Four

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Collette asked Lady Ravensgate for what must have been the third time that evening. They were in the lady’s carriage on their way to Lord Montjoy’s ball. An invitation had arrived just the day before, much to Lady Ravensgate’s surprise and pleasure.

She’d fluttered it in front of Collette. “This is Mr. Beaumont’s doing, I presume.”

Collette had agreed, but she had not agreed they should accept the invitation. There was a dinner party that same evening, and Collette had it on good authority Draven would be there. But Lady Ravensgate had wanted to attend this more prestigious affair. She’d ignored Collette’s objections, just as she did now in the carriage, and accepted the invitation to the ball.

“It is an excellent idea. I have been discussing Mr. Beaumont with some of my most particular friends.” By the phrase most particular friends, she meant the others she knew who gathered information for France and the restored king. During their exile, the Bourbons had spent quite some time in England, and Lady Ravensgate had become well acquainted with the daughter of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. To Collette’s knowledge, her sponsor maintained a faithful correspondence with Marie-Thérèse, who was married to her cousin, the heir to the French throne, the duc d’Angoulême.

“And what do your particular friends have to say about Mr. Beaumont?” Collette attempted to keep the resentment from her voice when she mentioned the royalists. She had never had a reason to hate the Bourbons or the monarchy before they were overthrown. She had disliked Napoleon immensely because he had forced her father to do unspeakable acts. But now that the royalists held her father captive, she despised them as well. And though she made every effort to hide her feelings, she loathed Lady Ravensgate for her association with them.

“No one is entirely certain what his role under Lieutenant Colonel Draven might have been. But there is no doubt he was part of the troop and that the troop was assigned the most dangerous, most impossible missions of the war. Only twelve of the original thirty men came back, and that in itself was a miracle. The Survivors are considered heroes. Mr. Beaumont is not to be underestimated.”

What a font of information Lady Ravensgate had become. “You think his association with Lieutenant Colonel Draven might be useful?”

“It is possible. And that, my dear, is exactly the kind of connection you need in order to help your father. Poor man. Have you heard from him lately?”

Lady Ravensgate certainly knew the answer to that question. Collette received no letters. All were addressed to Lady Ravensgate, who passed the correspondence to Collette after she read it herself. “No,” Collette answered.

“I am certain you will hear from him soon.” She patted Collette’s hand. Collette stiffly drew her hand away. She detested her sponsor’s pretense that she cared a whit about Pierre Fortier’s life. For her, this was a game to entertain herself, a wealthy widow whose children had grown and no longer needed her. Collette did not know if Lady Ravensgate bore her father any ill will—after all, he had killed many nobles—but neither did she believe Lady Ravensgate wished her father well. To her, and to those who held him captive, Fortier was simply a means to an end.

“In the meantime, you should enjoy yourself tonight.” Lady Ravensgate sounded bright and cheery, as though Collette could possibly wish to attend a ball when her father was suffering across the Channel. “And do not forget to save the supper dance for Mr. Beaumont. If he follows protocol and sits with you at dinner, you may be able to discover what he knows about the Foreign Office. Men do so love to brag about their perceived importance.”

“And what if he is working for the Foreign Office, and he is gathering information on me?”

“Then you smile and dance and flirt and give the man nothing. On this point, you must be vigilant.”

Collette nodded. Lady Ravensgate suddenly seemed far more confident in Collette’s ability to rebuff Beaumont’s advances. She was naturally somewhat reserved, even shy. She had never enjoyed these sorts of social affairs, and she was not very good at talking with people she did not know well. She had not needed to be very skilled until now because she had mainly been listening to other people talk and drawing out information. But if this ball was anything like the last she’d attended, it would be full of important people. It would be more difficult to listen in on conversations with the orchestra playing and men asking her to dance.

Or not asking her to dance.

As a wallflower, she might overhear interesting information, but she would probably hear more if she were able to move about freely and question men with ties to the Foreign Office. Once the dancing began, that would be difficult. As a young, unmarried woman, she was expected to be dancing or waiting to be asked to dance.

