Authors: Christine Trent
“Sir Brax, you are quite …
incorrigible,
I believe is the word.”
“You are absolutely correct. Why, my father asked the headmaster of my school to cane me every day just for good measure. All to no avail. I’ve no manners, no civility, and can never take no for an answer.”
“Very well, then. If I say yes to your invitation, will you let me tend to my customers for the rest of the day?”
“Madam, I am your servant.” He bowed to her. “I’ll return for you at seven o’clock.”
Conversation flowed easily with Brax’s parents. Lord Selwyn especially doted on his son. His parents expressed great interest in her waxworks, having heard of Madame Tussaud during her earlier tour in England. Marguerite was surprised by their interest, given her status as a tradeswoman, but if they were accepting of their adored son’s decision to pursue a life in the navy, why wouldn’t they accept his friendship with her?
They promised to visit Marguerite’s exhibition at the earliest possible moment, and invited her to return to tea when she found it convenient. Brax was at his genteel best before his parents, and indeed Mrs. Kenyon’s tender poultry was superb, especially topped with its exquisite burgundy sauce and finished off with a nice bottle of claret brought up from the family’s estate in Sussex.
It was a lovely evening in general.
The hackney ride back to Marguerite’s rooms in the dark that February night was frigid. Marguerite kept her arms tucked in a muff, while Brax put a heated brick taken from his parents’ kitchen beneath her feet and covered her with a blanket.
Brax was solicitous in the extreme and Marguerite felt nearly drowsy in her comfort, between the full meal, the bundling up, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, and Brax’s warm attentions.
He also seemed content to sit back languidly. But upon arrival at her rooms he revived to his spritely self, elegantly helping her from the hackney, paying the driver and sending him off.
“Won’t you have him wait for you?” Marguerite asked.
“Another will be along soon. In fact, I see the lantern of one in the distance.” He pointed back the way they had come.
He escorted her into the entry of Mrs. Grove’s home, where she had taken rooms. Marguerite had specifically sought out a widow from whom to rent, in silent deference to Darden’s earlier admonition that she would be in respectable company that way.
Brax relieved her of her wrap and muff, setting them both on a chair in the entry. He took her hand and bowed over it, placing one of his typical lingering kisses atop it. Except this time he didn’t let go, instead twining his fingers through hers and stepping closer.
“My parents liked you, you know. And they are very discerning people. After all, they chose me for a son.”
Brax’s voice was light, but Marguerite felt an air of purpose about him. It was discomfiting, and she intended to keep things airy.
“They were probably just intrigued by a woman who lives among wax people. Much as they are probably intrigued by their son, who is always merry and never has a solemn moment.” She disengaged her hand from his to playfully swat him on the arm and thus release his hold on her. “They probably named you Sir Brax the Lighthearted long before I did.”
But Brax imprisoned her hand again between both of his own.
“I am solemn now, Marguerite. My life is changing. I’m about to earn a promotion to captain.”
“Why, Brax, that’s wonder—”
“You’re the first person I’ve told. And I’ve been engaged by Grenville’s new government on a sensitive special project. The reward for my success will be considerable, not to mention my
chances for eventual promotion to admiral. My life is finally becoming commendable. I lack only one thing.”
I know what he means, but I don’t want to hear it.
“Oh, come now, with all these honors, how can you possibly lack anything?” she asked.
“My life could only be complete if you had a permanent place in it.”
Oh dear. He said it plainly. He wants me. And I’m indifferent to his offer. Why?
You know why.
But Darden is gone now, forever, off on his personal quest. I was mistaken about his feelings on Victory. For heaven’s sake, he would have at least sent me a simple letter by now if he cared for me. Brax is here, and he’s kind, pleasurable company. I could do worse.
You could do worse? What makes you think you deserve better? You’ve seen what happens to men who fall in love with you. First Nicholas, then Philipsthal. Protect Brax by sending him on his way.
But I didn’t feel that way about Darden.
That’s because you were thinking like a simpleton about him. Besides, your emotions were muddied because you were trapped on a ship with him in the throes of a dangerous sea battle.
