“I shall find something to do as well, I suppose.” Maggie brushed her skirts and prepared to stand.

“I’d like you to stay, if you will.” Galba fitted his key into the side drawer of the desk. “I value your insight, Marguerite. It will also save Will the trouble of repeating this conversation to you, later.”

“I admit nothing.” But she smiled as she approached the desk where Galba was laying out file folders. “What is this, then?”

Grey stood. These would be the files about Annique, the ones that had never passed through his office. He’d wondered why there was a skilled, important agent, with no file on her, anywhere. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

Two of the three thick files Galba laid on the blotter were old. The original buff had darkened to a dull brown. On the opening lip of all three was a long, crimson line. That meant they were to be opened only in the presence of a Head of Section.

Grave-faced, Galba picked the topmost. “What is in these files has been the most closely guarded secret of the British Service for twenty years. The time for such secrecy is past. It ended six weeks ago.” He pushed the folder across the desk. “In extremis, you may use any of this. It will trump Military Intelligence.”

It was Annique’s file. The one Grey had never seen. The name, Annique Villiers, was the third of twelve aliases scripted in bold ink on the upper right corner. The folder was three inches thick, filled with close-written reports in many hands. Most of the papers, even the faded ones, were crisp and unwrinkled. They hadn’t had much handling. Not many people had read this file.

He hesitated, then flipped it open. Summary notes were always inside the left cover. The first line told him everything. Adrian was reading upside down. He drew his breath in sharply. “Ye gods.” Doyle, leaning over his shoulder, took it in with a single glance and cursed.

He kept reading. No wonder this was secret. No wonder.

Doyle took a lumbering step toward Galba. “I should have been told.”

“Nobody was told.”

“They were operating in Vienna. My fief. Damn it, I should have been told.”

Galba said, “You know the privileges of detached status. Will, you made those rules.”

“You don’t use ’em against me. I came close to…Good God, why didn’t you tell me? One word would have been enough. One word.”

“Your actions and your enmity were part of her protection.”

Annique’s file. Grey turned over page after page, feeling the anger twist in his chest. This is going to break her heart. “She doesn’t know. Why the goddamned hell doesn’t she know?”

“I do not deny culpability.” Face grim, Galba relocked the drawer and pocketed the key. “I disapproved, but I sanctioned it. The simple fact is, her mother chose not to tell her.”

Unbelievable. “I understand it when she was a child. But when she was grown—how could she not tell her?”

“There are no excuses. She never told Annique. Now we must.”

“We tell her everything. Every damn thing.” He slapped the file. “We give her this. Complete. Every word. She has the right to know.”

“She has the right.” Galba sank heavily into the wing chair by the fire. “I knew this was coming. I pity her profoundly, but I cannot take this cup from her.”

“Tomorrow.” Not tonight. Let me give her one night, before I have to do this to her.

Adrian was flipping angrily through the second folder, page by page. “Twenty years of lies. We haven’t left you a rag against the wind, have we, ma pauvre?”

“It was wrong.” Doyle rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t care how valuable she was to us. This was wrong. And we did it.”

Maggie wasn’t familiar with Service files. It took her longer to read notations and decipher the story. “I cannot believe this. How could a woman do such a thing to her child? They were close, Annique and her mother?”

“Very close,” Doyle said.

“You will hurt her unbearably. With her mother newly dead…”

“I know, Maggie luv. It’s bad enough what we’re doing to that girl. Now we kick her in the guts with this.”

“We’re not going to drop it in her lap and yell, ‘Surprise!’ We’ll go slow…” Adrian, for once, looked unsure. “We’ll…we’ll what? How do you say something like this?”

“She will not believe you,” Maggie said. “Even before you hurt her so badly, you must convince her.”

“The proof’s in her own mind,” Doyle said. “Her mother must have slipped up once or twice in all those years.”

Once she was told, Annique would remember. She’d lie awake at night and remember every lie she’d been told.