Finally, the carriage arrived at Montjoy’s town house. It had taken far longer than Collette had expected, but then she had not anticipated so many carriages all traveling to the same place. When the stifling air in the carriage gave way to fresh air, Collette was loath to follow Lady Ravensgate into the town house and the crush of guests.

But she kept her thoughts on her father and did as she was expected.

The town house was as lovely on the inside as the outer facade promised. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and expensive furnishings were everywhere she looked. Collette had known wealthy families in France, mostly the inner circle of Napoleon. Those men and women had money and power but not nearly as much taste. And it was generally new wealth. What antiques they possessed had been stolen from the ousted ancien régime. But Collette had been a baby during the revolution and had never seen the homes of the French nobility. She wondered if those homes had been as rich and opulent as Lord Montjoy’s. If so, she could hardly blame the starving French people for revolting.

Once she and Lady Ravensgate were inside, Collette stayed close to her sponsor, smiling at the men and women she spoke to and listening—always listening—for any information that might be useful in securing the codes and thus her father’s release. And as much as she wanted to forget him, she could not keep from looking over her shoulder or around the room in search of Lord Beaumont. But as the hours dragged on and still she did not see him, she began to worry that he would not attend.

Lady Ravensgate seemed to share her fears. “I do hope Mr. Beaumont will arrive in time for the supper dance.”

Collette smiled and tried to appear unconcerned. But inside she was torn. On the one hand, she would be glad not to battle her attraction to him tonight, especially in the close physical quarters a dance would mandate. On the other hand, if he gave her some piece of information that might help her father, then she could not afford to miss an opportunity to spend time with him.

As the evening progressed, Collette accepted several invitations to dance from various men. They were all quite polite, but they were not men who might give her the information she needed. Nor did she particularly enjoy dancing with them. She found the conversations difficult and awkward, and blushed continually. And then as the supper dance approached, men attempted to engage her for that dance. Collette had to decline, saying she had already reserved it. When pressed, she had to admit Mr. Beaumont had asked her to dance. She could not have anticipated the excitement that information caused. It seemed the news had spread through the ballroom in mere moments.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” Collette asked Lady Ravensgate as she sipped champagne after a dance.

“Oh, do not be silly!” Lady Ravensgate said, waving a hand. “No one is looking at you.”

Collette inclined her head toward a group of ladies staring at her just a few feet away. “They are.” She pointed to a mixed group—the ladies glaring and the men peering at her with interest. “And they are.”

“I am certain you are imagining it,” Lady Ravensgate said.

“Could it have something to do with my dance with Mr. Beaumont?”

“I very much doubt anyone at the ball is interested in that.”

“Lady Ravensgate!” A woman with dark hair and pretty blue eyes approached them. She wore a green silk gown with emeralds at her throat and ears.

“Why, Lady Birtwistle. How are you?”

“Very good.” She turned and smiled at Collette. Collette would have sworn she had never met the woman before, but there was something familiar in the way she smiled and in her face. “I came to meet your friend. It seems everyone at the ball is talking about her.”

Collette gave Lady Ravensgate a meaningful look. Lady Ravensgate went on as though the interest in Collette was to be expected.

“Oh, this darling creature is my cousin Collette Fournay. She is from the French side of the family and visiting London for a few weeks. So sweet of her mama to send her. You know I am all alone now, and it has been so pleasant to have company. Collette, this is Lady Birtwistle. She came out with my middle daughter, and the two have always been good friends.”

“Yes, we have. In fact, I plan to go to the country after Eugenie is delivered of her baby.”

Collette raised her brows, not having known that one of Lady Ravensgate’s daughters was expecting a child soon.

“She will appreciate that, I am certain.” Lady Ravensgate made a point of looking about the room. “And where is your dear brother this evening? He rarely misses an opportunity to sip champagne and flirt.”

Lady Birtwistle grinned. “I thought perhaps you might have the answer. After all, I hear he has engaged Miss Fournay for the supper dance.”

Collette’s eyes widened. Lady Birtwistle must have been Mr. Beaumont’s sister. No wonder her smile and her face had looked familiar. Her features were similar to her brother’s, though they were softened in Lady Birtwistle’s face.

