Persuasion (24 page)

Did she? He wanted nothing more than for her to understand, but he didn’t believe that she did, not for a moment. He knew he had to pull himself together. He was precariously undone.

He sat up and reversed their positions, sliding his arm around her. “I don’t want you to worry. I don’t want you involved. You are to forget everything you have learned today, Amelia.”

“I am more worried now than I was before,” she said harshly. “And I intend to help you, Simon, not hide like an ostrich with its head in the sand.”

“Warlock is helping me. No one is as brilliant.”

“You don’t trust him entirely—and neither do I.”

He refused to lie so he said, “Warlock is right about one thing. You and the children should return to Cornwall, before someone else discovers our relationship and thinks to use you against me.”

Her eyes widened. “I am not going anywhere. I am not leaving you here. We will fight this battle together.”

His heart swelled with love. “I am fighting this battle alone.”

“No, I won’t let you. When will you attempt to meet with the French agent again?”

“I will hardly share such details with you!” he cried, aghast.

“But there will be a meeting, won’t there? I heard you and Warlock, Simon. You are supposed to tell them about our troops, aren’t you? Isn’t that what Warlock said?”

He felt the blood draining from his face. “Amelia, you are to forget everything you heard!”

“How can I? You are going to meet some French spy here in the city, and if he realizes you are not who you say you are, he might kill you!”

He pulled her close. “My contact has no reason to be suspicious. You are worrying needlessly now. I have been playing spy games like this for over two years, Amelia, and I am adept at this kind of deception.”

“I am so afraid,” she whispered. “And I want to help, in any way that I can.”

“You have already helped. At least I know the children are in good hands.” He managed a smile, not adding,
no matter what happens to me.
“Amelia? You do not know how much your loyalty means to me.”

She suddenly smiled, and as she did, Lucille wailed from down the hall. “You will always have my loyalty—and my love.” She slid from the bed, smoothed down her skirts, and then went to the mirror above her bureau.

He trembled, filled with an answering love and so much gratitude, watching her as she fixed her hair. She was the most courageous and determined woman he had ever known, and he admitted to himself just how deeply he loved her. He did not know how he would survive if anything ever happened to her. Somehow, he must keep her and the children safe.

Lucille was still crying. Amelia smiled at him and hurried from the room.

Simon got up slowly, retrieving his rumpled jacket from the floor. Sooner or later he would probably have to meet with Marcel. For now, he would send the information Warlock had relayed via a courier. Dread filled him. He prayed that Coburg had only mustered forty thousand troops for the Allied invasion of Flanders. But that number seemed frighteningly weak.

Warlock was clever and he needed Simon; surely it was too soon for him to throw Simon to the wolves. He shook his jacket out and slipped it on, aware that the infant had stopped crying. He walked over to the mirror and retied his hair in a queue. He remained pale—except for two bright spots of color on his cheeks, and the shockingly bright light in his eyes. His heart was racing. He tucked his shirt into his breeches more securely. Reality had returned—with a vengeance.

Warlock was right when he had said that Amelia knew too much now. There was no way she could remain in his household, not with him there, not when they were lovers.

Especially when he could not keep his hands off of her, not even in the middle of the day.

He was going to have to send her away—he was going to have to give her up in order to ensure her welfare and safety.

His heart aching, Simon fixed the bed and went to the door, peering out. The corridor was empty, so he swiftly stepped out of her bedchamber and hurried down the hall. But as he approached the nursery, he slowed. He glanced inside—and saw Amelia standing in the center of the room, rocking Lucille in her arms.

His heart thudded wildly and he halted. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a beautiful sight. He was acutely aware that Amelia needed her own child—and that he wished he could father that child for her.

And then Amelia saw him and smiled warmly.

He knew he should not go inside that chamber. Lucille was not his child and Amelia was not his wife. The sight of them there was a terrible illusion. But his feet would not obey his mind. He drifted closer, across the threshold toward them. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Amelia said.

And Simon walked over to her, their eyes meeting. Then he paused and looked down at Lucille. The baby beamed. He slid his arm around Amelia, and realized he was smiling back.

