February—1803

 

 

~ One ~

 

 

A CRYSTAL DECANTER OF BRANDY sat regally upon the dark satinwood table that had its place beside the elegant, brown velvet Chippendale sofa.

A man’s pale hand reached out, took the decanter by the neck, and poured what was his third glass of France’s best.

“Good stuff, this,” the Honorable William Fitzcox declared, with an accompanying nod of his fair head.

Noting his cousin’s cheeks were already sporting signs he had sampled enough to know, the fifth Viscount Belfort smiled fondly. They were more than first cousins, they were dear friends, and had been for most of their respective twenty-six years. He turned his attention to a third man occupying the far end of the sofa and said, “It is all set, Charles.”

Sir Charles Davenport pursed his thin lips, ran a hand through his brown hair, as he planted his glass of brandy firmly on the table at his knees. He was obviously irritated, and made no qualms about displaying it as he said, “Devil’s in it that we must go, Belfort. Here I am arguing that I wish we were well out of it, yet there is no denying we’ve got to see the plaguey thing through. It’s bound to be a damnable business, and I’ll be hanged if I know how we are to go about the thing.” He narrowed his grey eyes and added, “Better go over that conversation you had with the ambassador.”

Lord Belfort sighed. “The thing is, the king is convinced Boney is stalling for time with this so-called treaty. He thinks Boney is building up his navy while we are under the guise of peace, and damn if I don’t agree. Apparently, the ambassador received a letter from his majesty just recently, which clearly states he has reason to believe his expectation of receiving tidings that the French are at our coastline is well founded. At the same time, there is the confounded treaty keeping us at bay.”

“So, Boney actually thinks we believe he wants peace, while, in fact, the Frogs are recruiting their forces. But…we have Nelson, and he is ready for them. Parliament is always too cautious—and blister it, how are we going to obtain any concrete evidence? The Home Office needs to take a stand.” Charles waved a hand about and added grimly, “Our problem will be how the deuce do we obtain any evidence, let alone concrete evidence?” Charles put his head back and closed his eyes. “How?”

Belfort hesitated and said, “Ambassador Whitworth believes we can get the evidence through our social connections in Paris. He expects we actually can discover how advanced Boney’s naval brigade is by casually having a look around and keeping our ears open.” Belfort shook his head. “I suppose we are to use magic, for damn if I know how we will manage this in time, and if our activities are detected while we are nosing about, and the chances are high they might be, well, England would have to claim no hand in the business and we would be on our own—and you know what that means.”

“A French prison,” Charles said darkly.

Fitz had been silent through this discourse, but at this, he came to attention. “A French prison? Dash it, no…won’t be taken alive. In fact, won’t be taken, because won’t go. This is a fool’s errand. I am foxed, and even so, I know that.”

Belfort eyed his cousin, who took another sip of his brandy. He knew politics held little interest for his Fitzy, but he leaned in towards him and stared hard into his cousin’s hazy brown eyes and said, “Well, ole boy, you will do this for your country…won’t you?”

“My country? Of course, what do you take me for—a laggard?” Once again, Fitz came to attention. “Indeed, but dash it, Bel…seems to me this should be left to professionals…military folk.”

“You aren’t all wrong, but they need us to fit into the social scene in Paris. I explained that to you earlier,” Belfort said sternly. “We need you, Fitz, for you are readily accepted by the pink of the ton and might hear rumors that could help us.”

Fitz sighed heavily and offered, “Bound to be a mean affair! We shouldn’t go. Damn if it doesn’t keep us from attending Richmond’s ball…only two weeks away. Even you wouldn’t like to miss that, Bel…you know you wouldn’t.”

Belfort grimaced and told him, “You are hopeless when you are in your cups.” He turned back to Charles. “All right then, Charles, are you sure your Aunt Fanny won’t mind having us foisted on her in Paris? I mean…we aren’t giving her much choice, and it is a tricky business.”

