A Husband's Wicked Ways (8 page)

Cornelia considered this as they climbed the nursery stairs to the children’s apartments. “I can’t say I noticed it,” she said finally. “But he’s a soldier, they all have something of the habit of command about them. I suppose after years in the service it’s hard to moderate it in civilian life.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Aurelia agreed, opening the door into the schoolroom. “And I’m sure I’m being unreasonable. He’ll improve on acquaintance, I expect.”

Cornelia left it at that as they turned their attention to their children’s clamorous greeting.

It was half an hour later when they returned downstairs with the children. Harry and the colonel came out of the drawing room as they reached the hall.

“I thought I heard the children’s dulcet tones,” Harry observed, bending to scoop up Susannah, who had hurled herself at his knees. He kissed her, hitching her onto his hip, and ruffled Stevie’s hair. “Had a good day, then?”

“We found the backbone of a snake,” Stevie began importantly. “And—”

“When Stevie picked it up, it broke,” Franny interrupted. “But I fixed it all together an’ we carried it upstairs on a piece of paper, an’ then we drew around it.”

“Franny did,” Stevie said with an almost adult sigh. He was a year older than Franny and had in the last year shot up two inches, a height advantage that gave him a much needed illusion of superiority in the company of his bossy and precocious cousin.

“You inked it in,” Franny reminded him kindly. “You keep inside the lines better’n I do.”

Stevie looked gratified by this testimonial, and before anything could be said to destroy the moment of harmony, Aurelia said, “Say good-bye, Franny darling, we must hurry home before it gets too chilly.” She kissed Cornelia and accepted Harry’s salute on her cheek.

“You’ll take the barouche, Ellie,” Cornelia said. “It won’t take a moment to bring it around again.”

“No…no, thank you. The walk will tire Franny,” Aurelia said hastily, raising a speaking eyebrow.

“Of course,” Cornelia said, stifling a smile as she looked at the little girl, who was performing some elaborate dance of her own as she chattered to Stevie.

“I trust you’ll permit me to escort you home, Lady Farnham.”

Aurelia glanced briefly at the colonel and said with cool dismissal, “How kind, sir. But it will not be necessary, I assure you.”

“I would consider it a great privilege,” he said, bowing over her hand.

Aurelia was aware of Harry and Cornelia regarding her with a degree of interest. To refuse such a gentlemanly offer would be completely inexplicable to her friends. “I’m sure Cavendish Square is out of your way,” she demurred.

“Not at all,” he denied. “It’s barely a step from Brook Street, and it will be my pleasure.” He turned to Harry. “My thanks for the hospitality, Bonham.”

“I trust you’ll make one of my party at the Daffy Club on Thursday,” Harry said, shaking his hand.

“I’d be honored,” Greville murmured, well aware that Harry had been asked to smooth the colonel’s return to society with the right introductions. The loosely formed aristocratic social and sports club that met at the Castle Tavern would not have been a personal choice, but then his sojourn in London was not for pleasure, and such a venue could well attract the kind of men who were his business.

He turned back to Aurelia, who was adjusting her daughter’s bonnet. She was a very graceful woman, he noted, not for the first time, and there was something very appealing about her peaches-and-cream complex
ion framed in the corn-silk ringlets. As if aware of his gaze she looked up sharply, and he caught the flicker of uncertainty in the glowing brown eyes. She was off-balance and that would make his task easier.

Perhaps this assignment might hold some unexpected pleasures, after all. Instantly he dismissed the unbidden thought. He lived by the rules of his trade, and the cardinal rule was that all personal relationships carried unacceptable dangers. True, he had considered Frederick Farnham a friend as well as a partner, but the friendship had not taken precedence over the partnership. Frederick had been his subordinate, and there had never been any confusion as to the moments when friendship could be allowed to dominate.

“Lady Farnham.” Greville offered his arm as a footman opened the front door.

Aurelia rested her hand lightly on his sleeve, holding Franny’s hand firmly in her own free one as they walked down to the street.

“Who’s the man, Mama?” Franny’s piercing whisper brought a reluctant smile to her mother’s lips.

Greville answered gravely before she could respond, “My name is Colonel Falconer, Franny.” He paused to speak directly to the child. “I’m a soldier in the army.”

Franny frowned. “My papa was a sailor in the navy. But I don’t remember him. He died.”

“Yes, so I understand,” Greville responded. “I am very sorry for it, Franny.”

“It’s sad for Mama.” The child swooped sideways to
pick up a pebble. “This is pretty…isn’t it pretty, Mama?”

