On the following morning with Finch’s help, Adam was able to dress and join everyone for breakfast. The pain in his arm had retreated to a dull ache and only protested more vigorously when he required anything of it. He hoped Rainham had got over his Merry Jester mood and thought, But if he hasn’t, he may discover that my right arm is in good working order.
Finding Camilla, Alveston and Rainham already at the table, he said, ‘No Guy?’
‘No.’ Camilla rose and went to the sideboard. ‘I think he over-did it last night. Sit down and have some coffee while I get you some breakfast.’
‘I can do it myself. You don’t know --’
‘Unless, for the first morning since you’ve been here, you don’t want scrambled egg, two slices of bacon and a sausage, yes – I do.’
Adam gave up and sat down. Rainham said, ‘You look better. How is the arm?’
‘It feels like lead … but otherwise not too bad. Have you ever been shot?’
‘No.’ Rainham grinned. ‘My assignments regularly result in bruises and very occasionally in black eyes but, so far, fortunately no bullets. Vivian is remarkably tolerant of my ‘other’ life. But I suspect that going home with holes in me might change that.’
‘And so it should,’ declared Camilla, setting a plate in front of Adam and resuming her seat. ‘What is the scenario for today, Uncle Hugh?’
‘A formal interview with Mrs Blane,’ he replied, reaching for the coffee pot. ‘I need you there so that an accurate record can be made later.’
She grimaced. ‘I’d rather not. Is it really necessary?’
‘I’m afraid so. And while we do that, Rainham and Adam can write their reports.’
Adam looked up, a piece of sausage impaled on his fork. ‘Pardon me?’
‘A report on everything from start to finish in exhaustive detail,’ groaned Rainham. ‘Don’t look so surprised. Everything has to be put down on paper and filed for the future.’
‘Correct,’ said Alveston. ‘How fortunate that you are not left-handed, Adam.’
‘Isn’t it? You can’t imagine how happy I am.’
There was a tap at the door and Coombes appeared.
‘I beg your pardon, my lord … but Mr Frederick Blane and Mr Mark Blane are here and asking to see Mrs Blane. What am I to say?’
‘Nothing.’ The earl rose, tossing aside his napkin. ‘I’ll speak to them myself.’
When he had left the room, Camilla said slowly, ‘This is rather awkward, isn’t it?’
‘No. Failing to acknowledge a neighbour’s supper invitation is rather awkward,’ replied Rainham, preparing to quit the room himself. ‘Having a neighbour locked in a bedchamber and pending arrest falls into another category entirely. Join me in the library when you’re ready, Adam. We can collaborate on our thrice-blasted reports.’
Camilla watched Adam eating his breakfast mostly with only one hand. She said, ‘Can’t you use your left arm at all?’
‘Yes. But I’m saving it for something worthwhile. And I think getting shot one day and being put back to work the next is deserving of a little sympathy. Don’t you?’
‘Not especially, no.’
‘No? That’s disappointing. Why not?’
‘Well, let’s just think, shall we?’ She rose and gazed down at him over folded arms. ‘All you and Rainham have to do is write down what you did, what you learned and when – making sure the two versions tally. I have to listen to Uncle Hugh’s opening interrogation of an acquaintance who, until yesterday, I thought was a harmless old lady. Then I have to write down an entire conversation verbatim. And you really think you’re hard done by?’
Lord Alveston permitted the Messrs Blane to satisfy themselves that Mrs Blane senior was being politely treated and well cared for but did not encourage them to linger.
‘I will keep her here as long as I can,’ he told them bluntly, ‘but be aware that she will have to go to London eventually. It is unavoidable.’
A little later, Camilla sat in a corner while the head of M Section asked a courteous but frigidly implacable stream of questions. Mrs Blane refused to acknowledge her existence – for which she was grateful. Privately, she thought the old lady looked years older than she had yesterday, something that could only get worse as the days wore on.
At the end of an hour, Camilla had a headache and suspected that she wasn’t the only one. But after a great many tears and protestations, Mrs Blane was finally persuaded to give up a few names, one of them possibly significant – but none of them the one the earl wanted; namely that of the next link in the espionage chain.
‘Slow progress,’ he sighed afterwards. ‘She tires quickly and I will not be accused of bullying. However, I realise you have the task of transcribing it … so perhaps an hour at a time is enough.’
‘As always,’ muttered Camilla, ‘your consideration is legendary.’
‘What was that?’
‘My own convenience is secondary. I’ll start work now, alongside the gentlemen.’
‘One of them, anyway.’ He opened the library door and stepped back to let her precede him. Then, ‘Rainham … you can finish that later. I need you to come with me.’