“No, not at all, she will be happy for it. She is always up for an adventure,” Charles answered.

“Good, because without her entrée to Napoleon’s circle, most of our plans would be blown to pieces. The thing is, I believe it is our connection to her that made us the perfect choice for this particular escapade,” Bel said thoughtfully.

“Aye. Fanny will be pleased as punch. Fond of me, you, and even Fitz here.” Charles smiled, then looked the viscount over. They had been friends since they were able to speak. Bel was the very broth of a man. He was tall, athletically built, and with windswept, dark blond locks that were streaked throughout with pale gold. If that wasn’t enough to turn a maid’s head…there were his eyes! Women found him handsome, yes, but were mesmerized by his violet eyes surrounded with dark lashes. Aye, he was fairly certain Belfort could charm any woman with a pulse. “The question is, will you be able to pick up with Lady Elizabeth Broadhurst again, Bel? Therein lies the crux of it all, for it’s her connection that we really need. When I saw you with her last, you were a bit anxious to be well away from her, and the Lady Liz is not the forgiving kind.”

Viscount Belfort’s lips curved into a soft, satisfied smile. “Oh, to be sure, I was in the devil of a fidget to be out of her clutches. You know, Charles…she was after a ring, and it was obvious to me that she had no real love for me. What she loved was my title and wealth. I don’t blame her for it. Women have…a difficult time of it in this world. She was a lovely companion, and we parted on good terms. I don’t want her to think I have changed my mind and mean to court her. That is not my style. I don’t lead women on. They are dear creatures…and should never have their hearts tampered with.”

“Honorable fellow, but the Lady Elizabeth has no heart,” Charles said ruefully.

“That is only what she presents to the world. She has a heart, and protects it from being broken. I will not lead the fair Liz on, not even for my country. Besides, it won’t be necessary.”

Sir Charles stared at his friend and remarked, “Aye, of course not. With those good looks of yours, I doubt it will take you long to find out what you want to know. Not an unattached female out there you couldn’t win over!”

A long pause ensued, and Charles realized he had hit a nerve. He knew the viscount had been taken aback, and this was confirmed when Bel answered, “I don’t want to win unattached females over. I thought I made it clear, that is not my style.”

 

* * * * *

 

Belfort frowned. Charles should have known better. Reluctantly, he glanced towards the long mirror on the far wall and caught a glimpse of himself. He rarely gave his looks a great deal of thought. He considered it a matter of fate that he was blessed with excellent height, and form. His choice of clothes was chosen with care, giving deference to a masculine dress code, initiated by his friend, Brummell. His face was lean, angular, and his nose straight. His jaw square and his complexion fair. He had often heard Lady Jersey remark that any woman would kill to have his perfect winged eyebrows and thick, dark lashes. Aye then, he knew the ladies thought him attractive, so if this was true, he would not use it to his advantage. That didn’t jibe with his code.  

“Still and all…you don’t have to play her false to…”

“No, not even for the mission. What I will do is give her a bit of honesty without giving away our mission,” Belfort remarked firmly. “I don’t want her involved in something that could get her hurt.”

“Of course, Bel. I understand. I know you ain’t in the petticoat line…I know, I know, but Lady Elizabeth was ever a sly little bird, and a knowing one. I am aware you were well out of her clutches. I am not asking you to go so far as to seduce her, but as you said, you two parted friends. It couldn’t hurt to see what she knows.”

“As to that, allow me to advise you that we parted without rancor…” He went silent as he thought about this. “Fitz will be a tremendous help. He likes to play at being social, and will be privy to a great deal of gossip. No one will therefore doubt our intentions in Paris if we show up with Fitzy. To be sure, Fitz will be a tremendous help, for he knows scads of people lording it about now in Paris. Good thing we kept up our French, eh, Fitzy?” Belfort remarked, and grinned wickedly at his cousin.

