Armitage shrugged. “She recruited where she could. She will deny it—who would not? But she did spy, my dear Captain. Tried to recruit Desjardins here as well.”
Desjardins opened his light blue eyes very wide. With his thick, fair hair, he looked like an overgrown schoolboy, one of the none-too-bright but bullying lads of the upper form.
“I told you, I am loyal to the British,” Desjardins said indignantly. “Your country took me in when my family had to flee the Directorate. Those in power shifted every day—one day a friend, the next, they were sending you to the guillotine.” He shuddered. “Terrible times. I would never betray your country, Captain Lacey. No matter what papers Mrs. Isherwood tried to hand me to leak to Bonaparte’s generals.”
Armitage scowled as Desjardins spluttered through this speech, as though he’d heard it one too many times.
“A moment.” I surveyed the two men, the dandified Frenchman and the ramrod straight Englishman who’d watched the destruction at Austerlitz. “Youwere on the Peninsula, Desjardins?”
“Of course,” Desjardins said without hesitation. “As an advisor only. Who better to instruct His Grace of Wellington in the thoughts of Marmont and Bonet?”
“And, as you know, the French were allowed to escape when it was all over at Salamanca,” Armitage put in. “How do you suppose that happened? Money changed hands, I imagine. Someone told the French where the weak point lay, and they fled.”
Wellington had not been happy with that blunder—it had given the French time to regroup and join their fellows when they came at us later in Madrid.
Coldness stole over me. I’d always assumed those guarding the French retreat had been given bad orders, or was Armitage correct that information had been leaked?
“It hardly mattered in the end,” I said, trying to keep my expression calm. “Wellington won Salamanca with good tactics, and Bonaparte weakened his Peninsular army by pulling out too many regiments to march to Russia.”
“But Marguerite could not have known that, could she?” Armitage waved his glass. “She seized an opportunity. Likely she was paid for her perfidy. How else could she afford to make her way back to England when Isherwood cut her off?”
Ihad paid her way to England, but I decided not to bring that up at the moment.
“If you had evidence of her betrayal, gentlemen, why did you not give it to Wellington?” I demanded. “Or send word to have Marguerite arrested when she reached England?”
Desjardins shook his head in sorrow. “These things are difficult to prove, Captain. No doubt she passed on the papers or burned them. Plus she was, as you say, wily.”
Armitage agreed. “I am certain she made certain she’d never be convicted. Marrying a nondescript Englishman must have helped her enormously. I suspect her spying days are over, but I would not trust that woman, Lacey. Not an inch.”
I did not like these two, and I liked what they said still less. “Why are you warning me of her? Why bother?”
“Doing you a favor, old boy,” Armitage said. “She’s still a beautiful woman, and she deceived you once. She can do so again.”
“I have not renewed my intimacy with her,” I said stiffly. “Nor do I intend to.”
“That does not mean she will not use you,” Desjardins said. “Or your friendship. Depend upon it, she is up to no good. Why has she come to Brighton, do you suppose?”
“Her former husband died,” I said, my patience thinning. “She came to see her stepson.”
“Did she?” Desjardins opened his eyes wide. “Perhapsheis passing on English secrets too. Perhaps it runs in the family.”
Armitage scoffed. “Do not becometoofanciful, my friend. Isherwood’s son is well thought of in his circle. Isherwood senior was a bullying churl. His son is an angel in comparison.”
“You seemed happy enough to converse with Isherwood at our supper at the Pavilion,” I said. “Congenially, I recall.”
“Politeness.” Armitage’s smile was cold. “The politeness that is drilled into all of us from an early age. We sit with those we despise and do not make a scene.”
Not entirely, as I’d observed. From what I recalled of the supper, Armitage had been boastfully arrogant about his role as diplomat to the Austrian court. Desjardins had been a buffoon, and had ogled Marianne repeatedly. Grenville had studiously ignored them, and Marianne had behaved as though Desjardins was not even in the room.
“Ah, well, Isherwood is dead now,” Desjardins said. “And can tell no tales about his wife.”
Armitage seemed displeased at Desjardins’ words. He lifted his chin. “She might still tell plenty. Have a care of her, Captain. Remain with the beautiful Lady Breckenridge and pay Marguerite no mind.”
Desjardins’ lopsided grin moved dangerously close to a leer. “You did well there, Captain. How do you manage to draw the most beguiling women to your side?”
I bowed coldly. “I will take that as a compliment to my wife. Good evening, gentlemen.”
“I meant no insult, of course,” Desjardins said quickly. I imagine that with his lack of skill at shooting he did his best to stay out of duels. “Englishmen can be so quick to take offense.”
