A Husband's Wicked Ways (9 page)

“My present mission in London requires me to circulate in the social circles that you inhabit so naturally.” His voice was unwavering, his gaze as steady as ever. “It would help me greatly in my work if you would facilitate my access into those circles.”

“What mission?” She was holding the curtain so tightly that her fingers had gone numb.

“I will tell you, but I must ask you for your solemn undertaking that you will not mention a word of what’s said in this room to anyone.”

She looked at him. “I’ve already agreed to keep all talk of our dealings to myself.”

“True enough. But trust is something one cannot
take for granted in my business. And so I ask you again to honor your husband’s memory. And his wishes. He would want you to hear me out…and he would trust you to keep my confidence.”

She turned back to the window, seeing nothing of the garden beyond the glass, seeing only Frederick’s words clearly on the page of his letter. To betray the colonel’s trust would be the same as betraying Frederick’s. And to dismiss the colonel without hearing him out would be to ignore her dead husband’s last request. “Go on.”

“We suspect that the Spaniards are establishing an espionage network in London. The information that we have is that they will infiltrate the upper echelons of society. Obviously, we, in turn, intend to infiltrate their network.”

He found it disconcerting to talk to her back. Her back was rigid, her shoulders set, but her posture gave him none of the feedback that her face and eyes would have afforded. But he could not command her to turn around. And neither at this delicate stage could he take those slender shoulders as he wanted to do and turn her to face him.

“What has this to do with me?”

“It’s been many years since I lived in London and played any part in society. I’m out of practice and I’m sure many customs have changed since I was last here. Now I need to establish myself as a man-about-town, if you like. I need to set up a household, a base of operations. I need someone well-placed in society to help me move naturally
and easily in the right circles and to make sure I don’t inadvertently break any unspoken rules. I need someone who knows how to talk to the right people, to ask the right questions, to listen to the right conversations, all the while providing me with an unexceptionable social front for my own activities.”

Slowly Aurelia turned to face him, her hand still clutching the fabric of the curtain, almost as if were a lifeline to the reality she understood. “And you think I would be willing to do that?”

“I’m suggesting a business proposition.” He rose from the table. He crossed to the fireplace and leaned one arm along the mantel, one foot propped on the fender. His tone was now brisk and businesslike. “The government paid Frederick well for his activities, but, of course, he was in no position to claim his earnings while he was abroad. That back pay should be paid to you. And there is also some prize money from the capture of two French ships while he was still serving in the navy. It’s a not inconsiderable sum, but the government is willing to offer you rather more than that if you would be willing to work for them for a very limited period of time. It would be paid into a private account at Hoare’s Bank at regular intervals.” He watched her expression carefully.

Aurelia tried to make sense of this. There seemed to be too many strands to untangle. “You’ll have to be more specific about what I would do,” she said finally, releasing her tight grip on the curtain. She folded her
arms across her breasts, absently caressing her elbows, a deep frown creasing her brow.

“Very well. We would start by seeming to develop an understanding, a certain romantic interest in each other, which would make it natural for us to be in each other’s company. I would escort you to various social engagements that I might otherwise not be invited to, and you would introduce me to certain people that I might not otherwise meet.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly arduous,” Aurelia said slowly. “Hardly sufficient to earn a lifetime’s pension.”

“You would also be acting as my eyes and ears in certain situations. I would tell you what information I was after and you would endeavor to acquire it.”

“So, in plain terms, spying.”

“No more than many women have done, and many still do.” The fire spurted and a glowing coal fell onto the hearth. Swiftly he stamped it out before continuing. “There are women engaged in this gentle form of espionage in all the courts of Europe, my dear. Women tend to be better placed than men to hear some kind of whispers, the kind that can be vital to the success of a mission.”

And women who worked on the front lines, too,
she reflected, thinking again of Frederick’s letter. He’d said his life had been saved by such women on many occasions. And only yesterday she and Cornelia had wondered if they were doing enough to help the war effort. If, by help
ing the colonel in this simple enough fashion, she helped save even one life, shouldn’t she agree to it? It would not disrupt her way of life particularly, except for the need to keep it secret. But as she already had to carry the truth of Frederick’s death to her grave, this would merely be a part of the same secret. If Harry had asked her for her help, she would have agreed without a second thought. But Harry was a very different prospect from Greville Falconer.

“A romantic interest?” she queried, looking directly across at him. “And where would that lead?”

“Maybe to an engagement in a few weeks,” he said, returning her steady gaze. “It would smooth the path, give us an unexceptionable reason to spend time together.”

“And how would this end? How long is this charade to continue?”

“Once I have identified the Spanish network, I would hope to have our own infiltration in place within a few weeks…by the end of the season, if at all possible.”

“Around three months, then,” Aurelia said, absently chewing her bottom lip.

“It may take longer, but I would hope it doesn’t.”