This part of their discourse hit home, and Fitz, in the process of sampling yet another glass of Bel’s excellent brandy, choked! He put up his hand and shouted as soon as he recovered from coughing, “No, no, and no! Can’t want me there. Really, dear lads, couldn’t possibly be of any help. Not going to Paris…my country couldn’t possibly think I could be of service.”

He was rewarded by a stern look of reproach from both Charles and Belfort before they totally ignored him and continued to settle on their immediate plans.

Fretful now, Fitz mumbled at them, “Don’t want to go to Paris. The weather…too inclement just now for a long journey. Also, rather fancy going to that new play opening at Drury next week. No, sorry, Bel, can’t join you two. Would love to accommodate you…if I could, but the truth is, well…the truth is, I can’t.”

 

* * * * *

 

Thameson opened the front door of the Viscount Tristen Belfort’s bachelor lodgings just a smidgen, for it was well after ten at night, and it was unlikely anyone respectable would be calling at such an hour uninvited.

The austere butler then swiftly tried to shut the door, as the vision that presented itself was not, he was quite certain, one his master would wish him to be obsequious towards. Thameson had suffered a long hard day, and wanted nothing more than to be allowed to retire to his quarters. This was no time to be bothering with some young scalawag who had no business there.

However, the scalawag put a foot in the doorway, preventing the butler’s retreat, and said in a small voice, “Please, sir, I know his lordship is not expecting me, but he would be quite displeased if you were to turn me away.”

Something in the scalawag’s refined voice caught the butler’s attention. He opened the door a bit wider and held the candle closer to the whippersnapper’s heart-shaped face. A lad? He guessed no more than fourteen, surely, no more than fifteen? Poor urchin. Thin, and with a pair of green eyes that looked as though they were about to cry. He wore a peaked wool cap pulled low over his forehead, and a dark frieze coat hung loosely on his person.

Thameson sighed. It had begun to snow, and there were snowflakes on the child’s shoulders. One small and delicate hand—not the hand of a street urchin, reached out and touched him. “Please, sir.”

Thameson scowled at him, but a doubt assailed him, so he asked, “What business do you have with his lordship—at such an hour?”

“It is of a personal nature, and…and I can only tell you that the Viscount Belfort would not want you to turn me away. We are known to one another…” One of those delicate hands went to the child’s fine full lips as he exclaimed, “Oh, never say his lordship is away? I hadn’t thought of that!”

Thameson sniffed, relenting a fraction. Perhaps he needed to look into this matter further? He ushered the boy into the hallway, where they stood gazing at each other in the candlelight when the butler finally but irritably said, “Well, if you will just advise me of your name, I will announce you to his lordship and allow him to be the judge.”

“No, oh no, sir,” the lad hastily cut in. “Could you not just please ask his lordship to receive me?”

“Certainly not!” Thameson barked. “His lordship is entertaining, and it would be most improper of me to let you just barge…”

“Entertaining?” the lad gasped. “Oh, this is awful. Dear, oh dear, but all might not yet be lost. Who is with him?”

The butler appeared affronted, but even so, something about the boy shouted quality. Perhaps the boy had run away and had come to the viscount for help. The viscount would want to address that sort of a situation. Then there was the appeal in the boy’s deep green eyes. “The viscount is busy with Sir Charles Davenport and the Honorable William Fitzcox. So, you can see…”

Once again, the butler was not allowed to finish his sentence. The lad clapped his hands together and exclaimed, “Oh, that is beyond everything famous! Never say they are all here together. Please, oh please, show me in at once.”

The butler hesitated, frowned darkly and said, “Not until you advise me of your name.”

Suddenly, the lad made a dart past him, running madly for the first door to the left, which turned out to be a closet. The next was an empty room, so he hurried to the next door, with the butler protesting all the while. The lad ducked and dodged, and as the butler lunged for him, a chair was knocked over with great force, which in turn knocked over a vase of hothouse flowers. The vase crashed with a resounding clatter. Water, flowers, and a broken vase covered the marble floor, and the lad gasped and continued to plead his case.

