Heart of Gold

'You haven't answered the question.'

'It is all I have to say on the matter.' He glanced at his pocket watch. 'I must go.'

He wove his way through the dancers and disappeared.

Aubrey sighed. 'Do you think I'll be able to reach my parents this time?'

Caroline smiled. 'Let's see.'

'It's extraordinary, really,' Aubrey said as they skirted the dance floor. 'Holmland has been blowing up Gallian military facilities, but the Holmland Ambassador is over there laughing with the Gallian Foreign Minister.'

'Politics. Diplomacy. It's a strange world. Not enough women involved, I'd say.'

'Really?' Aubrey said. 'You're not thinking of . . .?'

'My thoughts are my own,' she said solemnly, but her eyes teased him.

As Aubrey worked their way past two dowagers who were scribbling in notebooks and sharing their findings, he felt as if he were considerably lighter and suddenly immune to the effects of gravity. Caroline in politics? The prospect made his head fizz.

'Matchmakers,' Caroline murmured, nodding toward the old women. 'Spotting the eligible bachelors in the room. No doubt they have a number of clients waiting for them.'

This was an aspect of continental life that Aubrey was glad hadn't made its way to Albion. He shuddered at the prospect and at that moment caught the eye of one of the dowager women. She studied him, then nodded and jotted in her notebook. Aubrey moved on, quickly.

They reached the end of the dance floor and emerged into the area where tables were arranged – large and round with flamboyant centrepieces made of flowers, feathers and ribbons. Cigar smoke drifted to the ceiling and serious-looking older men and women sat talking in low tones.

Caroline nodded to the right, at the most prominent table. His mother stood, a vision in white. 'Aubrey!'

Beaming, proud, he led Caroline to the table. The men stood, smiling at Caroline. His father grasped his hand. 'I'm glad to see you, Aubrey.' He smoothed his moustache with a forefinger. 'Ah, Miss Hepworth. What a striking dress. It suits you well. A Dumont creation, isn't it?'

'Yes it is, Sir Darius. Thank you.'

'Marvellous artist, Dumont is, but he can't take all the credit. You've made his creation something sublime.'

Aubrey sighed. His father had never needed to learn urbanity. It was second nature.

Sir Darius went on to introduce Caroline to the others at the table. Aubrey took his turn as well, shaking the hands of Prime Minister Giraud, the Minister for Defence and the Minister for the Treasury and greeting their wives. Mrs Hepworth was there, too. She smiled at Aubrey's surprise. The man next to her nodded at Aubrey. He was tall and slender, with fine laugh lines around his eyes.

Aubrey stared. It was the mysterious stranger who'd been haunting him ever since he'd arrived in Lutetia.

Mrs Hepworth laughed. 'I see you've met?'

'In a way,' Aubrey managed to say. 'Mr . . .?'

He stood and held out a hand. 'Colonel McKenzie. Magisterium.'

'Ah. I see.'

The Magisterium operative smiled. 'I must say that I've had easier assignments than following you around, trying to keep you out of trouble.'

'I actually don't think that's possible,' his father put in. 'I told Craddock as much, but he insisted that the son of the Prime Minister needed looking after.'

'I can't say I was much help at all,' McKenzie said. 'You were fiendishly difficult to keep track of, you know.'

'It's been a busy time,' Aubrey ventured.

McKenzie leaned close to Aubrey. 'You pulled off some impressive magic, in any event. That floating tower? Innovative stuff, and I've emphasised as much in my report to Craddock.'

Aubrey wasn't sure how to take this. Compliment or threat? 'I thought you were an assassin,' he said.

McKenzie smiled. 'No, not this time.' He held out his arm to Mrs Hepworth. 'Would you care to dance, Ophelia?'

Aubrey kept a blank face as the Magisterium operative took Mrs Hepworth to the dance floor. 'Is he really an assassin?' he asked his father.

'Craddock likes operatives with a sense of humour.'

Aubrey decided his father wasn't going to answer the question. He gestured at the vacant space at the table. 'The Ambassador?'

'Sir Percy was called away. He wasn't happy about it.'

'I can imagine.' Aubrey hesitated. He had a great deal to tell his father, but this didn't seem to be the right place to do it. Caroline had made her way to his mother's side and the two were discussing something in earnest tones. Birds and beasts, Aubrey guessed. Foreign expeditions.

His father noticed his hesitation. He glanced at Prime Minister Giraud, who was doing his best to appear as if he wasn't eavesdropping. 'We must talk about your time here,' he said to Aubrey. 'I'm sure you have much to tell me.'

'Indeed. Much has happened.'

Sir Darius nodded, then raised an eyebrow. 'Caroline agreed to accompany you to the ball, I see.'

'Yes, sir.'

'She's come to understand that you are, actually, genuine after all?'

'She's a very intelligent person.'

'So I understand. And where is George? Off with a sparkling young woman or two?'

'He's here somewhere. With, as you say, a sparkling young woman.'

Prime Minister Giraud stood and touched a napkin to his lips. He was a small man with a long nose and receding hair, but he managed to project an air of utter stylishness. Aubrey decided his impeccable clothes played a good part in this, but he noted the man's steady gaze and neat, precise gestures. 'Young Fitzwilliam,' he said in good Albionish. 'Mine may be the only official congratulations you receive for your efforts in returning our most valuable treasure, but please accept them nonetheless.'

'I'm glad I could help,' Aubrey murmured. He was pleased that his father heard this, and only wished Caroline had as well.

'Gallia is restored now?' Sir Darius said.

The Prime Minister smiled wryly. 'This crisis is over, thanks to your extraordinary son, but we have others on the horizon.'

'As do we all,' Sir Darius said.

Aubrey felt a tap on his elbow. It was a uniformed embassy functionary. 'Mr Fitzwilliam, sir? The Ambassador would like to see you.'

Aubrey rolled his eyes. He apologised to his father and Prime Minister Giraud. 'Sir Percy probably wants to chastise me for some of the goings on over the last few weeks.'

'Would you like me to come?' Sir Darius asked.

'No. Thank you.'

Sir Darius nodded, a wry smile on his face. 'I forget myself sometimes. I'm sure you can handle Sir Percy.'

'Thank you, sir.' Aubrey felt a small measure of selfsatisfaction. Perhaps his successes were making an impression.

He crossed to where his mother and Caroline were still talking. He kissed his mother and made his excuses before following the functionary through the throng, which, if anything, had grown louder and more jolly. Aubrey found that he was humming along with the orchestra in a surprisingly tuneful manner. He caught George's eye and waved just before he edged through the doorway. George was still at Sophie's side and looked as if heavy machinery would be required to remove him.