“And then what? What happens to this fictitious engagement of ours?”

“Once this mission is complete, I’ll be sent abroad again.” He shrugged a little. “I will make sure to give you a good reason for calling off the engagement. If we time it well, the announcement of its end can be made when most people are out of town. By the time society returns after the summer, it’ll be almost forgotten. I will
have left town, and you will have Frederick’s pension to augment your present funds.”

Aurelia turned back to the window. She didn’t want those uncomfortably piercing eyes on her face as she thought over his proposition. Even a small addition to her funds would enable her to manage a modest household of her own in town…with the right economies, of course, but she was already expert at making those. And if her friends wondered how she was managing to fund an independent lifestyle, she could always hint vaguely that Markby had been persuaded to disgorge more from the trust…either that or some distant relative could leave her with a small windfall. It could be done.

Once again she thought that if Harry had asked her, she would have agreed instantly. But Harry didn’t send prickles up her spine or cause that strange pulsing energy that seemed to have no rhyme or reason. There was danger in the colonel’s company, she knew it instinctively, but she couldn’t identify what form it took. Certainly the work he was asking her to do had little enough of danger about it. Or, at least, not the way he was presenting it. For the sake of her country, she should do this. But something held her back.

Finally she turned round to face him again. She steepled her fingers at her mouth, frowning at him. “I need time to think this over.”

A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes, then he stepped away from the fireplace. “Of course. But I would
ask that you do not think overlong. Time is of the essence, and there are advance preparations we have to make.” He picked up his hat and whip from a chair by the door and bowed. “I bid you good morning, Aurelia.”

“Good morning.” The door closed behind him and she listened for the sound of the front door signaling his departure. Then she left the breakfast parlor and went upstairs to her chamber, where she sat on the window seat and reread Frederick’s letter…over and over.

A
URELIA SPEND THE REMAINDER
of the morning in a haze of reflection. What exactly would be involved in a romantic interest between her and the colonel? Could she play such a role convincingly enough to fool her friends, sharp-eyed Nell in particular? There would have to be an appearance of developing intimacy, of growing affection. She wasn’t even sure if she could remember now what that had felt like with Frederick. They had known each other since either could remember, and she couldn’t identify a particular moment when the affection of close friendship had deepened into love. She couldn’t for the life of her decide what she felt about Greville…or so she must get used to calling him if she was to do this thing. Her attitude to him was so mixed up with her hurt and anger at Frederick, but surely it wasn’t entirely just to blame Greville? Frederick had had a mind of his own. He was no man’s puppet. If she was to see her way clearly, she must find
a way to separate the colonel from her dead husband.

When Morecombe opened the parlor door, she was so startled she dropped her embroidery needle. “What is it, Morecombe?”

“That Lady Langton and some other folk is ’ere to see you.”

“Oh…well, show them into the drawing room, please.”

“Done that,” the elderly retainer declared. “Don’t know what else t’do wi’ ’em.”

“Thank you. And ask Hester to bring tea, please.” Aurelia retrieved her needle and secured it in the embroidery frame before going to greet her visitors.

“Cecily, how delightful to see you.” Aurelia managed a warm smile as she entered the drawing room, hand extended. She bowed and smiled to the three other women. “Ladies, please, take a seat.”

“Well, we’re on another begging mission, my dear,” Cecily said with an apologetic smile, drawing Aurelia down beside her on the gilt-edged sofa. “Although strictly speaking we’re begging from Livia. You must be our intermediary.”

“Yes, indeed, Lady Farnham,” Margery Allenton declared, settling her ample frame into an armchair. “The foundling hospital in Battersea.”

“Margery had the wonderful idea of a flower show,” Cecily said. “Do you think dear Livia and Prince Prokov would allow us to use their conservatory. It’s such a de
lightful hothouse, and filled with so many interesting specimens. We will ask donations to the hospital from all those who attend.” She patted Aurelia’s hand in her enthusiasm. “What do you think?”

“I’m sure that Livia and Prince Prokov will be more than happy to oblige,” Aurelia said. “Prince Prokov has such a particular interest in his conservatory, he’d be delighted, I’m certain, to share his pleasure in such a good cause. I’ll write to Livia this evening…oh, thank you, Hester.” She smiled at the maid, who staggered under a laden tea tray that she placed on a low table in front of Aurelia.

“Miss Mavis made a seedcake, ma’am, an’ there’s a lardy cake if any o’ the ladies would like some.”

Lardy cake was a rich and somewhat greasy confection popular in the north of England. Aurelia thought her guests would probably not find it to their taste. “The seedcake will be sufficient, thank you, Hester.” She poured tea, handing the cups to Hester to pass around. “Will you take a slice of cake, Lady Severn?”