The harassed butler stifled a colorful oath and dove after the lad, who was still ducking and running from him, just as the double doors of the Viscount Belfort’s study were flung open.

The lad ran to him, flung his arms around his lordship’s waist, and declared, “Oh, thank goodness!”

Fitz and Charles were at his lordship’s side, eyes, somewhat bloodshot, wide open with shock as Belfort removed the lad’s arms from his waist and took the boy by the scruff of his collar, quite lifting him off the floor, and said, “What the devil?”

“I regret the disturbance, my lord, but the lad got away from me,” Thameson said as he put a palm to his forehead.

“Bel…oh, Bel…do put me down,” the lad said in some distress.

Belfort did just that and stared hard at the boy. He knew that voice. In fact, he knew that pert little nose just beneath the peaked cap. He stifled a string of curses as he realized who the intruder was.

Instead, he turned to his butler, thanked him kindly, and told him to forget the mess until the morning and just to go on to his bed and get some rest.

Thameson was disgruntled but pleased to do just that, which allowed Belfort to return to the matter at hand.

He took the lad’s hand and led him into the study, turned him in place while his friends all circled in and waited for him to react to this unexpected event.

“You have, on more than one occasion, surprised me with your antics, but tell me, do, my little minx, what the devil are you about coming here alone in the dead of night?”

Charles had put an arm around the child saying calmly, “My poor dear. Why, you are chilled to the bone. Come, stand by the fire while we sort all of this out.”

“Yes, why…there is snow still on her shoulders,” Fitz exclaimed. “Letty love…how come you’re out and about alone in this weather and dressed in ragged livery clothes?”

His lordship watched as Charles and Fitz helped the new arrival out of the wet frieze coat, allowing it to drop neglected to the wood plank floor.

Bel impatiently declared, “Gadzooks, you two! Don’t make the minx comfortable because you both know, very well, she can’t stay here. These are bachelor lodgings—and well, it won’t do.”

“Yes, that is true, Bel, but Letty has been very clever, hasn’t she? She has taken the very wise precaution of disguising herself as a lad,” Charles said reasonably.

“Indeed, it was very clever of you, Letty,” Fitz agreed, and rubbed her hands.

“Yes, but she is a female, and a female can’t stay here alone with us. I’ll not have her name sullied,” Belfort pronounced caustically.

“I don’t see a female,” Fitz said. “I am bosky, but when in that hat…” he clucked his tongue, “ugly as it may be, no one will see a female. Safe enough for now.”

“You are more than bosky—you are dicked in the nob!” Belfort said with some exasperation.

“Wait,” Letty managed to cut into this. She moved towards Belfort, took his large hand in hers and squeezed. “Please, Bel, you cannot send me away. I am depending on you. Something dreadful has happened, and I…I have no one else who is capable of helping me.”

“Well, that settles it,” Fitz said.

Belfort put his free hand to her chin and said on a hushed note, “There, there, child…no, of course I won’t send you away. What type of paltry fellow do you take me for? However, I am concerned about the proprieties. First, though, let’s get you warmed up, and let’s remove that ghastly hat from your head.”

“Oh no, Bel…do not remove my hat, please,” she cried out in a faint voice.

Fitz, rather more than bosky, had been diverted from thwarting his cousin’s plans to include him in their travels to Paris. He had decided he would not be taken willy-nilly off to France, but was now attempting to concentrate on the problem Letty had presented them.

“If Letty wishes to wear the hat, you must allow her to, cousin. You are far too controlling, you know, whisking people off to Paris when they don’t want to go…taking off other people’s hats. Not right. Not right at all,” Fitz advised his cousin.

Belfort rounded on him. “Do be quiet, Fitzy. Are you too foxed to see that we need to find a solution to Letty’s problem?”

