That had been on May 17, Simon thought uneasily. He had heard of the news yesterday. "He was driven back to Tournai," he said.

"Coburg had sixty thousand troops!" he exclaimed.

Simon stared in dismay, with one coherent thought-Warlock had played him. Warlock had insisted that the Allies would only field forty thousand men. d.a.m.n him!

But he remained calm and contained. He said flatly, "Then my sources were wrong."

"Yes, your sources were wrong, and you have hardly proved your value to us-or your loyalty," Duke said coldly. "Who gave you the information, Jourdan?"

"My cousin, of course."

"Ah, so he does not trust you, either."

"No one builds Rome in a day," he said, thinking of Amelia. "I cannot befriend St. Just overnight, even if we are cousins. And we do not know that he gave me misinformation. He may have believed that his facts were correct."

Duke studied him. Simon flinched but did not look away. "If you are suspect, if they are using you to play us, then you have no value to me, to Lafleur, to France."

"I am not under suspicion. I have barely arrived in town. I have yet to establish the network I need in order to give you the kind of information that will help you to win the war."

"St. Just is friends with Sebastian Warlock and Dominic Paget. He moves in Tory circles. Get into them, Jourdan, and give us what we want-before General Pichegru attacks the Allies."

He kept an impa.s.sive expression. "I will do my best."

Duke made a harsh sound. "You do not want me to tell Lafleur that you are entirely useless."

Inwardly, he recoiled. "I need time."

"You do not have time. Pichegru will attack Tournai in days." Duke added suddenly, his eyes burning, "I have heard that one cell remains vacant at La Prison de la Luxembourg. It is Number 403."

Simon froze. 403 had been his cell.

And suddenly the alleyway reeked of blood. Suddenly he could hear the crowds screaming, " la guillotine!"

Thump.

He blinked and realized that he was sweating as he stood there in the cold rain, and that Duke had strode away. He watched Duke mount his hack and trot past them and out of the alleyway, not bothering to look his way another time. Slowly, with dread, he faced Treyton. No threat could have been as clear, he thought.

Tom smiled at him. "You do not want to become useless to us, Jourdan, and you may trust me on that." Treyton walked over to his horse, untied the reins and led it forward into the downpour. He mounted and paused beside Simon. "Give my regards to St. Just-and to his lovely children."

"Leave my cousin and his children out of this," he heard himself say harshly.

"Hmm, it is as I thought-they are your only family now and you are taken with them." Tom saluted him and broke into a gallop.

Simon watched him ride out of the alley, in growing horror.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

AMELIA SMILED DOWN AT LUCILLE, who lay in her cradle, beaming happily back at her. She reached down and the baby grabbed her finger and gurgled. Love swelled within her breast.

But it did not vanquish the anguish that resided there.

Somehow, she kept smiling at Lucille, as tears filled her eyes. Simon had gone out last night, directly after supper. It had been raining torrentially, and no one in their right mind would go out in such weather. But he hadn't had a choice and she knew it.

She had caught him on the stairs, and his face had been stark-white, chalked with asbestos. His lips had been rouged. He had already donned a cloak, but the hood had been carelessly pulled up, and she had seen his crimson wig.

She had begged him not to go.

He had refused to consider her plea. Instead, he had told her not to wait up, and he had continued down the stairs. She had remained frozen in fear on the steps. The front door hadn't slammed, indicating that he had gone out a terrace door. She had finally sunk down on one of the steps, hugging herself and crying.

And he had not come to her bed last night.

Since their affair had begun, he made love to her every night, staying with her until dawn. He was obviously so very angry with her; he had been immersed in his newspaper during breakfast and hadn't glanced up at her once.

"At least he is safe," she whispered to Lucille. She wondered if she should try to explain that she hadn't spied on him. She hadn't relayed a single word he had said to Warlock. She wasn't sure that would make a difference; she had been manipulating him to discover where his loyalties actually lay.

