Persuasion (29 page)

“Of course. You needed an ace up your sleeve. In any case, I am thrilled that the child is home—and unharmed.”

Simon actually believed him. There was no relief. “What are you going to do?”

“To you?” Sebastian smiled. “Simon, from every downturn, there is an upturn. A phoenix can always arise from the ashes. And these ashes are very, very intriguing.”

Simon crossed his arms, with no small amount of trepidation. He would not charge him with treason? He wet his lips and said, “I don’t care about any damned phoenix. Find someone else to play your dirty games. I want out, Sebastian. I am tired. I am done. I want to live an ordinary life with my children and Amelia. I told Duke that Jourdan is dead. I don’t know if he believed me, but if that were the case, Jourdan could not continue on for Lafleur and
le Comité.
”

“Simon—Jourdan is not dead. Not only is he alive and well and sitting before me, he is perfectly placed. He has just given the French absolute proof of his loyalty, proof of his value, his worth. No moment could be more opportune. I have already set in motion a plan for Jourdan to return to Paris, where he will be welcomed as a hero. Of course, you must avoid Duke now—if he is there. I have heard that he has fled to Spain, however. And once you are back in the Commune, you can begin to report on the opposition to Robespierre, which is growing.” Warlock smiled. “As I said, you are perfectly placed and perfectly trusted.”

Simon stood up. “You are mad to even think of sending me back. They imprisoned me once. One false step and I am a dead man.”

“But you are adept at taking the right steps.” Warlock stood and said seriously, “You are my best agent, Simon. You always land on your feet, like a cat with nine lives. You do not give yourself the credit you deserve. I know of no one who could have talked his way out of the prison—and
la guillotine
—as you did. It was brilliant. I have complete faith in you now.”

Simon had never felt more despair; he was clawed with it. “And you trust me?”

“I don’t have to trust you, Simon, I simply have to stay a half step ahead of you.”

The sense of hopelessness was consuming. “And if I refuse?”

“How can you refuse?” Warlock smiled. “I know what you did yesterday, Simon. Some might call your disclosures to Duke an act of treason.”

Simon inhaled. “You bastard. You are threatening me.”

“I prefer to think of it as simple persuasion.”

* * *

S
OMETHING
WAS
WRONG
with Simon, Amelia thought. Supper was almost over, but Simon hadn’t touched any of his plates—she doubted he’d taken a single bite of food. The few times she had glanced into the dining room, the boys had been chattering away, but Simon had seemed lost in thought.

Of course, he was filled with guilt over Lucille’s abduction and Amelia knew it. But his dark mood had been worse today than last night. She knew him so well. Something had happened, and she was terribly afraid to find out what that something was.

Amelia came into the dining room, wearing a bright smile. “William, John, you may be excused. Please go upstairs and get ready for bed. I will be up in a bit to read and say good-night.” As she smiled at the boys, she was aware of Simon staring intently at her. A flush began, prickling at her nape and her breasts.

Last night, his lovemaking had been frenzied and feverish. She glanced at him. His gaze was so direct. She felt herself blush. She knew when he needed her, when his thoughts were illicit and sensual.

When the boys were gone, she smiled a little and said, “May I sit down?” Two servants were clearing the table.

“You may always sit down and you do not need to ask,” he said abruptly.

Amelia glanced nervously at the two servants, but neither looked at her as they carried the trays with the dessert dishes from the room. She took William’s chair, on his right. “Of course I need to ask, Simon.”

He shocked her by cupping her jaw with his hand. “Warlock has asked me to return to Paris.”

She cried out.

He grimaced, dropped his hand and moved his wineglass to the place mat which remained in front of her. “He insists. I do not think I can dissuade him,” he said.

Amelia ignored the glass of wine. “You cannot go back,” she gasped, stricken. “I need you, Simon—the children need you. You are their father—the head of this household!”

