“If you need more advice, ask Lord Phineas. He knows what to do. Or Lord Jasper. He could tell you.”
Rafe did not believe for a moment Jasper, the man they all called the Bounty Hunter, knew anything about social calls.
“And don’t look so glum.” Draven stood. “There are worse assignments than wooing a woman.” He crossed the room and opened the door.
“Then why don’t you do it?” Rafe called after him.
“Too old and too ugly,” Draven called back.
“Old and ugly,” Rafe muttered. “He’s far too clever to agree to this.” But Draven wasn’t the only one who was clever. Rafe wasn’t one of the Survivors without reason.
Three
Collette stared at the letter in her hand. She’d stared at it many times before. Her father had pressed it into her hand just before he’d been taken away. “This will clear my name,” he’d said. Collette did not understand what he could have meant. He was Bonaparte’s assassin. How could he be cleared of that? Unless the letter proved that he had no choice but to work for Bonaparte? That might help his cause.
Unfortunately, she could not determine the hidden meaning of the letter. It was written in English, but it seemed to describe an idyllic countryside. It had to be in code. And she needed the cipher to decode it.
She had considered it might be a mask letter. She tried cutting out various templates—a bird, a cross, a fleur-de-lis—in order to see if the secret message might be contained in one of these “masks.” But nothing had become clearer. She might have the wrong template or the code might be completely different.
“Have you made any progress?” Lady Ravensgate asked, lowering her embroidery. She’d been making a chair cover with a rustic scene of trees and a waterfall.
“No.” Collette wiped at her eyes, which burned with fatigue. “Nothing. Much like my efforts here in England.”
To her surprise, tears sprang to her eyes. She withdrew a handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes.
The sound of rustling silk and the fragrance of roses warned her Lady Ravensgate was beside her. Collette did not trust her, but she preferred Lady Ravensgate not suspect as much. Collette did not object when the lady put her hand on her shoulder. “You must give it time, dear. You will find the information we need.”
Collette looked up. “Will I?” She pretended to be hopeful, but she wanted to see Lady Ravensgate’s expression. The information we need. Why did the lady need the codes?
“Of course, you will. But you must do all you can.”
“I am doing all I can.”
“Are you? The night before last, at Mrs. Saxenby’s salon, was a perfect opportunity to glean information. But you came away with only vague notions of what Thorpe and Palmer might have been discussing.”
So the lady thought to chastise her for her lack of progress. Could this be considered more confirmation that Lady Ravensgate and the men who held her father were working together? While her hostess might pretend compassion, Collette did not put it past the woman to use sympathy to manipulate her. “I was interrupted.”
“You cannot allow yourself to be distracted by handsome men, even those as charming as Mr. Beaumont.”
And there was the crux of her problem. She had to balance the social requirements of her position with the gathering of intelligence. Not for the first time, Collette wished she’d had more experience in society. Her own upbringing had been one of few luxuries, and when she’d moved from the country to Paris with her father, she’d been intimidated by the elegant men and women of Napoleon’s circle. She had little experience with society and even less with men.
A tap at the door announced a footman. “Excuse me, my lady. You have a caller.”
“Oh, good.” If Lady Ravensgate was surprised she did not show it. They did not often have callers, but the viscountess had some friends and they did come on occasion. “Who is it?”
“A Mr. Beaumont.” The footman extended his silver tray where a single white card lay in the center.
Collette, who had risen to excuse herself so her hostess and her friends might talk, sat back down. Hard.
Lady Ravensgate raised her brows and gave Collette a sidelong look. “Did you know about this?”
Collette shook her head. That seemed all she was capable of. She could hardly believe Beaumont was inside the house, only a few feet away. She looked down at her dress, a pretty yellow muslin that she wore because it fit, but which made her look like a schoolgirl again. Why had she chosen to wear this today? Why not the white muslin? And why had she not suffered through the headache and had her maid pin her hair up? Instead, she’d chosen the comfort of a long tail down her back.
“Show him in, Evans,” Lady Ravensgate said, replacing the card on the tray. When he’d gone, she patted the seat beside her. Collette walked on leaden legs to take a seat. “Isn’t this interesting?” Lady Ravensgate said. “I wonder if Mr. Beaumont might be of some use after all?”
“How?” Collette asked, but her question remained unanswered as Mr. Beaumont swept into the room and bowed deeply. Then he rose and—Collette did not know what to term his next act except to say that he struck a pose. He made a dashing figure in his fawn breeches, dark green waistcoat, and brown coat. His silver-tipped walking stick and the tall hat under his arm completed the picture of a fashionable gentleman.
“Mr. Beaumont,” Lady Ravensgate began. “What a lovely surprise.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Beaumont indicated the chair opposite the two ladies. “May I?”
“Please. Would you care for tea?”
“I never refuse refreshment,” Beaumont answered, his gaze on Collette. She could feel her skin prickling with awareness wherever his gaze roamed. Her cheeks heated as he studied her face. “And how are you, Miss Fournay?” he asked. “Is that your embroidery?” He indicated the hoop Lady Ravensgate had set aside.
Collette began to shake her head, but Lady Ravensgate put a hand on her arm. “Yes. She is quite accomplished, is she not, Mr. Beaumont?”
“I dare say she is. And I do so appreciate all the various accomplishments of ladies.”
Collette wondered if his words had a risqué implication, but his face betrayed nothing. Lady Ravensgate rang for the tea tray and then launched into the usual chatter expected during a call. The weather, Mr. Beaumont’s family, and the forthcoming entertainments in Town were discussed. Collette listened silently, unable to think of a single word to say. At times Lady Ravensgate peered at her, and Collette knew she should try and speak. She would even open her mouth, but then Beaumont would look at her, and she would forget what she wanted to say.
He was so handsome he made her head spin. And unfortunately, he knew he was handsome and charming. Even as she was annoyed and disgusted by his conceit, she was still charmed by his rakish smiles and elegant manners.
Finally, the quarter hour drew to a close, but just as Collette anticipated Mr. Beaumont taking his leave, the housekeeper knocked on the door. “I’m ever so sorry to interrupt, my lady. I need to speak with you immediately.”
Lady Ravensgate looked from Beaumont to Collette. She could not possibly leave the two of them alone. Now was Beaumont’s moment to take his leave. A gentleman would understand the necessity. But Beaumont merely lifted his teacup and took a sip.
“Do excuse me,” Lady Ravensgate said. “I shall return in a moment.”
Collette gave her a pleading look, but Lady Ravensgate ignored it and followed the housekeeper out of the room.
“So now it is just the two of us,” Beaumont said. “How cozy.”
Collette swallowed, then lifted her own teacup and took a sip.
“You are quite refreshing,” Beaumont said as the silence dragged on. “I thought women who did not prattle on for hours were only a myth.”
Collette’s eyes widened at the insult to her sex. “And I thought men who babbled nonsense were a fable.” She spoke without thinking, keeping her gaze above his head, where she would not be distracted. Too late, she wished she could take her words back.