"Miss Greystone!" Mrs. Murdock cried.

Amelia whirled as the nurse came rushing into the nursery. "What is it?" she asked, alarmed by Mrs. Murdock's expression.

"Mr. Southland is here!"

Amelia felt her heart lurch so terribly that for one moment she could not breathe. "It's not even eleven o'clock." She could barely think straight. Southland had come for Lucille. "Is he taking her?"

"I don't know. His lordship has taken him into the library, and he has closed the doors."

"Oh, G.o.d," Amelia cried. Her heart continued to pound. She had the urge to take the baby and run away. In that moment, she knew she loved Lucille as if she were her own child.

What was she going to do? She stared at Mrs. Murdock. "How did he seem? What does he look like?"

"He seemed anxious, Miss Greystone. He is a big, handsome fellow."

Amelia looked at Lucille, who continued to gurgle happily, staring up at the revolving coasters hanging above the crib. Southland was her father; he had every right to take her, care for her and love her. It simply hurt so much. "His lordship did not instruct you to bring Lucille down?"

"No, he did not. Oh, I am going to miss her so!" Tears filled the governess's eyes.

Amelia promptly picked up Lucille and held her close. She still couldn't breathe properly. She loved her so. But she had to do what was right. Southland deserved the opportunity to claim his child. "Can you accompany me downstairs?" She heard how hoa.r.s.e her own tone was.

They went downstairs slowly, Amelia filled with dread and holding the baby tightly. In the front hall, she gave Lucille to Mrs. Murdock, afraid she might never hold her again. "Take her for a moment. I wish to meet Southland. Why don't you wait in the pink room?"

Mrs. Murdock nodded and walked to the salon. Amelia watched her and the baby for a long moment, struggling for composure. Then, inhaling, she strode into the east wing and knocked firmly on the library door.

"Come in," Simon called.

She stepped inside and knew that Simon had been expecting her. He was seated at his desk, but he arose, his expression utterly impa.s.sive. Southland had been seated in a chair before the desk, his back to the door. He also stood, turning.

"Mr. Southland, this is my housekeeper, Miss Greystone. She has taken a personal interest in Lucille," Simon said, a question in his eyes.

She met his gaze, somehow sending him a wan smile. But he knew how she felt about the baby; he knew she was so reluctant to give her up. Then she smiled brightly at Lucille's father. "Good morning, sir."

"As I was explaining to his lordship, I cannot thank him-and you-enough for all you have done," Southland said.

Amelia studied him now. He was a tall man in a light brown wig, wearing a green jacket that matched his eyes. She could imagine that he was a pleasant fellow and he was certainly a gentleman. But his gaze was filled with worry, and he did not smile now.

"Lucille has been a welcome addition to this household," Amelia said roughly. "We all love her very much."

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed that Simon did not move. His expression was impossible to read. She added pointedly, "We have been expecting you for some time." She wanted to know why it had taken him a good six weeks to come and see his child.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his pale breeches. "I would have come sooner, but I was traveling...and I could not decide what to do."

Simon stepped out from behind his desk and said smoothly, "Southland was just telling me that he did not know about the child until he received my letter."

Southland flushed.

Simon added, "Apparently the affair ended in the fall."

His color rising, Southland looked as if he wished to escape the library-as if he wished to escape Simon. But of course he did. He had cuckolded the Earl of St. Just.

"We have a great deal in common, then-as I did not know about the child until recently, either." Simon's smile was cold and it came and went.

Southland faced him. "I am so very sorry, my lord, that I have put you in this position!"

"I told you, Lady Grenville had my permission to have her affairs." He shrugged.

Amelia looked between them with growing anger. She did not care for any rivalry that might exist between both men. But she could comprehend why it had taken Southland so long to call. He must have dreaded facing Simon. "What about the baby? What about Lucille and her future?"

Southland faced her, still flushed. "I would like to see her," he said. "If I may?" He glanced nervously at Simon.

