Sweet Bravado (26 page)

“Behave,” he scolded affectionately, “or those passing soldiers will think I am escorting a
chère amie
instead of my wife.”

“Valentin!” she exclaimed indignantly as he began to shake with suppressed laughter. “You are incorrigible.”

“Am I, love?” He winked at her wickedly.

“Yes, but I… I like you that way.”

He stared at her, slowing the horses to a sedate walk before remarking, “You never cease to amaze me, Nicole.”

“Good, I like to keep you guessing,” she responded playfully.

He threw back his head laughing and grasped her about the waist with his free hand.

“Val, watch where you are going.” She squirmed from his encircling arm. “And remember the passing soldiers.”

He bent his head toward hers and growled next to her ear, “To hell with the soldiers.”

“No, you are right and we must behave. I acquiesce to your better judgment.”

“Why, you little minx, when have you ever acquiesced to me?”

“Right now, my lord,” she answered sweetly.

She was rewarded with a bark of laughter. How she loved that handsome face with its endearing, flashing smile. Nicole reached
up touching his cheek with her fingers, and his hand closed over hers drawing it to his mouth where he placed a kiss on the
palm. His eyes blazed down at her, and she melted against him.

“Ah, ah, my girl.” He shook his head negatively. “Remember
your willingness to acquiesce to my better judgment.”

She blushed. “Very well, my lord, I shall sit here sedately, and watch the handsome soldiers in their splendid uniforms.”

Valentin eyed her suspiciously until she giggled. “Jade!’ He winked and turned his attention to the horses to hurry them on
their way.

Watching the passing parade, Nicole had to admit to herself in all honesty that she was not entirely opposed to Tessa’s rhapsody
about men in uniform. She, too, found them a gallant sight. Her pulses could be stirred by a martial tune as well as the next.
And there was something noble and inspiring about a soldier’s willingness to face battle. But her heart stopped when she tried
to imagine the man seated beside her on the battlefield. Dear God, what would that be like? She cut off the thought midstream
before the horror of it could grasp her fully.

“Here we are, my love, home at last.” His deep voice intruded on her disturbing thoughts. She gave him a wistful smile, and
let him lift her out of the curricle.

Taking
a
mid-morning stroll, Nicole and Cecily walked along the River Dender to watch the military contingents from the Allied countries
gather for parade maneuvers in the Parc de Bruxelles. The sight of so many splendid young men in their colorful uniforms flashing
with gold and silver and marching to the stirring martial music was a thrilling occasion for the ladies. It reminded Nicole
of the recent conversation at Lady Barclay’s. It was true that men in uniform were inspiring to see. And the military pageantry
was an effective antidote to the creeping fear of war.

“Are they not magnificent?” Cecily claimed breathlessly

“Indeed they are,” agreed Nicole. “If the music and
marching continue much longer, I shall join ranks with the men and march to battle along side of them.”

“Gracious, Nicole, but you do get carried away. It must be the French blood that causes such emotional tendencies.” Cecily
could never resist a sly thrust if the opportunity presented itself.

Nicole was just about to snap back at her when she noticed a dark gentleman in the crowd whose general bearing seemed familiar.
Almost at once he looked up and caught her eye. Beauchamp! What was he doing here? The sight of him was displeasing, and already
he was heading in their direction.

“Cecily, we have spent far too much of the morning here. We shall be late for luncheon if we do not start back at once.” Nicole
turned to leave.

“Oh, pooh! I want to see everything.” Cecily resisted Nicole’s tug on her arm. “Oh look, Nicole. Is that gentleman not seeking
to gain your attention?” Cecily nodded toward Beauchamp who was shouldering his way through the crowd.

Nicole ignored her question and exclaimed, “Cecily, I really must insist. Valentin especially wanted me to be present for
luncheon today, and I would not want to disappoint him.” She turned on her heel and headed on the path homeward.

“Oh very well,” Cecily pouted. “If you must spoil the fun, I suppose I have no choice but to follow. Nevertheless, I feel
there is plenty of time, and besides that dark man was trying to reach us, I am sure.”

