“Aye. Lad called Francis Brandelin.” The apothecary’s gaze was voracious as he looked for a reaction; he was a man who fed on the griefs of others. Though Gervase had never identified himself by name, he didn’t doubt that Soames knew who he was, and that Francis was his cousin. He’d be damned if he gave the old vulture the satisfaction of a response. “Was there anyone else?”
Soames scratched his head. “Well, in a manner of speaking.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s a fellow I’ve seen hanging about when I’ve left for the night, a Frenchman.”
“Why is he only ‘in a manner of speaking’?” Gervase asked, unable to stop twisting the knife in his gut.
“Never actually saw him go in. I expect he was waiting till he was sure she was alone. He’d want her to himself.” Soames gave a lewd chuckle. “He’s a lord, the Count de Veseul.”
Gervase had thought nothing could be worse than hearing that his best friend was one of Diana’s lovers, but he had been wrong. The Count de Veseul was his own best guess for the French spy known as the Phoenix, a man of power and depravity. So he too visited Diana. Had he come as a lover, or as a French agent buying information about Gervase? Or both? If she had told Veseul that Gervase was heading to the Continent, she might very well have been shocked by his return.
Blindly Gervase reached into his wallet and took out his last gold pieces and set them on the counter. He was grateful that a customer came in, for it spared the necessity of comment.
As he turned toward Whitehall, he wondered what in all the holy hells he was going to do about Diana.
* * *
Gervase had said it would be late when he came, and the rest of the household was already in bed as Diana waited in the drawing room. She felt a nagging sense that something was wrong, even though he would surely have sent a message if he was unable to visit her. When the knock finally came, she set down her book and flew eagerly to the door. But her welcoming smile chilled at the sight of him. Checking her usual greeting, she looked at him searchingly, trying to decide what was wrong. The exhaustion of last night was gone, and so was the lighthearted openness of the morning. Instead, Gervase was remote, with the cool distance he maintained when matters between them were strained.
“May I come in?”
She had been staring rudely, she realized. “Of course.”
She stepped aside and he walked past her. He was in his normal well-tailored attire, a London gentleman again.
“Have you eaten?” She faltered, trying to reestablish the pattern that had been between them for so long.
“Thank you, but I am not hungry.” He walked into the drawing room and she followed.
“Then . . . do you want to go to my room?” she asked uncertainly. Over the months they had been together, food was optional, but the bed was constant.
“Again, no, thank you. I wish to talk to you, and a bed might interfere with that.” He stayed on his feet, prowling, as if using one of her chairs would be a commitment.
“Gervase, what is wrong? Is it something I’ve done?” With growing dread Diana wondered if the crisis she had been anticipating was at hand.
“Perhaps.” He leaned against a heavy mahogany table, his hands resting on the edge and one knee bent with a casualness at odds with the tension that radiated from him.
Under her defensive fear, Diana felt a stir of irritation. Choosing a chair, she sat and said crisply, “It’s late. If you wish to pick a quarrel, please begin before it gets any later.”
“It’s not really a quarrel I’m after. It’s just that . . .” He paused, searching for words. “Matters cannot continue as they have been. Whenever I have asked that you accept my protection, you have always refused, so I really have no right to complain that you have been seeing other men. I could live with the idea of . . . sharing you, as long as it was just a possibility. Now that I know it for a fact, I find it quite unacceptable.
“In the past you have laid down the ultimatums, and after due consideration I always accepted them. But this time the ultimatum is mine: if you will not promise me fidelity, I will have to end our arrangement.”
Such cold words for what had been so warm. It was only when she looked deep into his ice-gray eyes that she saw the passion and the pain under the surface calm. Linking her trembling fingers together, she said carefully, “Why are you so sure that I have been seeing other men?”
He shrugged. “You were being watched in my absence.”
“What!”Her hurt and confusion were burned away by pure outrage. “You set spies on me?”
“Not seriously, the way I would have done if I thought you were a foreign agent.” He was so impossibly calm. “Just a casual surveillance that noted several men, though I suppose there could be a good number more, since you were not watched at night. Considering the length of my absence, it’s hardly surprising that a woman of your passionate nature felt the need for . . . diversion. Perhaps I should be glad that you were sleeping with several men rather than becoming deeply involved with one, but I find myself curiously ungrateful.”
An edge of pain sounded in his voice. “But you were quite straightforward about wanting what I couldn’t give you, so I can hardly blame you for pursuing your goals. Since Lord Farnsworth’s wife died recently, and newly widowed men are often very persuadable, you might well become Lady Farnsworth. That would have the advantage of being immediate, but the disadvantage that he already has heirs, so a child of yours would be unlikely to inherit.”
A china shepherdess sat in the center of the table and he lifted it, studying the detail as if fascinated. “In most ways, my cousin Francis is a much better choice. He is young and attractive, of an age to be romantically in love, far more personable than I, and he is my heir. But you might have to wait thirty or forty years to become Lady St. Aubyn, and you will never be that if he dies before I do.”
He set the shepherdess back on the table. “Actually, I’ve never quite understood what you see in me. There’s the money, of course, but you’ve never seemed overconcerned with that, especially not for a woman of your calling.
