His temples throbbed. He had spent another sleepless night. After making love to Amelia, he had held her while she fell asleep, wondering at her loyalty and tenacity-wondering when her feelings for him would change. And once she was soundly asleep, he had gone to check on the sleeping boys, and then Lucille. And as he had stared down at Southland's daughter, he had realized that her welfare had become very important to him.

Lucille felt like the daughter he wished to have with Amelia-but never would.

Afterward, he had wandered about the house, finally going into the library, where he had stayed till dawn, reading some articles about the war. The news was stunning. General Coburg and the Duke of York, who was leading the British Allied contingent, had decided to go on the defensive now. Could this war even be won? One side would capture a garrison or a town, and then the other would recapture it. So far, the spring had been a series of victories followed by defeats. He did not care for the Allies going on the defensive so soon.

"h.e.l.lo, Simon."

Simon leaped to his feet, not having heard Warlock come to the open door. "You seem surprised, Simon. I did send a note," Warlock drawled.

"Close the door," Simon said curtly. "What happened to my butler?"

Sebastian smiled and obeyed. "I told him I knew my way through the house-rather forcefully. Do not be too hard on him. He is a good man."

"What do you want?" Simon asked darkly.

His brows lifted. "Why aren't you in better spirits? You got the child back."

Simon snorted, without mirth. "I take it you have spies in my household?" How else would Warlock know of Lucille's abduction and return?

"I considered it," Warlock said smoothly, sprawling out in a chair before Simon's desk. "In fact, I asked Amelia to spy on you, but she loves you and she refused."

He choked. "She should be left out of this d.a.m.ned war!"

"And how the h.e.l.l can you accomplish that, when she is here, in your home? Lucas called on me. He was very concerned about the baby's abduction. He asked for my help. And that is an example of the kind of loyalty I am p.r.o.ne to reward." His stare narrowed.

Simon sat down behind his desk, perspiring. "You don't care about my children or anyone else's. I had no intention of discussing this with you."

"I do not know why so many think me so heartless. I do care about the innocent-it is why I am in this d.a.m.ned war to begin with." His eyes flashed in a rare moment of genuine pa.s.sion. "And you could have come to me. I immediately suspected who had taken Lucille, and I quickly learned that I was right. But of course, you took matters into your own hands. Duke has fled the country, by the way."

Simon stared. "I had to give him up."

"You are very impressive, Simon. When did you discover the truth about Duke?"

"Shortly after my return to London."

"Of course. You needed an ace up your sleeve. In any case, I am thrilled that the child is home-and unharmed."

Simon actually believed him. There was no relief. "What are you going to do?"

"To you?" Sebastian smiled. "Simon, from every downturn, there is an upturn. A phoenix can always arise from the ashes. And these ashes are very, very intriguing."

Simon crossed his arms, with no small amount of trepidation. He would not charge him with treason? He wet his lips and said, "I don't care about any d.a.m.ned phoenix. Find someone else to play your dirty games. I want out, Sebastian. I am tired. I am done. I want to live an ordinary life with my children and Amelia. I told Duke that Jourdan is dead. I don't know if he believed me, but if that were the case, Jourdan could not continue on for Lafleur and le Comite."

"Simon-Jourdan is not dead. Not only is he alive and well and sitting before me, he is perfectly placed. He has just given the French absolute proof of his loyalty, proof of his value, his worth. No moment could be more opportune. I have already set in motion a plan for Jourdan to return to Paris, where he will be welcomed as a hero. Of course, you must avoid Duke now-if he is there. I have heard that he has fled to Spain, however. And once you are back in the Commune, you can begin to report on the opposition to Robespierre, which is growing." Warlock smiled. "As I said, you are perfectly placed and perfectly trusted."

Simon stood up. "You are mad to even think of sending me back. They imprisoned me once. One false step and I am a dead man."

"But you are adept at taking the right steps." Warlock stood and said seriously, "You are my best agent, Simon. You always land on your feet, like a cat with nine lives. You do not give yourself the credit you deserve. I know of no one who could have talked his way out of the prison-and la guillotine-as you did. It was brilliant. I have complete faith in you now."

Simon had never felt more despair; he was clawed with it. "And you trust me?"

"I don't have to trust you, Simon, I simply have to stay a half step ahead of you."

The sense of hopelessness was consuming. "And if I refuse?"

"How can you refuse?" Warlock smiled. "I know what you did yesterday, Simon. Some might call your disclosures to Duke an act of treason."

Simon inhaled. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You are threatening me."

"I prefer to think of it as simple persuasion."

SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Simon, Amelia thought. Supper was almost over, but Simon hadn't touched any of his plates-she doubted he'd taken a single bite of food. The few times she had glanced into the dining room, the boys had been chattering away, but Simon had seemed lost in thought.

