Gabrielle fortunately didn't appear surprised by the question. "Yes. He had a courier system to report to Lord Dewhurst, and he was able to include letters to us. He wrote to me more than to anyone in the family, actually. Somehow he seemed to find it easier to talk to me."

"Perhaps that had to do with what he wanted to talk about."

Gabrielle drew a breath, then hesitated. The splash of the fountain against the elaborate stone of the grotto echoed through the garden.

"Lady Caruthers," Suzanne said, "was your cousin in love with a woman in France?"

Gabrielle's blue eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"From something Malcolm and I've learned, it seems etienne may have become involved with a woman called Tatiana Kirsanova. She was murdered in Vienna last autumn. She was a friend of Malcolm's."

Gabrielle nodded. "I've heard-" Confusion shot through her gaze. "That is-"

"You've heard the gossip about Malcolm and Princess Tatiana. But I'm sure you know better than to believe all the gossip you hear. As it happens they weren't lovers. Though for some weeks I believed they were."

"That must have been beastly."

"Yes. It was h.e.l.lish. I scarcely realized my own capacity for jealousy until then. And yet when she was murdered I was more concerned for Malcolm than anything."

Gabrielle nodded. "Last night when Rupert told me about Bertrand, I could only think that I hadn't been able to comfort him properly." She folded her sketch pad. "etienne never said-He never told me the woman's name."

"So he did confide in you about a love affair?"

"Yes. I can't believe-" Gabrielle's gaze fastened on the white marble statue of Venus in her bath that the architect Jean Chalgrin had recently added to the fountain's grotto. "He said it was the last thing he'd ever expected, to meet the love of his life in Paris. That he couldn't forgive himself for dragging her into danger. That it was a terrible irony that they'd met when so much was at stake. You know the sort of thing young men say when they fancy themselves in love. But I never thought the woman he wrote about was an-" She bit back the word.

"An adventuress?"

Gabrielle flushed. "I'm the last person who should be using such words about another woman. But etienne was more the sort to fall for a helpless ingenue than a powerful woman. And the tone of his letters was that of a man in love who truly believed the feeling was returned."

"From the stories I've heard, Princess Tatiana gave the impression she was very much in love with your cousin."

"A penniless emigre who, much as I loved him, would have probably appeared callow to an experienced woman?"

Lord Stewart's incredulity at her marriage to Malcolm echoed in Suzanne's head. "Love can take people by surprise. Do you think the woman your cousin loved could have been involved in the plot against Napoleon?"

Gabrielle gave a surprised laugh. "My cousin etienne was the sort to want to protect the woman he loved, not expose her to danger."

"My husband occasionally has those tendencies, but fortunately he overcomes them. I doubt such behavior would have found favor with Princess Tatiana, either."

Gabrielle frowned. "etienne said-He said she was brave. Which surprised me. That wasn't the way I'd have expected him to talk about the woman he loved."

"Did Antoine Rivere say anything to you about etienne's lover? Or about the plot?"

Gabrielle stiffened. For a moment, Suzanne saw the defenses slam into place in her eyes. Stephen's and Colin's giggles echoed across the garden in the stillness. Then some of the tension drained from Gabrielle's shoulders. "You know. Though I suppose there's no need for secrecy now that Antoine is dead. He was concerned about the repercussions if it became known he'd been plotting against France's government. Even by the Royalists."

"How long have you known?"

"Antoine told me. It was how we first-how we first became acquainted." Gabrielle picked up a pencil that had fallen beside her chair and tucked it into its case. "He came up to me at the opera and told me he'd had the good fortune to know my cousin and that he was a brave man. At first I wasn't sure if he was talking about etienne or Bertrand. Then I realized he must be the third man who had worked with etienne and our cousin Christian. I was surprised he admitted it to me, given his worry about his involvement getting out."

"I expect he had his reasons for wanting to find favor with you."

Gabrielle flushed, then smiled. "Perhaps. He seemed to trust me, which was a bit seductive in itself. Rupert isn't much in the habit of confiding in me. At least he wasn't. And I liked being able to talk about etienne."