“What man was that?” Nicole asked while keeping up the hurried pace she had set for them.

“The one I just mentioned.” Cecily stopped and pointed behind them.

“I am sure you are mistaken, Cecily. Now do come along.” Once again Nicole tugged on Cecily’s arm commandeerïng
her homeward. It took a measure of self-control to resist a furtive glance over her shoulder to see if Phillippe Beauchamp
were following. She could not say why, but the sight of him in the park seemed to hold a menace of some kind.

Nicole fretted the rest of the afternoon. All she needed was Phillippe to upset her life. A French cousin! Just a few days
ago Lady Raymond had suggested to Nicole that her world must be topsy-turvy, living all those years under Napoleon as a French
citizen and now to find herself an English Viscountess. Nicole wished to avoid any encounters that might seem suspicious,
however innocent.

Unfortunately her hopes faded the very next morning when Phillippe Beauchamp’s card was presented, and he strolled into the
drawing room.

“You are early for a morning caller, cousin,” Nicole greeted him coldly.

“I desired to see you
en particulier.
I have a matter to discuss which must preclude other parties,” Phillippe stated arrogantly.

“I cannot imagine anything you would have to say to me which must be spoken of in private,” Nicole answered just as arrogantly.

“Can you not?”

“What could you possibly be hinting at, Phillippe?”

“Eh bien, I shall inform you. Lord Crawley… I know the circumstances that led to his death.”

She sighed unhappily. “I do not know how that concerns you.”

“Vraiment? Joseph, he was how shall I say… your bon ami…”

“I find your suggestions insulting in the extreme!”

“Me, I suggest nothing. I am aware that the Viscount, your husband, has had cause to… question your fidelity,
non?”

“If you think our being related will allow me to stand here and listen to your vile insinuations, you are terribly mistaken,
Phillippe. I think you had better leave at once, and do not trouble yourself to retain the connection between us any further.
Adieu!”
She turned to leave the room.

“Do not play the
grande dame
with me, Nicole. You will listen to me or have much cause for regret.”

Nicole could not walk away. Her guilt over the past held her captive to his threats. “Very well, Phillippe, get your nasty
business over with so I can be rid of your presence.”

“Doucement, cousine, doucement. You will change your haughty tone when you have heard all I have to say.”

Nicole did not reply further, but faced him stolidly, awaiting the harm she feared he intended.

“So now I proceed, eh? You have been very indiscreet, my little one.” She blanched as he went on. “I have here from you a
note to Lord Crawley.”

“A note?”

“Oui.Written in your own hand. I shall read a most interesting portion to you.‘I will be happy to assist you in this endeavor
which must endear you to any true Frenchman!’ “Phillippe lifted his eyes from the note and regarded her smugly.

“That was an acceptance note concerning the ballet company,” she explained.

“So you say.”

“What do you mean?” She was frightened now.

“This note that you allege concerns the ballet…”

“It does!”

“Ah, as I said before,‘so you say’.” He held up his hand as she was about to protest. “But others might see it in a different
light,
non?”

She refused to respond to the sneering man standing over her.

He continued. “It could so easily be interpreted to show your willingness to assist Napoleon Bonaparte.”

“Bonaparte? What absurdity are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your helping Crawley betray the English.”

“What?” she asked incredulously.

Impatiently Phillippe insisted, “Crawley was in the pay of the emperor.”

“No, I do not believe you!”

“He was deeply in debt and was quite agreeable to our plan. As an Englishman he had access to places otherwise closed to us,
oui?
Crawley was able to glean much valuable information for us.
Malheureusement,
he lost his head and let the Viscount force him into that fatal duel.
Imbécile!
His hatred cost him his life and us a very useful contact.”

Nicole shuddered in revulsion.

“We planned it so carefully, and he ruined everything.” He sighed contemptuously. “So now we must begin again. And you,
ma chère,
must aid us.”

“You must be crazy,” she stormed rising to her feet, “to think I would help you! I will see that you are arrested for the
spy that you are.”

