"Oh, but this is your godfather," Gabrielle said. "And these visitors are my special friends, so I'm sure he'll want you to be introduced. Are you coming, Georgie? Or would you like to go to your own bed-chamber and dress for dinner?"
"Oh, I'm coming," Georgie said readily, rising to her feet.
Gabrielle chuckled. She hadn't expected anything different.
If Nathaniel was put out by the interruption, he gave no sign. Gabrielle seemed to have taken charge of the situation anyway, he reflected, watching as she presented Jake to Simon and eased the meeting of the shy child with his awkwardly hearty godparent. Miles had had little to do with his godson hitherto, and little experience of children in general, so his attempts to put Jake at his ease tended to create the opposite effect.
Despite Gabrielle's efforts, however, Jake showed little reluctance when Nathaniel sent him back to the nursery after fifteen minutes. He bade a formal good night with his stiff, jerky little bows to all except Gabby.
"Won't you tell me a story?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he approached her.
"Not tonight, love. I have to dress for dinner, but I'll come and kiss you when you're in bed and sing you one of my funny songs. Actually, there's one that Georgie and I used to sing together. Do you remember it, Georgie? The one about the man with the beard that the birds nested in?"
Nathaniel listened to the women's laughter, recognizing the intimacy of shared childhood. Simon shared it too, to a lesser extent, he realized. He certainly had an almost brotherly ease with Gabrielle. The three of them were trying to remember the words of the silly schoolroom songs they'd sung together, and their laughter was so infectious that even the timorous child was smiling, clinging to Gabrielle's skirts, watching the adults' faces with his round brown eyes.
A wash of loneliness surprised Nathaniel as he suddenly saw himself at Jake's age. A lonely little boy living on the periphery of adult lives. He couldn't remember being touched, not in the way Gabrielle was always touching Jake. He'd been touched by nursemaids in the general day-to-day business of caring for a child. His father had laid a hand on him only in punishment. He didn't think his mother had ever touched him.
"I hate to interrupt this merriment, but we should change for dinner," he said, rising ro his feet. "Jake, it's past time you were upstairs. Nurse will be looking for you." He hadn't meant to say anything like that. He'd wanted somehow to join the laughing group, to be acknowledged by them and to have a part in the union Gabrielle so obviously shared with his son. But he heard his voice, sharp and disapproving, speaking narrow, mean words.
The laughter left the child's eyes and he went with instant obedience to the door. Nathaniel felt a sudden ache beneath his breastbone, as if something had been twisted there. It wasn't physical, yet it felt as powerful as if it were. As the boy passed him, he put his hand out and ruffled his hair as he had done the other night. And as it had done then, the gesture startled them both.
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"I don't fully understand." Later hat night Simon paced the library, a perturbed frown disturbing his usually equable expression. "What is it that you suspect Gabrielle of?"
"Nothing at this point," Nathaniel said with more patience than usual. He was leaning against the mantelshelf, comprehension in the brown eyes as he regarded his guest's agitation. It was never comfortable to have one's judgment questioned, particularly when it related to a close friend.
"But I've a suspicious mind, Simon. I have to have in my business."
"Yes, I understand that," Simon said with a brusque gesture that set the amber liquid in his brandy goblet slopping against the crystal. "But I told you what information Gabrielle brought to us. I've explained her history… for God's sake, man, I've known her since she was a scrubby brat with pigtails!"
Nathaniel sighed. "Yes, I know that, Simon. But I have to be cautious. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes." He raised an eyebrow. "The Trojan horse was a powerful weapon, my friend."
Simon stared, incredulous. "You think Gabrielle could be planted by the French? Don't be ridiculous!" He drained his glass in one gulp and thumped it on the table, reaching into his pocket for his snuffbox.
Nathaniel said nothing, watching as Simon took a hefty pinch of snuff and succumbed to a fit of sneezing as violent as his distress at Nathaniel's inquisition.
When the spasms had subsided, Nathaniel said evenly, "I don't suspect anything, Simon. I'm just being cautious. Her credentials are almost too perfect, her contacts are a spymaster's dream. I have to satisfy myself that Gabrielle is what she seems. Once I'm satisfied, I'll gladly employ her in the service."
Simon blew his nose vigorously. "You said she was undisciplined."
"So she is," Nathaniel agreed calmly. "But she's also resourceful and courageous, and I can keep my own rein on her if I decide to employ her."
Simon flung himself down in a deep wing chair by the fire. "So what do you want to know?"
"I just want to go through the whole story again from the beginning. Just bear with my questions."
Simon nodded with a sigh. "Verywell. But it does seem to me that living together in such… such close quarters ought to give you ample opportunity to form your own judgments."
Nathaniel's lips thinned. "I don't believe that's any of your business."
"Oh, don't you?" Simon demanded morosely. "According to Georgie, Lord DeVane would expect me to call you out for debauching his honorary daughter."
Nathaniel threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Is that what I've done, indeed? If you ask me, the boot is definitely on the other foot. It was my honor that was suborned by that shameless wild woman… and at your instigation, my friend."
Simon grinned reluctantly. "Well, I didn't suggest she seduce you, but I did imply that she'd have to employ unorthodox measures to gain your attention."
"She certainly did that! Now, can we get on with these questions?"
"Go ahead." Simon leaned over to refill his glass from the decanter on the side table and then sat back cradling the goblet between his hands. Of course Nathaniel was right. Every caution was essential, even where Gabrielle was concerned.
It was an exhaustive and exhausting session, but when the two men parted in the early hours of the morning, Nathaniel had failed to find any holes or even weak spots in Simon's narrative. It would appear that Gabrielle was everything she seemed to be.
He had one last test for Gabrelle. But first he needed to ensure her absence for an hour or two.
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"Oh, Gabby, I forgot to give you this letter. It arrived for you just before we left Vanbrugh Court." Georgie entered the breakfast parlor the next morning, flourishing an envelope. She dropped it beside Gabrielle's plate and smiled around the table.
"Good morning, everyone. I slept like a baby. I think the air in Hampshire must be more restful than in Kent." She leaned over to kiss her husband. "You were up betimes this morning."
"Some of us have been up for hours," Gabrielle said, picking up the letter. The envelope bore Talleyrand's elegant script. "Some of us have already had a two-hour ride."
"And thus feel we deserve our breakfast," Simon added, pinching his wife's cheek. "Unlike lazy ladies who don't bestir themselves until past mid-morning."
Georgie merely smiled at this good-natured raillery and turned to examine the chafing dishes on the sideboard.
Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, one booted ankle resting on his thigh, his hand circling a tankard of ale on the table. His eyes rested on Gabrielle, watching her face as she slit the envelope with her butter knife. The handwriting on the envelope was almost as familiar to him as his own.