She was leaning on the table and he covered her hands with his. “I cannot refuse him, Amelia. And maybe it is for the best. I am well placed amongst the French now. You will be safer when I am gone.”

She choked. “You cannot go back!”

His grasp tightened. “I am not being given a choice.”

Tears began to interfere with her vision. “You were imprisoned already, Simon. It is too dangerous. You cannot go back. What is wrong with Warlock! Damn him! Why didn’t you refuse?” Amelia realized she was crying. “Please, if you really love me, refuse. Refuse to go. He cannot force you.”

He was silent for a moment, staring in anguish at her. “But he can, Amelia. He could charge me with treason if I do not do as he says.”

And Amelia felt all the blood drain from her head and face. She reached for the table, afraid that she might faint. What had Simon done?

“My orders are clear, Amelia. I have been given a month’s reprieve. I am bound for France at the end of June.” He stood, taking her with him. “I think we should relish the time we have left.”

* * *

A
MELIA
DID
NOT
KNOW
how she could so acutely feel the passage of every hour, of every minute, of every second. Five days had passed since Lucille had been returned to them and Warlock had ordered Simon to return to France. But it felt like five seconds. They had one month left before Simon must depart for France to spy for his country—perhaps never to return.

She was sick with fear, seated in the pink salon across from her sister. Julianne had called, determined to be with her during her ordeal. Amelia had confessed everything to her, needing her sister as never before. As they took tea, the boys were immersed in their lessons, and Julianne’s daughter, Jaquelyn, was in the nursery with Lucille. Simon was in his library, and she had seen him take the week’s newspapers with him. She knew his attention was on the war.

Julianne reached across the table where they were sipping tea, taking her hand. “This is so unfair,” Julianne whispered. “I know better than anyone what you are going through. But I only had a day in which to anticipate Dom’s departure for France, in which to live in a state of fear and dread.”

“You lived in a constant state of fear and dread from the moment he left until the moment he returned,” Amelia said. How well she recalled her sister’s own ordeal. “But Dominic did return to you, in the end. I am terrified for Simon, Julianne! What if he doesn’t return? What if the French catch him spying on them? What if he is sent to the guillotine?”

“Simon will return to you as well, Amelia. He is so clever and so resilient. He loves you so.” Julianne was firm.

“He shouldn’t have to leave in the first place!” Amelia exclaimed. She flushed angrily. The one thing she hadn’t told Julianne was why Simon hadn’t been able to refuse their uncle. “We were just finding happiness when Lucille was abducted. We were just becoming a family...and now, Warlock snaps his fingers, and for love of country and king, we must all suffer the consequences of his dictums!”

Julianne was silent for a moment. “What aren’t you telling me, Amelia? Warlock must be holding something over Simon, to have him leap to obey his every command.”

She pulled her hand away. She did not want to lie to her dear sister. “He is entirely ruthless. I went to see him yesterday, to beg him to change his mind. He said he had no choice in this matter. There is always a choice!” Amelia cried.

“How is Simon managing?” Julianne asked, after a pause.

Amelia inhaled. “I am so worried about him. Simon is deeply scarred by his time in France, and especially by having been incarcerated there. He still has nightmares! He dreams of the time he spent in prison and of the innocent lives claimed by the guillotine—he dreams of death. He never speaks openly of it. But I have heard enough to understand how terribly affected he has been. I am afraid that even if he survives, he will return to me an entirely different man.”

Julianne squeezed her hand. “You must think positively, Amelia. And you must take every moment Warlock has given you, and live it as if there is no tomorrow. In fact, I should go and you should interrupt Simon and remind him of why he loves you so.”

Amelia smiled sadly at her sister. Maybe she would do exactly as Julianne was suggesting. It would hardly be the first time she had seduced Simon in the middle of the day. Their afternoon trysts were becoming more frequent now. She knew he was as desperate as she was. They were racing the clock, but it was a losing battle.