“Au contraire. This packet of notes is all the assurance I need that you will do no such thing.” He slapped the packet between
his hands. “It was so good of Joseph to entrust them to me,
n’est-ce pas?”

Nicole felt herself sinking into an abyss, but she tried to hold it off. “Packet?” She swallowed convulsively.

“Oui, it contains many interesting items. Here is one requesting a closed carriage and a large sum of money.”

“Geneviève,” she whispered. “You cannot mean this.”

“Ah, but
ma petite,
I do. What do you think your husband would do if he received a
billet
mentioning the Ardsmore earrings?”

“You despicable…”

“Now, now,
ma chère.”

“I always knew there was something particularly vile about you!”

The leering smile was wiped from his face. “How would you like your initialed handkerchief to be found at a suspicious meeting
broken up by British agents? It could be easily arranged.”

Nicole felt her legs trembling and sat down quickly. In a weak, strained voice she asked, “What is it you want of me? Money?”

“My, my we are direct. I hate to disillusion you, but money is not what I want.” Beauchamp stepped closer to her, and she
recoiled as he hissed, “I want information.”

“Information?” she questioned in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Naturellement. Your husband is a Colonel on the staff of Wellington. Valuable information passes through his hands. I want
it!”

A cold fear crept up her spine even as she answered defiantly, “Never!”

“No? Are you so sure of that? What do you think your chances would be of explaining these
billets
to an already Wary husband? Or better still, a few words to the Duke suggesting Colonel Harcourt’s wife is a spy?”

“They would not believe it,” Nicole wailed, terrorized by the thought of Valentin’s reaction.

“Would they not?” he asked cynically. “With your French ancestry, this packet of notes, your friendship with Crawley, not
to mention your floundering marriage to an Englishmen? Shall I go on?”

“No, no, you cannot be so cruel.”

“I have no intention of being cruel, little one, if you are reasonable and follow my instructions.”

“The Viscount tells me nothing.”

“But he will. Have you not learned to use those so charming feminine wiles on him yet? Plenty of opportunities must present
themselves to go through his desk.”

“No, no! I cannot!” She was becoming desperate.

“Eh bien, you leave me no choice.” He turned as if to go.

“No, wait!”

He turned and smiled. “I thought you would come to your senses.”

“I… I need time to think.”

“It will change nothing.”

“Please,” she pleaded, hating herself.

He contemplated her distress. Sure of his victory, he decided to be lenient.

“Very well, you will have twenty-four hours. If you think to betray me, remember I am not alone in this. And I will deal more
generously with you than the others. Tomorrow I ride in the park between two and three. If you are there, I will know you
have agreed to help us.”

Numbed, she stared at him until the door was opened abruptly.

“Oh, excuse me. I did not realize you were having a private
tête-à-tête,
Nicole,” Cecily said slyly.

Still too stunned to react, Nicole quietly introduced her two least favorite relatives to one another.

“Why, of course, the charming gentleman I saw beckoning to you in the park yesterday. You never told us about your French
cousin, Nicole,” Cecily smirked.

“My charming
cousine
has had much more important things on my mind, have you not,
ma chère?”

Nicole murmured something noncommittal. Phillippe
decided it would be wise to distract Cecily’s attention from Nicole and led her across the room chatting in an intimate fashion,
his head bent close to Cecily’s.

Nicole watched them nervously but was allowed no further action as the Wexfords were announced, shortly followed by Lady Barclay
and Maria Bellington. The morning passed quickly in a steady stream of arriving and departing callers. Phillippe Beauchamp
had taken his leave, but his absence did nothing to lessen the agitation within Nicole’s bosom. She found Cecily watching
her speculatively and was determined that the girl should not be allowed the pleasure of tormenting her further.

Somehow Nicole managed to get through the day, but the evening still lay ahead. Since Perry and Telly were both on duty and
Madame Lafitte had retired with a migraine, only Cecily and Valentin would join her for dinner.

Not wishing to face her husband alone, Nicole was the last to come downstairs. As she was about to enter the drawing room,
she heard the Viscount laugh.

“Come on, Peaches,” he chided. “You are up to your old tricks again.”