A Dangerous Masquerade (8 page)

             
‘If that were enough we should be fortunate,’ Moraven said grimly.  ‘I do not think you can stay here alone when I leave – unless I stay in the house until I have dealt with him.  Even then you may not be safe in Paris.  He may have friends who will try to avenge him.’

             
‘What do you mean?  I thought you meant to stay for a few days…’

             
‘We could make it a permanent arrangement.  Not immediately, of course, but in time you might become my mistress.’

             
‘No!  How dare you?  I shall never agree to such an arrangement.’

             
‘As you wish, it was merely a suggestion for your protection.  I am perfectly happy to continue as we are until my business here is done.’

             
‘Exactly what is your business, sir – if I may ask?’

             
‘My business is to find a traitor, an enemy and an evil man who deserves his fate.  What I do then is best left unsaid.  Suffice it that he will not trouble you again in person once the score is settled.’

             
Constance felt chilled as she saw the ice in his eyes.  ‘He is a ruthless man.  Have you considered the chance that he may kill you?’

             
‘He will certainly try.’  Moraven smiled.  ‘However, as you saw this morning, I am prepared.  I shall do my best to bring him to justice without losing my life – but what happens, happens. My life is not of paramount importance here…’

             
‘I see…’ Constance inclined her head.  ‘Thank you for telling me the truth.  I believe we are safer with you living here than we were.  You may stay for as long as you wish – but on the terms we previously agreed.’

             
‘Certainly, madame.  I shall take you to my bed only when you are willing and eager, though I might wish otherwise. It would be a pleasant arrangement I believe, one that could bring us both pleasure.’

             
‘That will never be!’

             
‘Indeed?’ A smile played across his mouth.  ‘I would wager you will change your mind one day – and now I shall not keep you for I believe you have work to do…’

             
Constance gasped.  The arrogance of the man was unbelievable.  She would not give him the pleasure of seeing her discomforted.

             
‘I do thank you sincerely for helping me, sir – but if you hope for more you shall be sadly disappointed.’

             
‘Please excuse me, I shall take these things to my room.  At what hour do we dine?’

             
‘At the hour of three and thirty, sir.’

             
‘Ah, country hours.’ Moraven smiled.  ‘I have business I must attend but I shall return in good time.  I am promised a good fish soup and already my stomach growls.’

             
‘I have cheese and bread if you need something to sustain you until then.’

             
‘No, I think not,’ he said, then laughed and moved towards her with lightning speed.  She was in his arms, his mouth caressing hers before she guessed what he was about.  ‘There, that shall sustain me until we dine…’

             
Constance was left to gasp and fume inwardly as he swept up his bags and left to take them upstairs.

             
Damn the man!  For two pins she would send him packing – and yet he had saved her from a terrible fate and she would feel safer with him here.  Besides, he needed a place to stay until he could transfer his funds from England and she owed him that at least.

             
But if he imagined that his kiss had changed her mind about becoming his mistress he would soon discover his mistake.  Fighting the heat that suffused her body and the strange feeling spreading through her lower regions, Constance picked up her basket and went into the kitchen to prepare their meal.

Chapter Four

Moraven was fuming inwardly as he went to meet his contact.  Although to all intents and purposes he had a free hand in his dealings with the French spy, he was not alone.  Far from it in fact!  His contact was an important diplomat, a member of the English network of secret agents.  Outwardly, a small but important cog of the ambassador’s staff, he was here to speak with Moraven about the progress he had made in tracing a formidable adversary. There were also a dozen
sleepers
at Moraven’s disposal, on whom he could call if necessary.  However, he preferred to work alone for the most part.

             
‘It is a good day for walking, monsieur,’ his contact gave the signal that all was clear as Moraven took his seat at the open-air café.  ‘Do you care for a cognac?’

             
‘Thank you, monsieur, I prefer wine,’ Moraven replied and signalled the waiter, who brought him a flagon of the house wine.  ‘The fox is out of his lair but has yet to break cover.’

             
‘Have you need of the hounds?’

             
‘I have a lure.  I may need the hounds when my fox breaks cover, but for the moment I hunt alone.’

             
‘Good fortune with your hunting, monsieur.  If there is anything you need…?’

             
‘Ten thousand francs into my account.’

             
‘That is a large sum?’

             
‘Hunting is an expensive pastime.’

             
‘I’m not certain I can raise that much, perhaps five immediately – more later if necessary.’

             
Moraven drank a glass of wine, pulled a wry face and stood up.  ‘It will do for the moment,’ he said, threw a few coins on the table and walked away.

             
He was owed that ten thousand and more for past services but he had asked nothing before this and the money was not for him.  Moraven had already arranged a transfer of funds for his own uses, but since he was using Constance and the nuns as bait to draw out the traitor he saw no reason for them not to benefit.  He would personally see to Constance’s future, because he was confident of winning her over in time, and Sister Helen’s little band would be secure for some years with an endowment of five thousand francs plus whatever further funds he could squeeze from his contacts.

             
While he was perfectly able and willing to fund them himself if need be, it amused him to make the English government pay.  They were a tight-fisted lot in Westminster and he would enjoy squeezing them a little.