“He has indeed.” Lady Ravensgate nodded at Collette.

“Did he?” Lady Birtwistle was still studying Collette, her gaze so intent Collette could feel her cheeks warming. “I had heard as much and was eager to meet the young lady who has claimed my brother’s attention.”

“I would not put it that way, my lady,” Collette said, forcing her voice to an audible level. “It is only one dance.”

Lady Birtwistle looked unconvinced. “Then he didn’t call on you at home last week?”

Collette looked down, uncertain what response to make. “He did. I am certain he is simply making me feel welcome.”

“My brother does not care about making people feel welcome. And to my knowledge he has never reserved a dance with an unmarried lady or called on one. You must be very special indeed.” She tilted her head as though inspecting Collette. “And now that I meet you, I do see the appeal. That shade of yellow is lovely on you. I cannot wear yellow, I’m afraid.”

“She has the perfect coloring for it,” Lady Ravensgate agreed, and both women stared at Collette’s yellow silk gown, trimmed with cream lace. It was a simple gown and not overly embellished, or so Collette had thought until she put it on. Then she realized how cunning the modiste had been with the cut of the dress. It dipped quite low in the back, so low she could almost not wear her stays, and daringly low in the front, although a border of lace rimmed the bodice for modesty. Collette, already self-conscious of her large bosom, had shoved the dress aside and had not worn it to any of the events she’d attended. But Lady Ravensgate had pulled it out tonight and would not hear any objections to Collette’s wearing it.

“You look quite lovely,” Lady Birtwistle told Collette. “My brother has impeccable taste. I knew you would be a beauty.”

Collette had never thought of herself as a beauty. Her lips were a bit too pronounced, her shape curvier than the current fashion of willowy women, and her hair and eyes were an unremarkable shade of brown. “You are too kind,” Collette said. Far too kind, considering the supper dance was about to begin and Mr. Beaumont was nowhere in sight. Why had she come tonight? Why had she not stayed home? Everyone would see what a fool she was. She’d come to the ball to dance with Beaumont, and he hadn’t even bothered to make an appearance.

All around her, men claimed their partners and led them to the dance floor for the last dance, a waltz, before supper. Lady Ravensgate continued speaking with Lady Birtwistle, but Collette could not hear them. Her ears were ringing and her eyes stinging. Her gaze locked on the floor in front of her slippers. She should not care whether Beaumont made a fool of her. She was not here to impress London Society. She was here for her father and he was all that mattered.

Through the blur of unshed tears, she spotted a pair of men’s shoes stop before her. They were attached to muscled legs in white breeches.

She knew those legs.

She looked up quickly and into the face of Mr. Beaumont. His eyebrows lowered and his smile turned to an expression of concern when he saw her face, but his hand remained outstretched. Collette looked at his hand, then at Lady Ravensgate, who gave her a nod. Pasting on a smile, Collette took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the center of the dance floor.

Now her ears rang for an entirely different reason. She hated to be the center of attention. Not only would everyone be staring at her because she danced with Beaumont, but they’d also be watching her because she was in the center of the room. The orchestra began playing, and Collette took a deep breath. Beaumont put his arm at her waist and pulled her closer, then moved in time to the music. Collette glanced up at his face, but that only made her more nervous. How could anyone be so beautiful, so flawless? And why did such a creature want to dance with her?

“Are you well?” he asked, as he moved her across the dance floor. Not only was the man handsome, but he could dance. She’d never been a confident dancer, and she’d felt awkward and tentative all evening as she’d danced. But with Beaumont, she didn’t even have to think about her next step. She seemed to know where he would lead her, even before he did so. And he made the more complicated steps feel easy and enjoyable.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I am quite well.”

He leaned close to hear her words, and she caught the scent of spices, something musky and dark. “You looked as if you were close to tears before. You did not think I would come for you?”

She looked down, staring at the place where her white glove lay in stark contrast to his dark coat. “The dance was to begin, and I had not seen you at the ball.”