“No, I thank you, Lady Farnham.” The lady leaned forward, the ostrich feathers lavishly adorning her bonnet wafting over her eyes. She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I find the seeds stick in my teeth, and one spends all afternoon and evening trying to suck them out without anyone noticing.”

There were sympathetic murmurs in response interrupted by voices from the hall. “Ah, you have more call
ers,” Cecily said gaily. “We always say how popular you are, the ladies of Cavendish Square as we used to call you when you all lived here. Oh, it seems so long ago.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” chimed in Nell from the now opened door. “See whom I’ve brought for you, Aurelia. Nick and David have just returned from a week of shocking dissipation in Brighton and are in sore need of rest and recuperation among the fleshpots of London.”

“Such nonsense you talk, Nell,” Sir Nicolas Petersham declared with the ease of old friendship. “Aurelia, ladies…” He bowed to the company. “I beg you will take no notice of such calumny.”

“Yes, indeed, souls of propriety…always…you know us, Ellie.” Lord David Foster bowed over Aurelia’s hand. “You are in looks, my dear ma’am, if I may say so,” he added softly.

Aurelia smiled. She was accustomed to David’s extravagant compliments, but they did no harm to one’s self-esteem. “Flatterer,” she accused lightly. “But pray don’t stop.”

He chuckled, kissing her hand again. “No flattery, I swear it.” He turned to pay his respects to the other ladies. “Lady Langton, about your charitable business as usual, I daresay?” He took a seat on her other side.

Aurelia dispensed tea, and when everyone seemed at ease, she rose from the sofa and crossed the room to rescue Nell, who was smiling bravely through a minute description of the valetudinarian Lady Severn’s latest, most intimate health crisis. Aurelia was about to move
the conversation into a different channel when Morecombe intoned from the door, “That other gentleman is ’ere again, mum.”

Aurelia caught Nell’s startled look at this but smiled brightly, turning to greet the newcomer. “Colonel Falconer, how kind of you to call.”

“How kind of you to allow me to do so, Lady Farnham.” He steped into the room, his eyes moving swiftly around the assembled company, seeming to take special note of each one, before he acknowledged Cornelia with a bow and a murmured “Lady Bonham, your servant.”

“Colonel.” She gave him her hand. “Are you acquainted with Lady Severn?”

“I have not had the pleasure,” he said, bowing over the lady’s plump hand. “Your servant, Lady Severn.”

She put up her glass and regarded him curiously. “New to town, are you?”

“I’ve been abroad for the last few years. At present I am staying with my aunt, Lady Broughton.”

“Oh, you must be the nephew she says she never sees,” her ladyship declared, shaking a reproachful finger, a somewhat incongruously coquettish smile on her rouged countenance. “You’ve been neglecting your relatives shamelessly, sir.”

“I hope to make amends, ma’am.” He bowed over her heavily beringed fingers, giving her a charming smile before turning slightly to where Aurelia stood just behind him.

“Do you care for tea, Colonel?” she inquired. “Or is
it perhaps too bland a drink for a dashing soldier home from the wars?” Her voice was light and teasing, but her eyes were serious enough as she met his gaze.

“Oh, yes, Ellie, give the man a glass of something from Prokov’s excellent cellars,” David declared. “I own I’d be glad of a drop of port…how about you, Nick?”

“Tea’s not really to my taste,” Nick said. He came over to Greville, his usual frank and friendly smile on his lips. “Falconer, I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”

“No, I’m relatively new to town,” Greville said, shaking hands.

“But Harry knows him,” Cornelia chimed in with a chuckle, “and vouches for him. So you may safely know him.”

“Well, that’s all right then,” David said with a mock sigh of relief. “May I fetch you a glass of Prokov’s most excellent port, Falconer?”

“Please,” Greville said.

“Yes, help yourselves.” Aurelia gestured to the sideboard with a soft laugh. “Alex won’t begrudge you.”

“When do you expect the prince and princess to return to London?” Greville asked, drawing her slightly aside.

“Not for about two months,” she replied, aware of the warmth of his fingers on her elbow, wondering why he was somehow separating them from the others. Or giving that impression, at least.

His eyes were fixed upon her, his mouth curved in a warm smile, as he said, “I do hope you will walk with me
in the park one afternoon, Lady Farnham. Now that the evenings are growing longer.”

Very well,
Aurelia thought,
let’s see if I can play the game.
She offered him her own warm smile and said with convincingly soft sincerity, “I should be delighted, Sir Greville. Do pray call upon me.”

“If I suggest tomorrow, would you consider me incorrigibly importunate?” he asked, his hand still on her elbow, his tone lightly flirtatious.

