Heart of Gold

Aubrey managed to stop himself before he gaped. 'I beg your pardon?'

'It's where I met your late grandfather. My papa was attending the same peace conference that your grandfather was. The one that resulted in the Treaty of St Anne.'

'Between Gallia and Albion?'

'Exactly. I was afraid of him at first, with his dreadful reputation, but it didn't take long before we found out we shared an interest in roses. He was dashing. A romantic figure.'

A romantic figure? Aubrey bit down on an expression of utter disbelief that would have echoed around the library if he hadn't. In polite circles, his grandfather was still referred to as the Steel Duke. In less polite circles – including on the Continent – he was called the Bloody Duke, and the name was usually followed by spitting on the floor. Aubrey found it difficult to imagine this legendary soldier and diplomat as a romantic figure interested in roses.

He strove for neutrality again, puzzled as to why his grandmother was telling him this. 'I see.'

She darted a glance at him. 'I wonder if you do.'

He smiled, but remained silent.

'I have a task for you while you're in Lutetia,' she continued, rather more briskly. 'One of my correspondents has let me know that a certain Alphonse Caron has some items that belong to me. I would like them back.'

'He stole them?'

'He came into possession of them.'

'You haven't asked the police to get them for you?'

She sniffed. 'Gallian police? You may as well ask a cat to knit a jumper for you. Lovely uniforms, appalling attention to detail.'

Aubrey had an uncomfortable feeling about this request. 'And what items am I looking for?'

Duchess Maria glared at him for a moment, just for practice. 'Some letters. From your grandfather to me.'

Some time later, Aubrey left the library, his mind awhirl with the City of Love and correspondence between his grandmother and grandfather. It was a whole world he'd never considered.

He was on his way to the kitchen to see if he could find something to eat when the door to the front drawing room opened. His mother stood there appraising him. 'Aubrey. At last. I need to see you.'

LADY ROSE'S DRAWING ROOM WAS AN ECLECTIC RIOT. Originally, it had been an unimaginative place with sturdy furniture fit for a battleship. Lately, however, it had been garnished with gaudy and exotic objects from Lady Fitzwilliam's many overseas expeditions. Masks, beads, dried tropical flowers and statuettes had gradually taken over the room, much as jungle creepers would drape themselves over any available tree.

Lady Rose entered, frowning. When she reached what had once been a mantelpiece but now was more like a sea-shell museum, she turned. 'Sit, Aubrey, sit.'

Aubrey looked around at the various heaps and mounds of bark paintings, carved gourds and alpaca wool rugs.

'Anywhere, anywhere. Push that grass skirt onto the floor.'

Aubrey did as he was told. His mother was obviously after something, for her booted foot tapped and her fingers drummed on the marble mantelpiece.

'I've lost my assistant,' Lady Rose said abruptly.

Aubrey considered this. 'Well, it was you who arranged Caroline's place at the University of Lutetia.'

'Yes, yes, and she well deserved it. Professor Lavoisier will teach her a great deal about modern taxonomy. A month spent with him will stand her in good stead for when she goes up to Greythorn.' She gnawed her lip. Aubrey sat back and admired the way his mother was so unselfconscious about her beauty. In an age where women of breeding spent inordinate hours primping, Lady Rose Fitzwilliam was capable of dazzling any gathering with her regal profile and her bright blue eyes – with no effort required.

'And you're going to Lutetia, quite coincidentally,' she said.

Aubrey smacked himself on the forehead and winced as he hit his bruise. 'You're right. Caroline will be there!'

'That was appalling, Aubrey. You'd be laughed off the stage with an effort like that. Or booed off, if the play was meant to be a comedy.'

Aubrey wondered whether he should protest his innocence in more strident terms, but he decided a flanking manoeuvre may be wiser. 'Is there anything I can do for you while I'm in Lutetia?'

'I'm glad you asked. I want you visit a certain Dr Romellier, an expert on the flightless birds of the islands of the southern ocean. He's produced a monograph that could shake the foundations of modern ornithology.'

Aubrey must have looked unimpressed. 'It may not sound momentous to you, Aubrey, but Dr Romellier has been working on this for forty years. It's his life's work and I want to show support for him.' She paused and chose her words carefully. 'He's somewhat of a recluse, you see.'

'Recluse.'

'While I've never met him, I know people who have. Some have called him difficult, some say he's just eccentric. Others have called him unpredictable.'

'And you want me to visit him.'

'You'll need to find him first. He's quite secretive about where he lives, but one of his letters, some time ago, let slip that he's close to the university. He complained, you see, about being woken every morning by the clock over the Theology Building when it starts ringing at six.'

'How important is this?'

'How important is your trip to Lutetia?' His mother smiled sweetly. 'I've been wondering, you see, about where I'm going to find a replacement assistant. I'd need someone young, someone who's currently at leisure, someone I can trust.'

'Dr Romellier.' Aubrey stood. 'Monograph. I'd be delighted to fetch it for you.'

'I'm glad, my dear. You always were a considerate one.' She studied him for a moment. 'And keep that heroic impulse in check while you're in Lutetia, won't you?'

'I'll do what I can. You know how it is.'

'I do.' She sighed. 'I married your father, didn't I?'

AUBREY HAD BARELY REACHED HIS ROOM WHEN GEORGE rushed in. 'I say, old man, Mother and Father have said I can go with you to Gallia.' He stopped dead in his tracks. 'What's wrong with you? You look as if you found five pounds but lost ten.'

'It was meant to be a holiday,' Aubrey said, throwing himself onto the red velvet settee. He covered his eyes with his hands. 'I need a holiday.'

George dropped into one of the armchairs. Absently, he prodded a large set of brass scales for weighing horses. 'Holidays are always good. Can't get enough of 'em, personally.'

'But this one's turning into a chore. Both Mother and Grandmother want me to spend time chasing up things for them. And Bertie wants me to find something for him, too.'

'What sort of things?'

'Oh.' Aubrey waved a hand. 'Things.'

'I see. Dashed inconsiderate of them. Things, eh? Can't be easy to find things in Lutetia, it being foreign and all.'

Aubrey opened an eye. 'Am I being precious, George?'

'Just a little.' George grinned. 'We're in Lutetia for a month. I'm sure you'll have time for your errands and after that we'll be able to devote ourselves to other pursuits.'