Page 8 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“Anonymously, I assume?” Kane eyed the tall, lean Frenchman, who nodded in reply. Kane knew him only from the dossier Scarlett had sent him that morning. Yves Pelletier,the Comte de Valery whose family had fled the Terror here to England, had endeared himself to Bonaparte’s foreign minister, Talleyrand. So far, Talleyrand did not suspect that Pelletier ran his own nest of French spies, all of whom worked for the benefit of Britain.
Pelletier kept it that way. Few in number, rabid in dedication, no one agent knowing another. In many ways, Pelletier had copied his operation on the workings of Scarlett’s. Indeed, only the four men in this room knew the others here by background, education, sight, and proclivity.
“Each of you will have a special assignment,” she said. “I have carefully selected your goals. In some instances, you will have a partner. But Kane leads on this. He has the background and contacts. You each assist him.”
Kane preferred to be assigned with Dirk. And why not? They were second cousins who’d grown up together in the same house, with the same nannies, tutors, and dance instructors in London, later in their Aunt Justine’s chateau in Amboise. Then he went off to school in Bordeaux. Dirk had gone to his mother’s family in Durlach outside Karlsruhe in the duchy of Baden. Since the start of the Directory in France in ’99, the two of them had returned to England and aided Scarlett. During the past three years, Kane and Dirk had renewed their fond friendship, drunk together. Older and wiser, lately they had given up sinning together.
“What do we do?” Kane brushed his palm over his buckskin breeches. He didn’t like complex assignments, but he would accept this and appear as if he could manage it. “Steal from Bonaparte’s new bank?”
Dirk laughed. “Seduce Napoleon’s new mistress?”
Ram chuckled. “Loosen Josephine’s corset? Or wet it down!”
Dirk sat back and pointed at Scarlett. “I’ll take that job. The first consul’s wife may have bad teeth, but she does have a luscious figure worthy of two hands.”
“You’ll have to work within Josephine’s court,” said Scarlett without a nod to the sarcasm. “All of it is sensitive.”
Kane was tired of this lengthy introduction. At home, he had a pile of documents to sign for his solicitor. “Court one of her ladies, is it?”
“You decide.” Scarlett stared at him. “We need a careful touch on this one. You have two goals, Ashley.”
Never simple, is it?“When do I start?”
“I want you to leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow is best.”
Kane frowned. He’d hoped to spend a quiet evening in his library with a good book. “What is the rush?”
“A lady-in-waiting to Josephine has disappeared. We know not where she is. And we must find her.”
“I see.” Kane liked a good hunt. “She’s usually at court. But missing. A fever, perhaps?”
Ram snorted. “Is she nauseated? Or ridding herself of a certain unplanned malady?”
Scarlett fixed him with her dark, inscrutable eyes. “Whatever the reason, she’s vital to Josephine.” She stared at Kane. “And to us.”
At that news, Ram whistled softly. “She’s our agent?”
Scarlett set her delicate jaw.
“Gott im Himmel.” Dirk reverted to his fondness for his native German. “Scarlett, how did you manage that one?”
Kane definitely didn’t like the sounds of this. Aunt Justine had known the new first lady of France years ago when she was married to her first husband, Beauharnais. “Josephine changes friends when she changes her garters.”
“Not this one, she doesn’t,” Scarlett told him.
Kane was not convinced. “You mean to tell me this woman could be so important?”
“Kane has that right,” said Ram to Scarlett. “Plus Bonaparte is not known to share all his state secrets with Josephine. After all, he scooped her from a virtual brothel.”
Kane shook his head. “Josephine seems to have reformed when she met Napoleon, Ram. She may have a few morsels we could use to our benefit. But we don’t know if she shares them with this lady you seek, ma’am.”
Kane was not happy with the coils of this. His cousin Fabien Lamartine had been close friends with Paul Barras. Fabien had been working in Paris as a supporter of the Directory, and Josephine had shown more than a special interest in him. Three years ago, Fabien had been tortured and killed by Fouché and his men. The family knew not how or why.
Scarlett eyed him. “True. You told me your cousin Lamartine knew her, Kane. I want you to avoid staying too long in her presence. We cannot afford to have her notice your resemblance to Fabien.”
Kane frowned. Fabien had not been as tall or muscular as he. But between them was a facial resemblance, mostly in the arch of the cheek and the slope of the nose. Kane had not been in Society the last time he worked in Paris two years ago for the failed Malmaison incident. “I can do that. However, to work among the consul’s Parisian court, I hope I am a prosperous member of the staff.”
“You’re certainly prettier!” Dirk elbowed him.