True. I let my good sense get away from me. I suppose I could at least try with Brax. I’m certainly fond of him.
“Marguerite?” Brax’s voice interrupted her woolgathering. “Where are you?”
“What? Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about the exhibition. What I need to fix before opening it again tomorrow morning,” she added lamely.
“Ah, my heart is pierced once again by the fair maiden, whose mind cannot concentrate on her devoted knight.” His words were weightless, but his voice was dense with emotion.
“Marguerite, most women are easily drawn to me, and I love them easily in return. But your shell is a difficult one to break open and it intrigues me greatly. I want to beseech you for something that I would never bother to ask of any other woman—I would simply take it.”
I don’t want him to ask me.
“Sir Brax, so serious? What could you possibly have to ask me that is so gravely exceptional?”
“I would like to kiss you. May I?”
No! I’m not ready for this. Isn’t there still hope for Dard—
You’re being a fool again.
I’m not! I just don’t want to hurt Brax in case Darden should—
He’s not coming back.
No, he’s not. So I’ve no reason to say no.
She swallowed and laughed nervously. “Sir Brax, how gallant of you.”
He met her lips with his gently and with great reverence, still holding her hand between both of his. She felt like a fragile piece of Wedgewood that he was afraid of dropping if he handled it too roughly.
He pulled away slowly, opening his eyes and smiling with delight. “Thank you, my sweet,” he breathed.
What response did she really have for him?
She was silent as he left Mrs. Grove’s, whistling. She watched from behind a curtain in the parlor as Brax hailed down the hackney he promised her would be available when he wanted it. She brought her fingers to her lips as she watched the carriage rumble away, the horse’s snuffling resulting in great clouds of mist she could see reflected in the light of the hackney’s lanterns.
Brax was handsome, amusing and mild mannered. He didn’t seem to care that she was a tradeswoman, either. He would probably be a fine husband. Why didn’t she feel the same with him as she did with that dark, high-minded, exceedingly frustrating lieutenant aboard
Victory?
If only she could come up with a reason to hold Darden in contempt, she might be able to move on with Brax.
There just didn’t seem to be any great reason to hate Darden Hastings.
Brax reappeared at the exhibition late one evening shortly after their visit to his parents’ home, whistling and carrying a large, flat, wrapped package.
“I’ve something very important for you. Can we speak privately?”
Marguerite asked her assistant to tend to the show’s final customers, and escorted Brax to her workshop. “Why all of the mystery, Sir Brax?”
“I’ve been entrusted with a rather delicate matter, and interestingly enough it involves you. Grey and Fox think you have proven yourself to the Crown once before as a patriotic woman who keeps good counsel, so they wish to rely on you once again.”
“Brax, if they are seeking someone to join in another battle against the French, let me assure you that I will not—”
Brax laughed and held up the wrapped package as though defending himself. “Heavens, no, it was never the government’s intention to deliberately send a lady out to sea to serve in war. What a thought! No, they have a more … subtle … idea in mind. You see, they would like to have a figure cast of the king of Spain’s son, Ferdinand.”
“For what reason?”
“They have a secret deception planned, much as what you assisted with on
Victory.
”
“Is the prince going to war?” Marguerite was confused.
“Something like that.” Brax laid the package on her worktable and unwrapped it. Inside was a framed painting of a dark-complexioned man in a military uniform, with a sash denoting some sort of honor proudly draped over his right shoulder.
“Meet Ferdinand, son of Charles the Fourth of Spain. The government proposes to pay you handsomely to create a figure of him.”
Brax explained that Fox and Grey wanted her to create a likeness of Ferdinand, which would be shipped to Spain, and Ferdinand’s people would use it to create the appearance that the heir to the throne was enjoying some leisurely time away in the Valencia countryside.
Meanwhile, Ferdinand would travel to a covert location for a clandestine meeting with Lords Grey and Fox to determine the best course of action for preserving Spain’s sovereignty without alerting Napoleon.
“What do you think?” Brax asked.
