No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(104)
“Because her father was one of Napoleon’s most successful assassins.”
“And? If I remember correctly, Fortier is dead.”
“Yes.” The hackney slowed and Draven peered out the window. “I want you to find out more about his daughter.”
“How am I to do that?”
“We believe Collette Fortier is in London. We further believe she may be calling herself Collette Fournay and claiming to be a cousin of Lady Ravensgate.”
“Suspected French sympathizer and dear friend of Marie Antoinette’s daughter.”
“You are acquainted with Lady Ravensgate?”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard rumors. Is Lady Ravensgate taking Mademoiselle Fortier out in public?”
“I danced with the woman in question not a quarter hour ago, a woman Lady Ravensgate introduced as her cousin, a Miss Fournay. Your mission is to ascertain whether Miss Fournay is, in actuality, Collette Fortier, and if it is she, what she is doing in London. If she’s spying—and I think from my encounter this evening that there is a very good chance of that—discover what information she hopes to unearth and determine what she knows already.”
“And then?”
“And then you kill her.”
Two
He was here.
She hadn’t been able to help looking for him the moment she entered the drawing room. She would have chastised herself, but she did not think there was a woman alive who would not stare at Mr. Beaumont. He was simply the most stunning man she had ever seen. Not even the opulent room with its moldings and medallions, its porcelain and purfled vases could detract from the beauty of Beaumont.
“Miss Fournay.”
Collette dragged her eyes away from Beaumont and smiled at her hostess for the evening, Mrs. Saxenby. “How kind of you to come to our little salon.”
Collette curtsied. “Thank you for extending the invitation to include me.”
“You will not be disappointed,” Lady Ravensgate announced. “My dear cousin is quite enchanting, although I fear she may not be able to add much to the conversation tonight.” Lady Ravensgate gave Collette a meaningful look. “She is a cousin from France and does not know much about English politics.”
“Oh, that is quite all right,” Mrs. Saxenby declared. “We cannot all hold the floor. Someone must act as the audience.”
Collette smiled. She was quite content to act as the audience. She had always been somewhat shy and averse to attention, and these traits were valuable considering one of the best ways to gather information was to sit back and listen. Tonight she hoped to find out more about Lieutenant Colonel Draven. Since the ball where they’d danced, she had not seen or heard any news about Draven. But Draven’s secretary in the Foreign Office, a Mr. Palmer, was supposed to frequent Mrs. Saxenby’s salons.
In the three months since she’d landed on the coast of England, in the dark of night and in secret, Collette had made her way to London and sought out Lady Ravensgate, a wealthy widow. She’d been told the widow had been friends with her father, and Lady Ravensgate had certainly treated her like a long-lost daughter. Collette even remembered her father mentioning the late Lord Ravensgate as a man who would help them if she and her father ever needed to escape Napoleon’s France. But so many people had dual loyalties that Collette had learned not to trust. And if the Ravensgates were so loyal, why had her father not fled when the Bourbons had retaken the throne? He must have known under the king he would suffer and be imprisoned for his work for the upstart Bonaparte. Had her father thought the Bourbons would forgive all or did her father not trust Lady Ravensgate as he had her husband?
She wished she could ask him, but he was imprisoned in Paris, and the only way to free him was to bargain with the royalists. That was why she needed the British codes.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Mrs. Saxenby led Collette and Lady Ravensgate to a couch off to the side of the main grouping. In the center of the room several men in crisp evening dress stood discussing a poem Collette had not read. Collette looked down, pretending to study her reticule’s drawstring while she listened. These few moments before the formal discussion began were the best time to glean information, if there was any here to be gleaned, which she rather doubted. Once the program commenced, most of the conversation would stick to that topic.
It was the ideal time for a spy in London. The Season was at an end and most of the key political figures were in the country. But Britain’s security was always at risk, and men like Draven and others at the Foreign Office were still in London.
Collette fingered her drawstring, listened to the voices around her, not hearing anything of substance, and then lifted her head and scanned the room. Her gaze landed on Mr. Beaumont. But then she’d been looking for him, hadn’t she?
As usual, he was surrounded by a wall of women. No fewer than five vied for his attention tonight, and he seemed to entertain them effortlessly. The ladies tittered every few moments. If only she had a reason to believe Beaumont would say something of interest, she might join those women. But Lady Ravensgate had instructed her to pay close attention to William Thorpe, a writer and political satirist, and it just so happened that Thorpe was in conversation with James Palmer, Draven’s secretary. Neither man was half as attractive as Mr. Beaumont, but Collette brought her attention back to them nonetheless. Palmer had a snooty attitude and round spectacles he liked to remove and polish as he spoke. Thorpe was thin and looked hungry as he listened to Palmer discuss poetry.