Page 24

"Saint John helped Gaetan bring me to France," Hélène said as she washed her hair. "Did you know that? During my last season in London, I thought he was persecuting me. I was terrified of him. And the whole time he kept the Horse Guards from Gaetan's heels. He frightened me very thoroughly while he saved my life. He seemed to consider both things equally part of the service."

Louise moved a handful of water through her fingers. "He frightened you out of sport. That is not the behavior of a loyal man."

"Yes," Hélène agreed. "And kept me breathing while he did it."

Of course he did. Rodrick was nothing if not competent. If he announced tomorrow that Napoleon Bonaparte had sired him, people would accept it as gospel. While she was... Just a foolish ballerina.

"You are sounding like Celeste," Louise said. "Trying to find good in everyone. He is a disloyal spy, and no doubt he demanded something from your brother as payment. Men like him always do."

They both looked at Rodrick then, standing in the afternoon light with his hands on his hips.

"But he is certainly a very handsome disloyal spy."

"If you have a liking for dark and dangerous." Louise reached forward and drew the curtain. "Where is your duke? Should he not be hovering? He struck me as the obsessive type."

Hélène's smile faded. "He went to find his brother. Astley was wounded in the Pyrenees campaign. They took him to a convent near Bayonne. William left three weeks ago. We have heard nothing since."

Louise pressed her friend's hand. "I hope he returns soon."

How did they get entangled in all this? Hélène's new husband, an Englishman whose brother fought with the allies. Gaetan, one of Napoleon's generals. And Louise was Napoleon's daughter.

She should say it now. She should have said it years ago.

Hélène reached for the rinsing jug. "William went to Eton with your spy."

"He is not my—"

"They were the best of friends." The warm water poured over Louise's hair. "Until Rodrick's sister vanished. He went completely mad. And then a few days later he killed a boy. William believed him a murderer for years."

"What made the duke change his mind?" Louise asked.

"Last year, after Rodrick helped William find me, William saw something that made him reconsider. He believes Rodrick grieves."

Louise didn't like the idea of him grieving. She could not even picture him as a boy. It was safest to keep the image of the mysterious spy.

"What could do that to a person?" Hélène murmured, setting the jug down. "What could happen to change someone so completely?"

Louise looked at the water. "Whatever happened to him, he chose to become what he is. A man without loyalty is a man without a compass. He goes wherever the wind pays best."

Louise rose from the bath and rubbed the towel briskly against her skin. Hélène lifted the silk robe from the chair and held it open. Louise speared her arms into it.

"But what if you don't know the whole of it? What if there is something about Rodrick none of us knows?"

"I am Napoleon's daughter," Louise blurted.

Years of secrets, and it had come out like that, a stone thrown at a window she had meant to open gently.

She watched Hélène's face, waiting for the betrayal gathering behind her eyes. All those shared winters in London, all those years of friendship, and Louise had kept this, had let her believe—

Hélène took Louise's hand in both of hers. "I know, darling. Gaetan told me."

Louise swallowed a sob. She had carried it so long. The secret and the longing and the loneliness of being the only person in a room who knew the largest fact about yourself.

"What worries me," Hélène said, "is what you will do now that you are here in France."

Louise blinked. Of all the questions she had imagined, that was not one of them. "I have been summoned by Autun. My father's most loyal servant."

There had to be a reason he had called for her now, when her father had returned and Europe was gathering against him. Something Napoleon needed. Something worthy of the name she had carried alone for four years.