Maggie's worried gaze followed him. Robin must be as tired as she was, but if she knew him, he would spend half of the remaining night in Parisian stews and gaming hells looking for further traces of Le Serpent. And he told her to be careful!

Intent on her friend, she didn't see the black look on Rafe's face as he observed her preoccupation.

Chapter 10

The first thing the next morning, Maggie began her inquiries about snakes and related heraldic creatures by calling on a fragile old lady in Faubourg St. Germain. Madame Daudet had lost all her male descendants in Napoleon's wars, and she longed for peace. She also knew the history, marriages, and arms of every important family in France. After listening to Maggie's request, she promised that within forty-eight hours she would have a detailed list of possibilities among both the old and the new French aristocracy. With luck, it would provide some clues.

Around noon, a note was delivered from Rafe saying they would join the Castlereaghs for luncheon the next day. Maggie nodded with satisfaction, then prepared to call on a gossipy woman who was an expert on the upper levels of Bonapartist society. Perhaps she would also be well informed about serpents.

Maggie's departure was delayed when the butler brought in the card of an unexpected visitor. Mrs. Oliver Northwood.

Curious what Cynthia Northwood might have to say, she ordered her butler to admit the visitor. The young woman was tense when she entered, her pretty face pale against the dark curls.

"I'm glad to find you at home, Countess," she said in labored French. "I wish to discuss something with you."

Responding in English, Maggie said, "But of course, my dear. Would you care for some coffee?"

At her visitor's nod, Maggie gave orders to the butler, then seated herself, gesturing Cynthia to a sofa near the window where it would be easy to read her expression. Maggie made general remarks and received monosyllabic replies until coffee and delicate pastries were served. When they were alone, she said, "If you have something to ask me, perhaps you should simply come out with it."

Cynthia's wide brown eyes slid away. "It's harder to say than I thought it would be. You scarcely know me, and have no reason to listen to my troubles. But… but I needed another woman to talk to."

"And you chose me because of our mutual relationship with Candover?"

Cynthia looked startled, then smiled faintly. "Perhaps that is it. Since we have a… mutual friend, and you listened kindly once, I thought I could talk to you." She drew herself up with visible effort. "When we spoke before, I told you that I was unhappy in my marriage."

"When I met your husband later that evening, I understood why," Maggie said encouragingly. "Why did you marry him?"

Cynthia spread her hands in a despairing gesture. "I fancied myself in love, of course. Oliver was handsome and dashing and lived such an exciting life compared to mine in Lincolnshire, where I grew up. The aunt who presented me was impressed that he was the son of a lord, and told me what a splendid conquest I had made. I didn't look beyond his lineage and tailoring.

"He was handsome seven years ago, before his indulgences caught up with him. I was only eighteen, dazzled that such a man of the world should court me. It never occurred to me to consider his character." She shrugged. "I got what I deserved. It's incredible that we choose our life's companions after a handful of meetings, usually under the most artificial of circumstances. Since Oliver came from a noble family, my father saw no reason to deny his suit. I was so pleased by my good fortune that I never asked what he saw in me."

"You are too hard on yourself. You are a very attractive woman, one any man might fall in love with."

"Perhaps," Cynthia said, unmollified. "But it was more to the point that I had a fine dowry. As a younger son, Oliver would have needed to marry well in any case, but his gambling debts made the situation urgent." She sighed. "It took very little time for me to realize what a poor bargain I had made. I come from simple country folk who believe in old-fashioned things like fidelity. I won't bore you with how I discovered about his women, but it shattered all my illusions. When I confronted him, he mocked me for being a provincial little fool."

Cynthia's voice broke, and she stopped speaking. Ever practical, Maggie poured her more coffee. The girl choked when she sipped it, then continued her depressing tale.

"I decided to pay him back in his own coin." She flushed and stared into the depths of her cup. "It was foolish. Women are not the same as men, and it was a poor form of revenge. Except for Rafe, I have few good memories of that time. He was always kind, and he told me to put a higher price on myself."