And he had to decide how to tell her. “Maggie’s right. We have to convince her that it’s true.” He took the file Adrian was looking at and extracted a single sheet. He smoothed it flat for everyone to see. “Here. We start at the beginning. Tomorrow we take her to St. Odran’s and show her the original of this in the parish record. Can we do that with Leblanc loose?”

Doyle hesitated, then nodded. “It’s a small risk. But we have enough men to keep her safe for that long.”

“Good. We show her the parish record, then bring her back and give her the files. We explain.” He looked up. Galba’s shrewd, deep-set eyes met his. “You explain. I sure as hell can’t.”

“I have been considering the proper words for ten years. Perhaps I’ll find them tomorrow.”

Twenty-nine

ANNIQUE WAS WAITING FOR HIM IN HIS BEDROOM, on his bed, on her belly. She was on top of the covers, reading a book. She was naked.

She looked at him through her eyelashes. “I am glad you were not devoured by that animal which has draped itself across the doorway. What is it, that thing?”

In all England, all France, all the world, there was no other woman for him. Only Annique. He had her naked in his bed. One of life’s perfect moments.

“We think it’s part wolfhound. Doyle found it down by the docks, likely off some ship or other.”

“I would say it is rather wolf and possibly also part elephant. It does not like me.”

“Good. Then you won’t go wandering around the halls after dark. Maggie brought some nightclothes.”

“I saw them. They are very lovely, of course, but I thought you would prefer to see that I am totally harmless when you approach me. It is necessary, as I understand these things, that a man not be nervous at such times.” She propped herself up, her breasts just brushing the crimson leather cover. Her smile was knowing, and her eyes were shy. Men would kill to possess this woman.

He came to her, unwinding his cravat, sliding it out of his collar, tossing it onto the chair in passing. He felt infinitely powerful. She made him feel that way. “I’m glad you’re so willing. I suppose you’re preparing for one last beautiful night of lovemaking…”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Perhaps.”

“…before you start dying of thirst.”

Her brows contracted in annoyance. “I had not intended to bring that up. Such matters are not conducive to romantic behavior.”

“Casts a damper over everything, doesn’t it, all that dire nobility of yours.”

“I have changed nothing with my decision. I merely strip away the veneer of civility. I do not need to justify my behavior to a—”

“Then don’t. The best minds in the British spy service are going to talk you out of it tomorrow. We spent the last hour plotting. We have plans.”

“Oh.” She looked stubborn and apprehensive. Also relieved. Nine-tenths of her was hoping to be persuaded out of that idiocy.

He said, “I have plans, too.” She had only to look at him to see what he had in mind.

He jerked the last button loose and pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, then stripped his trousers off. She started to sit up, but he set his hand on her shoulder to keep her as she was. He liked her this way…naked, laid out on her belly. She was exquisitely lovely, and she couldn’t attack. “Have I mentioned you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“From one cause and another we have missed saying such things to each other.”

Those sleek cat muscles of hers told him how nervous she was. Willing, but nervous. He could use that nervousness. He could make it explode inside her like foam in a keg. He’d send her wild tonight. Beyond thought. Beyond restraint. “I like the curve here…” He ran his hand down the long, taut muscles that paralleled her spine. “It’s like the countryside back home. Long and rolling.”

“I am like countryside?”

“Somerset countryside.” He stroked her buttocks. “With little hills.”

“But truly, men have strange minds.”

He stroked her again. “Did your mother tell you that?”

“I find that my mother did not say anything to the point. She did not wish me to be a courtesan, you understand, and therefore did not instruct me in those arts.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Except for a few trifles. I believe they are not known to respectable English girls, who are very uneducated. I will show you, if you like.”

A pang of pure lust shot through him. His lady was not at all innocent in some ways. He foresaw many long, interesting nights while they worked out exactly who would be in charge in this bed. “Later, maybe.”

“There is one in particular that sounds interesting. I am curious to see how it works.”

She would drive him insane. She’d do it on purpose.

“We’ll save it for those long winter nights ahead. Have I told you I love you, Annique? It started about the fourth time you tried to maim me. I never did find time to say the words.”