The Heart That Wins (Regency Spies Book 3) (3 page)

Mary took her arm.

“Then I think you will be happy with some purchases that I’ve made for you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

In truth Sophia was no more bothered about fashion than Mary was. Any gowns that Mary had had made for her would have been made at the suggestion of her maid, a young woman with a good eye and taste. Agnes also believed that Sophia did not display her body to her best advantage, so Sophia knew that whatever awaited her upstairs would be so revealing, especially of her décolleté, that she would be embarrassed to wear it, except in front of John, on whom, of course, it would have no effect.

“There was little point buying anything for myself,” said Mary and Sophia wondered how many trunks of clothing she now had.

“And I haven’t even seen the children yet.”

“They’ll wait. Come, we can look at your new gowns while we wait for the water.”

Sophia allowed herself to be led away. There were so many thoughts going round her head that she was a little dizzy. John was here and coming to dinner and… Would he be bringing his wife?

John sat unmoving at his desk for over an hour. Untended, the fire had gone out again and the ink had dried on his pen.

Sophia had been here in this room. After months with no news of her, she had been here, with him. Despite the breeches and the greatcoat and the mud, she was as beautiful as he remembered, more beautiful, in fact. Every night since he had last seen her he had dreamt of her. In his dreams she shared his bed. Coming to him willingly, she would kiss him and touch him, then laugh at him so that he awoke shaking with lust and shame. Today he was exhausted, for the girl in his bed last night had kept him awake and dreams of Sophia had made the little sleep he had managed to get restless.

It was the cold that finally brought him to his senses. He had known cold in the Peninsula, but the cold in the embassy seemed all the crueller for being unexpected. Even though he should get up and do something about the fire, he could not move. Sophia had been here and she had called him Captain Warren. Nothing could have prepared him for that. However badly he had imagined their first meeting would go, and he had always imagined that it would go badly, since she had turned down his proposal so forcefully without even thinking about it, he had always assumed that they would still be on first name terms.

The memory of her in breeches returned to him. Unlike most of the women he knew, Sophia had never used cosmetics to hide or enhance her features. Even her freckles were beautiful. Another woman would have tried to hide them, but Sophia made no attempt to pretend they were not there. It was, however, the contrast between her pale skin and her flame coloured hair that made his breathing shorten and his pulse quicken. The thought of her made the cold room seem warm.

A pile of papers sat unread on his desk and he began to look through them listlessly.

With no warning, the door flew open and Edmund Finch strode into the room, followed by an apologetic servant. Shocked out of his thoughts, John dismissed the servant and stared at his visitor.

“Uncle Edmund, a pleasure to see you,” he lied.

Rising, he bowed stiffly.

Edmund Finch was the last person he wanted to see just now. Always impeccably and fashionably dressed, Finch looked as if he had stepped from his valet’s hands into John’s office, oblivious to everything that had come between. John was not sure how long he had hated him, but it was long enough to know that he did not want to deal with any problem that Finch had brought him.

“If I hear you’ve been anywhere near Sophia again I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

John flinched, more from surprise than the force of Finch’s anger, which was as powerful as it was unexpected. John had never seen Finch angry or even heard that he had ever been angry. It was ridiculous. Finch was the most mild-mannered man John knew and he was far too stupid to be angry.

“Do you understand me?” Finch repeated.

John realised his mouth was open and closed it. Then he gave rein to his own anger.

“You’re not her father or her brother. When you had the chance to marry her, you chose someone else,” he said.

John walked round his desk and stood over the older man. He had often used his superior height to intimidate other men and Finch was not tall.

“I’m responsible for her,” Finch continued as if he had not noticed.

“How?”

“I’m Perseus.”

How could Finch be Perseus? John had been told that he was in Paris, but had not believed it, since the man had never presented himself at the embassy as he was required to do. His reputation as a killer went before him, however, and Finch could not be that man. He was a fool whose visits to John’s parents’ house had always annoyed him.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Believe or don’t believe, that’s up to you, but stay away from Sophia. I will kill you if you allow your name to be associated with hers.”

John swallowed. This did not sound like a vain threat. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said

“Really? Then you’re a fool.”

For the first time John saw real intelligence in the other’s eyes. The slightly vacant look that he had always seen there before had disappeared. He also saw something very familiar in them and was quite prepared to believe that Finch had killed. Physically Finch was not imposing, but he was not running to fat as men of his age and wealth tended to do. Now that John looked at him he thought him quite muscular. John reconsidered. If Edmund Finch was not Perseus, he was a man very like him.

Forcing himself to be calm, John said, “I won’t harm Sophia’s reputation. We were friends too long for me to want to do that.”

Finch appeared to be considering what John had said.

“Sit down, John.  Better men than you have tried to intimidate me and failed.”

John leaned his hip on his desk.

“You will keep away from her?” asked Finch.

“Yes. My word is still good.”

Finch looked doubtful, but John held his look until the other nodded.

“Sophia said that she had asked you to visit us tonight.”

“She wished to persuade me to her view of Bonaparte’s future. Of course, I shall not take her up on her offer.”

“We leave tomorrow.” Finch regarded his immaculately gloved hand. “On reflection, it might be better if you came to us. Sophia would want to say goodbye.”

“You think to gain something by it.”

No gentleman would invite John to dine with his wife and a young unmarried woman. Only a man with Finch’s reputation would even think he might be able to carry it off.

“Of course. Sophia will see you in company again. She will see how little you have changed and how much she has.”

“How dare you!” John pushed himself away from the desk.

“I dare because it’s true. Some time ago you told me that you wanted to be a man and I told you to be careful or you might become something she could not love. Your reputation is known all over Paris. If you think that killing a few soldiers and sleeping with...” He stopped, unwilling to name what it was that John did. “If you think any of it makes you a man...”