* * *

S
IMON
WENT
OUT
right after lunch the following day. And the moment he left, Amelia took off her apron, fled the kitchens, retrieved a light shawl, and rushed from the house. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going or when she would be back. Warlock would be furious if he knew she meant to ask her brother for help. Going to visit Lucas at Warlock’s Cavendish Square house, where her brother was staying, was terribly risky. But Sebastian was not in residence currently, and she needed to speak to Lucas immediately. She did not really think Warlock would have her watched. Still, she walked across Mayfair, all the way to his Cavendish Square house, instead of using Simon’s gig.

Now she used the door knocker, out of breath from the long, rapid walk. Sweat trickled down her temples and between her breasts. It was already a perfect spring day, at once warm and sunny. But her heart was filled with dread and dismay, when there should be joy and love. Simon was in so much trouble.

She did not even know if Lucas was in town, she thought desperately, using the knocker again.

A maid finally answered the door and told her that Mr. Greystone was in the parlor with a guest. “He says he is not to be disturbed, madam,” she added worriedly.

Amelia stepped past her. “Mr. Greystone is my brother. I will let myself in.”

The maid left, not particularly happy. Amelia hurried to a pair of closed doors and heard the rumble of voices from within. She had to make certain that Warlock was not with Lucas, never mind that the maid hadn’t mentioned the master of the house. She pressed her ear to the wood and started. Nadine d’Archand was Lucas’s guest!

Amelia opened the door abruptly. Lucas and Nadine were seated on the sofa, engrossed in what appeared to be a very serious conversation. Nadine was saying, “They should arrive on the fifteenth, weather permitting. The forecast is for fair seas. Can we—” She stopped, having glimpsed Amelia.

Lucas turned and got to his feet, smiling slightly.

And Amelia felt certain that her brother and her friend were conspiring, although she did not know exactly what they had been discussing. “Am I interrupting?” She recalled Jack’s insistence that Nadine was still very involved in aiding those men and women fleeing France.

“You could never interrupt,” Lucas said. But his gray gaze was sharp and piercing as he studied her—he knew she was upset.

Nadine picked up her reticule. “I am running late anyway. Hello, Amelia.” She kissed her on each cheek. “I see you are enjoying the wardrobe Julianne sent you?” Her tone was teasing.

Amelia was wearing a beautiful canary-yellow dress. “If I am interrupting,” Amelia began, glancing back and forth between them.

“You are not interrupting. I was just getting ready to leave.” Nadine smiled at Lucas. “I appreciate your advice.” She turned to Amelia. “Your brother was giving me some suggestions regarding an investment we might make in a mine not far from our new home in St. Just.”

Amelia simply smiled. She did not believe Nadine, not at all. When the other woman had left, she closed the door and looked at Lucas. “Is she a spy, too?”

“What?” Lucas chuckled.

“Then is she helping bring French families here?”

His smile faded. “She is a woman, Amelia, a noblewoman trying to restore her life with limited means. I was advising her financially.”

Amelia knew it was not true. If anyone needed financial advice, it would be Nadine’s father. “Of course you were. Is Jack still here?”

His gaze sharpened. “He is in town, and we will leave it at that.”

She folded her arms. “It’s not safe for him here?”

“No, it’s not.” Lucas went to her and took her arm in his. “You’re distraught—and not because of Nadine or Jack.”

“I was right. Simon is a spy, Lucas, and he is in danger.”

Lucas blanched. But his expression was a distinctly unhappy, not surprised.

“Lucas, I am begging you for your help.”

“Damn it, Amelia, why can’t you leave well enough alone?”

“Why aren’t you surprised that Simon is a spy? My God, you already knew!”

He sighed. “Of course I knew. Warlock’s circle is small, Amelia. We all know one another.”

She trembled. “Do you also know that Simon is posing as a Frenchman—and that the French think he is loyal to them?”

And finally, his eyes widened in surprise.

