The Duke's Men [1] What the Duke Desires (29 page)

That did him no good at the moment, however. As she disappeared into her bedchamber,
he was left once more fruitlessly aroused. Suppressing a sigh, he walked back through
the courtyard to Vidocq’s house for his bath, attended by a pair of more accommodating
manservants than the one who’d complained about heating bathwater.

By the time he was done, he was ravenous. Fortunately, Vidocq’s cook was apparently
kindly disposed toward Englishmen and piled a tray full of bread and cheese and fruit
for him to take over to Bonnaud’s lodgings to share with Lisette.

Maximilian found her sound asleep, and he sucked in a ragged breath. She looked so
fetching when she slept, with her delicate hands tucked up beneath her cheek, her
hair tumbled across the pillow, and the alabaster skin of her shoulder displayed where
her wrapper had slipped down.

He ached to caress her the way the setting sun’s rays did, dancing across her body.
He wanted to climb right into the bed and awaken her with long, lazy kisses.

But she needed the sleep. There was no telling when they would next get a chance of
it, depending on what Vidocq found out.

So he went off to the small dining area where he’d put the tray of food, sat down
at the tiny table, and began to eat. He hadn’t been there long when Vidocq arrived.

The Frenchman joined him at the table. “Where’s Lisette?”

“Sleeping. She was tired.”

“You told her the truth?” Vidocq asked.

Maximilian stiffened. “I did.”

“How did she take it?”

“Better than I expected,” Maximilian said coolly.

Vidocq sat back to survey him with unnerving thoroughness. “Did you bed her?”

A fierce surge of anger welled up in him. “That is none of your damned affair.”

“Which means that you did.”

Maximilian rose, his fists clenching at his sides. “Now, see here, Vidocq, if you
ever say one word to anyone about your scandalous suppositions—”

“I would never harm her or her reputation.” He cast Maximilian a hard stare. “But
I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

Maximilian flushed, which never happened to him. But then, he’d never before been
faced with the substitute father of a woman he’d just bedded.

“I offered her marriage.”

“Did you, indeed?” Vidocq said, oddly enough not sounding surprised.

“She turned me down.”

Vidocq turned thoughtful. “Now,
that
is unexpected.”

“With her, the unexpected
is
the expected,” Maximilian snapped. “I’ve never met a more unpredictable woman in
my life.”

“She does tend to go her own way.” Vidocq gestured to the chair, and Maximilian grudgingly
resumed his seat. “But you can always count on her having a soft spot for lost causes.
And you are certainly that, Your Grace.”

Maximilian rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Then why did she turn me down?”

“Perhaps she thinks
that
is the way to save you.”

I can’t be saved.

But that wasn’t something he dared admit to the far too perceptive Vidocq. The man
already knew too much about him and his affairs. “Whatever the case, that has nothing
to do with why we’re here.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you find
out about Bonnaud?”

Vidocq stiffened, then gave a quick nod in the direction of Lisette’s bedchamber.
Maximilian turned to see her in the doorway, looking rumpled and sleepy and thoroughly
enchanting.

Except for the glint in her eyes. “I do hope you weren’t planning to have this discussion
without
me,
” she said, walking languidly toward them.

Vidocq smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it,
mon ange
.”

As Maximilian rose to give her his chair, he wondered if she’d heard the other part
of the conversation. He hoped not. She wouldn’t appreciate their talking about her
behind her back.

She took a seat, and Maximilian leaned against the scarred buffet that seemed to serve
as the “kitchen” part of the room. He only wished she were wearing more
than that damned wrapper. It made it hard for him to concentrate on anything but her.

“I wasn’t able to learn much,” Vidocq said, “but I did discover two things of importance.
While he was still in Antwerp two months ago, Tristan wrote and asked for a month
of leave, which was granted to him. And they don’t know why he still hasn’t returned.”
Vidocq’s voice tightened. “Apparently they all believed he had simply left the Sûreté
to work for me without bothering to resign.”

“Instead he went off to follow his own plan,” Maximilian said cynically. “It’s just
as I’ve said all along—he’s found a better way to ensure his future than working his
way up to prominence in the Sûreté.”

