Chuckling inwardly, she took a sip of her own soup, just as a sudden thought assailed her. Should she bring her grandfather in on the secret? He was a man of the cloth after all and could feasibly provide an acceptable chaperone during any tête-à-tête, thus saving everyone’s reputation.
It would also be much easier for him to take Tristan aside and tell him of Rosie’s arrival, as well as convince the Frenchmannotto do the honourable thing by telling Rosie’s father. All she had to do was find an opportunity to speak privately with the Reverend while avoiding the eagle eyes of her parents…
Henrietta took another sip, her thoughts falling over each other. Truly, the whole situation was becoming ridiculously complicated. How on earth Raphael handled this kind of havey cavey business all the time, she had no idea.
Thinking about the King’s agent, she automatically lifted her eyes, seeking him out, just as his head turned towards her. For a few heart-stopping seconds, he stared at her with an intensity that should have sent her running, but instead, she experienced a totally unfamiliar sensation deep in her core, which had her fighting the urge to squirm in her chair. With the inevitable blush creeping up her neck, she swiftly looked down. Her heart was beating as though it wanted to escape from her chest, and she found herself taking small, panting breaths. What the devil was wrong with her? No manhad evercaused her body to react so.
Did Roseanna feel the same way when she looked at Tristan. What about her other cousins - Jennifer and Mercedes? Hurriedly, Henrietta picked up her spoon and concentrated on finishing her soup, allowing the conversation to flow over her.
She was entirely aware that allowing herself to feel anything for Raphael Augustin was foolish in the extreme. He was not in the market for a wife. Indeed, she doubted he had any intention of leg-shackling himself to anybody, let alone a woman barely out of the schoolroom. The feelings she was experiencing were merely infatuation. She’d never met anyone like him before, and she was certain that was the reason for her strong attraction.
What about the way he looks at you?the small voice in her head argued.
Henri gritted her teeth. Now really was not the time for soul-searching. Determinedly, she favoured the maid with a bright smile as the young woman took away the empty soup bowl.
‘Ah niver in all ma days seed such a braw sight,’ an awe-stricken voice breathed beside her. Turning to Finn, she saw him staring in wonder at the steak and kidney pie now steaming on the plate in front of him. The boy looked to be almost in tears. ‘Ah reckon ah be deid and gaun tae heaven,’ he murmured, picking up his fork and holding it like a shovel. Over his head, Henrietta smiled encouragingly at Percy, who was sighing through gritted teeth as he tried in vain to get Finn to use the knife without looking as though he was about to stab someone.
As she tucked into her own pie, Henri vowed to take a leaf out of Finn’s book. If she was going to get excited about anything, much better for it to be food...
Nine
The news that Tristan was almost certainly the heir to an old and distinguished French title had in truth not come as a complete surprise to Nicholas Sinclair.
And as he sat listening to Raphael Augustin explain his reasons for believing there to be a link between theRevisionistsand Montclair, the Duke had never felt so angry – with himself.
The simple fact of the matter was that he’d wanted the whole bloody conspiracy tied up neatly even though he knew in his heart of hearts that nothing was ever that simple.
If the King’s agent had not recognised Tristan, who knew what mischief those hiding in the shadows might have gone on to perpetrate – and still might yet do so.
Nicholas was sitting in the library with Raphael, Roan, Gabriel and Tristan, purportedly for the last glass of port before bed as the agent had proposed earlier. That had been a couple of hours ago now, and Rafe had gone through everything he knew, everything he believed, and everything he feared, touching lastlyon the possibility that there might be a traitor onboard theFaith and Fortune.
‘So, you think this Claude Fontaine knows that his nephew is alive and well and believes he is coming to claim his inheritance?’ Nicholas clarified.
Raphael nodded. ‘If I was a betting man, I would wager he’s been looking for Tristan for a long time.’
‘Why the bloody hell didn’t I choose another name?’ Tristan grated. ‘I only picked Tristan because I liked it, not because I believed it was mine.’
‘It’s possible that some part of you recognised it as yours,’ Raphael answered with a shrug.
‘But even if Fontainehasbeen searching, how can we be sure that he found me?’ Tris interjected harshly.
‘We can’t,’ Rafe retorted. ‘If you’re looking for proof that your uncle knows about you, all we have is an overheard conversation and gut instinct.’ He paused before adding carefully, ‘My men are interrogating Babin as we speak and there is an outside chance he will give up Claude Fontaine’s name, but, in truth, if there is someone higher up orchestrating things, they are unlikely to get even that much from him. In fact, there is a very good chance that Babin will not last the week.’
‘Can you not have him moved?’ Gabriel demanded. ‘God knows I have no sympathy for the bastard, but he’s the only solid lead we have.’
‘If I do, it will simply alert whoever is behind this of our suspicions,’ Raphael countered, his voice tight. ‘And at this point in time I dare not trust anyone in my organisation.’ He clenchedhis fists in frustration. ‘Do not think I am condoning murder – even of an evilbâtardlike Babin. But at the moment, I believe Fontaine is under the impression that his nephew simply wishes to reclaim his inheritance and remains ignorant of any Montclair connection to theRevisionists. I think he will seek to rid himself of Tristan before the world learns of the heir’s existence so that he can keep the money flowing from the Montclair coffers.’
‘What if we proclaim my existence to the world now? Surely that will make it infinitely more difficult for him to arrange a convenient accident,’ Tristan intervened drily.
‘If we do that, whoever is masterminding this conspiracy will retreat into the shadows and we may never discover their identity. Our best chance is to force Fontaine’s hand – get him to overreach himself.’
‘Using me as bait.’ clarified Tristan.
Raphael nodded ruefully.
‘Naturally the easiest solution would be to ensure Tris suffers a fatal accident at sea, before he even arrives at Montclair,’ Roan commented. ‘I have a number of crew only recently joined theFortune, so it’s possible one or more of them could be in Fontaine’s pay.’ He turned to Raphael. ‘What do you propose we do to flush out any traitors on board?’
Raphael paused for a second before murmuring, ‘I think we have an ideal person to poke around the ship without being noticed, in fact, he told me himself just how good he was atsnooping.’