His lordship looked up from the pages he and Adam were perusing. ‘Where?’
‘We are going to speak with Mr Harold Deacon senior, of Deacon’s Bank in Rye. It seems that he is, in some sense, Mrs Blane’s partner in crime.’
‘Excellent.’ Rainham came smartly to his feet. ‘We were more or less finished, anyway.’
‘Actually, we were still arguing about Tranter and --’
‘A minor point, Adam. Do what you think best,’ said Rainham airily. And he followed Alveston from the room.
Adam and Camilla were left looking at each other. She said gloomily, ‘This is the shape of things to come. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Not really.’ Taking her hand, he drew her down beside him on a sofa. ‘In what sense?’
‘I was counting on catching Mrs Blane being the end of it. You and Rainham have accomplished what M Section was asked to do and everything ought now to be handed over to the Intelligence Service. Only it’s not going to happen because Uncle Hugh has the bit between his teeth. He’ll continue questioning Mrs Blane and then he’ll move on to anyone she names. He won’t send you or Rainham back to London because you’re too useful – which means there is no point in me leaving either. We’re all trapped. And you and I will lucky to be married before Christmas.’
Adam gathered her into his good arm and pressed a kiss to her temple. This inevitably led to another on her cheekbone and another, rather different one, at the corner of her mouth. Eventually he said, ‘It can’t be that bad, can it?’
‘Yes. It can. Even when we’re both finally free to leave here, it will take at least three more weeks for the banns to be read,’ she replied distractedly. ‘And it’s all very well Uncle Hugh saying you and your family can stay with him in Berkeley Square but --’
‘Has he said that?’
‘Yes. But what use is it when he and you and I are all stuck here?’ She pulled away and stood up. ‘I want us to - to be together, Adam. And I don’t want to wait weeks with no end in sight of it actually happening. But since the matter appears to be completely outside our control, I’ll get on with Uncle’s dratted transcription.’
Adam remained where he was, watching her sit down and pull writing materials in front of her. He didn’t need to wonder what she meant when she said she wanted them to be together. He wanted the same thing. Last night was probably the only time since she’d said she would marry him that he hadn’t tossed and turned, physically uncomfortable and unable to stop the refrain that continually crept past his conscience and which he had so far resisted.
He took a resolute breath, resisted it again and wandered to where she sat working. Then he distracted himself from the temptation to kiss her smooth, white nape by reading over her shoulder.
Record of Head of M Section’s preliminary interview with Mrs Hester Blane of Blane House, Lydd, she had written in her easy, flowing script. Interview held at Dragon Hall, Romney Marsh, first day of September, 1779.
Q. We have evidence pointing to your involvement in smuggling, ma’am – and will doubtless gather more. What I cannot comprehend is why you – a respectable matron – would do this, since I do not believe it can have been for the money.
A. Of course it wasn’t for money.
Q. Then why?
A. Because I could.
Q. That is hardly sufficient reason.
A. And because, when my only son died, I didn’t want what he’d created to go to waste. So I picked up the reins and carried on.
Adam stopped reading, let out a startled breath and said, ‘The son began it?’
‘So she said.’
‘How long ago?’
‘She hasn’t told us that yet but we know Henry died in 1776.’ Camilla sighed and rubbed a hand over her brow. ‘She delivered quite a diatribe at that point. She talked about her son as if he was some sort of genius. She ranted about what she called the feeble little mouse he’d married. She said Mark was as dull a stick as his grandfather and possessed of as little imagination; Peter wasn’t worth wasting words on. Only her darling Henry had the Fordyce spark – and all she had left of him was the legacy she’d helped him build. It went on and on and on. And though I will write it all out, it doesn’t belong in these pages. Oh – and she’s adamant that she never meant to shoot anyone.’
‘In which case, why was the pistol loaded?’ asked Adam aridly.
‘Yes. That’s what Uncle Hugh said.’ She paused, aware of his fingertips lightly stroking her neck. ‘What are you doing?’
Adam’s fingers froze and he stared down at them, faintly bemused.
‘I’m sorry. Apparently, I couldn’t … resist. You don’t like it?’
She stood up, turning into him and placing her palms either side of his face.
‘If you honestly need to ask that --’
‘I don’t,’ he said huskily. ‘I really, really don’t.’
Then she was in his arms and being pressed hard against him and his mouth and hers embarked on a different sort of conversation.