Julianne stood. “Let’s get the children. And maybe Warlock will change his mind,” she said. “This war is always filled with unexpected twists and turns. Maybe the Allies will triumph on the battlefield this month, making Simon’s return unnecessary.”

Amelia sighed, as the war seemed to seesaw back and forth between both armies. It was impossible to tell who was going to triumph in the end. As she stood up, she suddenly heard someone rapidly approaching. She recognized the sound—the footsteps belonged to Lloyd, yet he never rushed. She stiffened with some incipient alarm as he ran into the room.

“Something is amiss, Miss Greystone. Your uncle has just barged into the house, demanding to know where his lordship is. I told him that his lordship is in the library. I am sorry, Miss Greystone!”

“It is all right.” But she felt her heart lurch.

Why would Warlock behave in such a manner? Amelia glanced at Julianne, even more alarmed, and lifted her skirts and ran from the room, followed by both her sister and Lloyd.

The library door was wide open, and as Amelia rushed to the threshold, she saw Simon standing behind his desk, facing Warlock. Simon seemed stunned.

Terribly frightened now, Amelia whirled. “Lloyd, leave us, please,” she cried. When he was gone, she shared a look with her sister, and rushed into the library, as well. “What has happened?”

Simon glanced at her, his eyes wide with shock.

Warlock turned to Amelia and Julianne. “A warrant has been issued for Simon’s arrest.”

Amelia cried out in disbelief. Was this a jest? Simon barely looked at her. “The charges?” he asked Warlock hoarsely.

Warlock hesitated, his regard unwavering upon Simon. “Treason.”

Amelia gasped. She looked back and forth between both men, and suddenly realized that this was no mistake. Someone other than Warlock had learned of the double game Simon was playing. So much dread began. “Can we stop this, somehow?”

Warlock glanced at her. “The warrant has been issued, Amelia. We cannot stop the authorities from descending upon this house and removing Simon from it.”

She seized the edge of the desk to keep from reeling. “Simon?” What were they going to do?

Simon inhaled and looked at her. Their gazes met.

Amelia did not know what his unwavering regard meant. But her own mind had gone strangely blank. The British authorities were going to arrest Simon; they were going to charge him with treason. The British authorities were going to send Simon back to prison.

Oh, my God, he would never survive another term of incarceration.

Warlock broke the tension. “You do not have time on your side. If you wish to avoid detention, you must leave London now.”

Simon had to flee, Amelia thought, stricken.

“I need to say goodbye to the children,” he said harshly.

“Then do so now,” Warlock flashed. “But hurry, and do not alarm them. We will claim you are out later, when they come looking for you. I have already sent for Lucas. He will help you flee.”

Simon nodded, his face a dark mask of determination, and then he looked at Amelia. “I know you will take care of the children,” he said.

She seized his arm. He was leaving her. “Where are you going to go?” she heard herself ask hoarsely. “When will you be able to return? When will we see each other again?”

“I don’t know,” he said roughly.

How could this be happening? How could their lives be imploding this way? She turned to Warlock, desperately. “Can we go with him? The children need their father—and I need him!” But even as she spoke, she knew the answer.

“Simon—you must hurry,” Warlock said with urgency.

“Amelia!” Simon took her shoulders. “I should not ask this, but I am going to ask you to wait for me,” he said roughly. “Will you wait for me, Amelia?”

Of course she would wait, she thought, crying. But Simon could be in hiding for years. And then she knew she could not wait without a promise for the future. “No! Simon... Marry me now, before you flee.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

H
IS
EYES
BRIGHT
WITH
UNSHED
TEARS
,
he lowered his gaze to her hand. “With this ring, I take you to be my lawful and wedded wife,” Simon said softly. He slid the gold band onto her finger. “Until death do us part.”

Outside the small, fifteenth-century church, the rain had stopped. The stained-glass windows no longer rattled, and a bird began to chirp. A ray of sunlight entered the room. Amelia faced Simon, her heart filled with both anguish and joy. She was about to become Simon’s wife—and then he would leave her.

