She brought up her knee and struck him hard in his groin. He gasped, dropped his hands from her arms, and stared at her. "You will regret that. You will indeed."

"You filthy b.a.s.t.a.r.d." She jumped away from him. "I will do as you ask, but you will never touch me again."

She was through the doors to the library in an instant, so cold she wondered why she didn't crack into a thousand pieces. She couldn't bear it. She ran upstairs to the beautiful Rose Room and locked the door. She wrapped herself in all the blankets she could find. She sat there, staring at nothing at all for a very long time.

"The war ministry? Why the devil do you wish to visit the ministry?"

Evangeline merely smiled and shrugged. "I thought it would be interesting. It is the heart of the English government. Napoleon is free, he's nearly in Paris, I hear. Yes, I want to visit the ministry, feel the excitement, the antic.i.p.ation." "This is the strangest thing I've ever heard you say." "Is it? Well, there's no reason for you to accompany me. I can take a hackney. It's no trouble."

He looked as if he wanted to smack her. "When do you want to go on this exciting outing?"

"This afternoon. You don't have to worry that they won't allow you to enter, your grace. I asked Lord Pettigrew last night and he said he would be pleased to see me. Ah, and you as well."

"Drew is excessively polite, d.a.m.n his eyes. The last thing he really wants is to have a lady poking about.

I had intended to drive you to Richmond. I doubt you could ever find your way to the center of the maze, but I was willing to let you try."

Evangeline rose from the breakfast table and looked down at him. "If you're going to be in such a foul temper, I would prefer a footman's company." She tossed her napkin onto her plate.

He roared out of his chair. "You will hold your d.a.m.ned tongue, my girl. You must know that as your host, as the man who protects you, I have no choice at all. Of course I will accompany you. Now where are you off to? We're talking."

"I'm off to see Edmund. I have nothing more to say to you, your grace."

He toyed with his napkin for a moment. "I have already been to see him. Ellen was stuffing him full of toast. Bunyon was lecturing him on how a young gentleman behaved when he went to Astley's, and my mother was offering to let him shoot her with his gun. When he saw me, another slave for him, he offered to let me teach him how to play chess."

"That little fraud," Evangeline said, and laughed, her entire face lighting up. "I was teaching him, you see. Now he believes himself a master."

"What he needs," the duke said slowly, looking from her mouth to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, completely covered this morning by a pale yellow morning gown, "is brothers and sisters."

She gulped. "Perhaps," she said finally, "Lady Jane could be trained to be more human. What do you think?"

"Well," he said, his eyes alight with wickedness, "she did a.s.sure all of us that she was a virgin. That must weigh something in the scales." That got her goat but good. She leaped to grab the bait he'd so easily tossed. "You pompous, arrogant English b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You-" She drew herself up, her hands fisted at her sides, to see that he was laughing at her.

"I will go with you to see Edmund. We will both give him a chess lesson."

"Go to the devil," she said, turned on her heel, routed, and stomped out of the breakfast room. His laughter, deep and sweet, swept over her, and she collided with a footman.

Chapter 27.

Evangeline held her reticule close to her chest. Inside was the envelope John Edgerton had had a messenger deliver to her that morning. She didn't want to know what was inside. But she was afraid, dreadfully afraid.

The day was so cold she could see her breath in the carriage.

The duke leaned over and patted the blanket more closely around her legs. "Can you believe that just weeks ago we were basking under a summer sun?"

The carriage came to a halt. Juniper appeared at the window, all sharp and smiling. He very much enjoyed being in the thick of things, the duke thought. But he imagined that Juniper also wondered why the devil he was bringing a young lady to the war ministry. Why indeed?

"No," she said. "I can't believe it." She was standing in front of a soot-darkened gray stone building, stark and uninviting. It appeared to be in need of a good cleaning. It was surrounded by a high black iron fence. It seemed unnaturally quiet on the street, for there were no scrambling hawkers here to disturb the important men behind its walls. Two of his majesty's uniformed guards stood in silent scrutiny.

"You can see Westminster from here," the duke said, pointing a gloved finger.

"How utterly delightful," Evangeline said briskly and, ignoring the duke's look of incredulity, walked with a determined step to the tall black gate in front of the ministry.

The duke had no need to identify himself to the guards. Immediately the great iron gates swung open. "Your grace," said one guard. "Stay with the horses, Juniper," the duke called out. "Just as you normally do."

