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He skimmed over the details of his youth and return from a French prison. “My father had to sell his business. And then he fell ill. At the time, I was serving in the navy. I had been a restless youth, seeking adventure and longing to see the world. When war broke out, I ran away and signed on to the navy. I think it broke my father’s heart not to see me educated. But when I was promoted to midshipman, he boasted of me to all his friends and associates.”

“I’m sure you were a brave sailor.”

He fell silent at the unexpected praise, not sure how to receive it. “I returned to find my father gone. He had died while I was sitting across the Channel in prison. My mother and sister needed me then, so I returned home.

“My mother had moved back to her native village on the southern coast in order to live more modestly. I was able to secure a position as a private secretary to a local landowner, on the recommendation of a naval officer I had served under. He and this baronet were good friends.

“That position led finally to a post in the Foreign Office.” He shrugged again. “Until that day I was offered the job of spying on you. Since I had been toiling away for nigh on a decade with little advancement, I knew I must accept it. As I told you, I have supported my mother and sister for some years.”

“You have sacrificed a great deal.”

He shook his head, uncomfortable with the praise. “Not more than many.”

They walked in the dappled shade of the trees until they arrived back at the palace. She paused at the vast basin of water where children were sailing boats. “Shall we walk to Gaspard’s restaurant?” she asked.

“If you are not too tired?”

“Oh no, I am used to walking.”

He wondered if she no longer kept a carriage. “Very well.” Before they could move, they were interrupted by a soft masculine voice behind them. “Good afternoon, Mlle. de Beaumont.”

She turned with no smile of welcome. Even though it had been more than a year since he’d heard the voice, Rees recognized it at once. Monsieur de la Roche approached them, his thin ebony cane tapping against the path. His gaze rested on Rees. “You look familiar, monsieur, though I cannot place you.” He spoke to him in English, which made Céline realize he had overheard them speaking.

“I worked in Mlle. de Beaumont’s house last year when she stayed at Hartwell House. Doubtless you saw me there.”

She admired his aplomb in admitting to his position on her staff.

A tiny line formed between de la Roche’s gray eyebrows. “Ah, a private secretary, perhaps?” He turned to her for confirmation.

Before Rees could admit to having been a butler, she replied, “He was sent by the Home Office to spy on me. He pretended to be a butler.”

She wanted to laugh at his expression. It was not easy to throw de la Roche, and she had succeeded. Clearly, he hadn’t been privy to what the English were doing.

De la Roche studied Rees as if for some clue to his former profession. Rees merely inclined his head. “I fear it is as Mlle. de Beaumont says. We were working for the same side, but not in tandem.”

The older man’s thin lips pressed together until they almost disappeared. “Perhaps it would have helped all our efforts toward a speedier peace if your government had thought fit to inform me of your role.”

“Perhaps.” When Rees volunteered no more, de la Roche addressed her. “You continue your activities?”

She feigned nonchalance. “As a matter of fact, I just turned in my latest article yesterday.”

He said nothing, merely regarded her in that expressionless way he had. Finally, he took a step back and bowed to them both. “Well, I see you are occupied. I shall not interrupt your tête-à-tête further.”

When he left, she shuddered. “Insufferable man. He means to shut down the paper if he has his way.”

Rees frowned. “The one you write for?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Thus far he hasn’t succeeded, but he works closely with the police commissioner. They are always coming up with ways to fine us. I won’t be surprised if the paper soon folds and we all end up in prison. In a few months, there will be no free press in France.”

“Have a care.”

She read true concern in his gray eyes, and she longed to—

What? Accept the warmth and friendship she read in his eyes—and more?

How easy it would be to follow her longing.

But she could not do that to him. He had said it to her plainly. He wished for a wife and family.

Only the first could she give him.

25

R
ees insisted on dropping Céline off at her house. He was still puzzled about why she chose to dwell in a modest, almost shabby, building, when her mother was living in the highest circles. Had the British confiscated her wealth? He had not been privy to that information.