Lucas stood beside her. He had brought the rings. Warlock had suggested they attempt to marry in one of London’s many small parish churches as Simon fled town. Amelia did not know how Simon and Lucas had arranged the brief, highly unorthodox ceremony, but she suspected a great deal of funds had changed hands.

The reverend was nodding at her, in encouragement.

Amelia stared back at Simon, and said hoarsely, “I take you, Simon, to be my lawful and wedded husband, until death do us part.”

“By the powers vested in me by God and the Church of England, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the reverend said. And bowing his head over the Bible he held, he began to read a blessing aloud to them.

Amelia did not hear a single word he said. She and Simon were married, and in another moment, he and Lucas would ride away.

What if she never saw him again?

How could this be happening?

“Reverend.” Lucas firmly interrupted, stepping forward. “We have to go. Thank you, sir.”

Amelia didn’t even see the exchange. Tears were blinding her. She was aware of Simon putting his arm around her and walking her down the nave of the old church. Her low heels clicked on the stone floors. He pushed open the heavy wood-and-iron door, the hinges moaning, and they stepped into the small sodden garden outside. Red roses sparkled with drops of water, as did a huge hydrangea bush.

Amelia shivered, suddenly freezing. Her coach was parked on the street beyond the church’s front gates. Two horses were tied to its rear fender. Small bags were strapped to the saddles.

Could she survive without Simon? He was the love of her life!

Simon pulled her into his arms. “I wonder if that ceremony was even valid?” But he did not smile at her.

She wished she could laugh about the ten-minute service. She wondered if she would ever laugh—or smile—again. “I don’t care if it is valid or not. In the eyes of God, we are man and wife.” She began to cry.

“Don’t. Amelia, this is a time of war. We cannot control our destinies. We can only respond to fate the best that we can.”

“Damn whoever betrayed you, Simon! You are a patriot, and now, you must flee the country as an outlaw!”

He pulled her close and held her, hard. “Remind the children of how much I love them.” He looked down at her. “Never forget how much I love you.”

She couldn’t stand the pain of their impending separation. Her heart was crushed with anguish. “I know you are coming back to us. I know it!” she cried.

“Warlock will lobby Windham until the charges are dropped.” Simon was firm. But doubt was reflected in his eyes.

“I love you so much.”

He held her, hard, and they both knew that their embrace might be the last time they were in one another’s arms.

He somehow let her go. She stepped back, but she held his hands. “Write to us when you can.”

“If I can get word to you, I will. Amelia—I want you to return to Cornwall. You will be safer there.” He suddenly glanced past her.

Amelia half turned and saw Lucas hurrying from the small stone church, his face grim, urgency flashing in his eyes. It was time.

Frantic, she faced him. “I love you. I always have. I will never stop.”

His grasp on her hands briefly tightened, and then he released her.

“We have to go. I want to be as far from the city as possible when night falls,” Lucas said sharply, reaching them. Then, to Amelia, he said more kindly, “I will take good care of him. Do not worry.”

She nodded, incapable of speech or movement.

Simon looked at her. His regard was sharp, lingering.

And then he and Lucas were striding purposefully to their horses, untying the reins, and leaping astride. Amelia covered her mouth with her hand, her heart lurching in pain, as Simon lifted his hand in farewell, glancing at her one final time. Then he whirled his mount, as did Lucas, and the two trotted down the street. They vanished around a corner.

Amelia just stood there, staring after them, crying for a long time.

* * *

T
HE
DOORMAN
, G
EORGE
,
held the front door open for her. Amelia couldn’t smile at him. She had wept openly and unabashedly the entire carriage ride home.

Simon was gone.

Julianne rushed into the hall, surprising her. “Oh, Amelia!”