“You are mistaken. Of course I know that Sophia cannot love a man like me.”

Sophia had not even been able to love the man he had been; the man he was now would repel her.

“Then come tonight and convince her that you no longer love her.”

John hesitated. This could hardly be necessary, as Sophia clearly had no interest in him. Her coolness earlier today had convinced him of that. Nonetheless he nodded.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, knowing he was beaten.

“Come to the house and say goodbye to Sophia. They believe I came here to tell you to leave Paris as soon as possible.” He paused. “I do recommend that you leave, John, before Bonaparte gets here.”

“Then you’ve done your duty.”

John was dismissive. He might as well die here as anywhere else. He had thought he would die in Spain, but had survived. He would probably survive this, too.

“Don’t make me come back for you.”

Finch was angry again.

“You’ve just threatened to kill me.”

“Your mother would understand if I had to kill you to save a young woman’s honour, but she wouldn’t understand if I left you to your fate when Bonaparte arrives.”

Finch drew himself up to his full height and became brisk.

“Make sure you leave in time. It’s not just for your mother’s sake that I ask.”

“I have too many secrets,” said John. “And I know the greatest secret now.”

“I did you the credit of believing you to be your parents’ son in that regard at least.”

“I’m not sure I could stand up to torture...”

He had thought about this since Sophia had brought her news. If he should be captured, there were things the French would want to know and he might be forced to tell them.

“No one is, until they do... or don’t.”

Finch stared at the grate. Had he cared for someone who had been made to give up his secrets? Had he given up secrets? John looked at the older man’s misshapen hand. He had never really given much thought to what had caused it, except he had assumed that there had been an accident in one of Finch’s glass manufactories, but he wondered now if Finch had been tortured. No, he thought, this was not a man who would give up his secrets, even if he were tortured.

“I know that if Bonaparte is coming I can’t be here when he arrives,” said John, “but there will be much for me to do in the meantime.”

There would be panic when the news arrived officially. All the English tourists would have to be sent home. The papers in the embassy would have to be destroyed or sent to a place of safety. He thought again about staying behind in Paris. If he could only be sure of dying without divulging his secrets he would do so.

“The meantime won’t be long. If you have anything that you’d like me to take out of Paris, bring it tonight. I have had a house made ready in Brussels for some time and you may visit me there.”

It did not surprise John that Finch had been prepared for this latest turn of events after everything else he had learned this afternoon. He agreed that Brussels was the obvious place to go. Then he remembered why Sophia should not go there. He had made it his business to know where her mother was and knew that she was in Brussels. Mrs Arbuthnot’s desertion of her family had broken Sophia’s heart.

“You once asked me to stop calling you Uncle Edmund,” he said.

“I remember.”

“May I take you up on it now?”

Finch looked at him appraisingly. How had John ever thought him stupid?

“I should take it as the first sign that you were finally becoming a man.”

John bristled, but began to think that perhaps Finch was right.

“What does Sophia call you?”

“Edmund.”

“Then I should like to do the same.”

“Very well. I look forward to seeing you this evening.”

They bowed to one another and Finch left.

“Have you known Edmund long?” John asked as they waited for dinner to be announced.

“Long enough,” replied the Prussian.

John suspected it was not his poor English that made Franz so terse. He had been antagonistic to John from the moment they had been introduced. It was not hard to work out why.

“We first met in 1805,” said Edmund.

“Why do you not tell him everything?” asked the Prussian and John knew that his conclusion that the other was a spy was correct. Edmund had introduced him simply as Herr Schröder and neither had bothered to explain his presence in the house. John eventually gathered that he was staying there and would be going to Brussels with the Finches and Sophia.

“I’ve known John a lot longer than I’ve known you,” said Edmund. “Long enough to know what I can trust him with and what I can’t.”

Franz scowled at Edmund and leaned back in his chair. It was a shocking display of bad manners. Perhaps things were done differently in Prussia.

“How have you found Paris?” asked Sophia.

“Busy,” said John.

He told them some of the troubles British tourists to the city could experience. Delicacy prevented him mentioning some of the more exotic problems he had had to resolve, but John had discovered that the army had not taught him everything there was to know about the pleasures of the flesh.

“The duels are the worst,” he said. “There are too many bored officers around from both sides and hardly a morning goes by without a duel. Then I have to tidy up after them. If there’s an English widow as a result or if an Englishman loses his son, I have to notify them.”

This was a task that grew more difficult each time he did it and less easy to comprehend.

“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourself,” said Sophia.

“There are good things too,” he said, but he could not tell her about the women attracted by his uniform and his wealth. There were more of them than he knew what to do with.

“I’m sure you’d rather be in Vienna.”

Sophia had, of course, identified his other problem. Vienna was the place for a diplomat to be, not Paris.  That was where the great diplomats of Europe were making the future.

“That’s all been for nothing,” he said, “if Bonaparte comes back wanting war. I thought you were one of his supporters when you came this afternoon. I get them every now and again begging for him to be released, because he’s so charming.”

Sophia and Mary laughed. Franz and Edmund simply looked aghast.

Sophia looked beautiful tonight. She was dressed in a gown that showed her taste had changed in the last three years. Her clothes had always been chosen to show off her figure, but this green silk gown was cut lower than any he had seen her in before. He liked it and was not above wishing it were cut lower still.  He had first known lust when they were both thirteen. It had been during a dancing lesson and their breathlessness after a particularly long dance had drawn his attention to her breasts. It had been a surprise to discover that she had breasts at all. After that his friend had filled his thoughts in a different way.