They walked up a dozen deeply worn stone steps to the huge double doors. The guard pulled at a heavy iron-ringed k.n.o.b and bowed low to the duke. "Your grace," he said. "Lord Pettigrew's secretary will now a.s.sist you."

"You have every right to be the most conceited man in all of England."

"Oh, no. The prince regent leaves me in the dirt. Besides, I pay no attention." He gave her a bewildered look. "Would you rather we were treated in a paltry manner and ignored?"

"Certainly not. It's just that everyone treats you as though you were the prince regent."

"Oh, no, they don't. Everyone in the know is much more polite to me, I a.s.sure you."

Evangeline drew up, startled. The duke's softly spoken words reverberated off the walls like a mighty echo. She glanced about. The main hall rose upward some four stories, wrought iron railings enclosing each of the floors. Uniformed guards stood quietly at each landing. Gentlemen of all ages, dressed in somber colors, walked purposefully through the main entrance hall, slowing only briefly when they saw Evangeline pa.s.s. The duke was greeted by every man and bowed to. It was disconcerting. She was roundly ignored.

"It must be obvious to you by now that ladies don't normally grace this place," the duke said smoothly after a young man, with less aplomb than the others, nearly tripped over his feet at the sight of her.

"Richard, Evangeline. You are exactly on time. Welcome to my second home." Lord Pettigrew appeared from the far side of the entrance hall. Unlike the secretaries and clerks, he was attired in a buff coat and dark brown breeches. Despite his warm welcome, Evangeline sensed that he was harried. Doubtless he thought her request to visit the ministry a frivolous one, and was not overjoyed that she was taking his valuable time. She didn't blame him at all. She looked at him, knew what she was doing, and wanted to die. Instead, she gave him a charming smile and said, "Thank you for letting me come."

He nodded, then said to the duke, "We have more information from Paris. If you are free this evening, there are those of us who would like to meet with you."

"Certainly," the duke said. "Now, let's have a tour for Madame Curiosity here. Do we have you for a guide or one of your many minions?"

"The great Duke of Portsmouth escorted about by a clerk? Hardly."

Lord Pettigrew led them through stark and somber conference rooms that reeked of stale tobacco smoke. "I have so longed to see the Lord Deputy's Chamber," Evangeline said as Lord Pettigrew led them into that ancient, oak-timbered room that had known endless discussions about England's future. She was near to shrieking at Lord Pettigrew when finally he said, "All that remains is my office. It's not all that impressive."

She gave him her best charming smile. "Oh, how I should like to see exactly where it is you work, Drew." For the first time he seemed to hesitate. "I promise you that I will then be content and leave you alone." Still he hesitated. She added, "I daresay ladies can't be blamed for wanting to see where gentlemen like you spend their days."

"Very well, Evangeline," Lord Pettigrew said finally, good-natured once again. "The good Lord knows that both the duke and I have spent hours in here. To the best of my knowledge, my Felicia has never even considered stepping one of her dainty feet into this mausoleum."

As Lord Pettigrew escorted them to the second floor, he and the duke discussed the triumphant return of Napoleon. "He will be in Paris by tomorrow, I have it on the best authority. It's difficult to accept that the French are welcoming him back with open arms. It will soon be all over England. It's time that Englishmen everywhere realize the danger this man poses to all free countries."

She stumbled.

Napoleon will soon be in the Tuileries, where he belongs. It was happening, just as Houchard and Edgerton had predicted. Somehow, she had nourished hope that the French would have nothing to do with Napoleon, that the French army would hastily escort him back to Elba. Houchard would have had no further use for her or her father then. "Evangeline?"

"It's the heat, your grace," she said, her voice dull as the light that tried to shine in through the dirty windows overhead. "I'm all right."

"Excuse me? The heat, you say?" He was staring down at her, his eyes narrowed, seeing too much.

"I will excuse you," she said only.

She became aware that Lord Pettigrew was apologizing for the clutter that filled his large office. There were maps everywhere and piles of papers stacked atop every surface. At the back of the office stood a huge mahogany desk, and two men were leaning over it, looking at some maps.

"Gentlemen," Lord Pettigrew said, "be so kind as to await me in the antechamber. I will be but another minute or two."

They both eyed Evangeline with a mixture of admiration, impatience, and condescension, gathered up several papers, and left the inner office.

