was impatient for the small security you spoke of – there may also have been the matter of some gambling debts. In any case, he reported that he tried to sell the bulbs, but found them worthless.”
Lady Harburton’s obvious agitation increased. “What nonsense. First, my son would never steal, not from me. And second, my bulbs are not worthless. Huismans said they were worth a fortune and so they are.”
“You put a great deal of faith in Huismans,” Tristan said. “Why do you have such confidence? And why if they are worth so much, would he give the bulbs to you?”
“Well, he didn’t give them to me – not exactly. I actually had to talk to my husband and a couple of his friends about how little interest England need have in the China Seas. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? Why would we care about such foreign parts and their peoples anyway? We are English. We need only to wait and the world will come to us. Harburton was quite in agreement once he realized I’d let him leave for his trout streams as soon as he promised to vote along such sensible lines.”
Tristan grew pale at her words, but his eyes flashed. “Mr. Husimans wanted you to persuade your husband of this?”
“Well, yes.” Lady Harburton stopped pacing and looked smug again. “Can you imagine anything easier? I was lucky that he came to me first. He made the same promise to other ladies of my acquaintance, but, of course, he promised them inferior goods. It was part of our agreement.”
“And why did you trust him? Put such faith in him? I am sure a lady of your refinement would have needed some evidence that he would act in good faith.” Tristan walked to the couch and sat down. He appeared relaxed, languid almost, but Marguerite could see the betraying tap of one booted toe.
“Well, Mr. Downey recommended him to me and I’d long had a fine relationship with Mr. Downey.”
“Mr. Downey? Also known as Monsieur Dupree?” Tristan felt the pieces totter and then fall into place. Could it be so easy? Could he have been so blind on so many occasions? He was very afraid that he could have been. Marguerite had been right, he did not always listen to women.
“I’ve never heard of Monsieur Dupree. He sounds like a frog. I don’t speak to the French to this day – well except for my modiste, but that doesn’t count,” Lady Harburton exclaimed. “But, Mr. Downey he’s an old friend. He kept me company all through the war. He was quite an unusual man, but so kind. He always brought me the most wonderful gifts of lace and other knick-knacks. He understood how hard it was to keep a gracious home during the war. He was most helpful.”
He was so close. It was only one more step. “And did he also ask nothing of you? Did he give you all these fripperies simply to share the pleasure of your company?” He hoped Lady Harburton did not detect the slight sarcasm in the ending. He avoided looking at Marguerite. He could imagine the irony caught in her expression.
“No, nothing but my company.” Lady Harburton looked like a well-fed cat.
The last puzzle piece refused to fall. Lady Harburton did not have secrets to share. He still could not see her as the master manipulator.
“And what did you do in all the time you spent together?” Marguerite entered the conversation. He looked in her direction, and saw that she also had a most superior expression upon her face.
“Why, we read together,” Lady Harburton explained.
What was Marguerite trying to do? Lady Harburton was simply not a master spy – she did not have the network to bring together the strange collection of facts and trivia the mole he tracked had leaked.
“And what did you read? I cannot picture a man pouring over the Belle Assemble or one of the other periodicals I know you favor.” Marguerite continued her pursuit. Where was she heading with this?
“Why of course not.” Lady Harburton looked at Marguerite as if she were an idiot. “We read through my correspondence together. Mr. Downey understood how fatiguing it was to read the scrunched print some of these infantrymen employed. He would read the letters to me and sometimes even write my replies. He was so helpful with my good works. Being a man he understood what matters soldiers want to discuss – where they were, what their