The Spymaster's Men: Persuasion Part 22

Her heart thrummed. She was fairly certain that Mrs. Murdock suspected that she had been in Simon's arms last night. Had the governess already spread such a rumor? What else could that look have meant?

Her cheeks heating, she debated having Lucas come to visit her in the kitchens, where she and Lloyd were discussing the matter of his visit. But that might only serve to inflame her brother. And he would be right to object to her employment, she thought, because last night she had almost succ.u.mbed to temptation.

"Very well." She removed her ap.r.o.n. "But I am not going to entertain him, Lloyd. It is not my place to do so. We will not need any refreshments. I am sure this call will be short." When she saw that he was poised to object, she patted his shoulder. "My brother is a busy man and I am a busy housekeeper."

Amelia left the kitchens, her stride brisk. She knew exactly how the conversation was going to go, and she knew she was going to have to proceed with the utmost caution. She did not want Lucas to suspect that she had fallen in love with Simon-if she had ever stopped loving him-or that their pa.s.sions were running rampant. If he ever guessed the truth, he would remove her from Lambert Hall, no matter how she objected.

She smiled widely as she entered the foyer, although that felt entirely artificial. Lucas was impatiently waiting, studying the various oils on the walls. He turned as she appeared on the hall's threshold.

Lucas was as dashing as ever, even plainly dressed. He wore a simple and unadorned dark brown coat with a black-velvet collar and cuffs, a gold vest beneath it. His golden hair was drawn into a queue. But he was tall and handsome, his presence powerful and commanding. In spite of the dilemma she was in, she loved him. He would always be the brother she could count upon.

He did not smile back at her. Bicorne hat in hand, he strode to her. "h.e.l.lo, Amelia. Imagine my surprise when I received your letter upon arriving at Cavendish Square last night." His gray eyes flashed with ire.

She looped her arm in his firmly, and planted an equally firm kiss on his cheek. "I am thrilled that you are back in town. I have missed you." She started to lead him into the west wing.

"Do not even attempt to manipulate me! You are Grenville's housekeeper?" He was incredulous.

He knew her far too well, she thought nervously, somehow maintaining a smile. "When I realized how his children needed me, there was no possible way I could refuse. And the boys are doing so well, Lucas."

He studied her grimly as Amelia led him into the small salon with pale pink walls, white ceilings and gilded trim. She released him to shut the door behind them.

"Are you in one piece?" he demanded.

She whirled, her heart slamming, but she spoke mildly. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I have not forgotten that, ten years ago, he flirted with you outrageously. It means I have not forgotten that you were madly in love." His stare was unwavering. "It was one thing to help with his children after the funeral, Amelia, but this is out of all bounds."

She noticed that he had circles under his eyes. "That was ten years ago. I was sixteen years old, Lucas. Now I am a grown and intelligent woman. You know that I am a woman of compa.s.sion. His children are doing so much better now and I am happy to take some credit for that."

"And how is Grenville doing?" he asked pointedly.

She prayed she did not flush. "He remains afflicted by his loss." She paused, suddenly wanting to ask Lucas what he thought about Simon's odd behavior. But then he would suspect even more than he did now! She quickly decided to change the subject. "When did you get back? While your shoes are hardly dusty, you seem tired."

"I got back in the middle of the night, Amelia. I haven't slept in days, frankly, and I could not sleep after I read your letter," he said tersely.

She forgot about defending her position to him. "Were you where I think you were?" Had he been in France, helping unfortunate families emigrate?

His gray gaze narrowed. "I was at the mine."

They both knew that was a lie. "Lucas!" She rushed to him and took his hands in hers. "I have seen Julianne. She has told me how horrible it is in France now. It isn't safe for you to set foot on the soil there. If you are ever caught, you will be put in prison, with little hope of ever getting out!"

"If I am caught, I will be sent directly to le Razor." He was blunt.

She cried out. "I am begging you-I know you are a man of honor and a patriot, but please give up your wartime activities!"

He took her shoulders. "Do not ask the impossible of me, Amelia. And do not change the topic! It is you I am worried about. I saw the way you and Grenville looked at one another before the funeral."

She froze. "I beg your pardon?"

"He could not look away from you-nor could you look away from him!" Lucas cried.

And now, Amelia knew she flushed. "I think you are mistaken," she said.

He gave her a disbelieving look. "How did he convince you to become employed by him? Or should I guess? Once a rake, always a rake!"