“Letty…you keep the hat on if you wish,” Fitz said, and sniffed. “Bel must not be a bully.”

Belfort threw up his hands and turned to hurriedly whisk off the offending garment from Letty’s fine head. He stepped back and gasped in horror!

“Good God, what have you done to yourself!” Clearly, he was unpleasantly astonished.

One large tear formed, spilled over, and ran down Letty’s pale cheek as two wet, jade colored eyes looked woefully up at him.

Charles scowled at his friend and took Letty’s hand and pulled her to the sofa, where he sat her down, bidding her softly to tell them what had occurred to induce her to such drastic actions.

Belfort stood his ground, frowning, and clasped his hands at his back. He continued to gaze sadly at Letty Rochdale’s unevenly sheared locks. Her head of magnificently thick, tawny colored hair had once reached her waist in eye-catching waves. She now had a shaggy bush that barely reached her neckline. Only the glorious tawny color remained.

Letty sniffed and said, “I…I had to disguise myself as a boy so I could escape unnoticed, you see. There is no possibility of my returning, therefore, I thought I should do a really proper job of it and take on the life…for now, of a lad.”

“Escape? Escape?” Belfort found himself stuck on the word. What had brought her to such a pass? “What have those curs done to you this time?” He thought of marching over to her guardians that very night and tearing into them.

“Bel…to be sure, I am so sorry to bring this to your door, but when I met you the other day in Berkley Square, you said you had taken up your lodgings here on Duke, and if I ever needed your assistance, to apply to you here…so, I came!”

He recalled the moment, and as to lending her his assistance, he absolutely meant to do just that. He was, however, concerned for her reputation. No one must know she was with them this night!

“What did they do?” he hissed, furious at the desperation they had instilled in her.

“I had nowhere else to run,” Letty said on a broken note.

With more patience than he felt, Bel drew up a chair and sat beside her. “This is a tangle, my little one. To be sure, you were ever a madcap, but we will get through this. You should have sent a note round and I would have come…but you, coming here…just won’t do. We shall have to find a solution to this situation and fast.”

“I am dreadfully sorry, Bel, but you have not heard the whole. You see, yesterday, it was my birthday. I turned twenty.”

“Well, by Jupiter, congratulations, Letty!” Fitz stuck in, as he had put away his glass of brandy and also drawn a chair close to her. “Must think of a present. Can’t have a party for you here…Bel is right…you being here…not the thing. We all must keep mum.”

Bel gave his cousin a withering look for his efforts, and returned his attention to Letty, who touched Fitz’s hand and said, “Fitz, dear Fitz, thank you. As to a present…well, there is no need, though I should like to receive a proper present one day—I never have, you know.”

“Outrageous!” Fitz exclaimed, his kind heart moved.

Belfort took Letty’s hand. “My poor child…do continue with your story.”

She cleared her throat, and finding all eyes eagerly awaiting, she proceeded. “We received a visitor. He was there to see…me.” She shuddered on this last. “His name was Hansen…Mr. Hansen, and he appeared quite elderly. Allow me to interject that when my father married my mother, it was thought to be a mésalliance, because my maternal grandfather had been involved heavily with trade. In addition to that, the heir of Rochdale was expected to make a brilliant and financially advantageous marriage to some heiress. I’ve forgotten her name.” She waved this off. “Never mind, instead, Papa ran off with my mother, and they were happy. I had a very wonderful childhood in their care. Then the carriage accident…and although my maternal grandfather wanted me to live with him, even sent for me, Rochdale refused. For some unknown reason, my father’s will delegated guardianship to his father. As you know, I lived with the Rochdales in Dorset, which I shall always be grateful for, because it was there I met you, Bel…and Charles and dear Fitz.”

They all smiled, and Belfort patted her hand. “Go on, little one.” This was the first time she had ever talked about her parents. He had some knowledge of her circumstances, but this was new.