“I was merely waiting for the right moment to claim your hand. A man would be a fool to miss the opportunity to dance with you.”

“I think you have that backward, monsieur. You are the accomplished dancer.”

He gave her a nod. “I will tell my stepmother all of the money she threw at my dancing masters was well spent.”

Collette glanced at his face again, trying to ascertain whether he was serious. “I think you already know you are an excellent dancer.”

“It’s easy to dance well with a beautiful woman in my arms.”

Her face heated again, and she could have cursed her body for blushing at her every small discomfort.

“I have embarrassed you?” he asked.

“I am not used to so much attention,” she answered, her voice low, which forced him to lean close again. She had to stop whispering. Every time he leaned close, her belly fluttered, and she felt even more light-headed. She had the urge to turn her head and bury her face in his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled so wonderful.

“And you do not care for attention?”

She smiled. “Not as much as you, monsieur.”

“Oh, very few people crave attention as much as I do, but I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Your cheeks are red as cherries.”

How Collette wished she had something cold to press against her heated face. She searched for something to say to cover her awkwardness. “It is the exertion of the dance,” she said. “Did you know that the lengthy courtship rituals of the Erinaceus europaeus are considered a means for the sow to determine which boar is the most fit to serve as a mate?”

Beaumont flashed her a smile that made her heart tumble and roll.

“Are we speaking of hedgehogs again? I believe that is my new favorite topic of conversation.”

Collette was mortified. “I would rather not speak of hedgehogs. But when I am nervous, I sometimes say things before I can think.”

“Such as?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me,” he drawled. “How does a male hedgehog know when a female hedgehog is attracted to him?”

She shook her head again. She would not answer this question. He danced them into the center of the ballroom, so the light from the chandelier shone directly on her. There was no denying every single eye in the ballroom was on her.

“Does the female hedgehog wink at the male or flutter a fan?”

“No. Sh-she—”

He raised a dark brow.

“The boar may be attracted to scent cues produced from females in estrus.”

“Scent cues from…?” He gave her an innocent look, but she imagined he looked as innocent as Lucifer fallen from heaven. “Her lips? Her skin? Her—”

“The music is so loud, my throat is quite hoarse,” Collette said. The only way to avoid this topic was to pretend she could not speak.

“Fortunately, I can remedy the problem and give us a chance to speak privately.”

She did not like the look on his face. “The waltz will be over soon,” she objected.

“Not soon enough. Now, just follow my lead.”

Collette’s heart thudded in her chest. Now what did the man plan to do? She could not allow him to make more of a spectacle of the two of them. “But, monsieur—”

Too late. With exaggerated movements, Beaumont twisted to the side and grimaced in pain. “My ankle!” he cried. Keeping one hand in hers, he bent and touched his ankle with the other. “I fear I have sprained it,” he said loudly.

Collette felt her mouth drop open, but when she bent to examine his ankle, she caught him staring at her.

He winked.

The scoundrel! His ankle was perfectly fine. But if this was his plan to remove her from the center of attention, he had not thought it through. This little play was only earning them more attention.

“Are you hurt badly?” a lady who had been dancing near them asked.

“Do you need assistance?” her partner inquired.

“No, no.” Beaumont waved a hand. “I think a few moments’ rest is just the thing. Miss Fournay, may I escort you to the terrace? The fresh air will do us both good.”

“O-of course,” she said. Her face was so hot she could have touched a wick to it and lit a candle. But Beaumont was playing his part for all he was worth. He draped an arm over her shoulder and hobbled beside her. Collette was forced to put an arm around his waist to maintain her balance. The other guests made way for them as Beaumont steered her toward the terrace doors. He bent his head, as though in pain, and his warm breath fell on the bare patch of skin between her neck and shoulder.

“You needn’t make such a show,” she said, speaking without moving her lips.

“Oh, but I like making a show. Even more, I like having your arm about me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

Collette held her tongue until they finally reached the terrace. She pushed the door open and led him outside, where she released him as though he were the handle of a hot pan. If his ankle had really been injured, he would have stumbled. But he caught himself easily and leaned negligently on the stone balustrade. Collette walked to the other end, only a short distance away. This was no country house, but a London town house and the terrace was only five or six feet across. But even if she could not distance herself from Beaumont, she was grateful for the cool air on her face. She lifted her face to catch the breeze and closed her eyes as it washed over her.