Of course, he was filled with guilt over Lucille's abduction and Amelia knew it. But his dark mood had been worse today than last night. She knew him so well. Something had happened, and she was terribly afraid to find out what that something was.

Amelia came into the dining room, wearing a bright smile. "William, John, you may be excused. Please go upstairs and get ready for bed. I will be up in a bit to read and say good-night." As she smiled at the boys, she was aware of Simon staring intently at her. A flush began, p.r.i.c.kling at her nape and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Last night, his lovemaking had been frenzied and feverish. She glanced at him. His gaze was so direct. She felt herself blush. She knew when he needed her, when his thoughts were illicit and sensual.

When the boys were gone, she smiled a little and said, "May I sit down?" Two servants were clearing the table.

"You may always sit down and you do not need to ask," he said abruptly.

Amelia glanced nervously at the two servants, but neither looked at her as they carried the trays with the dessert dishes from the room. She took William's chair, on his right. "Of course I need to ask, Simon."

He shocked her by cupping her jaw with his hand. "Warlock has asked me to return to Paris."

She cried out.

He grimaced, dropped his hand and moved his winegla.s.s to the place mat which remained in front of her. "He insists. I do not think I can dissuade him," he said.

Amelia ignored the gla.s.s of wine. "You cannot go back," she gasped, stricken. "I need you, Simon-the children need you. You are their father-the head of this household!"

She was leaning on the table and he covered her hands with his. "I cannot refuse him, Amelia. And maybe it is for the best. I am well placed amongst the French now. You will be safer when I am gone."

She choked. "You cannot go back!"

His grasp tightened. "I am not being given a choice."

Tears began to interfere with her vision. "You were imprisoned already, Simon. It is too dangerous. You cannot go back. What is wrong with Warlock! d.a.m.n him! Why didn't you refuse?" Amelia realized she was crying. "Please, if you really love me, refuse. Refuse to go. He cannot force you."

He was silent for a moment, staring in anguish at her. "But he can, Amelia. He could charge me with treason if I do not do as he says."

And Amelia felt all the blood drain from her head and face. She reached for the table, afraid that she might faint. What had Simon done?

"My orders are clear, Amelia. I have been given a month's reprieve. I am bound for France at the end of June." He stood, taking her with him. "I think we should relish the time we have left."

AMELIA DID NOT KNOW how she could so acutely feel the pa.s.sage of every hour, of every minute, of every second. Five days had pa.s.sed since Lucille had been returned to them and Warlock had ordered Simon to return to France. But it felt like five seconds. They had one month left before Simon must depart for France to spy for his country-perhaps never to return.

She was sick with fear, seated in the pink salon across from her sister. Julianne had called, determined to be with her during her ordeal. Amelia had confessed everything to her, needing her sister as never before. As they took tea, the boys were immersed in their lessons, and Julianne's daughter, Jaquelyn, was in the nursery with Lucille. Simon was in his library, and she had seen him take the week's newspapers with him. She knew his attention was on the war.

Julianne reached across the table where they were sipping tea, taking her hand. "This is so unfair," Julianne whispered. "I know better than anyone what you are going through. But I only had a day in which to antic.i.p.ate Dom's departure for France, in which to live in a state of fear and dread."

"You lived in a constant state of fear and dread from the moment he left until the moment he returned," Amelia said. How well she recalled her sister's own ordeal. "But Dominic did return to you, in the end. I am terrified for Simon, Julianne! What if he doesn't return? What if the French catch him spying on them? What if he is sent to the guillotine?"

"Simon will return to you as well, Amelia. He is so clever and so resilient. He loves you so." Julianne was firm.

"He shouldn't have to leave in the first place!" Amelia exclaimed. She flushed angrily. The one thing she hadn't told Julianne was why Simon hadn't been able to refuse their uncle. "We were just finding happiness when Lucille was abducted. We were just becoming a family...and now, Warlock snaps his fingers, and for love of country and king, we must all suffer the consequences of his dictums!"

Julianne was silent for a moment. "What aren't you telling me, Amelia? Warlock must be holding something over Simon, to have him leap to obey his every command."

She pulled her hand away. She did not want to lie to her dear sister. "He is entirely ruthless. I went to see him yesterday, to beg him to change his mind. He said he had no choice in this matter. There is always a choice!" Amelia cried.

"How is Simon managing?" Julianne asked, after a pause.

Amelia inhaled. "I am so worried about him. Simon is deeply scarred by his time in France, and especially by having been incarcerated there. He still has nightmares! He dreams of the time he spent in prison and of the innocent lives claimed by the guillotine-he dreams of death. He never speaks openly of it. But I have heard enough to understand how terribly affected he has been. I am afraid that even if he survives, he will return to me an entirely different man."

Julianne squeezed her hand. "You must think positively, Amelia. And you must take every moment Warlock has given you, and live it as if there is no tomorrow. In fact, I should go and you should interrupt Simon and remind him of why he loves you so."