She ignored them and walked nonchalantly toward the windows at the back of the office. She made a point of remarking on the view of the Thames through the uncurtained gla.s.s. She supposed that Lord Pettigrew replied in a suitable phrase, but she wasn't attending either him or the duke. She was looking from beneath her lashes at the second shelf of the bookcase on the far side of the room. It looked little used. It was there, between the third and fourth bound volumes, that John Edgerton had instructed her to leave the envelope. She stood at the window, responding to Lord Pettigrew when it was appropriate, all the while wondering how she would ever get the wretched envelope into the bookcase.

"Have you seen your fill?" the duke asked at last.

She turned and smiled brightly, and extended her hand to Lord Pettigrew. "Yes, indeed. Thank you so much, Drew, for your kindness. I know that you are quite busy. I don't wish to take any more of your valuable time."

Evangeline walked slowly to the wide doorway, and let her glove slip unnoticed to the wooden floor. When they reached the outer office, she said, shaking her head at herself, "Oh, dear, I dropped my glove. Just a moment, I shall fetch it."

Before Lord Pettigrew could a.s.sign one of his clerks to the task, Evangeline had whisked back into his office. With trembling fingers she quickly pulled the small envelope from her reticule and slipped it between the thick books. She returned in not above three seconds, waving the glove in her hand.

"I'm so sorry. It was so forgetful of me, so stupid really. But all is well now. And I've seen where all you masterful gentlemen spend your days to protect England." She would have continued her nonsensical speech had not the duke looked at her as if ready to clap his hand over her mouth.

Back inside the carriage, Evangeline spent many minutes settling herself, folding the blanket over her legs, settling her gloved hands in her lap, staring out the window.

"That was truly a remarkable experience," he said, staring hard at her, but she didn't look at him.

"Goodness, yes. So very exciting. I fulfilled a childhood dream, seeing-"

"Be quiet, Evangeline." He continued studying her profile, wondering, always wondering what was in her mind. He said, "I look forward to the day when I will finally come to understand you." She said nothing at all.

"I suppose you would like to visit the Commons?" She looked at him, controlled again. "No," she said, sounding like a twit, "what I would prefer is a drive to Richmond. I want to see this famous maze of yours."

Chapter 28.

Evangeline sat in the cushioned window seat in Edmund's nursery, looking at the fog-laden park across the square. She'd been in London for nearly a week now, perhaps the longest week of her life. Whenever a visitor was announced, she knew it would be Edgerton with more orders for her. He hadn't come yet, but she knew he wouldn't let her go now. What had been in the envelope she'd left in Lord Pettigrew's bookshelf?

Edgerton and Houchard had been right. The papers were full of Bonaparte's triumphant return to Paris, the French army at his side. Wellington and Napoleon were on everyone's lips, as was the talk of war, another b.l.o.o.d.y war. She studied the paper every morning in her bedchamber when the duke had finished with it, given to her by Grayson, looking for any information at all about conditions in Paris. She felt suspended in time, waiting anxiously for something to happen, yet fearing what was likely to come to pa.s.s.

At least she had Edmund. He was kneeling by the fireplace, rearranging his toy soldiers, half of them French, the other half English. He was exhorting one of the majors to mind his troops. She smiled. She appreciated Edmund more than she could ever tell him. She could imagine the look on his face if she did say something of the sort to him, perhaps hug him for longer than a little boy deemed necessary. She spent all her time with him. At first he'd been wary, but then, when he realized that she wouldn't stuff too much learning down his throat, he laughed and hooted and claimed he wouldn't try to capture her and shoot her for at least another week. She'd been profoundly grateful, clasping her hands over her chest and thanking him endlessly. He'd snorted, then to her surprise, he'd hugged her before running off to do something else that amused him. He had become her boy, and she never wanted to give him up. No, she wouldn't think about it. She couldn't bear to think about what would happen in the future, in a future where she was branded a traitor-that or dead.

But Edmund would have a future. She'd do anything at all to ensure that future for him. He was growing more like his father with each pa.s.sing day. When he wasn't with her, he was with the duke, who took him riding, took him to Tattersall's to look at horses, even took him once to Gentleman Jackson's boxing salon. She knew about everything they did because Edmund gave her a thorough recital every night when she tucked him in.