When Lisette glared at him, Vidocq said, “Actually, I don’t think that’s it, either.
Tristan captured the forger and placed him in a cell in Antwerp, then wrote to his
superiors to send someone to fetch the prisoner because of personal matters Tristan
had to attend to.”

“Where?” Lisette asked.

“London, obviously,” Maximilian put in.

“I hope not,” Vidocq said. “Ostend is where Tristan would have gone to take the packet
boat to London, and there’s been a recent outbreak of cholera there.”

“Oh no,” Lisette said anxiously.

Vidocq patted her hand. “He’s young and healthy. I’m sure that even if he went to
Ostend, he didn’t catch cholera.”

“Well, he was obviously still in good health last week when he wrote me that note,”
Maximilian
pointed out. “Unless he was delirious with fever at the time.”

“That couldn’t be,” Lisette said dismissively. “If he’d had cholera, they wouldn’t
even have let him into—” She halted, her eyes going wide. “Quarantine!”

Maximilian instantly followed her thoughts. “Yes. That would explain a great deal.
There needn’t even be sickness on board a ship for the quarantine laws to go into
effect. The captain is required to raise a yellow flag whenever his vessel comes from
a city where an infectious disease is rampant. So the minute the ship reached London,
it would have been quarantined, even without disease on board. The Privy Council has
a tendency to be—” He stopped, noticing the odd way Vidocq was staring at him. “What
is it?”

“You know an awful lot about quarantine, Your Grace.”

“I’ve traveled a great deal,” he said defensively. “And several members of my family
served in the navy.” When Vidocq just lifted his eyebrow, Maximilian drew himself
up stiffly. “And I have a friend on the Privy Council.”

Lisette eyed him askance. “Of course you do.”

“My point is, the Privy Council decides whether to quarantine a ship, and it tends
to be overly cautious. Once the decision has been made, quarantine can last for weeks.”

“That would explain why Tristan couldn’t just go to your house with your . . . with
his friend,” Lisette pointed out. “No one would have let them off the ship, even if
they weren’t sick. The rules are very strict.”

Holy God, it began to look more and more as if Bonnaud might actually have found Peter.

His heart began to pound. For the first time, he let himself hope that his brother
might be alive. He might no longer be alone with the family curse.

“It’s an interesting theory,” Maximilian said, pushing away from the buffet to pace
the floor, “but it doesn’t explain everything. Let’s assume that Bonnaud paid off
a quarantine officer to smuggle out that note he sent to me. It’s highly illegal,
and anyone who agreed to it would be risking the permanent loss of his position as
well as a hefty fine—but it could be done.”

He paused to face them. “Getting a
person
off a quarantined ship is dicier, however. Boats patrol those ships nightly to make
sure no one tries to swim off. So how could Bonnaud have thought to meet me? It sounded
as if he was sending that note right from the meeting place, as if he were already
there waiting.”

“Anything is possible with enough money,” Vidocq said, “especially when it comes to
bribing poorly paid government officials.”

“But would Bonnaud have enough funds for that?”

Vidocq shrugged. “Whatever quarantine officer was helping him would have to know he
was trying to reach a duke. Tristan might have promised that you would offer enough
of a reward.”

“On the other hand,” Lisette said, “Tristan might have had enough money to get one
person smuggled off the ship but not two. That’s why he couldn’t bring his
companion. Although I don’t understand why he didn’t just wait on board until the
quarantine was up.”

Maximilian pointed out, “The other question is, if he went to so much trouble to get
off the ship in the first place, why didn’t he stay around to meet me?”

“You said you were late,” Lisette replied. “Perhaps the quarantine officer got him
as far as the London docks but grew impatient when you didn’t show up right away.
The man might have started worrying that they’d be caught. As you say, the consequences
of that are great.”

Vidocq nodded. “He might even have decided that Tristan had mistaken the situation,
or didn’t have a connection to the Duke of Lyons after all. Who knows? When you’re
dealing with English customs officials, any number of things can happen.”

“God knows that’s true,” Maximilian said.

“And another thing,” Lisette said. “It’s always bothered me that Tristan didn’t try
to contact me or Dom. But he couldn’t have if he was in quarantine and it was so difficult.”