Amelia nodded at the doorman and met her sister in the center of the hall. “It is done,” she said raggedly. She took off her gloves, revealing the simple, unadorned gold wedding band.

Julianne stared, her gaze filled with worry, and then she hugged her. “And Simon?” she whispered.

“He and Lucas rode away.... They would not tell me where they are going.” She heard her voice break.

Julianne slid her arm around her. “We will repair this, Amelia. I have already spoken to Dom. He will lobby Windham immediately for a rescission of the charges. He is furious, by the way!”

“I never told you the entire truth, Julianne.” She took her sister’s arm and pulled her into the nearby salon. “Simon was spying for the French as well as for us. He may very well be guilty of the charges.”

Julianne gasped, turning pale.

“I am so afraid I will never see him again!” She inhaled, pain stabbing through her breast. “But Simon is right. This is war. We cannot control fate. Fate controls us.” She struggled for composure. “I must be strong. Simon is gone. I pray that, one day, he will be able to return, but in the meanwhile, there are three small children in this house, and they need me.”

Julianne seized her hand. “What are you going to tell them? And what will you tell the staff?”

Amelia had spent the past half hour indulging herself in her own grief, in her tears, and she hadn’t had a chance to think about what she must do. It was tempting to tell the boys that their father had gone to visit his northern estates, at least for now. And she could tell the staff the very same thing.

But there was a warrant out for Simon’s arrest. Could such news be kept secret indefinitely?

She thought about the boys again. William was only eight, but he was mature beyond his years. On the other hand, he had just lost his mother. “My instincts tell me that William must know the truth, sooner or later.”

“What if we can bring Simon home soon? In a matter of weeks or months?” Julianne asked.

“What if he is gone for years?” Amelia responded. Her heart throbbed with pain at the thought.

Julianne squeezed her hand.

An insistent knocking sounded on the front door.

She tensed in alarm. “I have to think about this,” she told her sister as footsteps sounded in the front hall. It sounded as if a number of men had marched into the house.

Amelia shared a glance with her sister; Julianne was as alarmed. Then she ran to the threshold of the salon, her sister behind her. Amelia faltered.

A uniformed officer of the guard stood in the front hall, with two other soldiers and Lloyd.

“Miss Greystone,” the butler said, coming forward, his eyes wide. “The captain is looking for his lordship. Do you know where he is?”

Somehow she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, smiling as she walked to the waiting officer. His blue gaze was sharp, meeting hers.

Amelia extended her hand. “I am Miss Greystone, the housekeeper.” She would not reveal that she and Simon had just been married—it might raise too many questions and lead to the truth that he had fled town. “I’m afraid that Lord Grenville is out, but we are expecting him back for supper.”

The officer bowed. “I am Captain Johnson, Miss Greystone. May I have a word privately?”

Amelia nodded. “This is my sister, the Countess of Bedford. Do you mind if she joins us?”

The young, blond captain started. Of course, such a family connection was highly unusual for a housekeeper. “Of course not,” he said.

Amelia led the captain and Julianne back into the salon. She closed both doors behind them and managed another smile as she faced the captain. “How can I be of help, sir?” she asked calmly.

He produced a rolled document, tied with a dark velvet ribbon. “I’m afraid, Miss Greystone, that I have a warrant for Lord Grenville’s arrest.”

Amelia simply stared. Inwardly, she curdled. “May I see the document, sir?”

“Of course.” He untied the ribbon, unrolled the page and handed it to her.

Amelia looked at it. It was hard to read the writing on the page, as her vision was blurring. She felt her sister come to stand beside her, and Julianne said, “It is an arrest warrant. Simon is being charged with treason.”

Amelia inhaled. “This is absurd, sir.”

“I am very sorry to bring you such tidings,” Captain Johnson said. “I am merely following my orders, Miss Greystone. And my orders are to arrest his lordship tonight.”

“I see,” she managed, rather foolishly.