“I take it you did not appreciate my little piece of theater.”

She flicked a glance at him. “Truthfully, monsieur, I would have preferred to simply finish the dance and exit the floor unobtrusively.”

“You are very good at being unobtrusive.”

She froze, her arms on the balustrade going quite stiff. She chose her next words carefully. “It must appear so to you. You are very good at creating a spectacle.”

He laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Collette let out a sigh of relief. She was reading too much into his words. He did not suspect her. He was a flirt and hungry for attention. He didn’t mean anything more than what he said.

“And how are you enjoying your stay in London, Miss Fournay?”

Collette bit her lip. Now she would be forced to make conversation with him, a skill for which she had amply shown she had no talent. But it would not last long. Dinner would be served soon, and they would have to go in. “London is…” What should she say? It was not nearly as beautiful as Paris, but she did not want to invite speculation about any time she might have spent in Paris.

“London is rainy. I think it must have rained every day since I have been here.”

“And it never rains in Paris?”

“Of course it rains in Paris, but…” She trailed off. She had given away more than she’d planned. “I mean to say, but I have not spent much time in Paris and cannot adequately compare the two.”

“There is no comparison,” Beaumont said casually. “Paris is architecturally stunning and eminently more sophisticated than London. A simple stroll down Bond Street will tell you it pales in comparison with the Champs-Élysées.”

“I have not strolled on the Champs-Élysées in years,” she said. “I am surprised you have had the opportunity.”

He smiled. “I can be unobtrusive too.”

She had seen the truth of that tonight, when he’d seemed to come out of the woodwork to claim their dance.

“If you did not live in Paris, where did you live?”

This was a common topic of conversation, and she launched into her well-rehearsed answer. She’d lived in the countryside with her parents, who had been devastated when her brother died in the Battle of Waterloo. Now that their period of mourning was over, her parents had thought it might be beneficial for her, their young daughter, to travel to London and see her cousin and attend social events. Her mother and father were still far too distressed to interact socially and they did not want their daughter to suffer.

As she spoke, she’d stared out at the small garden behind the town house. Very little bloomed at this time of year, a few roses could be seen in the light filtering from the ballroom. But when she finished speaking, she looked back at Beaumont and almost jumped to see him standing right beside her. She hadn’t even heard him move.

“That’s a lovely story,” he said, his gaze on her face. Collette felt it heat again at the intensity of his look. She wondered if she would ever become used to having such an attractive man so close to her.

“It’s all true,” she said, and immediately regretted the words. They sounded too much like a protest when one had not been required.

“I don’t doubt it. I too was in the war, though I didn’t fight at Waterloo. Tell me, was your brother army or cavalry?”

Collette opened her lips, but she had not encountered that question before. Moreover, she had not been schooled in the answer. It had never occurred to her or to the men holding her father that any Englishman would care about the particular placement of a French soldier.

Beaumont noticed her hesitation. “Don’t you know?”

“Yes, but…” Should she choose one? Then what if he asked more questions like the brigade number or the commander? “You must excuse me, sir. It is difficult for me to discuss.” He was not the only one with acting skills.

“No, you must excuse me. I should never have brought it up.” He lifted her hand from the balustrade, forcing her to angle toward him. “Forgive me?” he said, kissing the back of her hand.

“Of course.”

His took a step forward, forcing her back if she wanted to keep any space between them, and her shoulders touched the wall of the terrace. “It must be hard to lose a sibling.”

She nodded. He was so close. Even in the darkness, she could see his violet eyes. He still held her hand, and his other hand rested lightly on the balustrade beside her hip. “I have seven. You are welcome to borrow any of mine. You met my youngest sister?”

She nodded again, trying to focus on his words, not the feel of his hand holding hers or the closeness of his body or how soft his lips looked, how inviting.

“Did she tell you all of my secrets?”