“Actually,” Maximilian said, “it would have made more sense for him to contact you
two and get you to meet with me to bring me to him.”

Vidocq shook his head. “Tristan would never risk involving Dom or Lisette. If George
found out, he might charge Lisette, perhaps even Dom, with harboring a fugitive.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true,” Lisette said with a sigh.
“And Tristan would definitely keep us out of it if he thought it was safer.”

“All of this is still supposition,” Vidocq said. “We don’t even know for certain that
Tristan was ever
in
Ostend.”

“Could we speak to the forger?” Maximilian asked. “Perhaps Tristan told him something
of his plans.”

“If he did, then the man took them to his grave,” Vidocq said. “He was executed last
week.”

Maximilian blinked. “So quickly?”

Vidocq shrugged. “The fellow had been convicted and sentenced to the guillotine before
he escaped. So there was nothing left to do but carry out his sentence once the officers
brought him back here.”

“And I don’t suppose
they
spoke to Bonnaud.”

Vidocq shook his head no. “He was already gone by the time they got there. You could
speak to the gaoler. Perhaps he could tell you more.”

“We can’t travel to Belgium, Max,” Lisette said with an anxious look. “Dom returns
to London soon, and if I’m not back, he’s likely to come after you with daggers drawn.
I can’t trust Skrimshaw not to tell him who I’m off with.”

“I can handle Manton,” Maximilian assured her. He would just tell the man he meant
to marry her, and that would be that. “But I agree—a trip to Belgium, trying to retrace
Bonnaud’s steps up there, is out of the question. It would take too long, and if he
is
in quarantine in London and it might end any moment, every minute counts.”

Besides, the longer he traveled with Lisette, the more she risked having her reputation
irreparably damaged. While that might be to his advantage in forcing her into marriage,
he didn’t want that for her.

“So I think,” he went on, “that our best choice is to return to London and explore
which ships are in quarantine. It will be easy enough to find out if Bonnaud is on
any of them. All we need do is ask to see the ships’ manifests.”

“Tristan won’t have used his real name,” Lisette pointed out.

“Perhaps not, but my brother would have.” Maximilian sighed. “
If
Bonnaud really has found Peter, that is.”

“It sounds as if he at least
thinks
he has.” Vidocq rose from the table. “I can give you a list of Tristan’s usual aliases.
I’m sure he’d use one of those to travel. And actually, there’s only two for which
he has official documents.”

“Knowing the aliases will help, thank you.” Maximilian stared down at Lisette. “Have
you had enough of a chance to rest? Do you think we could leave at once?”

She nodded. “There’s a diligence that departs from the Messageries Royales de la rue
Notre-Dame-des-Victoires for Calais.”

“Why Calais?” Maximilian asked. “I thought Dieppe was the nearer way.”

“We can’t go back through Dieppe. We can’t risk Hucker still being there.”

“Ah. Excellent point.”

“You are not traveling by diligence,” Vidocq broke in. “It is far too uncomfortable.
You will take my traveling coach. My coachman will deliver you to Calais and then
bring my carriage back. If you leave now and post through the night, you can be there
by tomorrow evening and on the steam packet to London the next morning.”

“There’s a packet that goes directly to London these days?” Maximilian asked.

“Yes,” Vidocq said. “It takes about twelve hours and sets you down at the Tower. But
you spend more time in choppy water, which is why most people go by Dover or Dieppe.
Is seasickness a problem for you, Your Grace?”

“Only if he doesn’t spend too much time in the taproom,” Lisette said archly.

Maximilian ignored her. “It’s not a problem.”

“But honestly, Vidocq, there’s no reason we should use your carriage,” she said. “It
won’t save us that much time, and we don’t mind traveling by diligence. Do we, Max?”

He started to agree with her; then it dawned on him why she wanted to ride in a lumbering
omnibus with ten other people. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Which meant she
was probably more susceptible to him than she cared to admit.

He would take full advantage of that. “On the contrary,” he said, “we need every extra
hour we can get.” He used the one tack sure to sway her. “There’s a chance
that your brother could be found out and arrested the longer he stays trapped aboard
a ship. And that’s a risk we shouldn’t take.”