"What did Rivere tell you?"

Gabrielle pleated a blue-sprigged muslin fold of her skirt between her fingers. "That at first he'd taken etienne for something of an idle fribble, a spoiled young aristo with dreams of glory. But that etienne had surprised him with his determination and his ingenuity."

"Did he mention etienne's mistress?"

"I asked about her." Gabrielle hesitated a moment, waved to the boys, who were now running races in front of the fountain. "He said that without her, they might have pulled it off."

"Did he mean she was a distraction?"

"What else could he have meant?" Gabrielle's gaze skimmed over Suzanne's face. "You think Princess Tatiana is the one who betrayed them?"

"There's no evidence to suggest that."

"But you think it's a possibility." Gabrielle watched Suzanne closely.

"There are a number of possibilities."

"Someone betrayed them."

"Who did Rivere think it was?"

"He didn't know who. Or why it was only etienne who was betrayed. Only that he'd be forever grateful to etienne for not betraying him and Christian." Gabrielle rubbed her arms, bare below the puffed sleeves of her gown. "I didn't always believe the things Antoine said to me. But that had the ring of truth."

"Do you think your cousin Christian knows more?"

"Perhaps. To own the truth, I don't know Christian well. Until these past few weeks I hadn't seen him since I was a baby. I confess I find it hard to imagine him involved in a secret plot. He's a great admirer of a friend of yours."

"Of mine?"

"Dorothee Talleyrand."

CHAPTER 21.

Malcolm rapped at the door of Talleyrand's study once and then strode into the room. He stood on less ceremony with the prince than he had in Vienna.

"Malcolm." Talleyrand looked up from the papers on the desk before him with so little surprise that Malcolm wondered if the prince could recognize his step on the stairs. He wouldn't put it past Talleyrand for a minute. "An unexpected pleasure."

Malcolm pushed the door to and advanced to stand before the desk. "Did you put Tatiana up to her affair with etienne Laclos?"

Talleyrand stared at him for the length of a half-dozen heartbeats, then raised his brows. "My dear boy-"

"You've rather exhausted the feigned innocence, sir. Particularly where Tania is concerned."

Talleyrand gave him a smile of acknowledgment. "etienne Laclos wasn't a trained agent. He had adequate cover for slipping into France, but it was obvious early on he'd been sent by your government. I needed to find out what he was up to."

"And when you did know?"

The brows lifted again, this time with pretension-dampening hauteur. "They were plotting to take my sovereign's life."

"Quite."

Talleyrand gave a laugh and waved a hand towards a shield-back chair beside his desk. "G.o.d knows Bonaparte and I had our disagreements, but I don't recall anyone ever accusing me of having designs on his life."

"Nor do I." Malcolm dropped into the chair, not taking his gaze from Talleyrand's face. "Which doesn't mean-"

Talleyrand adjusted a crystal paperweight that anch.o.r.ed a stack of papers beside his elbow. "I won't ask you to have faith in my morals, Malcolm, but you should have the wit to believe me when I point out that a.s.sa.s.sination of a leader leaves a dangerous vacuum. I've seen enough of chaos in my life to deplore a vacuum."

Malcolm scanned Talleyrand's face. His only prayer of keeping up with the prince was to keep all his wits about him, and even then Talleyrand had the edge. "So it was you and Tania who put an end to the plot."

"No, as it happens." Talleyrand's fingers curled round the paperweight. "We planned to, if they ever got so far as putting it into action. But someone else betrayed them first."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Nor could I ever find out. Tania was furious. She'd developed quite an affection for etienne Laclos. She'd made me promise that when we put an end to the plot, etienne be allowed to escape."

"She tried to hide him."

"Yes, I know. And when he was arrested, she begged me to intervene. Begged, entreated, threatened, wheedled. I've never seen even Tania run such a gamut of emotions. But of course there was a limit to what I could do. I could hardly let it be said I'd come to the aid of a traitor in the pay of the British with designs on the emperor's life." He stared down at the sunlight bouncing off the crystal of the paperweight. "I think it was one of the worst quarrels Tatiana and I ever had. She wouldn't speak to me for weeks afterwards."

