Authors: Mary Nichols
`Sit down, my
boy.'
Philip seated
himself in an armchair by the hearth and watched silently as his lordship
poured two glasses of brandy from a decanter on a side table and handed one to
him. 'Now, tell me everything.'
`First I must
know if Miss Martindale arrived safely home.'
`Yes, she did,
thanks to a certain French cavalry captain.'
Philip smiled
at the memory. 'I was an ugly brute, long red hair, bushy brows and a stoop
which gave me excruciating backache. Did she say she recognised me?'
`No, but I
guessed it might be you. I had asked you to find her and I have never known you
fail.' He smiled, raising his glass to the young man. 'Here's to the unknown
French soldier who undoubtedly captured her heart.'
`Did she tell
you this?'
`No, but I know
by the way she has been behaving, asking questions, demanding to know how the
war was going, what would happen when it ended, whether the French army would
be disbanded and what would happen to its soldiers, especially those who had
helped France's enemies. I own it gave me a little heartache too. I tried to
find out what had happened to you through other channels, but no one knew where
you were. There were those in our Intelligence who said you could not have
survived.'
Philip smiled
ruefully. 'The situation became so confused I could not contact our people.
Down in the south the news that the allies had entered Paris and Napoleon had
surrendered did not reach us in time to prevent the battle for Toulouse. There
were casualties. I am afraid Emile was one of them.'
`Bertie
Wainwright,' his lordship mused. 'A very brave officer.'
`Yes, sir.' He
paused. 'He was killed by a stray shell trying to cross the lines. It is ironic
that if the news had reached the Peer sooner, there would have been no battle
and Bertie would still be with us.' He paused. 'I am afraid James Martindale
also died.'
`Oh.' He was
thoughtful for a moment. 'Do not spare me the details if you know them.'
`When I left
Miss Martindale I went back to Toulouse. I knew Le Merle was there and I
suspected James would be there too.'
`He was the
traitor,' his lordship said quietly. 'I suspected it.'
`Yes, my lord.
I had hoped you might never know. I planned to offer him a way out, stay
abroad, play dead and I would see that he was a hero in England. I didn't want
to hurt you or Miss Martindale.'
`I think, like
me, she has guessed the truth. She never mentions him, but do go on.'
Philip sipped
his brandy before continuing. 'By the time I found out where he was, it was too
late. Le Merle had executed him, believing he had double-crossed them. By then
everyone was preparing for the battle and I found myself on the wrong side of
the lines. I was obliged to take part, though I was careful not to inflict
casualties.'
`I would like
to think that perhaps James regretted what he had done,' his lordship said.
'Like his father, he was a weak man and a gambler. The more money he owed, the
more he gambled. I tried to help him by finding him a post in the War Office,
but that was a grave mistake. He was vulnerable to our enemies there and the
suggestion of debts being cleared in exchange for a little information was too
attractive a proposition to resist. Once in, there was no way out and the whole
thing escalated until he was out of his depth.'
`Yes.' Philip
was relieved to know that his lordship had not been so blind as he had thought.
'He wanted to get out of his obligation and when he found Miss Martindale on
that fishing boat and heard about the ruby pendant, he thought it was a way
out. A fortune in gold and jewels would see an end to his troubles.'
`But there was
no fortune, so my daughter tells me.'
`No.' He
paused. His duty had been done without having to carry out the order that would
have barred him from ever returning to Hartlea. Now all he wanted was to be
reunited with Juliette. 'How is Miss Martindale?'
`She is well,
but as I said, a little despondent.' He smiled. 'But that will lift as soon as
she sees you, I am sure.'
`You will allow
me to speak to her?'
`Of course.
Nothing will give me greater pleasure.'
`But I have
nothing to offer.'
`I am sure a
grateful country will reward you for the sterling work you have done. And with
James dead and no heir, I intend to break that entail at the earliest
opportunity. You are my ward; if you marry Juliette, Hartlea will be yours.' He
smiled and, putting down his glass, left the room, leaving the young man to
pace from the hearth to the window where he stood gazing out on the sunlit
scene, wondering if Juliette had changed since returning home.
Could he bear
it if she rejected Philip Devonshire simply because he was not the romantic
Philippe Devereux? Time and place played havoc with the memory.
Papa and his visitor had been talking a very long time,
Juliette decided, as she and her mother sat in the withdrawing room, each busy
with a piece of needlepoint.
`I wonder if
your papa is going to ask him to stay?' Lady Martindale mused. 'I think I
should go and warn Cook and order a room to be prepared.'
`Perhaps he is
in a hurry,' Juliette said. Now she had made up her mind, all she wanted was to
talk to her father about going to Hautvigne and she could not bear the delay
that entertaining a guest would cause. 'He might decline.'
`Possibly, but
I would not want to be thought wanting in manners.' Her ladyship rose and left
the room, leaving Juliette to put down her sewing and wish fervently that the
man would go.
She was
wondering how to broach the subject she most wanted to discuss with her father,
when he came into the room with a broad smile lighting his features. 'Ah,
Juliette, there you are. Come into the library, there is someone I would like
you to meet. He has an interesting story to tell.'
Mystified, she
rose obediently and followed her father to the library, where he stood on one
side to allow her to enter first. She was surprised when he did not follow her,
but shut the door softly, leaving her to confront the young man who was
standing between her and the window, his face half in shadow.
He turned to
look at her for a long, long moment, drinking in the sight of her. She was
wearing a blue cambric morning dress with a high neck and two rows of ruched
trimming around the hem and under the high waist. Her glorious hair was loose
about her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful than he
remembered it. Her large eyes were surveying him with some puzzlement as if she
was not sure how she ought to greet him.