She slipped free of his grasp. "If you are suggesting that he made advances in order to gain my employment, you are wrong." She was actually telling the truth, still, she felt as if she were lying. "Grenville is not a rake! You probably do not know that after the funeral, I went to St. Just Hall to help with the children. He was in a ghastly state, Lucas. He was locked in his rooms, instead of caring for his sons. The children needed me desperately then, just as they need me now."

"Why? Is he still locked in his rooms?"

She tensed. Lucas was rarely angry, and never mocking. "That is hardly fair."

"Falling for him another time will be unfair, Amelia. He is grieving for his wife," he warned.

She knew better than to tell him otherwise. And she would ignore his first barb. "There is more. The infant isn't his daughter. When he asked me to manage his household, he confirmed the gossip I had heard. Lucille was fathered by Thomas Southland. Oh, Lucas!" She went to him and took his hand. "He won't even look at her, and we don't know if Southland will ever come for her. That little girl needs me, as well!"

He sighed and put his arm around her. "I have heard the gossip, but I dismissed it." His stare was searching. "So you are comforting the children-and while caring for them, you have become far too attached, haven't you?"

"I love those boys," she whispered. "I love Lucille. Of course I do."

"And Grenville? Who is comforting him?"

She flushed again. "I will confess, I am also concerned about his welfare, and I am happy to offer him some small comfort, too, if I can."

"Amelia, we are close. I only have to look at you to know that you remain infatuated with him."

She choked. How would she deny it?

"Is he treating you with respect?" he demanded fiercely.

And finally, she could be entirely truthful with him. "He is being very respectful, Lucas."

His eyes widened. He finally said, "I believe you."

"Good." She somehow smiled. It was shaky. "We are being very careful not to let the past affect the present. We are trying very hard to maintain the roles we have taken as housekeeper and employer."

His gaze narrowed. "Does that mean you have discussed your past affair?"

She did not want to lie. "Of course we have. I never said that this situation isn't somewhat awkward. But his children come first-we are agreed upon that."

He sighed. "You sound so controlled, Amelia, and so sensible-which is what I would expect of you in any other circ.u.mstance. I actually like Grenville. I respect him. But right now, my instinct tells me not to trust him-not where you are concerned."

Would she ever stop blushing? How could Lucas be so astute?

He grimaced. "And the worst part is that I know you so well. You may be a grown woman, inordinately sensible most of the time, but I also know that you remain as naive as you once were. And no one is as loyal. Compa.s.sion can be misleading. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you have no genuine feelings for him? That you are merely his housekeeper?"

She wrung her hands. She finally said, "Of course I still care, Lucas. I am not a shallow woman, to give her heart away briefly and then to selfishly take it back."

"Then I am afraid for you."

"Don't be. I am a strong woman and I am not a fool. I took up this position to help his children."

"But you are also helping him."

She met his gaze and nodded. "Yes. But before you berate me another time, have you forgotten how moral I am?"

He hesitated and she suddenly knew he was thinking about how she had forgotten her morals ten years ago. "I know you would never deliberately act in any way that is dishonest or immoral. But you are in an unenviable position, Amelia. It must be impossible to forget the past you shared, being around him all of the time. I am afraid you might secretly dream of a future you cannot have."

She shook her head, but a terrible pang went through her. "I harbor no illusions." Even as she spoke, she recalled his kiss last night, and wondering why he did not offer her far more than an affair.

"Good." He pulled up an ottoman and sat down. "But I continue to have reservations about your being here."

"I can't leave those boys or that little girl." She sat down in a gilded chair.

"Or him?" His gray gaze was searching. When she decided not to answer, he said, "And what if Southland comes?"

"If Southland comes, I will try to be happy for Lucille, because she belongs with her natural father, but it will break my heart."

He took her hand and clasped it. "I probably should not give you my opinion, but I do not think Southland will come."

She started, hopeful. "You know him?"

"I ran into him at a weekend party in the north, about a year ago. He is a bachelor and a rogue. Of course, that was some time past, so maybe he has changed." He shrugged, clearly not believing that.

She was so relieved.

"Amelia, you need children of your own."

His declaration jerked her attention back to him. Simon had said the very same thing. "You may be right," she said, very carefully, "but I am nearly middle-aged. And I have a reputation, Lucas, as a committed spinster."

"If you give me permission, I will work on finding you a serious match."

She froze, and all she could think of was Simon. Suddenly, almost every memory she had raced wildly through her mind.

"Amelia?"

