Chapter 32 #2
“Let me remind you, Tyndale, that Lord Grenville placed me in charge of this company and this mission, and I have sworn to see it through. Your life and the lives of everyone here are my responsibilities—responsibilities I take quite seriously.”
“Are you suggesting we leave an innocent woman to die?”
“I agree; we cannot in good conscience turn our back on Monsieur le comte’s daughter, but if anyone goes back for her, then as leader of this mission, it is my responsibility.”
“No—” Elizabeth cried.
“Is it the money, Dinsmore?” Marcus countered. “I have heard it said your family’s rather strapped.”
“Don’t.” James’s eyes glittered, sharp and cold. “Don’t think you can provoke me into sending you off. I’m quite willing to sign anything you or Monsieur de Joley might require that relinquishes any claim to his fortune.”
Elizabeth stood, her skirts sweeping the debris of the picnic. “If you are going, then I am going with you.”
“You cannot,” Marcus and James said in unison.
“Neither of you can go,” Marcus continued. “Andre, David, and I are members of this company, not simply because of our unusual talents, but because we have nothing to lose. When I first met you, I believed you were the same.” He looked pointedly at Elizabeth. “But we all know that is no longer so.”
“She is not mine,” James said stiffly.
“Ah, but she is. As surely as you are hers.”
“I have brought her nothing but disgrace.”
“And yet, she risked her life to save yours. I wonder if you understand how truly rare that is.” Marcus shook his head.
“More than any man, I can assure you that it is not the ties of paper or blood that bind a man and a woman, but what is in their hearts. Both of their hearts.” He fixed his eyes on James. “Can you deny it, my friend?”
“It is my responsibility to see this mission through…”
“We all heard what the soldiers said when they tried to detain you. That they were looking for a pair of spies. A tall, blond man with a scar and a young woman with dark hair. When they find the guardsmen’s bodies—that search will only intensify.
This is not the mission Lord Grenville tasked you with.
It would be irresponsible—no, it would be madness to take it on. ”
Again, that word madness. All his choices seemed touched by it. “I have made the contacts within the networks; I am the one who can best use them.”
“Contacts that may be compromised. How else would those soldiers have your description? You are right, our first responsibility is to see the comte safely to England. But if we wait until Grenville sends a new team back for his daughter, it may well be too late to save her.”
“And if you do not agree to save her, I will not go.” Joley drew himself up, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Let me go,” Marcus said. “I’m the better man for the job.”
“Marcus makes an excellent argument, except…I’m the better man for this operation.” Andre corked the bottle of wine and got to his feet. “Forgery is good, but foraging is better.”
“And I’m the best one.” David rose, dusting crumbs from his breeches. “Anything you can find, I can design and build better. I’ll go.”
“Devil take it, this is not a game!” James whirled around, his blue eyes blazing. “The three of you are behaving as if this were a garden party! You are not vying to be the blind man in a round of blind man’s bluff!”
“He’s right.”
“Finally.” James sighed with relief. “David, I knew you’d be the voice of reason.”
“We should all three go together,” David said.
“Might I remind you that you have all three sworn to see Comte Verignac delivered safely to England?”
“But surely ‘seeing off’ qualifies as seeing?” Andre ventured.
James’s right eyelid twitched; he was swept by the desire to punch someone—if only he could decide whom. And also, he was supposed to be in charge. How had Grenville described them? Uniquely talented, but a tad unruly.
“Tyns can forge his way into any prison, but I can pick the lock on any jail cell you’ve got, and Ayles, well…he’ll probably build himself some contraption and fly himself through the windows.”
“Funny you should say that,” David said, gesturing excitedly. “I’ve been thinking about something just like that…a balloon, perhaps.”
“Prison! Do you think my Marguerite is already in prison?” Joley interjected, horrified.
“Enough! You cannot all go.”
“Drawing straws it is, then.” Andre bent down, picked up a twig, and broke it into three pieces.
“We are wasting time,” James said sharply. “There will be no straws.”
Marcus stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I am not a man to beg, but if that is what I must do to gain your permission to do this thing, then I am begging you, let me do this…”
“You said it yourself; the networks are compromised.”
“I lived in France long before I began working for His Majesty’s government. I have my own.”
“Tyndale, why?”
Marcus took a breath, as if entering a no-man’s land of memory he tried hard not to visit, and said softly, “Because I know what it is to be forced to leave a child behind.”
“You have a child?” James looked genuinely confused. “But I thought… Grenville said you have no family, no wife. You said you have nothing to lose.”
“And so I have not. I had no choice. I had to let him go.”
James reached out his hand.
Marcus stepped back. “A man should receive something in exchange for confessing his darkest secret, should he not?”
“Is that why you wish to go, then—you seek redemption?”
“There is no redemption for the likes of me.”
A kindred soul. “A penance, then?”
“Call it whatever you like.” Marcus’s laugh was bitter, but whether he was laughing at James’s romantic illusions or the lack of his own, James couldn’t say. “Only grant me leave to go.”