What a Hero Dares

“I don’t know. He’s with them, already dead, or if he believes me still alive and now suspicious of him, or saw Zoé on the beach, has escaped somehow. The answer will have to wait until morning. Right now I need to see Zoé, before I confront him. She said something earlier that— No, that’s enough. You, Valentine, Simon and I can talk more tomorrow over breakfast, before you and Jessica leave for London. Since you sent Richard after me, I imagine something important has been learned.”

“Bad news can always wait. No later than nine, if you please. There’s a lot you don’t know, little of it good, all of it shocking.”

Max was more than simply curious. “Does any of it concern the fact that in a house literally overrun with staff, I found myself having to light my own fire in the grate and bathe in only a few inches of tepid water?”

“Yes, it does. Max? We men make most of our mistakes with women. I know it’s not in your nature...but if we’re to learn anything more of the Society from this Zoé of yours, you might want to consider treading softly concerning the past.”

“I suppose you think I should visit the conservatory and pluck a few posies for her, as well? Clearly marriage has softened your head. Let me handle this, Gideon. I know the woman, you don’t.”

“The way you knew her eight months ago? Or the way you think you knew her eight months ago? Love can make fools of us all.”

Max opened his mouth to say something, realized he had nothing to say, yet had more questions than made him feel comfortable, so he let the door he slammed behind him speak for him.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE RECOGNIZED MAX’S distinctive footfalls, could picture him advancing beyond the patchwork of carpets scattered over the thick wood plank floor of her attic cell. There was a near arrogance in his walk, a confidence that had others instinctively stepping aside to give him room to pass.

She’d teasingly termed it his “I am so much more than you could ever aspire to be” walk, as opposed to his equally brilliant old-man’s shuffle, his wounded-soldier limp, his prim and proper vicar’s modest gait, his prancing nincompoop’s mincing step or his drunk-as-a-lord laughable stagger.

He was adept at all of them, but what came most naturally to him was that sure-footed stride that said: I am Maximillien Redgrave; take heed, ignore me at your own peril.

And he was heading straight toward her.

Not that she hadn’t left the mullioned window open, with the light muslin draperies blowing in the breeze.

“Zoé?”

She lay back against the fairly steeply-pitched slate roof, her bare feet firmly braced against one of the ornate iron cleats that lined the edge, and looked up at the moon as the clouds slowly rolled by, revealing its grinning face.

“Look, you’ve either jumped, which you’d never do, or you’ve escaped, which is next to impossible. Which leaves you hiding out there somewhere like a sulky child. Never your best look, by the way. In any event, I’m coming out. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to push me over the edge.”

She’d known he was her man, her equal, the first time she’d seen him walking toward her, his handsome face a thundercloud as he realized he’d been put under the command of a woman. But that anger hadn’t lasted much more than a sennight before he ceased resisting their undeniable attraction for each other.

She wondered now, as she had then, if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Now, as then, she believed he was about to offer a limited, reluctant truce. As she was currently out of options, she decided to agree with him.

“You always did talk too much,” she said, turning her head to watch as Max gracefully eased his way over the sill of the dormer window, found purchase for one bare foot, and then maneuvered himself onto his back not three feet away from her.

“That’s because you usually devised interesting ways of shutting me up, as I recall.”

Only his tone warned that he wasn’t being teasingly reminiscent.

“You have no fear of me believing seduction would work on you, Max. Not anymore. What do you want? It’s late, and I’m tired.”

“I also wouldn’t suggest falling asleep in your current precarious position. Think of the mess one of the servants might trip over in the morning.”

This time he did sound genuinely amused. Zoé rolled her eyes. “I was about to go in when you barged out here to harass me.”

His gaze met hers in the moonlight. “So this isn’t some sort of attempt at escape?”

Don’t look at me, don’t look at me. You make me want so much more...

“But of course it is. I plan to crawl to the very tip of the roof in this borrowed dressing gown and then flap my arms as hard as I can and fly away. That blow to your hard skull must have done more damage than I thought. Just remember, if you become dizzy and fall to the courtyard below, I take no responsibility.”

“Yes, the consequence would be on my own head, wouldn’t it? Probably literally. Now tell me why you climbed out here.”

She turned away from him, looking into the seemingly infinite distance of moonlight and shadows. “I dislike closed doors, especially locked doors. After months in a dank cell with little light and constantly foul air, simply standing at the window wasn’t enough to keep me from—but that was never your problem, was it?”

“If I’d found you and dragged you back to London, you would have been hanged for the murder of English agents. I chose the lesser of two evils, and let you go.”

“For you, Max. The lesser of two evils for you. Admit it, I made a fool of you in front of your superiors, your message to them concerning your worry that Anton might be working for the French, while all the time being hoodwinked by your French lover. You washed your hands of me.”

“If it’s any help, you were already gone, and I didn’t really have time to think at all beyond getting our other agents out of harm’s way.”

She knew the answer to her next question before she asked it. “And then you came chasing hotfoot to Paris, looking for me.”

With the moon full above them, she could see a faint flicker of pain cross his features. “My superiors—our superiors—moved all of the surviving agents out of France entirely. I was assigned to the Home Office for a month—”

“Your punishment.”

“Yes, my punishment for all but indicting innocent, bereaved Anton as a traitor while allowing myself to be, as you so incisively said, hoodwinked by my lover, thus losing us eight good agents. Then I was reassigned to the Peninsula with Wellington. And then...and then something else demanded my attention. I did eventually hear that you weren’t on the loose, but in prison.”

“I see. In that case, no, your explanation means nothing to me.”

He nodded. “Understood. Why were you released?”

How she wanted to tell the truth, about everything. But it had been too late for that eight months ago. So she’d keep him concentrated on the present.

“There was an arrangement. Nothing that concerns you.” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “I want to go back inside now. Kindly take yourself out of my way and spare me the indignity of having to crawl over you.”

Max didn’t move, except to turn on his side so he could face her. “Not yet. You traded names to show your new loyalty. You as good as murdered those men, Zoé. What else did you expect from me?”

Don’t, Zoé. Don’t feel sorry for him, or for yourself. You only did what you had to do. You wanted him to believe you, remember? But now it’s over, with events moved long past any hope of salvaging what we’d once had, because what we’d once had clearly hadn’t been enough. The truth will aid nothing, and perhaps make things even worse. Just let it go... Let him go the same way he let you go. He was never really yours.

“Nothing else. I expected exactly what you did. I even prayed for it, something I hadn’t done in a long time.”

“But now you’re claiming innocence? That is what you’re doing, isn’t it, Zoé?”

Too late. Too late for questions, too late for answers.

“I’m claiming nothing. Why I’m here has nothing to do with you. As far as I knew, you died months ago. I told you that on the beach. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a walking, talking ghost from the past. Now move out of my way. If I’m to plead my case to be allowed to leave, it will be with your grandmother. Richard tells me she has great good sense.”

“And I don’t. I suppose you’re right, because I’ll be damned if I can’t still imagine you in my arms, your legs wrapped high about my back as we drive each other out of our minds. My superiors were right to punish me. I never thought I was the sort of fool who, against all common sense, could be led about by his—”

“Oh, Max, just shut up. Please, shut up.”

Without another word, he at last turned away from her and carefully made his way back to the opened casement, neatly easing himself over the windowsill. She followed a moment later, the skirt of the dressing gown and the night rail beneath it carefully tucked about her body.