She somehow forced Simon's dark image away. Should she try to find a suitor? Oh, the position she was in was so untenable. She would love to have children of her own. But Simon and his children needed her. "I will have to think about it." Partly to change the subject, but mostly out of concern, she said, "Have you seen Jack recently?"

The last time she had seen Jack had been in February, when he had appeared briefly at the manor, lingering only for two days. He had not given her any explanations; as a smuggler, he was always at sea, on the run or in hiding. She had encouraged him to go to London to see Julianne, who had recently eloped. He had said he would do his best. But Julianne had seen him exactly once, in early March. He hadn't seen his newborn niece yet.

Lucas looked away. "Yes, I have. I saw him a few weeks ago."

"I am becoming worried about him." She lowered her voice. "Is he still running the blockade?"

"From time to time, when it suits him." Lucas did not seem very pleased.

"He never comes home. He hasn't seen Jaquelyn yet. That is not like Jack. As reckless as he is, as much as he loves the sea-" and he loved the challenge of outwitting the British navy even more "-he is a family man, in his own way. He adores Julianne."

"Like you, Jack is in one piece. If he is lucky, he will survive the war. I think the less you know, the better," Lucas said. "Why don't we leave it at the fact that he remains a free man?"

"You should stop him from running the blockade."

"I've tried. You know our brother. He thrives on danger and he thinks he is immortal."

"I miss him. I am hoping he will come to town. If he does, make certain he calls on me."

Lucas hesitated. He leaned close. "He won't come to town, Amelia. It's too dangerous." When she stared in confusion, he said reluctantly, "There is a bounty on his head."

It took her a moment to comprehend Lucas. She cried out. "The authorities have put out a warrant for his arrest?"

"It is even worse than that. There is a movement under way to suspend the writ of habeus corpus. If Pitt succeeds in getting such a suspension made into law and Jack is ever apprehended, he might never again see the light of day."

Amelia leaped to her feet. "Such a law will never pa.s.s! It is a basic freedom, Lucas, a basic right to know what you are being accused of. Such a suspension would mean that almost anyone could be thrown in prison, for any reason, without ever being charged!"

"Yes, that is exactly what would happen. And we would not be very different from France, then, would we?" He also stood. "Except Jack is wanted for treason. That is a hanging offense."

She took his arm. "You are connected. Warlock is connected. Why can't you have the bounty removed?" If Jack were caught, he could hang!

"Warlock has said he would help Jack-but only if Jack helps him."

"What does that mean?" she cried.

"It means our uncle can be heartless. It means he wants Jack in his command."

Amelia paced. Could Warlock be so despicable? Jack was his nephew! "Is Warlock holding something over you, too?"

Lucas approached. "No, Amelia. I am helping those poor souls flee France because I believe in real freedom, the kind that allows a man to speak out for or against his government, without fearing for his life-and those of his family."

She hugged him. "I am sorry I asked. I am so frightened for Jack and I am afraid for you, too." And as she held Lucas, she thought about Simon, whom she was even more frightened for. She looked up at him. "There is more. I am also worried about Grenville, but not because he has lost his wife."

He tensed visibly, setting her back, his expression hard. "What do you mean?"

"I am beginning to think that he is as involved in the war as you are!"

Lucas's expression never changed-which surprised her. "Grenville, an agent of some kind?" He was incredulous. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"He has nightmares, Lucas, in which he speaks French and screams about blood and death. He keeps a loaded pistol in his desk downstairs, and another one beside his bed. One night a shutter came loose. He ran to the door, holding a gun, as if he expected to confront French soldiers!" she cried. "Last night I was telling the boys a bedtime story. I heard him shouting in his rooms. I thought he was in trouble and when I went inside, he pointed a gun at me!"

Lucas took her arm, his grasp firm. "I cannot believe you would barge into his rooms. Clearly, you were not hurt!"

"What do you think?" she demanded.

"I think he is an odd beast, period. Everyone knows he is a recluse who prefers the barren northern reaches of this country to town. I have even heard gossip that he is somewhat unhinged. Perhaps he is losing his mind with grief?"

She stared, in disbelief. Why would Lucas suggest such a thing?

"Or perhaps he is being blackmailed, or some such thing." He shrugged. "But I have never heard Grenville utter a political opinion. I doubt he is any more a patriot than the livery boy down the street."

Amelia slowly shook her head. "Why are you trying to tell me that he is some melancholy madman? I heard him cry out for someone named Danton. Julianne told me about Georges Danton and his execution. I am beginning to think Simon was in France, and that he knew Danton-that they were friends!"