a delicate sigh of relief as he paused before his looking glass once more.
The stilted pose was eased several seconds after the door closed behind the valet. For a long moment Cavilon glared with distaste at the powdered face gazing back at him, then resumed all the affectations that achieved the startling alteration in his looks. There was no trace of Martin to be seen when he left the room. His transformation was complete.
Chapter Four
Arriving outside No. 41 Grosvenor Square, Comte de Cavilon stepped from his closed coach with exaggerated steps and minced to the door. His footman rushed to lift the door knocker for him.
“Comtede Cavilon to see the Earl of Tretain,” the footman told the butler when the door opened.
“Lord Tretain will be most pleased to see you, my lord,” the butler told the comte. Ignoring the footman the butler took Cavilon’s hat and gloves. “My lord is in the library.”
“I shall go on my own, Homer.” Cavilon waved his kerchief from his cuff and treaded towards the library with the light, tilted pose by which all recognized him.
“Louis!” Lord Adrian Tretain’s face lit with pleasure at the sight of his friend. “From the gossip floating about London I feared for you.
“When did you return? Come sit.” The earl pulled a bell cord as Cavilon swayed into position on the sofa at one side of the fireplace. “See we are not disturbed,” he instructed Homer, and went to his seat as the butler closed the doors. After carefully scrutinizing his friend, he noted, “You look exhausted. Would you care for some brandy or port?”
“And after I was so very careful with my toilet.” Cavilon sighed and daubed at the corner of his eve.
Tretain shook his head unsympathetically. “The trip was that difficult?”
“Brandy,” Cavilon told him, slowly relaxing but not entirely dropping his pose. “Mayhaps it is time I tried in earnest to become a four-bottle man,” he quipped lightly.
Tretain peered sharply at the comte as he filled the glasses. “There is word about London that Lord Frombv has offered a reward for a smuggler by the name of Martin. He even implies the man is a traitor. The Admiralty has been forced to send a special assignment of men to find him.”
“Then Martin had better beware.” Cavilon arched a brow.
“There was trouble?” Tretain handed the glass to the comte.
Cavilon took a sip, and then drank more than half the glass. “There was an unusually large group of excise men on the shore to bid me welcome,” he said cryptically.
“I thought a Frenchman was taught from birth to savour his liqueur,” Tretain commented. He refilled the other’s glass before sitting across from him.
Cavilon drew a sheaf of papers from the purse beneath his arm. “Pass these on as usual. The Admiralty will find them interesting as well as useful.”
“How did you escape the excise men?” the earl asked, accepting the papers.
“It was not very difficult, but it was odd to find them placed as they were. They not only had the area where we landed surrounded but also knew the direction of the farm.”
“Did they take anyone?”
“I believe all escaped when I drove the officers’ mounts through the fray on the beach. I am grateful the king’s men can afford such excellent beasts,” he said, and smiled. “Else I would not have evaded those waiting me at the farm.”
“Awaiting you? This is serious. Just what did you do to Fromby?” Tretain asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I simply gave the pompous ass a lesson in deportment, although he did not take too well to the water. You had better see what can be done to control his enthusiasm for finding Martin. I don’t mind playing games with Bonaparte’s men, but I would prefer not to be regarded as a pheasant in season here,” Cavilon told him wryly.
“It is time you took a rest. You have dared too much for too long.”
“I believe you are correct,” the comte agreed, to the other’s surprise.
The stilted pose was eased several seconds after the door closed behind the valet. For a long moment Cavilon glared with distaste at the powdered face gazing back at him, then resumed all the affectations that achieved the startling alteration in his looks. There was no trace of Martin to be seen when he left the room. His transformation was complete.
Chapter Four
Arriving outside No. 41 Grosvenor Square, Comte de Cavilon stepped from his closed coach with exaggerated steps and minced to the door. His footman rushed to lift the door knocker for him.
“Comtede Cavilon to see the Earl of Tretain,” the footman told the butler when the door opened.
“Lord Tretain will be most pleased to see you, my lord,” the butler told the comte. Ignoring the footman the butler took Cavilon’s hat and gloves. “My lord is in the library.”
“I shall go on my own, Homer.” Cavilon waved his kerchief from his cuff and treaded towards the library with the light, tilted pose by which all recognized him.
“Louis!” Lord Adrian Tretain’s face lit with pleasure at the sight of his friend. “From the gossip floating about London I feared for you.
“When did you return? Come sit.” The earl pulled a bell cord as Cavilon swayed into position on the sofa at one side of the fireplace. “See we are not disturbed,” he instructed Homer, and went to his seat as the butler closed the doors. After carefully scrutinizing his friend, he noted, “You look exhausted. Would you care for some brandy or port?”
“And after I was so very careful with my toilet.” Cavilon sighed and daubed at the corner of his eve.
Tretain shook his head unsympathetically. “The trip was that difficult?”
“Brandy,” Cavilon told him, slowly relaxing but not entirely dropping his pose. “Mayhaps it is time I tried in earnest to become a four-bottle man,” he quipped lightly.
Tretain peered sharply at the comte as he filled the glasses. “There is word about London that Lord Frombv has offered a reward for a smuggler by the name of Martin. He even implies the man is a traitor. The Admiralty has been forced to send a special assignment of men to find him.”
“Then Martin had better beware.” Cavilon arched a brow.
“There was trouble?” Tretain handed the glass to the comte.
Cavilon took a sip, and then drank more than half the glass. “There was an unusually large group of excise men on the shore to bid me welcome,” he said cryptically.
“I thought a Frenchman was taught from birth to savour his liqueur,” Tretain commented. He refilled the other’s glass before sitting across from him.
Cavilon drew a sheaf of papers from the purse beneath his arm. “Pass these on as usual. The Admiralty will find them interesting as well as useful.”
“How did you escape the excise men?” the earl asked, accepting the papers.
“It was not very difficult, but it was odd to find them placed as they were. They not only had the area where we landed surrounded but also knew the direction of the farm.”
“Did they take anyone?”
“I believe all escaped when I drove the officers’ mounts through the fray on the beach. I am grateful the king’s men can afford such excellent beasts,” he said, and smiled. “Else I would not have evaded those waiting me at the farm.”
“Awaiting you? This is serious. Just what did you do to Fromby?” Tretain asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I simply gave the pompous ass a lesson in deportment, although he did not take too well to the water. You had better see what can be done to control his enthusiasm for finding Martin. I don’t mind playing games with Bonaparte’s men, but I would prefer not to be regarded as a pheasant in season here,” Cavilon told him wryly.
“It is time you took a rest. You have dared too much for too long.”
“I believe you are correct,” the comte agreed, to the other’s surprise.
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