So did Amelia. She expected Southland to state that he had come to claim his daughter, but it wasn't clear if that was the case. They had to know what Southland intended. But Simon was silent, not asking any questions of Southland.

He glanced at her. Her heart sank as their gazes met. Silently she tried to tell him that she did not want Lucille to go. He looked away. "Of course you may hold Lucille. She is your child."

"Thank you, my lord."

"I will get her," Amelia said, quite ill now. She hurried from the room, and in the pink-and-white salon, she approached Mrs. Murdock.

"What is happening?" the governess cried, handing her the baby. Lucille had fallen asleep.

"I don't know. He is very young, and he seems more interested in placating Grenville for having had an affair with his wife than he does in meeting Lucille!" Amelia rocked her, hushing her, as her lids drifted a bit. Dread and dismay were making her sick. Her heart already felt broken.

Mrs. Murdock touched her arm gently. "No wonder he didn't come till now-he must have been deathly afraid of his lordship!"

Amelia smiled grimly and left the salon. She understood why Southland had procrastinated, but if he was capable of cuckolding Grenville, then surely he could face him and claim his daughter! There was no excuse for such procrastination.

Both men were standing in the library, waiting for her, Simon with his hands on his hips. Southland was pale and he appeared nervous.

Amelia marched over to Southland. "She is asleep." She refrained from offering his daughter to him to hold.

His eyes widened. "She is such a little angel!" he exclaimed. And finally, he smiled.

Amelia's heart sank. It was as she had thought. Southland had taken one look at his daughter and fallen completely in love. "Here," she whispered, choking. She meant to give him his daughter to hold.

He backed away, alarmed. "Maybe it is best if I don't hold her!"

Amelia blinked through her tears at him. "Why not?" She inhaled. "Mr. Southland. I must be direct. Aren't you here to take her home with you?"

"I don't know!" he cried, his gaze moist. "I just don't know! How can I take her home? I am a bachelor of twenty-two. I live alone, with a single manservant. I am not ready to have a family. I am not even ready to wed!"

Amelia began to have hope. Incredulously, she glanced at Simon. Their gazes met, his eyes flickering as they did.

Southland added, near tears, "Of course, my parents could take her. They have an entire staff. But I haven't even told them about her. Miss Greystone, I simply don't know what to do. I am torn-I am afraid!"

Amelia looked at Simon. "Please," she said.

He came forward decisively then. "She is welcome to remain here, Southland."

Southland faced him, his eyes wide with some disbelief. "You would keep her?"

"She is welcome to remain here," Simon repeated flatly. "I would not turn my wife's b.a.s.t.a.r.d away-G.o.d rest her departed soul. But if you walk away now, you will not be invited back. She either goes with you or she stays here-as a Grenville."

Amelia's heart soared. This was why she loved and admired Simon so-he was so n.o.ble and so generous-he was so kind!

Southland nodded, seeming torn between relief and despair. "I believe that it is best that she stays with you, my lord, because you can give her the life I cannot." He faced Amelia. "It is better if I don't hold her. It is better if she doesn't awaken-if she doesn't see me."

Amelia remained in disbelief. They were going to keep Lucille.

"You should go," Simon said to Southland. He came to stand closely beside Amelia, as if feeling protective of her and the child.

"Yes, I should." He hesitated, staring at Lucille.

Amelia hugged her, afraid he was going to change his mind. But then he smiled grimly, moisture in his eyes, and dashed from the room.

Amelia sagged, Lucille in her arms.

Simon steadied her, grasping her elbow. "He would be disastrous as a father. He is much too young, with no means to care for his child-and no real interest in doing so."

"Simon, thank you," Amelia cried.

And his mask slipped away. Warmth and concern filled his eyes. "I know how much you love her, Amelia."

She began to cry. "And I love you, Simon, so much."

His face hardened. "But you questioned my loyalties."