Page 59 of Unlikely Heroes
“Captain Ogilvie and I found the count in Cádiz,” Jean said, as if that explained the matter.
“They abducted me when I left the ship,” the count corrected. “Captain Ogilvie” – it came out O-eel-vay – “threw a disgusting cape over my head. The fumes alone -ay de mi.”He took a deep breath and put his hand to his heart. “But consider this,señora,if it please you: They took me to my son.”
He started to move toward Meridee, until Mrs. Perry made it plain with a single look more-than-suggesting that another step would result in carnage.
“Mrs. Perry, we want to keep this man here,” Meridee said firmly, even as she hoped she sounded serene. “Could you bring us some tea?” She looked toward the still-open door, where Pegeen clutched the rolls to her chest, her eyes wide. Ben stared at strange people in his little world and Mama suddenly too far away.
Meridee scooped him up and held him close to her. “Shh, shh, son. This is a man I would like you to meet. Does he look like someone you already know? Pegeen, take the rolls to the kitchen if you please. Mrs. Perry? Some tea. Take a good look, Ben.”
“Masterfully done, Mrs. Six,” Angus Ogilvie said. “You’ve outmaneuvered us all.”
“Just trying to restore some decorum to the Six household,” she said. “Able will tell you it is what I do best.” She kissed Ben’s cheek. “What do you think, my love?”
“Papa,” Ben said faintly, then turned his face into Meridee’s neck, suddenly shy.
“This is your grandson, Count,” Meridee said.
The count’s eyes filled with tears. He looked away to that distant place Meridee knew was the domain of men at war. She saw it often enough in her husband’s eyes. In fact, she felt as though those were her husband’s eyes. She came closer and touched his sleeve, with all its gilt and glory, and felt him tremble. “It’s peaceful here.” She chuckled, past tears because she felt all the delight. “Generally! You are welcome to stay.”
Chapter Twenty-six
By nuncheon, even Mrs. Perry was captivated by the story the Count of Quintanar told them. He told it again when school ended and Grace St. Anthony crossed the street, saw him, and whooped with delight. At some point, Captain Ogilvie and Jean Hubert slipped away. “We have business in London,” he whispered to Meridee. “Able will be along in a matter of days.”
She had heard enough of the count’s story, augmented by Angus and Jean’s account, to feel gratitude deep in her heart at their courage in brazenly snatching a man of some importance from the heavily guarded dock in Cádiz, all because they knew Able needed him. She clasped Angus’s hand in hers and when he bent down, kissed his cheek, as dirty as he was. “I doubt Able will ever be out of your debt,” she whispered, when his ear was so close. “Thank you, Captain Ogilvie.” She pronounced it O-eel-vay, which made him chuckle.
She knew Angus was a hard man to flummox. Even master assassins have their weak spots, if the look he returned was any indication. “There is so little in the world that we can set right,” he told her. “We all suffer and there is no recourse.”
She opened her mouth to speak, knowing his own sorrow at the loss of wife and child, but he put a finger to her lips. “My dear lady, what a triumph it is when now and then, we win one.” He kissedhercheek this time. “Find Mary Carmichael’s mother, will you?”
“If it is humanly possible,” Meridee said, touched at this side of Angus Ogilvie she had never imagined. No wonder Grace St. Anthony had only kind words about him.
“Can you not wait at least until Grace returns from school?” she asked impulsively, then wondered at her impertinence.Scold me now, she thought, contrite.I really am not a meddler, and I dread your sharp tongue.
“I wish I could, I truly do,” he said, to her surprise, then added more softly. “Mrs. Six I wish I were a better man.” With a slight bow, he left, taking Jean Hubert with him. The Frenchman had heard the entire exchange. The rascal gave Meridee a slow wink, as he followed Captain Ogilvie.
The captain was right; there was more to think about. Where could she put the count? Angus had stressed that their Spanish abductee must be kept secret from suspicious eyes that might think Able Six was in league with the enemy. Grace and Georgie occupied one chamber upstairs. Smitty used the other one, when he was not at sea. Hopefully a high-in-the-instep count with more gilt on his uniform than Meridee had ever seen on any mortal would not object to sharing quarters with a formidable-looking workhouse lad now and then.
She made the bed while the count dozed downstairs in the sitting room, obviously worn out with adventures, but too much of an officer and gentleman to admit it. When he had shut his eyes in mid-conversation, Meridee had seized the moment to tiptoe out with Ben.
Ben had been happy to help her, pulling pillowslips off pillows, and flopping back on the bare mattress a few times, once the sheets were removed. “He is really my grandpapa?” he asked her.
“I believe he is, son,” she said, settling beside him.
“Do I have a grandmama? The count didn’t seem to think so, and he should know, shouldn’t he?”
Meridee wondered when she would get used to such reasoning from a child so young. She expected brilliance from Able Six, but why her son? Able had told her many times that genius was a burden. She took Ben’s hand in hers, pleased when he snuggled close. “I think there is much to this story we do not know. We will have to learn more.”
That seemed to satisfy Ben, at least for now. She kissed the top of his head, called it good, and let the two of them snuggle into a nap.To simply be is to do, my love, she thought, as she drifted off, holding her son close, and letting the baby inside her grow.
Refreshed after his sitting room nap, the count held forth at dinner with a surprising ally, his grandson. Meridee hid her smile when Grace asked a question slowly and more loudly than usual, thinking that might make English more accessible. When the count shook his head, Ben translated for Lady St. Anthony. He spoke slowly, too, and hesitated, but the count nodded.
“Ben, you’re a wonder,” Meridee said as she buttered more bread for him. “Have you and Papa been conversing in Spanish now and then?”
Her son eyed his favorite treat, took a bite, then said, “When Papa puts me to bed, we speak Spanish one night and French another. He says it will round me out and make me useful in the fleet someday.”
Everyone laughed. With considerable aplomb, Ben took advantage of the distraction to eat the rest of the bread, savoring the butter like a gourmand. Meridee calmly wiped the butter off his cheek and the front of his shirt, reminded of Able, who had trouble with ordinary things.
“Son, would you kindly translate for your…your….”
