Page 88 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“How does your supervisor know you do as you were instructed?”
“I send word back to her with those whom we both trust.”
“Her?”
“Her.”
“And if those persons disappear or are arrested?”
“Then word never reaches her. She waits.”
Gus scoffed. “Not very efficient, is she?”
He would not answer that. “Gus, you and I, we do the same work.”
“So we do,” she said with no delight.
Then she walked away, her hands fisted. She stayed away in her suite that afternoon. For hours, he heard her attacking the pianoforte with hard notes by Bach. She was still upset with him that night when Corsini arrived with their dinner.
“Tomorrow,” she said without a drop of good cheer, “you and I will dress like fisherfolk from Calais. Corsini will bring us thechange of clothes. We will go to St. Denis in a public fiacre and change at least once. I mean to keep my appointment with Luc. You stay in the carriage.”
Kane nodded. He would be with her. He would also have Corsini post all but two of his footmen as disguised passersby.
The next day, his wife left their carriage in St. Denis to scan the street in front of the bathhouse for Bechard. Luc did not appear.
Gus returned to their hired carriage.
That night, she was all fire in his embrace. His wife—he was relieved to learn—could forgive. For that, he counted himself a fortunate man. They were once more enthusiastic lovers, finding solace in each other and their new relationship.
Gus found in the grand library of Kane’s house the usual staples of French literature. Charles Perrault, who wrote fairy tales. La Fontaine, who wrote allegories and used animals to illustrate human truths. Rousseau. Voltaire’sCandide. But after Corsini knocked one day offering books he had discovered behind a secret door in the library downstairs, Gus read English novels by Jonathan Swift and Daniel Defoe. Her favorite was Richardson’s risquéPamela. Her least favorite was Defoe’sRobinson Crusoe.
For Kane, their days and nights formed a unique respite from what his life had always been. His childhood had been spent with his father’s villagers, learning farming and husbandry, reading at night. His youth, filled with applying himself to learn the wayward pastimes of his brothers, had been misspent. By nineteen he knew he was unfulfilled, and he drifted toward a renegade’s existence when a friend of his persuaded him to spy against France during the Terror. For years, Kane had been living on the run, by his wits, stealing information from politicians, military couriers, and ladies of ill repute. His latest assignment by Scarlett appealed to him more. Using what heknew of France, its people, and its products, he garnered information valuable to Britain in what he was certain would be a growing conflict with the new French government. So in these days alone with his new wife, he learned that he preferred this quieter existence. He used all his knowledge and his skills, and could become more the diplomat than saboteur.
“You do possess finesse,” his wife told him one evening after their supper as she sat in his lap running her fingers through his hair. “More than Anthony Merry, my darling.”
“He has more credentials than I. Plus the newly appointed ambassador is much more experienced.”
“But the future approaches.”
He smiled at his trusting spouse. “You assume I will grow into that role.”
“If you want it. Think on it.” She brushed her lips on his. “Is diplomacy not the ultimate reward for spies who have seen the truth firsthand?”
He wrinkled his brow. “I am not certain you have a very fine opinion of what you and I have been doing these past few years.”
She stroked his jaw. “Ambassadors weave tales made of objectives and fantasy. They are spies who tell tales that are more polite than others.”
Kane had promised to think on that when a knock came at their sitting room door.
“One moment,” he said, as Gus left his lap and strode into their bedroom for a heavy robe.
Corsini appeared at Kane’s summons, and his face was ashen. “Conte, you have a visitor.”
Most in Paris had allowed them their honeymoon, uninterrupted. Kane was not pleased with the disturbance. “Who is it?”
“Your friend, Lord Ramsey.”
Gus appeared in the doorway, anticipation ripe on her face.
