want to see it torn down immediately."
"Invasion! England hasn't been invaded by a foreign power since the conquest."
"But has frequently been invaded by contestants for the throne. It will be the Stuarts again, of course."
Wine and weariness seemed to be making it hard to think. She put the glass down. "Then why hasn't Dunkirk already been destroyed? It was part of the peace treaty."
"It was part of three previous peace treaties and still stands." He took the half-full glass from her loose hold and drank from it. "The French are very fond of Dunkirk, and the acting French ambassador is working hard to preserve it. He has just come up with the delightful notion that the artificial canal there should not be demolished, but renamed the Canal Saint-George in honor of the English."
"You jest!"
"Alas no." He drained the glass, then with a steady hand, refilled it and put it down between them. "The king is quite touched by the idea, especially as the first name suggested was the Canal Saint-Louis."
Diana had watched him drink, and now awareness of his lips almost blinded her to anything else.
Our kiss.
Trying not to suck in breaths, she picked up the glass and deliberately sipped from the place still moist from his mouth. "The king is so easily duped?"
"Perish the thought. And I mean that seriously," he said, though astonishingly vaguely. Even she could see that her words had been foolish, almost treasonous, yet he did not say more. His eyes darkened, and only then did she realize that she had just licked some port from her lips.
He looked away, to touch the petals of the flowers. "The acting French ambassador - a Monsieur D'Eon - is a very clever and charming man."
"And lethal?"
He drew a blush-pink blossom from the bowl and looked back at her. "Possibly."
A much more subtle blossom than the scarlet field poppy, and yet she was spinning back to that flirtation. She had no stiff bodice tonight down which a flower stem could be tucked. She was, in fact, shockingly under-dressed. Less than half her mind now on the conversation, she was still aware that he was talking to her as an equal, and even trusting her with things he must surely share with few men.
He leaned back, the blossom resting against his lips. She thought she saw him inhale. She took a large mouthful of port and let it travel slowly down her throat.
"D'Eon served well as a captain of dragoons in the war," he said, eyes on her, "and in other more secret roles. He once traveled days with a broken leg to deliver a dispatch. He is not a man to be taken lightly. He is also proud and ambitious."
He leaned forward and took the glass from her hand. Their fingers touched. Then he turned it and drank from the same place as before.
Suppressing a shiver with two causes, Diana asked, "What is he ambitious for?"
"The ambassadorship."
"Isn't there an ambassador en route?"
"But for some, hope springs eternal."
He offered the blossom.
She took it, drawing it close to her nose to inhale the sweet, spicy scent.
"I have reason to believe," he said, "that Monsieur D'Eon thinks that if he is brilliantly successful in his current role, the Comte de Guerchy will be told to stay home, and he will be given the full role and powers. And income. Which would be particularly pleasant, as he has spent some of the ambassador's funds already."
She caught the slight twinkle in his eye. "With encouragement from you, perhaps?"
"Would he believe anything I said? He has received authorization directly from his king."
She laid down the flower. "Forgery! My lord - "
"Don't disappoint me, Diana." His eyes still smiled. "These matters are rarely clean or tidy. I do what I must to confine France and prevent invasion. They have tried to invade twice this century through Scotland. That route is closed to them now the Highland clans are broken or tamed, but Ireland stands ripe for use, and the south coast is temptingly close. I doubt the French will ever give up their hunger to invade England. It will not be allowed," he added, and she recognized a personal resolution.
No wonder the French wanted him dead. He stood firmly in their way, and was not an easy man to move. He would not be distracted by personal ambitions, or flattered out of his purpose. He certainly could not be bribed.
"Don't frown," he said, picking up the flower and stroking it against her lips.
The perfume seemed