Raoul returned to Berkeley Square to the sound of the children's shouts carrying from the garden. He paused on the pavement for a moment, taking in the stir of the gold leaves, the high-pitched laughter, the gleam of the sunlight on white dresses and shirts and tousled hair. Despite everything they were facing, he found himself smiling at the unreality of the situation. His home. His family. Two things he'd never really thought to have.
Everyone seemed to be there, including Cordelia and her daughters. And, he realized as he reached the gate, Lisette Varon, who was sitting on a bench holding Clara.
"Raoul." Lisette looked up at him with a quick smile. "Clara gets more and more enchanting. I think I'm finally getting over my fear that I'll drop her."
"You're doing splendidly," Laura said. "But I think you want to talk to Raoul." She met Raoul's gaze with a quick look of warning.
"Of course," Raoul said. "Let's go into the house."
He exchanged looks with Malcolm and Mélanie, who had paused in the midst of the game of tag. Their expressions said they too had news, but Lisette's would have to come first.
"Marriage and parenthood so very obviously agree with you," Lisette said as they crossed to the house. "You make me quite rethink my own stance on the matter."
Raoul laughed. "It's not anything to rush into. But I highly recommend both if you find the right person."
Lisette paused as they reached the steps, one gloved hand on the area railing. Her gaze flickered over his face, her eyes as sharp as if she were decoding a document. He had known her since she was a baby. By the age of seven she'd been able to decode puzzles he made for her before he finished sharing a glass of wine with her mother, a dressmaker to Josephine Bonaparte. By the time she was a teenager he'd recruited her as an agent, to her mother's horror but also pride. Lisette had spent much of her time with Josephine's daughter Hortense, but a year and a half ago Raoul had helped her escape to Britain to join her mother and sister. She was happy, but also, he thought, restless. "You haven't given up your work," she said, a note of approval in her voice.
"No." Raoul smiled down at her. With the confidence of four-and-twenty she could make that sound so simple. "I'm doing my best to make both parts of my life work. I'll let you know how it goes. As with many things, it's a work in progress."
Lisette grinned. "I doubt there's anything you couldn't do if you set your mind to it."
"That is quite delusional, my dear." Raoul opened the door and held it for her. "I've bungled more things than I can count."
"But you're the sort of man who learns his lessons."
"One can only hope."
With his usual impeccable timing, Valentin poked his head out of the baize door from the service stairs. "Tea, Mr. O'Roarke?" he asked with a cheerful smile and a gaze that said he was quite alert to the investigative undercurrents in the household.
"Capital." Raoul took Lisette into the library. He put his hat and gloves on the library table, then set his hands on her shoulders and surveyed her. "This isn't a social visit, is it?"
"No." Lisette's gaze went wide and candid. "Not entirely. Though I did want to see little Clara. She changes so much in even a few days."
Raoul drew Lisette over to the chairs by the fireplace.
Lisette settled into one of the Queen Anne chairs but hesitated, fingering a fold of her gown. "Raoul." Her brows drew together. "How well do you know your nephew?"
"Raimundo?" Raoul went still for a fraction of a second as he settled himself opposite her. "Not well at all. Though rather better after the past few days than I did in all the years before." He leaned back in his chair and studied his former agent, who had spent relatively little time in the Peninsula. "But what surprises me is that you know him at all."
"I met him once when I was in the Peninsula. At a ball in Lisbon. I was in disguise. I don't think he'd recognize me if he saw me now. Not because I don't think he's clever enough—because I think he's a great deal cleverer than he seems—but because we didn't really interact. I noted him because I knew he was your nephew. It wasn't surprising he was there. It was a ball given by the British, and he was their ally. But then I saw him last week. Talking with Guillaume Foret."
Raoul's hands closed on the arms of his chair. "My nephew was talking with a French agent?"
"You sound surprised." Lisette's gaze darted over his face. "I thought perhaps he was secretly working for you in Spain."
"No. I didn't know he was an agent of any sort until today." Raoul smiled at Lisette's startled gaze. "You have rather more faith in me than I have in myself. But yes, I'm surprised and disappointed in myself as well. Not for the first time, I should add."
"I wasn't sure what to make of it." Lisette tugged at the cuff of her spencer. "I thought about telling Mélanie and Malcolm, but I decided it would be better to tell you first."
Raoul settled back in his chair. "Very wise. We're allies and a family, but loyalties can still be a complicated thing. Especially when it comes to a past where we were on opposite sides. As both Malcolm and Mélanie would be the first to say. As well as my wife, I think. Though in this case it may involve an investigation we're all working on."
"The attack on the woman called Mrs. Larimer yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Raimundo is involved in that?"
"He arrived just after it happened. And he admits to a past connection to Annabel Larimer."
Lisette's eyes widened. "His talking to Guillaume Foret doesn't necessarily prove he was working for the French."
"No, but it's suggestive. My nephew is a man of many surprises. And he seems to be tangled up in a number of crimes."
"But—" Cordelia stared at Raoul. "You were a French spymaster."
"So I was." Raoul smiled. They were all gathered at one end of the library with the children playing at the other end. Despite Lisette's admirable discretion, he had thought it best to ask her to share her information with all of them as soon as possible. "As Sam pointed out to Mélanie, different intelligence branches don't always speak to each other. I ran my own network, which gave me a lot of welcome independence. But it also meant I didn't always know what was happening with other intelligences sources." He crossed his legs and stared at his toes for a moment. "Though I flattered myself I was a bit better than this." He looked at Mélanie. "You didn't know, did you, querida?"
Mélanie stared at him. "You think I knew your nephew was a French agent when you didn't?"
"No, but it's a possibility."
"And you think I wouldn't have told you?"
He settled back in his chair. "You might have had your reasons."
Mélanie's brows drew together. He suspected she had realized he was wondering if she could have had a liaison with Raimundo. Which had occurred to him, though it wasn't the only reason she might have kept quiet. "No," she said. "And even if I had, surely I'd have told you now, when he's tangled up in the investigation."
"Yes, I would think so," Raoul said. "But you'd ask me the same, were the situations reversed."
Mélanie smiled. "Touché. And no, I didn't know."
"Whether or not Kitty knew is an interesting question," Malcolm said. "One would think not, though after today nothing would surprise me."
"So is whether or not Annabel Larimer knew," Harry said.
Laura looked at Raoul. "Does Raimundo know you were a French agent"?"
"An excellent question." Raoul touched his wife's hand, then looked at Malcolm. "We need to have another talk with your cousin without further delay."