Amelia smiled sadly at her sister. Maybe she would do exactly as Julianne was suggesting. It would hardly be the first time she had seduced Simon in the middle of the day. Their afternoon trysts were becoming more frequent now. She knew he was as desperate as she was. They were racing the clock, but it was a losing battle.

Julianne stood. "Let's get the children. And maybe Warlock will change his mind," she said. "This war is always filled with unexpected twists and turns. Maybe the Allies will triumph on the battlefield this month, making Simon's return unnecessary."

Amelia sighed, as the war seemed to seesaw back and forth between both armies. It was impossible to tell who was going to triumph in the end. As she stood up, she suddenly heard someone rapidly approaching. She recognized the sound-the footsteps belonged to Lloyd, yet he never rushed. She stiffened with some incipient alarm as he ran into the room.

"Something is amiss, Miss Greystone. Your uncle has just barged into the house, demanding to know where his lordship is. I told him that his lordship is in the library. I am sorry, Miss Greystone!"

"It is all right." But she felt her heart lurch.

Why would Warlock behave in such a manner? Amelia glanced at Julianne, even more alarmed, and lifted her skirts and ran from the room, followed by both her sister and Lloyd.

The library door was wide open, and as Amelia rushed to the threshold, she saw Simon standing behind his desk, facing Warlock. Simon seemed stunned.

Terribly frightened now, Amelia whirled. "Lloyd, leave us, please," she cried. When he was gone, she shared a look with her sister, and rushed into the library, as well. "What has happened?"

Simon glanced at her, his eyes wide with shock.

Warlock turned to Amelia and Julianne. "A warrant has been issued for Simon's arrest."

Amelia cried out in disbelief. Was this a jest? Simon barely looked at her. "The charges?" he asked Warlock hoa.r.s.ely.

Warlock hesitated, his regard unwavering upon Simon. "Treason."

Amelia gasped. She looked back and forth between both men, and suddenly realized that this was no mistake. Someone other than Warlock had learned of the double game Simon was playing. So much dread began. "Can we stop this, somehow?"

Warlock glanced at her. "The warrant has been issued, Amelia. We cannot stop the authorities from descending upon this house and removing Simon from it."

She seized the edge of the desk to keep from reeling. "Simon?" What were they going to do?

Simon inhaled and looked at her. Their gazes met.

Amelia did not know what his unwavering regard meant. But her own mind had gone strangely blank. The British authorities were going to arrest Simon; they were going to charge him with treason. The British authorities were going to send Simon back to prison.

Oh, my G.o.d, he would never survive another term of incarceration.

Warlock broke the tension. "You do not have time on your side. If you wish to avoid detention, you must leave London now."

Simon had to flee, Amelia thought, stricken.

"I need to say goodbye to the children," he said harshly.

"Then do so now," Warlock flashed. "But hurry, and do not alarm them. We will claim you are out later, when they come looking for you. I have already sent for Lucas. He will help you flee."

Simon nodded, his face a dark mask of determination, and then he looked at Amelia. "I know you will take care of the children," he said.

She seized his arm. He was leaving her. "Where are you going to go?" she heard herself ask hoa.r.s.ely. "When will you be able to return? When will we see each other again?"

"I don't know," he said roughly.

How could this be happening? How could their lives be imploding this way? She turned to Warlock, desperately. "Can we go with him? The children need their father-and I need him!" But even as she spoke, she knew the answer.

"Simon-you must hurry," Warlock said with urgency.

"Amelia!" Simon took her shoulders. "I should not ask this, but I am going to ask you to wait for me," he said roughly. "Will you wait for me, Amelia?"

Of course she would wait, she thought, crying. But Simon could be in hiding for years. And then she knew she could not wait without a promise for the future. "No! Simon... Marry me now, before you flee."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

HIS EYES BRIGHT WITH UNSHED TEARS, he lowered his gaze to her hand. "With this ring, I take you to be my lawful and wedded wife," Simon said softly. He slid the gold band onto her finger. "Until death do us part."

Outside the small, fifteenth-century church, the rain had stopped. The stained-gla.s.s windows no longer rattled, and a bird began to chirp. A ray of sunlight entered the room. Amelia faced Simon, her heart filled with both anguish and joy. She was about to become Simon's wife-and then he would leave her.

Lucas stood beside her. He had brought the rings. Warlock had suggested they attempt to marry in one of London's many small parish churches as Simon fled town. Amelia did not know how Simon and Lucas had arranged the brief, highly unorthodox ceremony, but she suspected a great deal of funds had changed hands.

The reverend was nodding at her, in encouragement.

Amelia stared back at Simon, and said hoa.r.s.ely, "I take you, Simon, to be my lawful and wedded husband, until death do us part."