Page 13 of The Pleasures of Passion
Fulkham gestured to the door leading into the hall. “Your brother-in-law said we may use his library for this discussion. So if you’d be so kind . . .”
“Of course.” Niall could hardly refuse, since Fulkham was largely responsible for obtaining Niall’s pardon from His Majesty, William IV, the new ruler of England.
Fortunately, Edwin kept his library well stocked with good French brandy, so as soon as they entered, Niall ditched his port to pour himself a healthy portion of spirits. He suspected that port wouldn’t prove strong enough for whatever the undersecretary wanted to say.
But Fulkham didn’t get to the point right away. He strolled over to scan Edwin’s bookshelves and asked, “Are you settling in at Margrave Manor?”
Small talk? That wasn’t like Fulkham.
Niall took a long pull on the brandy. “Yes. Why?”
“Blakeborough said you were pleased with how well your cousin managed your estate in your absence.”
“Not so much pleased as relieved. Warren isn’t the sort of man one expects to be good at such matters, but he is conscientious, thank God. As I’m sure you know, running an estate from afar through managers would have been tricky.”
“Especially when you were otherwise occupied—with avoiding that French ambassador’s first secretary Durand in his insane quest to avenge Whiting, and with doing certain . . . tasks for your country.”
Niall stilled. “I hope you’re not thinking of asking me to continue my work for the foreign office now that I’ve come home. I had a bellyful of deception and blood and betrayal after Portugal.”
A pained expression crossed Fulkham’s face. “I do regret that you had to witness those reprisals against our liberal allies in Porto.”
“Reprisals!” Niall snorted. “They were mass assassinations.” And sometimes he still couldn’t put the memories from his mind.
“At least you gotourpeople away. If the Miguelists had succeeded in killing them, England might have been forced to go to war. There would have been more bloodshed.”
“Still, some of those soldiers were my friends.” And no, he couldn’t have changed anything—they’dchosento take their stand against the absolutists. But images of a garrison full of slaughtered Portuguese soldiers still haunted his sleep.
“That bastard Miguel. You should have seen him when he came to England only a few months before that. He was all smooth words and expert manners. Even Wellington had no idea that—”
“He and his dear queen mother had such a taste for blood?” Niall swallowed some brandy, relishing the burn. “The human capacity for deception never ceases to amaze me.” He cast Fulkham a hard look. “Which is why I’m done with all that.”
Before Fulkham could answer, the door to the library opened. Mrs. Vyse and Bree entered, throwing Niall entirely off guard.
He wasn’t the only one—Bree gave a start when she saw him. She cast a quick glance at Fulkham. “Oh . . . please forgive us. Mrs. Vyse wanted to show me a novel that Clarissa owns, but we can come back later.”
“Nonsense,” Fulkham said, surprising Niall. “Please take a seat, Mrs. Trevor. There’s something I need to discuss with you. And with Margrave.”
Niall froze. Him and Bree? What was Fulkham up to?
When Bree hesitated, Fulkham said in a voice that brooked no refusal, “I’m afraid, Mrs. Trevor, that I must insist you join us.”
Bree blinked at the command, but sat down warily on the edge of a chair.
Fulkham smiled at Mrs. Vyse. “Thank you for aiding my little subterfuge, my dear. It’s imperative that no one but our host and hostess realize that we’re having this talk. You’ll improvise to make sure they don’t, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Vyse’s eyes twinkled. “I learned from the best.” Then she left, shutting the door behind her.
Damnation. Fulkham had set this up on purpose. “What is this about, Fulkham? And since when does Mrs. Vyse do your bidding?”
“Since before she married my late brother. But that’s neither here nor there.” He gestured to a chair. “Why don’t you take a seat as well?”
“I prefer to stand. Now tell me what the blazes is going on. Why are we meeting at a dinner party? And why all the ‘subterfuge,’ as you put it, when you could simply have invited us to your office?”
“Actually, I couldn’t have.” Fulkham gazed sternly at Bree. “No one—and I meanno one—must know that we three are acquainted in anything but a social capacity.”
“Why is that?” Bree asked, surprising Niall with the forthright question. She’d always been quiet, unwilling to cause trouble.
Her marriage seemed to have changed her. Or perhaps she’d always been this way, and he just hadn’t seen it in the midst of his obsession with her.