No matter. He didn’t care if she hadn’t a sou to her name. In fact, he’d prefer it, if it would help his suit.

For the first time since beginning this venture, he felt optimistic. The Lord had led him to Céline only days after his arrival. And now he faced at least a few months of living in Paris. He would court Céline as a proper suitor.

He knit his brow, remembering their encounter with de la Roche. He didn’t like it. The man meant trouble, he was sure of it. He was probably still smarting over Céline’s escape to France.

The sooner Rees married Céline, the sooner he’d be able to protect her properly.

But first he must speak to the Duke of Wellington.

It would be a tricky situation to ask to marry a Frenchwoman who had been suspected of espionage against the British just a year ago. Would he again risk his career, his reputation? Who would have thought a merchant’s son could aspire to a countess? The idea still left
him shaking his head. It was only because of the upheaval war and the Revolution had brought about. Or was it true love?

He smiled at the sentimental thought, then sobered. He could not offer Céline what the gentlemen of her station could, but his prospects now at least were hopeful. Being part of Wellington’s delegation at a critical time in France could mean the dream of a career in diplomacy becoming a reality. He knew his knowledge of French had been a primary reason he had been selected. He also knew from speaking with Wellington’s private secretary and observing how the duke dealt with those underneath him, that he was an exacting, demanding man, but that he rewarded those who were faithful in carrying out their duties.

Rees felt he would get along well with him.

After seeing Céline to her door and asking to call upon her on the morrow, Rees went back to the Right Bank to the temporary quarters of the new British embassy.

They were lodged in a fine mansion not far from the Tuileries Palace, where the former Comte de Provence had taken up residence as King Louis XVIII.

When he had the opportunity that afternoon, Rees consulted with Wellington’s secretary to secure a moment with the duke before the end of the day.

When he stood before the famous commander, Rees began with, “Your grace, I am intending to propose to a lady here in Paris.”

Wellington lifted a dark brow. “Indeed? And who is the lucky woman?”

Rees swallowed. “Céline de Beaumont. Lady Wexham.”

He pondered the name a moment. “Ah, Lady Wexham. The lady you were sent to spy on last year in London.”

Wellington had been well briefed. “That is correct, your grace.”

Wellington listened to him as he explained how he had met her again since arriving in Paris. The duke asked a few questions about his time in her household when he was spying on her, but kept his
thoughts to himself, so Rees had no idea if he approved or disapproved of Rees’s desire to marry her.

“I may be presumptuous—or premature, since I don’t know if the lady will accept me. But I also feel a sense of urgency since seeing Monsieur de la Roche. It’s apparent to me that he means her ill.”

Wellington mulled this over. “He’s an influential man in the new government.” He eyed Rees across his desk. “Why do you think Lady Wexham left England so precipitously?”

Rees had anticipated the question. “I believe she knew France was losing and she wanted to be here to join the voice of opposition to the royalists.”

“It’s not an enviable position to be in at present. Even if she becomes your wife, it will not be pleasant in Paris with the Ultras gaining more and more influence over the king.”

“No, your grace.”

The duke sat silent several minutes. He appeared to have forgotten Rees’s presence, since he sat looking down at the correspondence on his desk.

Abruptly, he looked up and focused on Rees again. “You know Castlereagh is arriving Friday.”

Rees shook his head. “No, I thought he was going directly from Belgium to Vienna.”

“The Duc de Berry convinced him to stop in Paris en route. I advised him to accept. Not many know of his visit, and we’d prefer to keep it that way. With the Fête de St. Louis beginning Thursday, Paris will be thronged.” Wellington shuffled some papers and set them aside. “Lord Castlereagh expects to arrive the following day and then leave on Sunday.”

Rees nodded, wondering what all this had to do with him.

“I can assign you as an envoy to Castlereagh. He can use your linguistic skills. It will offer you multiple opportunities to advance.”

