"Even Tatiana may have found logic eluded her with her emotions so strongly engaged."

Malcolm's mouth relaxed into a smile. "Perhaps. In an odd way it's a relief to think so. Though I have to say I much prefer the thought of St. Gilles as the boy's father."

"Yes, but you weren't in love with etienne Laclos. Do you think you can convince Wellington or Castlereagh to intervene on St. Gilles's behalf?"

His mouth hardened. "No. But I may have more luck with Talleyrand."

Talleyrand stared at Malcolm across his study. "My dear Malcolm, I understand your sympathies. But you can't save every Radical on the proscribed list."

"I'm not talking about every Radical. I'm talking about Paul St. Gilles."

"I wasn't aware you even knew him."

"Tatiana did."

"Ah."

Malcolm slammed his hands down on Talleyrand's desk and leaned forwards. "How much do you know?"

Talleyrand flicked a bit of powder from his sleeve. "She was close to him. She was close to a number of men. Is he the father of her child?"

"Perhaps in biology. Certainly in fact. He and his wife are raising the boy."

"It's a boy?"

"With Tania's hair and eyes."

"A great admission." Talleyrand leaned back in his chair. "I don't know whether to thank you for your trust or chide you for your carelessness."

"You're the one who taught me the value of calculated risks." Malcolm straightened up and leaned against the desk. "We both owe St. Gilles a debt, sir. And I think Dorothee would ask the same of you."

Talleyrand got to his feet. His gaze was direct and less hooded than usual. "I'll do what I can, Malcolm. But my influence is precarious. I don't know that I can get St. Gilles out. But I may be able to get information that will be of help to you."

"Of help?"

Talleyrand moved round the desk and put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "When you break St. Gilles out of prison."

CHAPTER 30.

"An aristo and a Radical." Wilhelmine looked at Malcolm across the antechamber at Madame de Coigny's to which she, Malcolm, Suzanne, and Dorothee had retired to talk, escaping the press of the political and artistic elite of Paris mingling in her salons. "Even in her fathering her child Princess Tatiana knew how to play both sides."

"Don't be horrid, Willie," Dorothee said.

"No, it's an apt comparison," Malcolm said. "I've thought much the same myself. And I suspect Tania would appreciate it."

Wilhelmine got to her feet. "What can we do?"

"My uncle-," Dorothee said.

"I've talked to him," Malcolm said. "He was not unsympathetic. But he doesn't think he has the power to get St. Gilles released."

Dorothee frowned. "But then-"

"So we have to break him out," Wilhelmine said. "I do hope you aren't going to try to keep us out of it."

"On the contrary," Malcolm said.

Suzanne hesitated outside the door to the card room, weighing risks and consequences, while her heart beat a taut tattoo beneath her corset laces. But sometimes all calculations of risk and reward ceased to matter. Sometimes the stakes were so high one had to roll the dice and take one's chances. She stepped into the room, strolled to the faro bank, and met Raoul's gaze.

Ten minutes later he dropped down beside her in the ballroom on a settee half-hidden by a pillar. "Mrs. Rannoch."

"Mr. O'Roarke. I fear I'm growing old. You find me taking a break from the press of the party."

"I'd say that's more a reflection of the life you lead than your age, Mrs. Rannoch."

"You're very kind."

Raoul turned his head and studied her face. "What is it, querida?"

Suzanne swallowed hard, aware of just how much she was muddying her two worlds. But then keeping those worlds apart had always been an impossible challenge. "Paul St. Gilles has been arrested," she said.

"I heard. It's a pity. A brilliant artist and an equally brilliant thinker. We need more men like him to speak out, not be silenced."

"Yes. And he's . . ."

Even now she fumbled for the words, knowing that once they were spoken they could not be taken back. And it wasn't her secret, it was Malcolm's.

Raoul watched her with understanding but did not press her.

"He was Tatiana Kirsanova's lover," she said.

Raoul raised his brows. "I didn't realize. Though I can see how he'd have appealed to her. She liked brilliance and challenge."

"And he may have fathered her child."

Raoul's eyes widened. "I didn't realize-"

"That she had a child? No, she kept it well hidden. Whether or not St. Gilles is the biological father, he's been raising the boy. He and his wife."

"The incomparable Juliette Dubretton. The boy is fortunate in his parents."

"We owe them a great debt."

" 'We'?"

For a moment she felt keenly what Malcolm must have gone through in Vienna before he told her the truth of his relationship to Princess Tatiana. It wasn't her secret to share. And yet it had to be shared if they were to have a prayer of saving St. Gilles. "Princess Tatiana was Malcolm's half-sister."

She expected the rare surprise to show in Raoul's eyes again. Instead, he inclined his head. "Yes, I know. I presume Malcolm told you in Vienna? I'm glad he did so."