It took Camilla much longer than it should have done to finish transcribing Mrs Blane’s first interview. Even though she’d sent Adam away, concentration proved impossible. Those hot, hungry kisses and the caresses that had accompanied them had left her fidgety and wanting. She was fairly sure they had left Adam feeling the same way. So throughout the rest of the day, she gave a great deal of thought to whether she should or indeed could give matters a little nudge.
By the time she went downstairs clad in pale grey tiffany, all the gentlemen were assembled in the library – even Guy, once more wearing a coat belonging to his uncle because it was easier to slip on than one of his own. They all rose when she walked in and then, with one exception, continued their conversation with scarcely a pause.
Adam, however, crossed to her side and brought her hands to his lips, his eyes holding her own. Then, drawing her with him while he poured her a glass of wine, he said softly, ‘You were right. Lord Alveston is sending Rainham to ask Major Levinson for half a dozen redcoats on permanent loan so he can place Mr Deacon under house arrest.’
‘Well, at least he seems to have realised that if he brings all his prisoners here, we’ll run out of bedchambers. In my opinion, Mrs Blane is one too many but I realise that can’t be helped. They can hardly put her in a cell, can they?’
‘No. Even I couldn’t vote for that.’ He smiled at her, that sweet half-smile that lived mostly in his eyes and invariably caused everything inside her to dissolve. ‘On another note entirely, I’ve an idea of how I might speed up our personal life.’
‘You have?’ A surge of hope shot through her and she thought, Please let it be the same one I have. ‘How?’
‘I could resign from the Section with immediate effect.’
Camilla’s heart sank. ‘That will only provoke hours of argument. Uncle Hugh wants to keep us both – particularly you.’
‘He’s said nothing of that to me.’
‘He’s biding his time. He told me an hour after you were shot – hardly the right moment to bring it up, which is why I didn’t say anything either. I thought you and I could talk about it later. After we’re married.’
Adam nodded and was about to answer when Guy turned to them saying, ‘Millie … do you suppose Mark knew his father was up to his neck in smuggling?’
‘No. Not for a minute, nor his grandfather, either. And you can’t tell them. So stay away from Mark, if you don’t want to end up lying to him.’
Dinner passed pleasantly enough until dessert was on the table and Camilla said, ‘Perhaps, Uncle, you might give Adam and me some indication of how much longer we’ll be required here? Not unnaturally, we would quite like to schedule our wedding.’
‘I realise that, Millie. But the situation is … complicated.’
‘Actually, it’s not. Espionage is the business of the Intelligence Service – not M Section. And Adam and I have fulfilled our responsibilities there, have we not?’
Alveston looked back at her in what was clearly irritable silence. On the other side of the table, Rainham and Guy busied themselves with fruit and cheese, pretending to be deaf.
Eventually, Adam said quietly, ‘Forgive me, sir – but Camilla is right. Not so very long ago you referred to proper protocol. Does not that apply here?’
‘I expect a reply from Sir Oswald in the next day or two,’ returned Alveston testily. ‘Be patient. I will release both of you as soon as I am able.’
‘Please do.’ Camilla pushed back her chair and stood up – forcing the gentlemen to do the same. ‘Adam and I would like our lives back.’
For the first time ever, she didn’t join the gentlemen in the library but sent Coombes to tell them that she had retired. Then, once Martha had helped her undress and brushed out her hair, she curled up in a chair and remained there, deep in thought.
Surely it isn’t unreasonable to ask Uncle to set a time limit? If he promised that we would be free in a week – or even two – I’d be content with that. But I doubt he will.
She knew what she wanted to do but was less sure how it would work out. She was also worried that if Adam resigned from the Section now, he might regret it later. So the sensible course of action was to wait a few more days – and tell Adam to do the same. She opened her door the tiniest bit so that, when he came up to his room, she would know.
Downstairs, Adam joined the others for a glass of brandy but refused to play cards and instead sat down with a book he didn’t read. He suspected he could guess what was in Camilla’s mind – or some of it, anyway. He’d been having the same thought himself and far too often for comfort. He wished she hadn’t retired so precipitately. If she had remained downstairs, they might have found a moment for private conversation. Since she hadn’t, he decided he might as well bid the others goodnight and go to bed himself.
He had his hand on the latch of his room when he noticed the narrow ribbon of light spilling from Camilla’s door. Why was it open? It looked … it looked like an invitation. One he’d like to accept but must not. Would not. He pushed open his own door, stepped inside and discovered his feet wouldn’t take him any further. He took a breath and then another … and spun on his heel back into the hallway to find Camilla two steps away. Before his brain could process this, she put both palms against his chest and pushed, sending him stumbling back into the room. Then, following him, she closed the door and leaned against it.