She could only be silent. Soulier’s ingenuity was formidable.
“Alas, Annique, we have not treated you well, have we? Vauban makes you the ass for his load of madness, and Leblanc menaces you with knives and guns. I was dilatory and did not find you in time. You have fled to your mother’s people instead of to me, and I have lost you forever. Leblanc should be killed several times over. I will attempt it. And Pierre, your father?”
“Ours,” Grey said.
“Morbleu, but this must not become known. Pierre Lalumière is one of the martyrs of the Revolution. A man of passionate ideals. If he had not died young, perhaps there would have been less bloodshed in that time we all wish to forget.” A spasm of dismay passed across his face. “Do not tell me, Grey, that he was British.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I would not have believed it. A mind so enlightened. Next you will tell me Voltaire and Racine are the products of your Oxford University. No. Do not say it. I do not want to know. The world is a disillusioning place altogether.” Soulier collected his cane and wrapped it in his hold and spoke low. “I will admit, just between these walls, that I am not sorry Vauban succeeded in his final folly. Napoleon has developed a taste for grandiose gambles, which should be discouraged. Our First Consul is not lucky upon the water. Oh, take her and go, Grey. She is your agent, and untouchable. She will doubtless drive you mad.”
“I’ve given you Leblanc, neatly wrapped for disposal. We’re even.”
“On the contrary. I am, as you English say, your cat’s paw. I am disgusted with this turn of events. I lose my splendid young agent of resource and cleverness and must now replace the section chief of central France, though he was an excrescence upon the boil of a pox and stupid to go along with it. The only compensation of this night is that I need not debauch la petite, which I did not look forward to in the least.”
“Fouché’s death order?”
Soulier made a sweeping motion, dismissing it. “You may consider it canceled. It was meant to stop the leak of secrets. It is far too late for that.”
“Good.” Grey was blunt. “Then I won’t issue any of my own.”
“We do not kill one another’s agents, you and I.” Soulier planted the cane and got to his feet, leaning upon it heavily. “Too much blood upon the chessboard of the Game, and we become no different from the military savages who litter the fields of Europe with the bodies of those poor young men. Annique, kiss me and depart. Our relationship has become so complicated even a Frenchman cannot untangle it. Take care we do not meet again, now that we are enemies.”
“I shall be properly wary of you, Soulier.” She kissed his cheek, as she had a thousand times. “I shall miss you.”
“Go with the blessings of le bon Dieu. He is not fashionable in Paris these days but will doubtless reappear in his own good time.” He sighed. “I think I shall declare it night once more and have a glass of wine before I go to bed.”
Thirty-nine
THE HACKNEY COACH THAT BELONGED TO THE British Service was waiting for them at the curb outside Soulier’s charming town house.
“I do not know how to feel.” She sat next to Grey. At this moment it did not matter much to her where they went. “It is strange not to have Leblanc attempting to kill me.”
On the forward seat lay a pile of black wool cloth. When Grey unfolded it, it proved to be a long wool cloak, such as countrywomen wear. He wrapped it around her. She had not noticed she was shivering until then.
“I shake like a custard. It is spineless of me,” she said. “I am still frightened, I think.”
“I don’t blame you. What a cold, calculating bastard that man is.”
“I do not at all mind that Fouché should kill him. It is an excellent idea.”
“I meant Soulier,” Grey said dryly.
“Soulier? But he will face Fouché in Paris and tell lies to bargain my life back for me. He risks his career and perhaps his life. You must not blame him that he is not delicate with me. One is not delicate with one’s agents.”
“One does not pimp one’s agents either. It’s the first thing they teach you in spymaster school. No, don’t argue. This is for you.” He handed her a small, heavy sack that contained coins. She shook it open a bit and dipped her fingers in.
“There is a lot of money here,” she said neutrally. She could not be sure of the value of British coins from just the feel, but there were many.
“I don’t want you loose on the streets with no money in your pocket. I also have three pounds sixpence of yours in my desk drawer. I should get that back to you sometime.”
“Oh, that. I stole it from Henri, if you will recall, so I do not know if it is rightfully mine or not. It is difficult to determine, with money.”
“Isn’t it?” He pounded twice on the roof of the coach with the flat of his hand. “Unless you have an objection, we’ll get out here.”
The coach stopped. “You are letting me go?”
“I am indeed.” He jumped out without kicking down the step and reached back to lock huge hands around her waist and lift her to the ground.
It was a quiet, respectable neighborhood. The street was lined with prosperous houses, every door silent and dark in the hours before dawn. Even the cats slept. The breathing of the coach horses and the metallic click of their hooves made the only noise. If Grey were accompanied by many minions, they were not making themselves evident.
“You are letting me walk away with the Albion plans in my head.” It was not the first time his behavior had bewildered her. “I do not object, you understand, but it seems inconsistent.”
“The French are so sure we have them, it hardly matters whether we do or not. It should discourage them from showing up on the doorstep this spring.” As soon as he latched the door, he thumped on the side panel, and the coach rolled away. She listened to its wheels on the cobbles while he settled the cloak upon her and tied it at the neck. “You’ve done what you came to England to do.”
“Yes.” She had not come to England to fall in love, but she had done so. She had made a botch of it.
“Kent is safe for a while. I can’t grub through the plans and mine them for French secrets, so France is safe. Stalemate.”
“Just so.”
He did not seem to be angry with her. He brushed her hair from her forehead and set it behind her ear. “You’ve won.”
She could not read his face in the dark. He was only shadows and gentle hands. But gentleness is not love.
She swallowed. “When I left you tonight, I did not want to go. I had no choice. There were many lives at stake.”
“I know. What will you do, now that you’re free, and nobody’s trying to kill you?”
I will be utterly alone. “I have always thought I would become a cook, someday, if I lived to retire. I will go to Wales, perhaps. It seems to be a place where a woman with the name Jones can live without ridicule.”
“I’d better let you get on with it. West,” he said, pointing, “is that way.”
She was most entirely free. Just as she had wanted. One must be careful what one wishes for.
There is nothing more to say to a lover when one has set his love aside and snuck secretly from his bed. And, in any case, the Head of the British Section cannot ally himself with an unreliable French spy. Perhaps Grey had lied to himself from time to time on the subject. As she had lied to herself.
So she turned and started walking west. She could smell the river on the left of her. The Thames.
She knew at once he was behind her. After twenty steps she was still not sure how she felt about it. “You are following me. Why are you doing this?”
“To protect you.” Which was what he had said to her once before. “And because I want to.”
She drew a long breath in and kept walking. “You are a difficult man to be in love with.”
Even in the dim light, she knew he grinned.