“I see you didn’t know that! Did you know that he was in prison in France? And that if the French ever suspect him of treachery, he might wind up there again?” She was suddenly enraged. “He is supposed to meet with some Frenchman here in town and give him valuable information about our troops! I am terrified for him!”

Lucas pulled her close. “You know too much. I am sorry, Amelia, so sorry that it has come to this.”

She twisted away. “Forget about me! How can Simon get out of the war? Damn it, Lucas, he has children to think of!”

“Warlock won’t let him out. I imagine he will soon go back to France, where he can continue to uncover the intelligence we need to win the war.”

“But that is why the French have sent him here! And Warlock was clear—he is pleased to feed all kinds of information back to the French through Simon! Can’t you see that Simon is in an impossible predicament? He is in impossible danger!”

Lucas breathed hard. “Damn it. You are committed to him now!”

“I am more than committed. We are lovers, Lucas, and I am not turning my back on him.” She glared.

Lucas flushed, clearly incredulous.

She stared defiantly. But as angry as she was, she was even more desperate. “We need your help, Lucas. Simon doesn’t want to do this—I am certain! How can we protect him from his enemies? How can he get out of these war games? Bedford got out!”

Lucas’s stare hardened. “You have become his mistress. So you are not good enough to become his wife?”

She cried out. “That is not fair!” But hadn’t she wondered almost the exact same thing?

“Do not speak to me of fairness. You are a wonderful woman, you would be a wonderful wife—you are not a trollop. He happens to be a widower. He is going to marry you, Amelia.” He was furious.

“Lucas, I cannot marry him—not under these circumstances.” She was lying to her brother now, because she would marry Simon in an instant. “The first order of business is to find a way to extricate Simon from these intrigues.” She added, “The next time he meets with someone they are calling Marcel, he might never come home!” She choked as she finally revealed her greatest fear—that Simon could wind up dead the very next time he met his French contact.

“Grenville will hardly be taken by surprise, Amelia. He is as clever and as dangerous as his enemies, you may trust me on that.”

She sat down, shaken. “I pray you are right. Will you help him—will you help us?”

Lucas came and sat beside her. “Of course I will—but I am very displeased with your affair.”

“I love him.” She shrugged helplessly. “And I am hardly a child.”

He took her hand and held it tightly. “If you were happy, I might feel differently.”

“When I am with Simon, and we are at home, as if the war does not exist, I am ecstatic. I am happy—but I am terrified for Simon—I am afraid for his life. Lucas, I never stopped loving him.”

He sighed. “I think I have known that, all along.” Surrendering, he squeezed her hand. “You do realize I intend to make certain that Grenville holds you in the highest regard?”

“He does,” she said firmly.

“I didn’t know he was imprisoned. That worries me, because it means he was already suspect when he was still in France. It means suspicion must remain. I imagine he is being carefully watched by his French friends.”

“You are not making me feel better.”

“I will have to think about this. He can’t simply walk away from his French masters. The one thing I have learned during the course of this war is that the French republicans are as mad as rabid dogs. You are either with them or you are not. Enemies of the Republic are given one fate, and that is the guillotine. He would have to disappear, Amelia, in order to escape their vengeance, should they ever learn he is one of us.”

She shuddered. “He has children.”

“Entire families have fled France and are in hiding here in Britain,” he said.

“Do you think it possible for the Earl of St. Just to simply take his children and disappear?”

“I think it would be far more difficult for someone of St. Just’s stature,” he said.

She groaned. “Then what will we do?”

“We may not be able to do anything. You seem to be forgetting that if Grenville decided to get out of the game, Warlock would be his enemy, too. Warlock would never give up a valuable agent like Grenville—not willingly—not until he is no longer of value to him.”

She felt tears finally arise. “I just don’t know how long Simon can keep his French liaison convinced of his loyalty,” she whispered. “I am worried he is on a terribly slippery slope.”

Lucas simply stared.

“What is it?”

“I meant it when I said that Grenville is clever and dangerous.”

She became chilled. “And what is your point?”

“This war has made men like myself—and like Grenville—chameleons. We have become leopards adept at changing our spots. We have learned how to do whatever we must in order to survive.”