             
He had been walking for a few minutes before he sensed he’d picked up a tail.  Deliberately lingering with a lad selling newssheets, he watched as his shadow bent to fiddle with a buckle on his stout boots.  If Renard’s slave was watching him so much the better, but it might be best if he lost the man rather than lead him straight back to Constance’s house.  Seeing a cab draw up across the road, he moved swiftly between the traffic and jumped in, giving the driver the address of a hotel two streets from her home.  Hopefully, by the time his shadow caught up, he would have given him the slip.  He wasn’t quite ready to confront Renard yet and when he did, he intended to have the advantage.

Constance’s stomach rumbled as she stirred the thick soup.  She was hungry and it was past their time to eat but Moraven had not yet returned.  Looking anxiously at the silver watch she wore pinned to her gown, she wondered how long he would be.  Much longer and the soup would be spoiled.

             
‘Why do you wait for him?’ Heloise grumbled.  She had taken her portion and eaten it as soon as it was ready.  ‘He will not consider your feelings and may not return at all.’

             
Just as Constance was pondering the truth of her words, the knocker sounded.  She smiled.  ‘I think that is Moraven now. Please let him in and try not to be rude, Heloise.’

             
‘You’ll rue the day you let him stay here,’ the old woman prophesised as she shuffled out of the kitchen.

             
Constance was ladling soup into bowls as he entered.  She placed two bowls onto the table and then a dish of fresh crusty bread and a crock of butter.  Cheese, apples and biscuits were already on the table.

             
‘I am sorry to be late,’ Moraven said.  ‘You should have eaten, Constance.  In future please do so.  I may be delayed and there is always the chance that I may not return at all, through no fault of my own.’

             
A chill trickled down her spine and her gaze flew to his face.  ‘Were you attacked?’

             
‘No, but I was followed.  I think I lost him before I came here but I dare say they will discover my whereabouts before long.  I should warn you that Renard is as much my enemy as yours.  Once he knows who has been asking questions about him, he may well try to dispose of me.’

             
‘I told you he would bring trouble,’ Heloise muttered darkly.

             
‘I am already in some danger,’ Constance replied and tried not to show anxiety.  ‘My lord is trying to protect me, as well as deal with his own affairs.  I think we must be grateful for his protection.’

             
‘I have friends who will help us,’ Moraven told her.  ‘I had not expected to need them just yet, but I believe it may be a good thing to have Sister Helene’s house watched – and this one too.  I cannot always be with you.  Your servant has a strong arm but he is only one man.  Renard is ruthless.  If he feels threatened he will strike at us, but perhaps the weakest link is the nuns’ house.’

             
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Constance said.  ‘It is the reason I let Pierre stay there at night.  Once we have the doors locked we are safe enough here.’

             
‘Yet I found it easy enough to get in,’ Moraven reminded her.  ‘I will have a man watching the house by this evening. During the day you can be wary but at night you must sleep, and so for a time, must I.’

             
‘Yes, of course.’  Constance was aware of a prickling unease as she sat down.  ‘Pray eat your soup, sir.  I hope it has not spoiled.’

             
Moraven raised the spoon to his mouth and tasted.  The soup was typically French, full of subtle tastes of the sea, creamy and a little spicy.

             
‘This is very good.  Where did you learn to cook?’

             
‘My mother taught me.  When she first married she did not know how to boil an egg but she taught herself French cooking from a book – and Heloise has helped me to go further.  I think perhaps when I seek work it might be better as a cook than a maid.’

             
‘You would certainly find a position in many English homes.  Not many have tasted soup this good I’ll wager – but why should you work when I have offered to be your protector?’

             
Constance blushed, glad that Heloise had left them to their meal.  ‘I believe I have given my answer, sir.  I am not for sale.’

             
‘Have I offered to buy you?’

             
Her cheeks flamed. ‘I thought…it is usual for such arrangements in these cases I believe.’

             
‘How many protectors have you had?’

             
‘None!  How dare you imply I am of easy virtue.’  She shot him a look of indignation.

             
‘I was teasing you,’ he replied.  ‘Naturally, I should provide for my mistress – but I would not consider it payment.  If I cared for the lady it would be an arrangement of mutual benefit.’

             
‘Oh…’  her eyes were fixed firmly on her food.  ‘Similar to a marriage.’

             
‘Much the same but with freedom on either side to end the arrangement after discussion and mutual agreement.  Better I think than so many marriages where the wife is little more than her husband’s property – wouldn’t you say?’

             
‘Perhaps…’ Constance’s voice was almost gone.  ‘However, I think a lady would have to feel desperate to agree.  She would lose her honour and the respect of her peers.’

             
‘I was not aware that you were a lady with prospects,’ Moraven replied.  ‘If you have family or the offer of marriage then I should not dream of offering you carte blanche as my mistress.’

             
‘You know I have not.’  She raised her eyes to his.  ‘My mother’s family will have nothing to do with me – and my father had neither family or fortune at the end.  It is highly unlikely that I shall ever marry.  Yet I hope to keep my virtue and my honour…’