`Miss
Martindale.' The voice was soft with a well-modulated English accent, reviving
memories of her come-out ball, the garden at Martindale House, the picnic at
Richmond, but why did it suddenly stir memories of the pine-clad woods behind
the chateau at Hautvigne?
`Sir. You wish
to speak to me?'
He moved
forward. 'Oh, my love, are you always so easily deceived?' His laugh jolted her
into looking closely at him and, as he stepped towards her, she saw the scar,
much fainter than it had been but plainly there, nevertheless. It was the same
shape, the same length, and the brown eyes, looking down into hers, were as
familiar as her own when she looked into a mirror.
`Philippe?' Her
legs buckled beneath her and she would have fallen if he had not caught her in
his arms. `Steady, my love.'
`Is it really
you?'
`Yes. Who else?
Here, come and sit down beside me.' He led her to a sofa, put his arms about
her shoulders and drew her to him to kiss her tenderly.
She did not
doubt that it was Philippe but she was so confused, she kept shaking her head
from side to side. 'I can't believe it is you.'
`Why not? You
have seen through my disguises before, haven't you? There was that time when I
came to the ball as a cardinal...'
`But it was
different in France. That was not a game, it was deadly serious. And in spite
of everything I said, you stuck to your story and convinced me you were
Philippe Devereux.'
`That is
because I am Philippe Devereux.' He smiled, touching her hair, her nose, her
lips with gentle fingers, making her shiver with delight. 'Your father rescued
me from The Terror, just as he did you, except that he brought my mother out
too. She died in England soon afterwards and I became Philip Devonshire and
grew up as his lordship's ward.'
`But why had we
not met before last year?'
`I am afraid
your mama wanted to keep us apart. She thought I knew what she believed was the
truth about your birth and she was afraid I might tell you, or noise it abroad.
His lordship never understood her animosity, but he always deferred to her and
so we always met at Horse Guards or his club or my home.'
`Poor Mama. It
has all been put to rights now. She and Papa are happier than they have ever
been with each other.'
`I am glad. It
was my indebtedness to your papa and because I could see the dreadful
consequences of Napoleon's greed for power, that I agreed to return to France
as an agent.
`I no longer
thought of myself as French. I had been ten years a French boy and I have been
twenty years an Englishman and hope to be so for many, many more years. So you
see, we both have good reason to be grateful to your papa, me especially
because it was through him, I met you.'
`Why couldn't
you have told me?'
`It was a state
secret. Only your father knew the truth. It would have jeopardised my work if
others had known.'
`Even me?' She
smiled. 'How you must have been laughing at me when we were in France.'
`No, my love. I
hated myself for deceiving you, but I had to do it, there was too much at
stake. One slip, a careless word...' He paused to kiss her again. 'Can you
forgive me?'
She laughed,
suddenly carefree. 'In France I often found myself making comparisons, the eyes
and the laugh seemed so familiar. But you spoke in that difficult French
dialect and you had long red hair and a beard and that scar.' She reached up to
touch it. 'Philip Devonshire did not have that.'
`He has now. It
was given to me by Michel Clavier when I landed in France and went after him to
find out what had become of you.'
`Why did you?'
`Because your
father asked me to and because I loved you...'
`Even then?'
`Yes, even then
though, because of my work, I felt I could not declare myself. I tried to
explain it to you once, but it all went wrong. And then you accepted James
Martindale. You have no idea what that did to me. I could cheerfully have run
him through.'
`But you
didn't,' she said, thinking of that aborted duel. Was that the reason he had
allowed himself to be branded a coward? 'What happened to James, do you know?'
`When I left
you with Lord Wellington, I went back to find him, but I am afraid Clavier
killed him before I reached them. I was unable to prevent it.'
`Was he really
a traitor?'
He smiled;
there was no need for her to know the truth. James was dead, killed by his own
accomplices, and it was only because he had not had to put an end to the man's
life himself, he had felt able to return. 'No one will ever know for sure, will
they?'
`No, I suppose
not.' She paused, glad that James's treachery need never become public. If
everyone thought he had died a hero, then no shame would reflect on her father.
And she had all she wanted, here in Hartlea, loving parents, her home and the
man she loved. 'And now the war is over?' she asked. 'What will you do?'
`Become a model
English gentleman, marry and have a family. 'That is, if you will have me.'
She laughed,
looking up at him with eyes alight. 'Sir, is that a proposal?'
`Indeed, it
is.' He felt in his pocket and drew out a package which he carefully unwrapped.
'I promised to return this to you, didn't I?'
Juliette
gasped. The ruby pendant lay on his hand, but it was not the broken piece she
had given him, but a whole necklace, not as ostentatious as the original with
its crowded jewels, but, even so, a fine piece of work, with several smaller
rubies on either side of the large one on a silver chain. 'Oh, Philippe, it is
beautiful.'
`It is our
talisman,' he said. 'It brought us together and it will keep us together,
through all our lives.'
She flung her
arms round his neck and kissed him. He laughed and kissed her back. 'Wanton.'
She giggled.
'Am I? Well, it is your fault. You never would have told me you loved me if I
hadn't said it first, would you?'
`I was afraid
for you. Your safety was more important than my feelings.'
`I know, but
now we are both safe and the war is over, you can tell me.'
`I love you. I
love you.' He kissed her again and again. `Will that do?'
`For a
beginning, but I shall expect the same every day for the rest of our lives.'