“Very,” Aurelia agreed. “Put it in your muff. We must hurry now. Miss Ada will have your tea ready.”

“Boiled egg and soldiers…I asked her this morning specially,” Franny said, beginning her dancing step down the street.

“Soldiers?
” Greville inquired softly.

“Bread-and-butter fingers…to dip in the egg yolk,” Aurelia informed him. “Not part of
your
childhood, I gather.” Her voice still held the residual anger at his earlier game.

“No, I was clearly deprived.”

She looked at him. “Somehow, Colonel, I doubt that. I find it very difficult to imagine anyone succeeding in depriving you of something you wanted.”

He exhaled a little puff of air. “I
have
made a bad impression. Which is a shame, since it was the last thing I wished to do.”

“You should try harder,” she said with acid-tipped sweetness. “There’s no need for you to accompany us any further. We shall be quite safe…as long as no one decides to play stalking games.”

Greville bowed. It was time to take his leave. He knew well when discretion was the better part of valor, and the lady had clearly had enough of his company for one day. He would return to the front tomorrow. “If you’re sure?”

“Certain.”

“Then I will do as you wish.” He bowed again, tak
ing her hand in a firm clasp, before solemnly bending to shake the child’s hand. Then he turned aside and strode off towards Brook Street.

Aurelia resisted the urge to watch him go and instead walked quickly, swinging Franny’s hand, towards Cavendish Square.

A
URELIA WAS AT BREAKFAST
the next morning when Morecombe appeared soundlessly in the doorway to the breakfast room.

“Someone to see you,” he announced.

“At this hour?” Aurelia glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was barely nine o’clock. “Who is it, Morecombe?”

The elderly retainer shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Didn’t give a name, but he’s been ’ere afore…yesterday, or thereabouts.”

Aurelia frowned. Ordinarily a visitor this early in the day would betoken some kind of emergency, or at the very least an urgent errand. But in such a case the visitor would have declared his business. It could only be one man. And such an unorthodox arrival would not in the least be out of character for Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer.

She could refuse to see him, of course. But that wouldn’t do much good. If he wanted to see her, he’d make sure he did, one way or another. And once again that strange frisson lifted the fine hairs on her skin, and her heartbeat accelerated.

Aurelia debated keeping the colonel waiting while she changed her clothes. A faded morning gown that had seen many better days was perfectly suitable for a quiet, solitary breakfast but not really for receiving visitors. But then she decided a visitor who insisted on such uncivilized hours would have to take her as he found her.

She took a sip of her coffee and returned the cup carefully to its saucer. “Show him in here, Morecombe.”

Morecombe sniffed his disapproval but shuffled away, and within a minute Greville Falconer entered the breakfast parlor. He was dressed for riding and his tousled dark hair and wind-freshened complexion bore witness to the exercise. In the instant before he bowed, top hat in hand, Aurelia thought she caught a flash in his dark gray eyes, a glint of something that she couldn’t quite read. Amusement, or something else?

“Ma’am, forgive the intrusion on your breakfast. It’s outrageously early for morning calls, but I hoped to catch you before you went out, or other morning callers started banging the doorknocker.”

Amusement was definitely in his voice, and that glint was still in his eye, but Aurelia didn’t think that was pure amusement. It sent that strange and disconcert
ing prickle down her spine again. She wasn’t certain for a moment how to respond to his disarmingly frank acknowledgment of this inappropriate visit, but then opted for a cool, matter-of-fact tone.

“Well, you certainly succeeded in that, Sir Greville. May I offer you coffee…or perhaps you’d care for breakfast. I could try to persuade the kitchen to rustle up something a little more substantial than toast. I’m afraid I have little appetite in the morning.”

“That’s very kind of you, Lady Farnham. I own a kipper or a chop or a plate of bacon wouldn’t come amiss. I’ve been riding since six.” He pulled out a chair and sat down with a serene smile.

Aurelia had hoped to discomfit him by an ironic invitation that was designed to emphasize the uncivilized nature of the visit. However, it seemed that discomfiting Greville Falconer was an art form she had not yet mastered.

Saying nothing, she rang the little silver bell by her plate and waited, wondering how long it would take Morecombe to appear. It was Hester, however, who popped her head around the door. “What can I get you, mum?”

“Sir Greville would like some breakfast, Hester. Could you ask Miss Ada or Miss Mavis if they could manage to find something suitable.”

