Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls
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‘We are acquainted, Cranford,’ Sir Giles enlightened him, before turning to the baronet. ‘How are you, Ross? Haven’t seen you in town for a number of years. I do run across your nephew on the odd occasion, though.’
‘Ha! Do you, b’gad!’ Sir Joshua barked. ‘Well, that’s more than I do. Seen the boy only once or twice since he sold out. You’d think he’d settle down now that he’s left the army, but he’s forever gadding about. No repose, no repose at all!’
His sigh was distinctly mournful. ‘Don’t get about much myself now,’ Sir Joshua continued in the same booming voice, which induced several other members, seated at tables nearby, to frown dourly in his direction. ‘Health ain’t so good. That’s why I took the opportunity to travel with young Cranford here, when I discovered he was planning to come up to town. Daughter-in-law kept plaguing me to consult one of these fancy London practitioners about my hearing. Complete waste of time. Stone deaf in my right ear, and my left ain’t much better, so you’ll need to speak up a bit.’
As Sir Giles did not relish the prospect of shouting himself hoarse, he turned once again to the gentleman on his left. ‘By the by, Cranford, I received your letter inviting me to the party next month. Providing nothing unforeseen crops up, I should be delighted to attend.’
He received a piercing gaze from the bright blue eyes of the last member of the party. ‘What’s likely to stop you now? Your work’s done, Osborne, surely?’
‘Yes, Davenham, to all intents and purposes, I suppose it is.’
‘Well, what’s stopping you, then?’ the Viscount persisted. ‘We’ll all be there. You’ll be among friends.’
A ghost of a smile hovered momentarily about Sir Giles’s lips. ‘I cannot tell you how relieved I am to here you say so, Davenham. Unfortunately, there is just a possibility that my presence will be required in town. I’m not quite certain when she’ll be arriving, but I should imagine she has reached Paris by now, and is merely awaiting the arrival of her escort.’
Several brows rose at this. Since the death of his wife, several years before, Sir Giles’s name had never been linked with that of any female. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve found yourself a French charmer, Osborne!’ Lord Waverley exclaimed, laughing heartily. ‘I’d like to meet her. She must be something out of the common way if you’ve gone to the trouble of having her escorted across the Channel.’
‘Indeed, she is special.’ Sir Giles reached for the wine, which a waiter had deposited on the table a few moments before, and filled his glass. ‘She is none other than Justine Baron’s sister, the former Mademoiselle Louise Baron.’
Viscount Davenham frowned. ‘Should we know her? I can’t recall hearing the name before.’
‘No?’ Sir Giles arched one silver-grey brow. ‘Then let me refresh your memory—Justine Baron was a French spy who worked in this country a few years ago. She had a sister living in France, and although the girl was not involved in espionage herself, she mysteriously disappeared around the time of Justine’s death. I managed to locate her whereabouts a few months ago, and wrote to her. She sent a very interesting letter back. Now that the war is over, she intends to travel to England to visit Justine’s grave. She also informed me that Justine left some papers in the safekeeping of a London notary whose identity is known only to Louise. She has agreed to let me peruse the documents when she has retrieved them. So you can appreciate why I’m so keen to ensure that she arrives here safely, for I’m certain those papers will make enthralling reading. Naturally, she and the person I have engaged to escort her will be travelling under assumed names, posing as man and wife.’
The short silence which followed this astonishing disclosure was broken by Sir Joshua Ross who, gathering together the cards and reshuffling the pack, asked Sir Giles if he wished to be included in the game.
‘Why not?’ he responded. ‘I’m feeling distinctly lucky tonight.’
This proved to be the case, and Sir Giles won several hands in quick succession before four of those assembled, making various excuses, rose from the table, leaving only one gentleman to bear him company.
‘Dear me,’ he murmured. ‘Do you suppose it is my skill at cards or something I said? Surely they weren’t all alarmed by my purely fabricated tale?’
‘You had me almost believing it myself,’ his companion admitted, a gleam of admiration flickering in the depths of his grey eyes. ‘You can only hope that your—er—intended victim believed it.’
‘I’m not so foolish as to suppose that, my dear fellow. No, he probably doesn’t believe it. But he will need to be sure. And that is when I’ll have him at last.’
‘You know who it is, then?’
‘I’m not one-hundred-percent certain, no,’ Sir Giles admitted softly, ‘but I believe I know. I need proof, though. And I’m relying on my little impostor to provide me with the proof I need.’
His companion’s eyes widened fractionally. ‘So, you have in truth a young female coming over from France.’
‘Oh, yes, my dear. And she is indeed being escorted by … by someone I hold in the highest regard. He’ll be across the Channel by now, if everything has gone according to plan, and will have the girl safely back in England before our traitorous friend has alerted his French associates. Undoubtedly at this moment our victim is frantically making arrangements for someone to go over to France. I, on the other hand, am for my bed, so I shall bid you goodnight. Come and dine with me tomorrow evening if you’re free.’
Sir Giles remained at his club only for the time it took to collect his outdoor garments and then, declining the hall porter’s kind offer to hail a hackney carriage, set out on foot and arrived at his home a short time later, feeling very well pleased with how smoothly events had progressed thus far.
Extracting the key from his pocket, he was on the point of inserting it into the lock, when a carriage pulled up outside the front of his house, and a familiar figure alighted.
‘Ashcroft! What the deuce are you doing here?’
Not waiting for a reply, Sir Giles quickly unlocked the door and led the way into the house. He had never encouraged his servants to wait up for him, and the house was as silent as a tomb. Even so, he took the precaution of ushering his unexpected guest into the library and quietly closing the door.
‘Don’t tell me Ross has arrived in Paris already?’ he said, going about the room lighting various candles.
Dishevelled, and looking decidedly weary, his faithful associate availed himself of one of the chairs. ‘He hadn’t arrived when I left, sir, no.’
‘Your orders were to keep watch over the girl until he did arrive, and then report straight back to me.’ Sir Giles noticed that his unexpected visitor was looking deeply troubled. ‘What’s happened, Ashcroft? Was there some hitch during your journey to Paris?’
‘No, sir. Everything went smoothly. It was two days after our arrival in the capital that I first learned of it. I advised Miss O’Malley to return to England at once, but she wouldn’t hear of it, sir. She said that we couldn’t be sure that the rumour was true, and that if it did turn out to be correct, your uncovering the identity of the traitor was even more necessary.’
‘What rumour, Ashcroft?’ Sir Giles demanded to know, surprisingly betraying signs of losing his iron self-control.
‘You haven’t heard then, sir? It will surely be all over London by morning … Napoleon has escaped from Elba and is, as we speak, marching on Paris.’ He waited in vain for a response, and then added, ‘There will be some, I dare swear, who will attach no importance to the event, believing that Napoleon will prove no threat. But others think differently. Panic has already begun to spread throughout the French capital, especially among foreign visitors, and those who openly welcomed the return of the Bourbon King.’
Ashcroft remained silent as Sir Giles,