“The good news is that he didn’t die when the French sank his ship. He was taken prisoner by the French and sent first to Verdun, then quickly moved to a prison depot. After that the trail becomes murky.”
“How murky?”
“From what I’ve been able to piece together, he escaped by breaking his parole,” Kirkland said bluntly.
The shock was almost physical. “No! That’s not possible!” Simon exclaimed. “Lucas was always the soul of honor.”
Suzanne’s warm hand clasped his, anchoring him to reality. “As I understand it,” she said in a soft voice, “officers are paroled and allowed some freedom of movement in their community by giving their word of honor that they will not escape?”
“Yes.” Kirkland’s gaze was steady.
“So breaking parole is considered an unpardonable offense against a man’s honor.”
Kirkland nodded. “Mothers tell their sons that it’s better to die than behave dishonorably. For many people, honor is their lifeblood. Giving their word not to escape and then doing so is considered contemptible. A sin beyond forgiveness.”
Suzanne’s grip tightened on Simon’s hand. “I understand honor,” she said compassionately. “But I also understand how a man or woman can be pushed to the breaking point, so that they will doanythingto survive. Killing an innocent or someone who is helpless—to me, that is true dishonor. To feel oneself being driven mad by captivity and being willing to do anything short of that to escape . . .” She shrugged. “I do not find that unforgivable. Would you rather your cousin was dead?”
Her words started Simon’s mind again. Suzanne knew captivity in a way he never would, and she had a compassionate heart. “No, of course I don’t wish him dead. It’s just that this news is a shock. Lucas was always the one with unshakable integrity and honor. I was the one who became the spy, a trade most gentlemen despise as dishonorable.”
“Dishonorable but essential,” Kirkland said. “I’ve lived in these same troubled waters because someone must do this work. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I believe they were for the greater good.”
“I’ve done the same.” Simon drew a deep breath. “But shame could explain why Lucas never attempted to return to his family or draw on his money.”
“He may have died while trying to get home,” Kirkland said quietly.
“That’s his most likely fate.” Simon sighed. “I don’t suppose anything could be done with the sighting of the monk in Brussels.”
“There isn’t enough information. Someone in Brussels with a picture of your cousin might learn something, but at this distance, it’s impossible.” Kirkland smiled a little. “I was rather tartly informed that the man was unlikely to be a monk. They live cloistered lives of contemplation in sequestered communities. He was more likely a friar. They live and work in the wider world. I don’t know if that’s much help.”
“Lucas always loved the stories about Robin Hood. He was particularly fond of Friar Tuck,” Simon said thoughtfully. Seeing Suzanne’s furrowed brow, he said, “Robin Hood and his merry men lived in the forest and robbed the rich to help the poor. It’s one of England’s favorite legends. There might even be a grain of truth in the stories. I’ll tell you more about them later.” His gaze shifted. “If I go to Brussels, might I be useful to you there?”
“Quite possibly,” Kirkland said, looking interested.
“Then I suppose I’ll be going to Brussels.”
“No,mon chéri.” Suzanne’s green-eyed gaze was direct and implacable. “Weare going to Brussels.”
Chapter 16
Simon’s brow furrowed. “I’m reluctant to take you to the Continent when things are so unsettled.”
“Brussels is a very long way from Elba,” Suzanne said reasonably. “If the Corsican Monster escapes, we’ll have plenty of warning. I’d like to visit Brussels. I hear it’s become very fashionable since Napoleon abdicated.”
Kirkland nodded. “A number of Britons have taken up residence there. Information and rumors swirl through the city.”
“And you’d like to hear about such things?” Simon said dryly.
“Of course,” Kirkland said, his expression bland.
Suzanne kept her gaze on her husband as she said quietly, “My old home, Château Chambron, is in northern France, not that far from Brussels. I feel a responsibility to visit and see what condition the estate is in. Has it been abandoned? Did a Bonapartist claim it? I should find out. There may be people there who remember me. There might be some who need aid.”
Simon gave a nod of understanding. “I’d like to know also. We are both connected to the estate. It’s even possible that I’m the new comte. We should visit.”
Kirkland said, “I have a house in Brussels that is currently unoccupied except by a handful of my people. They know the city and the country well. You can stay as long as you wish.”
Suzanne’s brows rose. “Do you have convenient houses staffed with agents in all major cities?”
“Only those that might prove useful to our work,” Kirkland said seriously. “Many people on the Continent have risked their lives to bring down the emperor. Sometimes sanctuaries are needed.”