"And then she asked you to help her leave Paris quietly."

"A few months later, yes."

Malcolm drew a breath. "Do you think etienne Laclos was the father of her child?"

Talleyrand's eyes narrowed.

"You can't tell me you never considered it."

"No, it was an obvious possibility. The strongest argument against it was that it's difficult then to see the reason for such overwhelming secrecy. For the actual birth, yes, she wouldn't have wanted open scandal. But to fear any whisper of mention of the father's name-?"

"Perhaps she didn't want it known she'd been the lover of a traitor."

"That would have garnered her sympathy in some circles. Especially after Bonaparte was exiled."

"Could she have feared vengeance?"

"From whom? The Lacloses were in England. Christian Laclos was hardly the sort for anyone to fear, let alone Tatiana, who could run rings round him without trying."

"Could she have been afraid it would come out that she'd betrayed etienne?"

Talleyrand's brows lifted. "I told you, we didn't-"

"You didn't. Could Tania have done it on her own?"

Talleyrand didn't give the quick denial Malcolm more than half-expected. He sat back in his chair, fingers loose on the ink blotter. "I won't deny I've thought of it. But if you'd seen her concern for Laclos-" He shrugged his satin-clad shoulders. "Then again I'm the last to put store in emotional outbursts."

"You didn't take Rivere into custody."

"No. As I told you, I found it useful to watch Rivere. I was rather annoyed that whoever exposed the plot had disrupted one of my best sources. At least the damage was contained to etienne Laclos."

"What about the gold?"

"Gold?"

"Dewhurst told me the gold to fund the plot was never recovered."

"And you're asking if it found its way into French coffers?"

"Can you blame me?"

"No. Any more than I can expect you to believe me when I deny it."

"We're not going to see Manon Caret." Aline looked up as Suzanne dropped into the chair beside her at the rail of their box in the Comedie-Francaise. "Apparently she's ill. Such a pity. She even makes me enjoy all that declamation in Racine, and I've never seen anyone I liked so much as Countess Almaviva."

"Sometimes an understudy can surprise one," Suzanne said in a steady voice. She still didn't know if Manon had made it safely out of Paris. Or if Raoul had safely returned.

"I imagine there are gentlemen sighing all over the theatre." Cordelia settled her skirts-black opera net over seafoam satin-as she seated herself beside Suzanne.

"Yes, I think even Geoff isn't immune to Mademoiselle Caret's charms," Aline said. "She's rather a thinking man's Aphrodite."

"Have you heard?" Dorothee brushed through the curtains at the back of the box.

"That Manon Caret is ill?" Aline asked.

"But she isn't." Dorothee dropped into a chair in the row behind them in a swirl of jade crepe and Pomona green satin. "At least not according to the gossip I've been hearing. They say the management's put it about that she's ill, but in fact she's disappeared from Paris. There are even odds on whether she's run off with a lover or disappeared to escape her creditors."

"I would think it would take something more serious for an actress to forego her profession," Cordelia said, glancing down at the programme in her lap. "I doubt a mere man would do it and surely a woman in her position could evade creditors. Don't you think, Suzanne?"

"Quite." Suzanne was scanning the boxes with her opera gla.s.ses. She caught sight of a familiar graying dark brown head and sharp profile across the theatre. The constriction in her chest eased. Raoul had made it back to Paris.

"But plenty of people have reason to flee Paris these days," Aline said. "Was Mademoiselle Caret political?"

"Not particularly," Dorothee said. "She was rumored to have a liaison with Jerome Bonaparte, but then any number of actresses have been connected to the Bonapartes. Look at Mademoiselle Georges's success, and she was linked to the emperor himself."

"Perhaps it was something that wasn't common knowledge," Aline said. "Suzanne, have you heard anything?"

"No," Suzanne a.s.sured her husband's cousin. Why did lying seem more of a strain these days? This was the sort of deception that should be second nature to her. "But then I'm hardly in the confidence of the minister of police. Doro, I'm glad you're here. There's something I've been wanting to ask you. I understand Christian Laclos is one of your cavaliers."