To be part of the British delegation to the Congress of Vienna. Rees could scarcely imagine it. The Congress would be a stage for
all the leaders of Europe to redraw its map in order to prevent another war.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime for someone seeking a career in diplomacy. And it would mean Céline would be safe, away from Paris.

The next moment his spirits sank. But if he had to leave in a matter of days, how could he hope to convince Céline to come with him?

Wellington stood and came around the desk. Rees immediately followed suit, knowing the interview was over.

“You needn’t answer me now.” A twinkle shone in his eye. “After all, you don’t know the lady’s answer.”

The duke accompanied him to the door of his office. “I shan’t wish you happy yet, but rather I offer you my best wishes for your success in persuading Céline.” He gave Rees a keen look. “At least as her husband you will be able to keep the lady under round-the-clock surveillance.”

Rees started. Did he suspect she had spied on Britain? For an instant, the duke’s serious mien displayed a glimmer of a smile. “I’d prefer to have her working for us than against. Perhaps she can help keep tabs on that wily fox Talleyrand.”

The next second, Wellington once more was all business. “It’s not in our interest that France become too reactionary. Lasting peace will only be achieved by a balance of powers in Europe, and within France, where all voices can be heard.”

The two shook hands and Rees left, his thoughts in a daze—foremost among them, how would he persuade Céline to marry him and come away with him? Would she be willing to leave everything and take her chances with him?

He spent that night praying, thinking, pacing. By morning, he was resolved. Impatient for his meeting with Céline now that he had decided to ask her to marry him and come to Vienna, he had a hard time concentrating on his work all morning.

By midafternoon, he was standing at her iron gate. He opened it and walked through the small courtyard in front of the narrow,
sandstone building sandwiched between others like it. The pavement was cracked. Everything looked worn and in need of sprucing up. But most of Paris was like that, he’d noticed, with the exception of the monuments and the great
hôtels
, those mansions of the rich. The years of war had taken their toll. The absence of young men was the most evident sign. He’d noticed on his ride from Calais the desolate farms run by women and old men.

And in Paris, the returning soldiers, many ill, maimed, and for the most part unemployed, resented the swaggering occupying armies in their finery.

Rees rang the bell, his heart beginning to thud, his palms to sweat. His heart sank when the door opened and he faced Valentine.

She looked unchanged, her dark hair pinned back mercilessly. “You!”

The single accusation almost brought a smile to his lips, but he bit it back in time. “Yes,” he answered meekly. “Is your mistress at home?”

“Non, mademoiselle n’est pas là.”

“Do you know when she is expected to return?” he replied in her language.

She eyed him up and down. “So, you do speak French. Hmph!” She folded her arms across her chest. “
Non
, I do not know when she will return.”

“May I wait for her?”

As she was considering his request, he added, “It’s very important.”

With a long measuring look the length of him, she finally swung away. “Come.”

He followed her to a front parlor. Despite the outwardly decaying appearance of the building, this room was surprisingly light and cozy. A few good pieces of furniture were arranged around a thick Turkish carpet. A fine fireplace was situated along one wall, and a pair of windows, their shutters opened to let in the light, were filled with flowering geraniums in exterior window boxes. A shelf of books stood against another wall, and he remembered Céline’s love of reading.

Fingering the brim of his top hat, he took the sofa Valentine indicated to him. “Tea?”

He started at her offer. Perhaps she feared Céline’s reaction, if her mistress were to discover she had not offered a caller some refreshment. “No, thank you.”

He sat to wait.

Céline arrived within the hour. He tensed, hearing the front door opening, followed by two sets of footsteps as Valentine came into the corridor. Then soft voices in French.

A minute later, Céline appeared in the doorway of the parlor, her cheeks rosy. “Hello. I didn’t expect you so early. Were you waiting long?”

He stood as soon as she entered and helped her remove her pelisse. “Not at all.” He cleared his throat.
Dear Lord, may she accept me.
“I am early. I . . . that is . . . something has come up, which I wished to . . . to discuss with you.”

Her eyes showed immediate concern. “What has happened?”