The girl stared at her mistress’s visitor. “I’ll ask, ma’am. But it’s bakin’ day an’ Miss Ada’s busy with the bread, an’ Miss Mavis is makin’ steak an’ kidney puddin’.”

“See what they can manage, Hester.” Aurelia smiled her dismissal and the girl backed out of the room.

“If I’d realized it would be such a trouble, I would never have accepted your invitation. I’m sure a piece of toast will suffice.” Greville reached for a piece of now cold and leathery toast in the rack.

“Oh, believe me, sir, it will not suffice,” Aurelia declared. “Having disturbed the even tenor of my kitchen, you’ll eat what comes out of it and enjoy every mouthful.”

He bowed his head with mock humility. “As you say, ma’am. I’m suitably grateful, and equally remorseful for having put you out.” His eyes sparked with laughter, and Aurelia couldn’t hide her own amusement at this ludicrous cat-and-mouse banter. Two little dimples danced in her cheeks and her brown eyes were alight.

Greville regarded her now with frank appreciation. Her hair hung loose and straight to her shoulders, enlivened with a few hardy ringlets that had survived the night. Her cheeks were becomingly flushed, and her casual dress gave her an air of delightful informality.

“Where is the talkative Franny this morning?” he inquired with a smile.

“On her way to the schoolroom. Do you care for coffee? Or would you prefer ale?”

“I no longer have the temerity to express a preference, ma’am. Whatever will be the least trouble.”

For answer, Aurelia got up from the table and went
to the door. “Make yourself at home, Colonel. I won’t be long.”

She returned in five minutes with a tankard of ale that she set down at his elbow. “Our Ada is prepared to offer you ham, eggs, and mushrooms.”

Greville was powerfully aware of the curve of her breast brushing his shoulder as she set down the tankard, and even more powerfully aware of the scent of her skin and the loose ringlet curling over her ear. A hint of verbena and lemon. It had been many weeks since he’d been physically this close to a woman, and he would guess Aurelia Farnham had not breakfasted so informally with any man other than her husband. And yet she showed no sign of feeling at a disadvantage. Quite the opposite. She was playing the perfect hostess.

Either she was a superb dissembler, or she genuinely had no difficulty adapting to circumstances that should disturb her. Either talent would suit his purposes most excellently.

“Our Ada?” he queried.

“Morecombe’s wife and his sister-in-law take care of the household in the absence of Prince and Princess Prokov and their own household,” she told him, returning to her own seat across the table. “They’re institutions here and have the right to remain either working or as pensioners for the rest of their lives. So far they prefer to work…according to their own lights,” she added with a half smile.

“But the twins…Ada and Mavis…are superb cooks, and Morecombe…well, Morecombe is Morecombe,” she continued. “They have a mutual adoration compact with the children, Nell’s and mine, and…” She shrugged and reached for the coffeepot. “And with me, Lady Bonham, and Princess Prokov.”

“I see.” Greville wasn’t quite sure that he did, but he was more interested in the ease with which she was treating him. It was almost as if she’d decided that he was a fixture who had to be accommodated. Either that, or she was preparing a nasty surprise for him.

Hester’s reappearance with a laden platter interrupted his speculation, and he addressed himself to breakfast with a keen and appreciative appetite. Aurelia sipped her coffee and watched him eat. Despite her surface calm she was on tenterhooks. He had business with her. He hadn’t declared it in so many words, but there was no other explanation for this interest in her. He had come for the document that Frederick had sent to her, and he had told her the truth about her husband’s death. Both pieces of business had been accomplished. So why was he still here, popping up unexpectedly, behaving as if they were in some way already connected to a shared purpose?

Greville looked up from his plate and met her gaze. He took a deep draft of ale, then said, “That was an interesting piece of information you gave me yesterday.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh? What was that?”

“That Frederick’s sister is married to Viscount Bonham. I didn’t know that.”

Aurelia leaned an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. “Frederick told you nothing about himself?”

“It’s not sensible in my business to share personal information with one’s colleagues. Such information leaves one vulnerable.” Greville’s expression was calm but Aurelia thought she could detect a hint of bleakness in his eyes.

She frowned. “How? What do you mean?”

He forked a mushroom and ate it slowly as if considering his answer. “The work we do can only take place under a cloak of the utmost secrecy, as I’m sure you understand. One must keep one’s own counsel at all times. It’s an activity no one can afford to acknowledge, and certainly those who are engaged in it are very careful not to broadcast that fact.”

“That doesn’t appear to apply to you, Colonel.”

A glint shone again in the gray eyes as he looked sharply at her. “Frederick did tell me a little about you, Aurelia, but he didn’t tell me what a bee-sting tongue you have.”

