Whatever substance Sebastian slipped into my champagne had been innocuous enough, and we were all relieved when Robert's physician confirmed that there was no cause for alarm. Aside from sleeping extraordinarily late, I felt no ill effects the next day. Lady Elinor sent Isabelle to me in the afternoon, and I did my best to calm the girl's myriad worries about becoming the wife of Charles Berry. Not an easy task. It was obvious that her loyalty was fiercely divided. She wanted to please her mother, but she still loved Lord Pembroke, and the feeling had only intensified at Ivy's ball.
"He's simply the most exquisite dancer," she said. "He wouldn't stand up with me more than twice, but, oh, Emily, I would gladly have given anything to dance with him all night."
"Are you finding Mr. Berry an agreeable companion?"
"He's tolerable. I understand why Mother thinks he's a good catch, and I know that she's always done what's best for me. Do you believe she could be right? Am I too swept up in romance to be practical? Will I be happier with Mr. Berry?"
"Only you know the answer to that, Isabelle. Your mother's intentions are good. There is no doubt of that. But you alone can determine what sort of a marriage you are willing to accept."
"Mother insists that young people often fall in love before they really know what will make them happy."
"That's probably true." I thought about the time, during our first season, that Ivy had come close to being convinced she was in love with a particularly dashing army officer. He turned out to be the worst sort of cad, something her mother had suspected from the beginning. "I don't deny that mothers are sometimes useful for vetting one's admirers. But she never objected to Lord Pembroke, did she?"
"No, but she's certain that I'll be happier in the long run with Mr. Berry. Charles. I should call him Charles." She frowned. "Is it very awful, being married? One hears such dreadful stories."
"No, Isabelle, it's not dreadful in the least. Many people are quite content, even in arranged marriages. I was not in love with Philip when I married him, but the experience was far from unpleasant."
"Perhaps there's hope for me, then."
Had I any courage, I would have convinced the girl to throw over Mr. Berry and run away with Lord Pembroke. I'm ashamed that I didn't. How could I sit here and offer her comfort when I knew her future husband to be an utterly vile man? "I believe Mr. Berry's most-admired quality is his proximity to the French throne. Rumors suggest that he may be made king soon. Does that change his estimation in your eyes?"
"Do I want to be queen? I ought to say yes, but, honestly, the prospect terrifies me."
"An answer that shows more than a modicum of wisdom."
"Well, it didn't work out well for Marie Antoinette, did it?"
We talked for nearly three quarters of an hour, and I will say that, although it was abundantly clear that her heart was still very much with Lord Pembroke, she seemed less nervous about her betrothal by the time she left. I wish I could say the same for myself. If anything, I was more convinced than ever that someone needed to find a way to help her escape.
I sorted through the mail that had come that morning, half expecting to see something from Sebastian, but he had sent nothing. I did have a letter from Cécile, and knew when I read it that I would have to show it to Colin immediately. There was no need for me to go to him, though, for even before I had returned the paper to its envelope, he walked through my door, his eyes sharp, his features marked with a severity I had not before seen on him.
"Have you anything from Cécile?" he asked, not bothering to greet me.
"Yes, I do, I was about to come —"
He took the letter from my outstretched hand. "Good. I'm glad to have a date. We never suspected they planned to act this quickly."
"What will you do?"
"Berry told me not an hour ago that he's arranged for passage to France. He's using falsified papers so that no one will know he's there."
"Can't you stop him?"
"I'm to go with him."
"When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow afternoon."
"I see." I studied his handsome face. "Is there any chance the plot will work? Will the republic fall?"
"Not if I've anything to do with it."
"And Cécile?"
"Her role may be more important than mine, but it's you that I'm worried about. I don't like to leave you in the midst of your own intrigue."
"I'll be perfectly all right."
"No more drinking drugged champagne? Next time it could be laced with something less benign."
"Well, I've won our bet, so you can rest easy knowing that I have every intention of staying alive to collect my prize."
"What do you mean, you've won our bet? You most certainly have not."
"I've identified my admirer: Sebastian Capet."
"Would you recognize him on the street? Do you know where he lives? How to contact him without having to use the Times? I don't think you can say that you've really identified him."
"His eyes are an unmistakable shade of blue. Sapphire, really. I'd recognize them."
"A Bedouin with sapphire eyes. Is there any hope for me?"
I was glad to see some light return to his eyes but couldn't help thinking about Sebastian kissing me. Had it really happened? I could almost picture it, a foggy image, but the memory of soft lips was undeniable.
"Are you still with me?" Colin asked.
"Yes, sorry."
"I've spoken with Manning. He's agreed to help you with whatever you might need regarding the situation in Richmond. And should anything happen, telegraph me at once in Paris. I'll be at the Meurice."
Molly entered the room. "Excuse me, Lady Ashton, would you like me to light a fire for you?"
It was far too hot for me to want a fire, and I had never encouraged my maids to make a habit of dropping in, without being asked, to see if I needed their assistance.
"No, Molly, I don't." Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her skin was even more pale than usual. "Is something the matter?"
She looked at Colin, then back at me. "Of course not, madam. Just trying to be helpful." She bobbed a curtsey and disappeared from the room before I could utter another word.
"Are you keeping a close eye on her?" Colin asked.
"I've spoken with her multiple times. She insists that she has no idea what happened to the letters that disappeared from the library."
"And you believe her?"
"I do worry that she may still be in contact with Mr. Berry, but surely once he's in France he'll no longer be concerned with me."
"Someone is gravely troubled by those letters. If it's Berry, you might be in more danger now than ever. Just because he's out of the country doesn't mean that he can't harm you."
"But you've been convinced all along that he's not out to hurt me."
"I'm not always right, Emily."
"Do you expect violence in Paris?"
"I very much hope that we shall be able to stop this entire thing before it even begins." He pulled me towards him and bent down, resting his cheek against mine.
"I wouldn't object if you were to kiss me," I said. "You are leaving the country headed for an attempted coup. Who knows when you'll return? I feel almost as if I'm sending you off to battle."
"Very nice try," he said, stepping away from me. "But I won't be so easily seduced. Did I tell you that I've found the perfect engagement ring for you? It's from ancient Crete and is in the shape of a reef knot, gold inlaid with lapis lazuli."
"It sounds lovely."
"I keep it in my pocket at all times on the off chance that you might accept me. It wouldn't do to be unprepared."
"Will you show it to me?"
"Absolutely not. When at last you agree to marry me, I want to know that it's because you can't resist me any longer, not that you want my ring."
"You're a beast," I said. "I'm going to finish the letters this afternoon. I'll send you a message if there's anything of significance in them."