Aurelia was aware of other eyes upon them. The eyes of her friends, who would be most interested not so much in the exchange itself, as in its manner. “I should consider you delightfully attentive, sir,” she responded with a creditably flirtatious chuckle of her own.
Not so hard, after all,
she thought. Then came the reminder that she had not formally agreed to his proposal. But after this little play, he would know her answer. In truth, after hours of wrestling with the decision, she couldn’t see how to refuse. It was a small enough service for her country, and she couldn’t ignore the fact that she would be paid for it. Morally and practically, there really was only one road to follow.

“Port, Falconer.” David handed Greville a glass, his tone a little chilly, a question in his eyes. Greville instantly let his hand fall from Aurelia’s elbow and took the glass with a smile of thanks. He moved away with a murmur of excuse.

“You seem to know the fellow well enough, Ellie,” David said, his eyes following him.

“No, not so well. He was a friend of my husband’s however.” Her smile was constrained, her voice dropping. “He called on me earlier today because he thought Frederick would have expected it of him.”

“Oh, I see…I’m sorry. It must be difficult for you.”

“It’s been a long time, David,” she said, looking up at him. “The reminder was a little painful at first, but now I find a comfort in the company of one who knew Frederick so well.”

“Of course. Any way I can be of service, Ellie…you know that.”

“Thank you, David. You’re a good friend.” She smiled and walked away to tend to her guests.

The company drifted away in twos and threes soon after, but Greville lingered in the hall, giving the impression of being on the moment of departure, about to follow the last guest, but when the door was finally closed, he was still there.

“You have an answer for me?” he asked quietly as they stood in the salon amid the detritus of teacups, cake crumbs, and port glasses.

“It seems my duty to help you if I can,” she said simply.

Greville regarded her in silence for a long moment, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see into her mind. Then he said, “I am glad you feel that way. Many people will be grateful for your assistance.”

She shook her head in a vague disclaimer. “How do we proceed?”

He matched the businesslike clip in her voice as he replied, “We need to spend a few days alone. There are some essential skills you have to learn, and they’re not the kind of skills that can be learned in Cavendish Square or its ilk.”

“I have a daughter,” she stated drily. “That won’t be possible.”

“It must be,” he said with quiet insistence. “You must find a way to extricate yourself from her for five days.”

Aurelia stared at him, frowning. “Is it really necessary?”

“I wouldn’t say it was if it were not,” he stated with the same quiet insistence.

For the first time Aurelia had a sense of what it would mean to work for this man. He would be controlling every step of the play, and she would have little or no say in the moves. But then, what else had she really expected? She knew nothing about this business, but if she was going to do it, she might as well do it properly.

While she still hesitated, Greville suggested, “Your daughter already has lessons at Mount Street. Could she stay for a few nights?”

“Yes, of course she could,” Aurelia said, flattening her fingertips against her cheeks as she frowned in thought. “My difficulty is finding a reason for needing her to do so.”

Greville tilted his head to one side, a quizzical gleam in his eye. “I’m sure you can think of something convincing.” He reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face. He held them lightly in his as he looked
at her closely, once again seeming to read her innermost thoughts. “We will work well together, Aurelia.” It was a statement of intent. “And I look forward to it.”

She pulled back a little, but then let her hands lie in his clasp. But she made no response to his statement and after a moment he said, “Be ready to leave in three days. I’ll let you know the arrangements in plenty of time.”

“Where am I going?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“And how is anyone to contact me then?”

“They can’t…they may not.”

“I have a daughter,” Aurelia repeated.

“Five days, that’s all it will be. Franny will be well taken care of in Mount Street for five days.”

She was doing this largely for Frederick, Aurelia thought with a resurgence of anger. But Frederick hadn’t had to worry about smoothing the path for
his
disappearances. He hadn’t had to trouble himself with concerns for his daughter…or his wife.

“I’ll manage,” she said grimly, withdrawing her hands from the light clasp.

“Of course you will.” He reached up and touched the point of her chin with his fingertip. When she jerked her head in surprise, he said with a half smile, “A little familiarity is generally considered a necessary component of a romantic interest, my dear.”

“Maybe so. But perhaps we could confine such a component to the public arena, where I can understand its necessity.”

At that he chuckled softly. He bowed and turned to the door. “I’ll see myself out. You’ll receive instructions very soon.”

Aurelia said nothing as he left the room. She stood in meditative silence, one fingertip pressed absently to the point of her chin where she could fancy she still felt the warm pressure of his playful touch.

Three days later her instructions arrived in the form of a succinct note.
The Bell, Woodstreet, Cheapside, eight a.m. tomorrow.
Aurelia read and reread it, looking in vain for some hidden meaning. There was no signature, no salutation. Not that she needed either to know its provenance. And there was definitely no hidden meaning. It was a straightforward instruction. Of course, she reflected, in the colonel’s line of work written communication would naturally be kept to a minimum, and as anonymous as possible. And presumably the correct response in the circumstances would be to destroy it instantly. She crumpled the note and threw it in the fire, half laughing at herself for entering into the spirit of this enterprise.