He was like his father in another important way. He never bored her. Edmund didn't realize it, would probably have been appalled if he did, but the truth was, he was her only comfort. Just yesterday he'd confided that he liked her better than Phillip Mercerault, a singular honor. Maybe he liked her even better than Rohan Carrington, something, he'd a.s.sured her, that he didn't say lightly.

Edmund said now, "It won't be long, Eve. Just you wait. Wellington will kill him dead. He'll ride his horse right up to him and stick his sword in Napoleon's gullet. Then you can be happy again." Oh, dear.

Evangeline rose unsteadily from the window seat and came down to her knees beside Edmund on the thick carpet. She couldn't let him come to such conclusions, despite the fact that they were alarmingly accurate. "What do you mean, Edmund?"

But Edmund's attention, for the moment, was back on his English battalion. He straightened a good dozen bayonets. He turned a major to face all his men, now in a perfectly straight line. He finally raised his eyes to her face. "Papa said I wasn't to tease you." Oh, dear. Was she so obvious? But she hadn't even seen Edmund's papa. At least she'd seen him only rarely.

She said, "But I like it when you tease me. Where is your gun? I believe I'm ready to execute a grand escape, and surely some brave boy will have to come after me, a ruthless highwayman, and shoot me right off my horse. Oh, no, you didn't use all your ammunition on the peac.o.c.ks, did you, Edmund?"

He gave her a look too wise for his years. "You're trying to make me forget things, make me think of stories instead of what's really here now. Papa said-" "What is it your papa said, Edmund?" The duke stood in the open doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He must have just stepped into the room. Hopefully, he'd been there only a moment.

Evangeline started to scramble to her feet, but the duke stayed both of them with a wave of his hand. "No, Evangeline, don't move. You look very comfortable. Now, Edmund, what did I tell you?" As he spoke, he strode over to them and dropped to his knees.

Edmund rubbed a cannon between his hands. "I'm heating up the gunpowder," he said at his father's raised eyebrow, then added, "You said she was unhappy. You said the last thing she needed was for me to plague her, like all those locusts did to the Egyptians. I told Eve that Wellington would grind Napoleon's bones for good. I wanted to make her smile. She did smile for just a little bit, Papa."

The duke looked at her over his son's head. "Did you succeed? Ask her, Edmund."

Edmund aimed a general's horse more to the left, then said, "I make you very happy, don't I, Eve?"

"Happier than a cat who's just lapped up a bowl of cream. Don't you remember? Last night you told me more of your story and I laughed and laughed?"

"She did, Papa. I made my story funny, and she liked it very much. So did Grandmama. I thought she would fall over, she laughed so much. She told me I was the best grandson she'd ever had."

"You're her only grandson. She was indulging in irony."

"Irony," Edmund repeated. "I shall have to work irony into my story. Perhaps you'll tell me exactly what it means when I'm ready to use it. Do you want to hear the story, Papa?"

"Yes, this evening I'll tuck you in. You will tell me and make me laugh as well."

"He is very clever, your grace. Now, Edmund, show your father what strategies you would use to defeat Napoleon."

She eased away from Edmund's battleground, as father and son realigned the soldiers' positions and shifted the artillery about, all to the sound of Edmund's excited chatter.

"Not a bad shot at all, Edmund. Yes, aim the cannon on the flank more toward the front line. Yes, like this. That's just excellent. Now, fire."

"I got you," Edmund shrieked. "I hit you right in your underbelly."

"d.a.m.n, you did. I'll have to take care or you'll wipe out my entire battalion. Where did you hear that word, underbelly?"

"Bunyon calls my tummy my underbelly. He said I had to be careful of my middle parts because they're softer than any other part of me. Look, Papa, Eve's laughing."

"Yes, even her eyes are shining, just a bit. Now, how would you like to take your grandmama to the Pantheon Bazaar today?"

Edmund was nearly speechless with excitement. "I haven't been there just yet. Oh, yes, Papa, yes."

"Very well. Bunyon is outside with your coat and gloves. Your grandmama is doubtless awaiting you with ill-concealed joy."

Edmund grabbed Evangeline about her neck, kissed her cheek, bowed low to his father, then bounded out of the nursery. She heard Bunyon's voice in the corridor, but couldn't make out his words. However, Edmund gave another shout. She said to the duke, who looked large and lazy and immensely beautiful sprawled out on the floor, toy soldiers and guns surrounding him, "Does her grace know of the treat you arranged for her?"