Wellesley was in London now, and tonight he had requested a private meeting to discuss a matter that concerned them both. For privacy’s sake, the general came to St. Aubyn House. Gervase received his visitor in the library and poured them glasses of port. After a nominal sip, Wellesley went straight to the point of his visit. “You know about the Marquess de la Romana?”
Gervase nodded. “One of Spain’s most respected generals. He’s in Denmark now, doing garrison duty for Napoleon.”
Leaning forward for emphasis, Wellesley said, “Romana is a Spanish patriot. If he knew the situation in Spain, he would no longer serve the emperor, nor would most of his men.” The general was by nature reserved, but his light blue eyes sparkled at the prospect of military action, and he looked years younger than he had in Dublin. “If someone can reach Romana and tell him Napoleon has removed the King of Spain, the Royal Navy will carry the marquess and his army home to fight the French.”
Gervase made a frustrated gesture. “I know. We’ve been doing our damnedest to get a message through to Romana.”
“Should have guessed you were already involved.” Wellesley gave a short bark of laughter. “And the results?”
“Four good men have died trying.” Gervase’s voice was clipped. He’d known all of the agents, and their deaths weighed on him, even though they had known the risks and gone willingly.
“I’m sorry.” Wellesley paused a moment, his expression grave. “But we must try again. The force I’m commanding isn’t large enough to defeat the French troops on the Peninsula without help. Romana has nine thousand trained soldiers. If they return home, together we might break the French army in Spain. And after that . . .”
The sentence did not need completing. If the French were pushed out of the Peninsula, the long stalemate would be over. The war could be carried into France, to Napoleon himself. There would be peace in Europe only when the emperor was defeated.
“I know what’s at stake,” Gervase said shortly. He settled back in his chair, sipping his port while his thoughts went around in a familiar circle. In the last weeks, he had thought of only two things: of the situation in Europe and what Britain could do to exploit it, and of Diana.
Always and everlastingly, Diana. Because of her, he had been reluctant to reach a conclusion that had been inescapable from the beginning. Briefly he hesitated, knowing that once the words were spoken there would be no turning back. “I’ll go to Romana myself.”
Wellesley’s brows rose in sharp surprise. “Think you have a better chance of success than one of your regular agents?”
“Perhaps. I can hardly be less successful.”
“An officer has to accept that men serving under him will be killed,” Wellesley said obliquely.
“Yes, and I did that in India.” Gervase’s gaze rested on his glass of port, whose bloodred depths reminded him of things he had seen in the army, things he would rather forget. “But I am no longer an officer. I will not ask anyone else to undertake a task that has already killed four men.”
Wellesley looked at him measuringly. “As you wish. Do you have a plan?” He was too practical a soldier to argue with a man whose mind was made up, particularly when success might make all the difference in the upcoming battle for the Iberian Peninsula.
“A fishing boat can take me to the Netherlands. After that, I’ll travel overland to Denmark. I’ve done this sort of thing before, though not when the issues were so critical.” He shrugged. “I speak French well enough to pass as a Frenchman, and I have the necessary identification papers.”
“You make it sound simple,” Wellesley observed. “But I imagine the other agents were also well qualified.”
“They were, but it takes luck as well as skill. Perhaps I’ll be luckier.”
“Let us hope so.” Wellesley lifted his glass in an informal salute. “Do your damnedest to come back alive.”
Gervase’s mouth twisted. “Believe me, I am even more interested in that outcome than you are.”
After Wellesley left, he sat in his library thinking of what he must do before he could leave for the Continent. Since he kept his affairs in good order, little needed to be done. He could leave for the coast by tomorrow evening.
So tonight would be his last with Diana. A year ago, he had been fatalistic about the occasional dangerous mission his work required, hoping for success but not overconcerned by the prospect of failure.
His life was much richer now, and he cared about whether he survived. The thought of leaving Diana was acutely painful, and he wasn’t sure which aspect was worse: the separation itself, or the gut-twisting fear that she would find someone else in his absence. It had been bad enough when he went to Ireland in January, but this journey would be longer and infinitely more hazardous.
It was ludicrous to be so concerned about a mistress. Before Diana, he’d had a contemptuous superiority to men who let women lead them around like lapdogs. Now he better understood how that was possible. He would never let a mistress make a fool of him; if she tried, he would sever the ties between them instantly. But part of Diana’s charm was that she never threatened or demanded. The perfect woman, and at the same time, an utter mystery.
He sighed. At the moment, the time was better spent in visiting Diana than in speculation about what she would do in his absence. There would be time enough for brooding on his journey.
* * *
Gervase arrived earlier than usual, and the deviation from normal worried Diana. Her anxiety was increased by the remote expression on his face when she went down to greet him in the drawing room. She had learned that even when he was at his most withdrawn, affection from her would soften his sternness, so she lightly crossed the room and embraced him, lifting her face for a kiss.
He held her tightly, his mouth demanding, and she sensed that his tension was not because of her, but for some other reason. Leaning back in his arms, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
His clear gray eyes were searching, as if trying to memorize every line and curve of her face. “Would you like to go out somewhere this evening? It’s early yet.”
It was an unprecedented suggestion since they valued their time alone together for both the passion and the peace. Wondering what lay behind his words, she replied, “That would be lovely. What did you have in mind?”