She glanced up again. "I didn't know what he meant at first, but I did eventually. I started behaving in a way that would not shame my father if he knew of it, and I found it much easier to live with myself."

"Yet something has gone wrong to bring you here."

"I fell in love, and was happier than I had ever been, and now everything is much, much worse." Cynthia's eyes were bleakly unhappy. "Michael Brewer is everything I should have sought in a husband, but was too foolish to appreciate. He is kind, reliable, and honorable. Most of all, he loves me, in spite of all the mistakes I have made."

Maggie looked at her with compassion. No wonder the poor girl looked so miserable. She was in a situation where there was little prospect of a happy resolution.

Cynthia put her cup down and toyed nervously with her wedding ring. "I want to marry and settle down somewhere in the country with Michael and raise lots of babies and get plump and warm my feet on his back in the winter. That is what he wants, too. He hates the dishonesty of what we are doing."

"But as long as you and your husband live, that is impossible. In England divorces are virtually unobtainable. Even if you had the money and influence to get a bill of divorcement through Parliament, you would be an outcast."

"There is no time for that," Cynthia said grimly. "I am with child."

Maggie inhaled sharply. "And it is not your husband's?"

"We have not been man and wife for years. Unfortunately, while he doesn't want me for himself, he doesn't want anyone else to have me, either." Cynthia shuddered. "I am frightened about what he will do when he learns I am increasing."

"And it is not the sort of thing one can conceal very long," Maggie observed. "What does your major think?"

Cynthia started twisting her hands together. "I haven't told him yet. When I do, I know he will insist that I leave Oliver and live with him."

"It will be a scandal, but hardly unique. Perhaps that would be the best solution."

For the first time, Cynthia's voice became uneven. "You don't know my husband. Oliver is horribly vindicative, and he would sue Michael for criminal conversation. Michael is not a rich man-he would be ruined. His military career would be over, and both our families would be disgraced."

In a whisper, she finished, "And it would break my father's heart." She buried her face in her hands as sobs overcame her. Between gulps for bream, she managed to say, "Worst of all, I fear that Michael would come to hate me for ruining his life."

Maggie crossed quickly to sit next to her guest on the sofa, putting one arm around her to give what comfort she could. Fiercely she cursed the inflexible marriage laws that kept husband and wife tied together no matter how wretched they were.

When Cynthia's sobs abated, Maggie handed over a fresh handkerchief and said, "Your choices are limited. You can stay with your husband or leave. If you leave, you can return to your father, live with your major, or perhaps set up an independent establishment."

Cynthia straightened, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief. "It sounds simple when you put it that way. I do want to leave, but it will be very difficult. Oliver would be injured in his purse as well as his pride, for my father's money supports us. My dowry is long gone, of course, but Papa sends an allowance that I use for household expenses. That would stop if I left. With the amount that Oliver loses gambling, he might be unable to maintain an establishment if I wasn't there." She lifted a nervous hand to brush back a loose strand of hair. "Though perhaps he could manage. He always seems to have money."

An alarm bell went off in Maggie's mind. Northwood was an inveterate gambler with unexpected financial resources? They had concentrated on investigating the assassination plot since that was most urgent, but there was also the matter of a possible spy in the British delegation. If there was such a person, the mysterious Le Serpent might be using his services. Since Maggie heartily disliked Oliver Northwood, she was quite willing to believe him a villain. And if he was in contact with the master conspirator…

Controlling her excitement, she said casually, "His salary from the Foreign Office must help."

"It is a mere pittance, only two hundred pounds a year." Cynthia shrugged indifferently. "Perhaps he has become a cleverer gambler. If he didn't pay his debts, I suppose no one would continue to gamble with him."

"Is it possible that your husband might be involved in something he shouldn't?"

"What do you mean?"

Maggie put on her innocent face. "It's just a hope. If Northwood has some secret, he might be more easily persuaded to let you leave without causing trouble." She smiled wickedly. "I assume that part of the reason you wished to talk with me was to get the ideas of a wily European who was not raised with your English sense of fair play."