Jonathan blinked. “I thought you wanted me to escort you.”
“We have asked so much of you already, sir.”
“It is my pleasure, Miss Darlington, and I assure you I can find the way back to the villa, even in the dark. There will be no reason to rush your visit with your uncle.”
“How kind of you, Sir Jonathan. If you are certain we aren’t inconveniencing you—”
“Not in the least. Shall we?”
As they left the villa, the setting sun illuminated her golden curls, revealing a hint of red. He offered his arm, his heart racing as she slipped her hand through the crook and rested her fingers on his forearm.
It’s only nerves over the mission, he told himself.
Charles Wedmore had been evading him for many months, and the man's own nieces would be his downfall. Jonathan should have felt triumphant. Instead, an acidic ball burned in the pit of his stomach. His mission was nearing its end, and he wanted to be nothing more than an enthusiastic antiquarian who wasn’t also a spy.