“I don’t suppose he knew it.” Her eyes never left his. It was as if they were engaged in swordplay, and every thrust and every feint was a matter of life or death. “I had no need to use it when I was with Frederick.”

Greville inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I suspect he guessed, nevertheless.”

“How so?”

“He told me there was a great deal more to you than appeared on the surface.”

Aurelia smiled, not a particularly nice smile. “Hidden depths, you mean? How original.”

Greville was beginning to feel a little scalded. “As I was saying, I didn’t know anything about Frederick’s sister except that he had one, and I certainly was unaware that you and she were such good friends.”

“And does that in some way affect your…” She gestured randomly as she tried to find the correct words. “Your intentions, I suppose? Whatever it is that’s behind this persecution.”

He whistled softly. “
Persecution.
That’s a mite strong, is it not?”

“I hardly think so. You spring yourself upon me with devastating information, then you follow me, scare me witless, pursue me into my friends’ drawing room, and then turn up in my own breakfast parlor at an ungodly hour of the morning.” She shrugged. “Can you think of a better description of your behavior, Colonel?”

“I wish you would call me by my name. Since we are engaged in this rather intimate conversation, formality seems a little de trop.”

“I find it keeps a necessary distance, Colonel,” she retorted. “I believe I heard you to say that developing personal relationships in your
business
is unwise.”

“
Touché,
ma’am.” He acknowledged wryly as he returned his attention to his plate, carefully slicing a piece of ham.

Aurelia allowed the silence to develop. To her astonishment she realized she was enjoying herself. She thought she had for the moment gained the upper hand, just as she thought she had the previous day in the Bonhams’ drawing room. Not that that moment of ascendancy had lasted too long, she reminded herself. She sipped her coffee, leaning back a little in her chair, and cast a casual eye over the
Gazette
that lay beside her plate.

Greville watched her covertly with amusement and satisfaction. Frederick’s widow was a lady of parts. He knew that she had relished that cut and thrust and had to acknowledge that he had, too. He had one simple purpose, to recruit her to his cause, but he was under no illusions about the difficulty of doing so.

He laid down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth on his napkin, and took another draft of ale.

“I trust you enjoyed your breakfast, sir,” Aurelia said, looking up from the paper.

“It was delicious, thank you, ma’am. I hope you’ll convey my thanks to the lady in the kitchen…Ada, I believe you said.”

She nodded. “I’ll ring for Morecombe to show you out.”

He grinned appreciatively at the speed of her response. “Not yet, ma’am. I have yet to declare my intentions, as you put it.” He crumpled his napkin beside his plate. “I have much to say to you…much that I am hoping you will wish to hear.”

So the time for games was over. Aurelia wasn’t sure
whether she had been trying to prevent the moment of revelation with her defensive tactics, or whether she’d been playing them simply to prove that she was not a dupe to be easily manipulated.

“Very well. What have you to say?”

“Frederick was a brave and dedicated man.” Greville’s manner had changed. His tone was stripped of all nuance, even his posture seemed more upright, his gaze more deliberately direct, as if with a fierce need to convince her. “He was the best partner I have had…and I’ve had many.”

“I daresay they don’t survive very long.” Aurelia heard the sardonic note but was unable to control it.

“No,” he agreed flatly. “We fight a well-trained, well-provisioned, and highly motivated enemy. Bonaparte has but one aim, complete dominion over the known world. You understand that?”

“My husband gave his life in that fight.”

“Yes, and he did not die in vain.”

A glaze of tears filmed Aurelia’s eyes, and she turned her head away from the direct gray gaze across the table. “I wonder what difference it would have made to the war if he’d chosen not to give his life. He would have known his daughter and she him, and I would be sitting opposite my husband at the breakfast table instead of…” Her words stuck in her throat and she waved a hand impatiently as if to dismiss the incipient tears and the emotions that had brought them.

She got up from the table and walked to the window,
holding the looped-back curtain with one hand as she looked out at the small square of walled garden, the trees still leafless.

“It’s not possible to quantify one man’s sacrifice,” Greville said quietly. “I can only tell you again that Frederick did not die in vain. He completed his mission by getting the document out of Portugal and into the right hands at the War Ministry. It was an achievement of resounding importance. The service can ill afford to lose such men.”

“And what do you want of me?”

He chose his words carefully. “You have access to certain situations…certain people in particular…an access that can be very useful to me.”

She whirled back to him, hand still on the curtain. “I beg your pardon?”