Collette shook her head. Her voice had deserted her, and she feared if she attempted to speak, he would lean close to her and she would catch his scent and lose all control over her baser urges.

“I suppose I shall have to leave that to my brothers. I have four, and we live to humiliate each other. Two of my brothers are in the navy. Officers and proud of it. They want nothing but to serve the king. And your brother? Did he support Napoleon?”

She nodded, all but transfixed by his good looks and his melodious voice, then realized what he’d asked. “I mean, no.”

“He did not support Napoleon?”

“I—” What was the correct answer? She did not want to be seen as a supporter of the dictator who had been England’s enemy. “No, he was conscripted.”

“I see. And did your father work for Napoleon against his will too?”

“He—” Collette drew in a sharp breath. “My father did not work for Napoleon, monsieur. He was a farmer.”

“Did you mention that before?”

“I thought I did.”

“I must have been confused.” He leaned close and she felt his warm breath on her cheek. “I will confess… May I confess something to you?”

Collette didn’t know what to reply. She wasn’t certain she could have spoken if she’d tried.

“When I look at you, my brain goes to mush. My thoughts are all muddled. Do you know how that feels?” His body pressed against hers, a warm, solid weight that terrified and excited her at the same time. “All I can think about when I am this close to you is my mouth on yours.” He reached out and touched a finger to her lips. He’d removed his gloves at some point, and the feel of his bare skin sent a zing of pleasure through her. “My hands on your skin.” He caressed her lips with his finger. “My body pressed to yours.”

Collette could not breathe. Her lungs burned and her heart beat painfully in her chest. As though she watched from far away, she stood immobile while Beaumont trailed his finger from her lips to her chin, catching it lightly between thumb and forefinger. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, brushing over her in a slow, tantalizing whisper of a kiss. Collette drew in a sharp breath, and Beaumont moved to the corner of her mouth. “I make you nervous, don’t I, mademoiselle?” He spoke in French now, though she barely realized it. “You are afraid I will kiss you, really kiss you. And you are also afraid I will not.”

Collette wanted to move her mouth to meet his and give in to him—his velvet voice, his teasing mouth, his intoxicating scent. But she could not afford to indulge in flirtations, especially not with men she could not trust. Her father’s life depended on her, and she would not gain any useful information on the terrace with Mr. Beaumont.

Collette closed her eyes and summoned all her strength. “I am afraid if you kiss me, you will receive a nasty surprise, monsieur.”

His lips paused in their exploration as he undoubtedly felt the pressure of her knee between his legs.

“Step back, or I will make certain amorous activities are the last thing on your mind for the next few days.”

Slowly, very slowly, Beaumont moved back. As soon as he was out of range of her knee, she lowered it and let out an audible breath.

“You might simply have said you had a headache.”

“I don’t have a headache,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I am not attracted to you.”

The fact that she was able to spew such a blatant lie and keep a straight face was testament to how determined she was to free her father. The fact that she could resist Beaumont at all was proof of how dedicated she was to stealing those codes.

“I see.” He gave her a puzzled look. “You will forgive me if I’m at a loss. This has never happened to me before.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” Now that he was not standing so close and not looking quite so confident, she could almost speak to him as though he were a mortal man.

He shifted awkwardly and raked a hand through his hair. All of which served to make him seem even less like a god and more like a human.

“I mean, no woman has ever refused me before.”

“Never?”

“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Not a single woman?”

“Not until now.” He looked increasingly uncomfortable and his voice was quiet and hesitant. Collette had the urge to apologize and to confess that she actually did find him incredibly attractive. But that was lunacy. She could not confess such a thing, even if such an admission would not beg for more information.

Collette moved toward the terrace doors. “I take no pleasure in rejecting you, sir. Thank you for the dance.” She pulled at the latch on the doors.

“I must escort you into supper.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I can find my own way and sit with Lady Ravensgate.”

“But—”

She held up a hand. “Please. I think it would be best if you and I do not speak again. Ever.”

And she swept into the ballroom, feeling very much as she had when she’d been a child and had her favorite toy taken away.