“Certainly I can do this for His Majesty’s government. I’ll just send Madame Tussaud a note to let her know—”
“No, no communications with your employer. This is a delicate matter and you are only the fourth person being brought into it. This has to be conducted in total secrecy.”
“I see. All right, I suppose there’s no harm in that.”
“Oh, and I forgot to mention that after you’ve finished the Ferdinand figure, they wish for the two of us to load it aboard a ship that will be specially docked on the outskirts of London. Obviously, since we four are the only ones privy to this plan, we cannot have anyone else entrusted to do it.”
“This sounds terribly dangerous.”
“You’ll be perfectly safe with me. And of course I will ensure that you won’t accidentally be trapped aboard the ship. A grievous calamity it would be to His Majesty’s navy for it to happen twice. With the same woman.”
“I see. Why do I suspect there is far more to this than you’re telling me, Brax?”
“Truly, I’ve told you all I know. It’s an excellent opportunity for both of us to achieve notice inside the government. Aren’t you pleased?”
“Making myself known at the upper ranks of His Majesty’s government has not exactly ever been a plan of mine.”
“But still … you’ll do it?”
Brax stood in silence, his face an expression of eager anticipation.
Marguerite smiled. “I’m a loyal subject of His Majesty’s, aren’t I? Of course I’ll do this.”
She escorted Brax out to the entrance of the exhibition. The building was clear of visitors, and only her assistant remained behind, sweeping up in a remote corner.
Before leaving, Brax bent gallantly and lifted Marguerite’s hand to his lips. “My greatest dreams have been fulfilled, you know. To perform such an enormous service for the government, and to do so working alongside the loveliest woman I have ever encountered, far exceeds any expectations I may have ever had in this lifetime.”
Marguerite withdrew her hand, laughing. “Sir Brax, you never stop being the gallant, do you?”
He clutched his chest. “Dear lady, how you persevere in wounding me. How can I ever convince you of my deep sincerity?”
“I believe in the depth of your sincerity, Brax Selwyn. The depth of your sincerity matches that of your grave and serious mind.”
A look of confusion passed over Brax’s face, but he let Marguerite’s comment pass.
He turned back as he was ready to leave and said casually, “Incidentally, you may want to stay away from Darden Hastings.”
“I’ve not spoken to him since Trafalgar. Why do you mention this?”
“Grey told me he has reason to believe our friend Darden, who has unbelievably been promoted to captain in the Royal Navy, is not the most loyal of His Majesty’s subjects. You must have had some sort of contact with him aboard
Victory.
Did you notice any unpatriotic sorts of behavior while out to sea?” Brax’s voice could not hide its tone of hope.
What?
Darden? Disloyal? The most duty-bound Briton in the country, next to Nelson himself?
“Nothing whatsoever. He was utterly steadfast in his duty to both Captain Hardy and Admiral Nelson.”
“Hmm. Yes, of course. Well, unfortunately, Lord Grey has it on good authority that he is profiting handsomely from certain deeds, courtesy of the French government. Such activity is, as you know, treasonous.”
Marguerite’s mind whirled in confusion. This just couldn’t be possible. They simply didn’t know Darden the way she did.
I just need to tell Brax more about his character.
Or perhaps they know more than you think. Remember Darden did tell you he had a “different path.”
Yes, but that had to do with his naval career. Did it?
Of course it did! And didn’t Brax just say he was promoted to captain? Why would a suspected traitor be promoted?
To convince him he’s not under a cloud of doubt. Remember also that he abandoned you for a time on Victory. Why did he do that?
I don’t know.
Still, it was impossible. “I can’t believe the lieutenant—I mean captain—would do something so odious as to turn his back on his country.”
“I know. It does seem a terrible shame, doesn’t it?”
“Why do they suspect him?” She hoped she didn’t sound as though she was pleading for him.
“I don’t know. Grey said he couldn’t discuss his information. My condolences to you at having to learn this dreadful news. It distresses me, as well, to know a fellow officer has behaved thus.”
Brax’s voice lacked the regret that his words declared.
Marguerite drew a deep breath. How could she have been so utterly witless about a man, once again?