“Where would it be convenient for me and my men to await Lord Grenville’s return?”

“You may wait here,” Amelia said.

* * *

“W
HAT
DO
YOU
THINK
,
Signor Barelli?” Amelia asked impatiently.

It was midmorning, a week later. She stood in the classroom with her hands on her hips, as the tutor finished reading her notes. She had spent almost an entire week revising the boys’ curriculum. William loved languages and excelled at them. He should be spending more time on that subject, and less on mathematics, which he abhorred and struggled with. John was fascinated with all manner of science, from the nature of insects to the motion of a ball and the position of the stars. Why not immerse him in an introductory course on biology? Or astrology?

“I think that this is a highly, er, unusual schedule, Miss Greystone,” the Italian schoolmaster said. “Master William barely received a passing grade on his last arithmetic examination. He should spend more time on mathematics, and less on French, Italian, German and Latin. He already excels in the languages. And why add Russian to his curriculum?”

“He has asked me if he could begin to study Russian, and current political discourse suggests that the Russians will become more important to Britain and the world, not less. Why not allow William to study the language?” She spoke firmly, but she smiled. “I have little doubt that, if his lordship were in residence, he would allow me to revise their studies as I have chosen.”

Signor Barelli pushed her notes aside and stood, his gaze filled with sympathy. “Dare I ask, Miss Greystone, has there been any word?”

Her heart flooded with the grief that never completely dissipated. She had not been able to hide the fact that a warrant had been issued for Simon’s arrest. When the authorities had come to the house intending to arrest Simon and he had not been home, Captain Johnson had decided to wait for his appearance. That hadn’t raised eyebrows. But when Simon had failed to return, the captain had insisted on searching the entire house thoroughly. The search had taken two and a half hours, and it had disrupted everyone.

William and John had wanted to know why soldiers were in the house. Amelia was a firm believer in the truth, but not in these circumstances. She told the boys that the soldiers were looking for their father—but that it was a terrible misunderstanding, one that she was already attempting to clear up.

She had managed to keep the entire truth from the boys. William had asked why the soldiers wanted to speak with his father, and she had told him that they believed he had important information about the war. She didn’t want them to worry, and she had done her best to make light of the matter. Both boys had been convinced that this episode would quickly pass. But there was no deceiving the rest of the household.

Amelia had assembled the entire household the following morning at dawn, excluding the boys, who remained asleep. She had told everyone about the charges, and that they were a terrible mistake that would be sorted out eventually. The staff had been shocked to learn that Simon was being charged with treason—and that he was suspected of spying for the French republicans. She had looked each and every man and woman in the eye, and told them that she expected their faith and loyalty. “If anyone here does not believe in his lordship’s innocence, I expect you to step forward now. You will be dismissed, but with a week’s wages and good references.”

No one had stepped forward.

When both Lloyd and Mrs. Murdock had approached her individually, professing their outrage over the charges, it was clear to her that they both believed in Simon’s innocence. As the rest of the staff looked up to them both for direction, Amelia was relieved. Any malignant gossip below stairs would be quickly laid to rest.

And then there was Momma. In an entirely lucid moment, she wanted to know where Simon had gone and when he was returning to them. Amelia had almost collapsed in tears. And now she had to lie to her own mother. For she was afraid that, when her wits were addled, Momma might innocently disclose the truth. “He has gone to his northern estates, Momma,” she had whispered, praying God would forgive her. “He will surely return to us soon.”

Meanwhile, Dominic was directly petitioning the War Secretary to have the charges against Simon dropped. If Windham would not change his mind, he planned to speak directly with the Prince Regent, whom he knew rather well.

Warlock had also devised a petition, which he had already sent to the War Office. It hadn’t been answered yet. Amelia hadn’t expected him to be helpful, but he was irate over the injustice being done to one of his men. However, he also said that Windham seemed to be taking the news of Simon’s betrayal very personally. That did not bode well.