“Grandfather Rochdale was wonderful to me while he lived. I imagine he had his own guilt to wipe clean in regard to my father and mother. I know he regretted disowning Papa. He died…too soon. My uncle became Lord Rochdale and my guardian. I was nine at the time. He didn’t care for me and barely spoke to me. His wife…Aunt, always resented me, and said I was beneath them.” Letty paused at that point.

“Beneath them!” Belfort spat. “You are beneath no one, child.”

“I am only telling you all this so you will understand why a forced marriage to Thomas is so repugnant to…”

“Forced marriage!” Belfort was on his feet. “To that loose screw, Thomas? They wouldn’t dare!”

“Egad,” Fitz said. “They can’t…can they, Charles?”

“I should say not,” Charles answered, but he grew thoughtful.

“Forced marriage, indeed. Devil you say.” Belfort sat again. “But…Thomas…why Thomas? Everyone knows he needs to marry for convenience, as the Rochdales don’t have a sou! If he doesn’t, he will lose the estates.”

“As it happens, Bel…my maternal grandfather tried to contact me over the years, but they never allowed me any of his letters. All those years…I had assumed he had forgotten me.” Her voice faltered. “Instead, he never gave up trying to contact me, all the while…amassing a fortune. Mr. Hansen is his solicitor, and when he came to see me, I learned that when my maternal grandfather died recently, his fortune…over two hundred thousand pounds, and his estate…was left to me. I understand that it yields a yearly income of eighteen thousand pounds.”

“Gadzooks,” Bel said on a whisper. “And ah, I see.”

“Yes, therein lies the problem. My grandfather had no great faith in a woman’s ability to manage a large sum of capital. I am only to receive yearly, a small allowance of a hundred and fifty pounds until I am married. When I enter a marriage contract, my entire fortune will come into my hands…or rather into my husband’s.”

Charles sat back against his chair. Fitz clucked his tongue, and Bel rose to his feet, paced the room, then turned back to Letty. “As I am no dunce, I take it your guardians wish you to marry their son so they may acquire your fortune. However, Letty…you do know they cannot force you in any manner to marry him. Your allowance is rather more than pin money, and would entitle you to some independence…until you marry who you wish.”

“Bel, do but listen,” Letty cried fretfully. “Do not imagine that after putting up with their petty tyrannies all these years…their cruelties and shabby injustices, that I would suddenly lose hold of myself and run off in such an absurd manner unless I had no alternative.”

“What then, Letty?” Charles asked gently.

“Aunt told me this morning that Thomas was procuring a Special License, a clergyman had been selected, and a small immediate family ceremony was being arranged for tomorrow morning. I was told that I would marry Thomas. Told. They said the clergyman in question was being paid a handsome fee and would perform the ceremony over my objections. I told Aunt that in no way could she force me into such an arrangement. Aunt called me a snake and said the least I could do was to marry Thomas willingly and help them out of their difficulties. I still did not believe she could legally force me. At first, I thought to send you round a note, and did so, and gave the note to one of the maids who had befriended me often, but my aunt discovered us and fired poor Lucy on the spot.” She wrung her hands. “When Cook warned me not to drink anything, lest my aunt put laudanum in it to make me sleep, I realized then that Aunt and Uncle were capable of anything, and I had no choice but to escape. So, escape I did. I am determined to somehow get established, find Lucy and bring her to my leased residence, where she shall have a job with me forever. She has been such a friend all these years.”

The three men regarded one another without speaking for a long moment, then, before Bel’s temper got the better of him, he raged, “By God!” His face was white with fury as he ran his hands through his gold-streaked fair hair. “I shall have their hearts for this, and feed those hearts to the dogs!”

Letty, not at all put off by his bloodthirstiness, took his hand and put it to her cheek. “Oh, Bel, I knew you would understand, and that I could depend on you.”

Fitz shook his head. “Ugly business. Have a notion to punch Thomas in the nose.”

Charles sighed heavily, and Belfort sat beside Letty once again.