Page 70 of Love Unraveled
And this great name of England round and round.
—Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Hands All Around”
Daylight was teasingthe horizon when Gaston returned. He’d tried not to awaken Sophie as he slipped into bed, but he’d not been successful. Groggy from sleep, she had roamed her hands over his body, and it had not been long before they were entangled. He’d fallen asleep soon after they’d made love, and now he was waiting for her to return to bed.
He sat up, pulling the coverlet over his lap. The room was opulent and definitively feminine, as rich and luxurious as Sophie was herself. He didn’t want to change a thing. He liked being surrounded by the essence of Sophie in every room. Her library was plain should he ever want a more austere, less distracting environment.
“I will take it, Cara.” Of course, the biggest distractor in the house was its mistress, who now stood in the doorway, tray in hand, staring at him.Mon Dieu, she wasune beauté. Her hair tied in a simple twist at the base of her neck, her violet dress unadorned, she was even more magnificent than when she set out to seduce the elite of London.
“I like seeing you in my bed,” she said, walking into the room.
“And I like being here,” he said, “especially when you’re in it too.” He patted the mattress.
“I better not.” Sophie set the tray on the small table between two chairs. “We have much to discuss, no?”
She was, of course, disappointingly correct. He threw back the covers and stood, stretching languidly, knowing her eyes were upon him. His body responded accordingly, and he briefly considered allowing it to have its way, but Sophie was right. She’d said she’d heard some things of promise last night, but he’d fallen asleep. It was time to focus.
Gaston tugged on his underclothes and trousers and pulled on a shirt. Not bothering to tuck it in, he strolled over and joined Sophie where she sat. She poured him a cup of coffee, and he relaxed back in his chair. “You first.”
Sophie relayed the conversation she’d overheard. Gaston grew excited. “It would seem we have found our traitor.” It was a tremendous breakthrough, and Liverpool would be well pleased.
“Yes, for certain Lord Acherton is involved in something.” She scrunched her nose adorably. “But who do you think they were talking about? There are many possibilities.”
Gaston might have thought the same thing had he not overheard several comments from Acherton about Liverpool’s ineffectual leadership and about how England had enough of its own problems without fighting somebody else’s war. It had struck him as odd, conversation meant more for the clubs than for drawing rooms, but he could now see it for what it was. He was laying the groundwork for discontent so any actions he took might be looked upon more favorably. Gaston explained his conclusion to Sophie.
“But why Liverpool?” she asked.
“Liverpool was appointed, not elected. It has left many unhappy, especially Whigs and Radicals. Perhaps these men are simply disgruntled by it? Perceval was assassinated last year by an aggrieved merchant. It was an extreme reaction to his financial situation, but he’d convinced himself Perceval deserved it. Was so confident in its rightness he shot Perceval in full sight of everyone. Men are not always predictable, nor are their motives.”
Some of the Radicals leaned toward revolutionary concepts. Many did not support involvement in the war. Especially now the colonies were fighting too. But Sophie knew all this, so he’d not belittle her by reviewing the obvious.
“But if they eliminate the prime minister, would the regent not simply put in another?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “but it could be someone more in favor of ending the war.”
It was a long bet and seemed unlikely Acherton would wish to jeopardize himself for such a random possibility.Create confusion. End direct line of communication.Gaston sat up.
“Unless,” he said slowly. “Unless they do not care who becomes prime minister. The chaos another political assassination would create might be enough for the war to lose support. It would ruin relations with allies…”
“And Napoleon is struggling now, no?” Sophie put down her coffee. “So a little distraction may give him an opportunity to regain his edge.”
Gaston stood and paced, trying to put his mind on what was bothering him. For certain, he could see the benefit for the French in such a plan, but what was in it for Acherton? Why would he risk everything for such a thing? Gaston put the questions to Sophie, who knew far more about these people than he did.
“Bentley said Lord Acherton owed him on some bets. Perhaps it is for money?”
“Perhaps. But I would hazard a guess it is more than a few bets if he is willing to chance getting caught betraying his country. I will have Liverpool look into it.”
“Sì. You should see him today. These men may not wait long.”
Gaston continued to chew on the problem as he washed and got fully dressed. Sophie walked him to the door, and he brushed her cheek with a kiss, whispering words of love before stepping out into the fresh air. He had decided to walk, not simply for discretion’s sake, but to clear his mind. It wasn’t until he was rounding the corner of the prime minister’s rooms that it struck him what was bothering him.
Acherton was not the only traitor.Whohad the men been waiting for?
Chapter Fifty-One
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence.
