Suzanne grinned at him. “I hope you mean that in a good way,mon chéri.”
“That very way,” he said with a smile. Turning to Lucas, he explained, “We first met many years ago. You had gone into the Royal Navy by then, but I’m sure I wrote you about attending the wedding of my cousin, the Comte de Chambron, and how I’d become friends with his young bride.”
Interest engaged, Lucas said, “You’re that Suzanne? Simon went on about your beauty and charm at great length.”
“Really?” Suzanne gave Simon a sideways smile. “I thought you were mostly impressed with my riding. Other than that, all my focus was on my wedding.”
Looking as if he was enjoying himself, Lucas said, “As I recall, Simon, you said you hoped you’d meet a girl like her when you were ready to settle down.”
Simon drew in a steadying breath as he thought of the intervening years. “That’s what I did.Exactlylike her. But it was a long and complicated journey from then to now.” His sober gaze held Suzanne’s before he turned back to Lucas. “A long, complicated journey for all of us, I think. What happened to you, Luke? We were informed that the French had sunk your ship and you were missing and presumed dead. And then . . . nothing.”
Lucas started crumbling his bread into small pieces. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not fit to be speaking to either of you after what I did.”
“A year ago, at the time of the emperor’s abdication, a friend of the family, Mr. Carter, thought he saw you in Brussels dressed as a monk, and he told your great-aunt and uncle about it.”
Lucas looked up swiftly. “My aunt and uncle. They are well?”
“Yes, but they miss you deeply. They still grieve.” As Simon did. “Even though it was the faintest of hopes, they asked if I could investigate. Since I spent the last years as an army intelligence officer, they hoped I might be able to come up with more information, even though I was mostly on the Peninsula.”
Lucas swallowed hard, his throat working. “I wish you had just accepted that I was dead.”
“Well, I didn’t. I asked a friend who is also in the intelligence business if he could learn something from his connections in France. He inquired and found that you’d survived the sinking of your ship and that you’d been captured and interned in France.”
Lucas had finished his bread and cheese and now his fingers were knotting together in his lap. “Don’t say more,” he whispered. “Please!”
Simon continued inexorably, “He said that you’d broken your parole and escaped, and had likely died trying to get out of France. And that was all that was known until Mr. Carter saw you in Brussels.”
“Yes, I broke my parole!” Lucas snapped. “Being interned at Verdun was bad enough, but then I was sent to the depot at Bitche, which is one of the circles of hell. The commander was known for his viciousness and he took a special hatred for me. He said I’d never be exchanged because he intended to see me in hell first.”
His voice dropped to a raw whisper. “So when I could bear no more, I broke my parole and escaped and I’ve been in hell ever since.”
“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Simon said softly. “I can only guess at your pain. But I can’t be sorry you’re alive.”
There was a long silence. Then Suzanne said briskly, “I know that honor is a gentleman’s lifeblood, as vital as the air he breathes. But honor is not always rigid and immutable. It can take new shapes in new circumstances.”
She stood and refilled their wine before sitting again in a flurry of skirts. “Simon spent years as an intelligence officer. A spy. There are those who consider such work dishonorable, but it is vital. Wellington himself said that he could not have succeeded in Spain without the work of his intelligence officers, and Simon is one of the chief among those. He’s also the most honorable man I know.”
Lucas raised his head. “What Simon did was different. He served his country. I broke my word and disgraced myself forever.”
“Oh? I’m a mere female, but as I understand it, the system of parole requires honor on both sides. The captive gives his word that he won’t escape, and the captor promises to treat him as a gentleman and exchange him for an officer of equal rank. It seems to me that the commander at the Bitche depot was not upholding his side of the bargain and you were justified in escaping before he could drive you to your death.”
Lucas frowned as if he’d never thought of the matter like that. “Yes, he behaved dishonorably, but I still broke my word.”
Exasperated, Suzanne stood and stared down at Lucas. “The world is a complicated place, and following the narrowest social rules is sometimes folly. Simon was a spy, and he served his country and saved lives. You were a naval officer who served your country, was captured, and escaped. You damaged no one by doing that.”
She caught his gaze, steel in her eyes. “And I was captured by corsairs and enslaved and became a whore to one of the cruelest men in the Ottoman Empire. There are women who have recoiled upon hearing my story. They considered me filthy, disgraced, dishonored beyond redemption.”
She drew a deep breath. “If I accepted their judgment, I would have no choice but to take my own life. But I do not choose to accept that! I choose tolive. That is a choice you can also make, if you dare.”
Simon was stunned by what she had just revealed to a virtual stranger. He stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her tight against his side. “I have never been prouder of you,ma chérie,” he said quietly.
Lucas was staring at her, shocked to his core. If he chose to condemn Suzanne, Simon might have to break his neck. But he said quietly, “You’re a very brave woman, Madame Suzanne. I don’t have your kind of courage.”
“Think about it and maybe you’ll find out otherwise,” Suzanne said tartly as she let Simon draw her down to the log, his arm still around her. “But don’twallow.”
Lucas blinked. “Wallow?”
She gave him a humorless smile. “After catastrophe wrecks one’s life, one is entitled to wallow in misery. To howl and pound the earth and cry out to the heavens. But at some point, enough! You have chosen to redeem your sins in service to those in need, and that is admirable. But continuing to berate yourself for your shortcomings after all these years is self-indulgence. Wallowing.”