Pieces of seemingly solid information broke apart and swirled in her mind. All these years, and he could still shock her to the core. "How-"

"Arabella confided in me. Malcolm's mother," Raoul said, as though Arabella Rannoch sharing this secret she had guarded so closely was a simple matter. "We were friends, remember. She was young and in distress. I was young myself and a sympathetic listener."

It made sense on the surface and yet did not begin to explain Raoul's ties to the Rannoch family. Suzanne stared into his gray eyes with their unfathomable layers. "So all this time-"

"It wasn't my place to tell you what Malcolm didn't feel he could share. I did try to tell you I was sure Malcolm's relationship to Princess Tatiana wasn't what it appeared on the surface if you'll recall."

"Yes, but-" She shook her head, replaying a dozen conversations. "d.a.m.n you, do you have to know everything?"

He gave a low laugh. "Every day I'm more and more convinced of how little I know." He regarded her for a moment with that appraising gaze he'd worn when measuring the extent of her injuries after a mission. "What mattered wasn't so much that you knew the truth of their relationship as that Malcolm was able to confide the truth to you."

She drew a breath, memories of those weeks of uncertainty in Vienna like gla.s.s in her brain. "You're right of course. You have a disgusting habit of being right. It's most provoking."

He gave an unexpected smile. "Good to know I still have my moments." His gaze skimmed over her face. "Do you know who Tatiana's father was?"

"Lady Arabella didn't confide that to you?"

"No. It was a secret she guarded closely. I don't think she told her sister, either."

Suzanne hesitated again, but he was going to have to know about Willie's and Doro's involvement. "Peter of Courland."

This time she did see surprise flare in his eyes followed by a flash of understanding. "I begin to understand Arabella's secrecy. Almost like giving birth to a royal b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Do the d.u.c.h.ess-"

"Wilhelmine and Dorothee know. They've been helping us locate the child."

"An interesting alliance. And they too want to help St. Gilles?"

Suzanne nodded. "We owe him a debt for looking after Tatiana's child. Malcolm will never forgive himself if we don't come to his aid. I don't think I'll forgive myself."

"Quite." Raoul inclined his head. "I'd like to help as well. I'd been wondering if I could do something for St. Gilles as it is. You want me to talk to the Kestrel?"

"If anyone can devise an escape plan-"

"Precisely."

"But I don't see how the devil we're to explain it to Malcolm."

"You aren't going to explain anything. That would be fatal. I shall have to offer my services-and my connections to the Kestrel-to Malcolm on my own."

"How will you explain-"

"I'll need a convenient rumor for how I heard he was looking for aid." Raoul's gaze drifted round the ballroom as though they were engaged in idle conversation. "Believe me, I can contrive something."

She shook her head. "It's-"

"My dear girl, after everything we've been through, don't tell me it's dangerous." Raoul inclined his head to a stout lady with a headdress of purple ostrich feathers who was walking past. "If I cared a sc.r.a.p for danger, I'd be raising horses in Ireland."

"But this isn't-"

"I'm risking myself for people I care about." He leaned back and watched her for a moment. "a.s.suming you're all right with the risk. I can keep you out of it, but it does circle closer to Malcolm learning about your past."

She gave an impatient shake of her head. "I'd never let that stand in the way of my obligations."

He smiled. "No, you wouldn't, would you?" He took a sip of wine. "Have you heard anything more from Fouche?"

"No." She drew the silk folds of her shawl about her, chilled despite the warmth of the evening.

"Suzanne."

She shot a look at him. "There's nothing to be gained from dwelling on it."

"Fouche told you he didn't believe my threats, didn't he? That he'd act against you anyway and if he was wrong, and I brought him down, you'd be responsible for my ruin."

Suzanne released a breath of fear and frustration. "This is why you're impossible to defeat at chess."

"Fouche's bluffing. Knowing what I can do to him, he wouldn't dare expose you. Or me."

"You can't be sure."

"No. We can't be sure of anything."

Her fingers tightened on the satin and steel of her reticule. Raoul had always protected his people, but it had been in the service of a larger goal. "You're-"

"Finding a way to go on and make sense of my life. As we all are."

"You aren't immune to danger yourself. And don't you dare say it's different because you're a man."

"I wouldn't dream of it. But I've survived the United Irish Uprising and the Reign of Terror. I think I can navigate the waters in Paris."

"So can I."

"My dear girl, I wasn't claiming anything to the contrary. But indulge me by letting me do what I can."

"I'm-"

"For G.o.d's sake, Suzanne." His gaze continued to drift round the room, but his voice cut like gla.s.s. "You have a son to think of."

She swallowed hard. "I think of Colin all the time."

"And he deserves to grow up with both his parents. It doesn't mean you can't run risks, but it changes the calculations."

"Juliette Dubretton is terrified of losing her son. I understand how she feels."