“So take extra care tonight,” Percy warned them once more. Then, wishing to listen the mood, he added, “Especially if you go outside in those shoes. Mud does nothing for velvet.”
This elicited smiles from several of the grim faces around the room. He hadn’t meant to alarm his friends, but he was quite certain the French government had planted a spy at this evening’s festivities, outside of the usual interlopers. One casual word in the wrong ear could be very dangerous. Not that he didn’t trust his men – he’d put his life in any of their hands. But he hadn’t been able to shake the vague uneasiness that had accompanied him back from France two weeks ago, and so he was taking extra precautions.
The sound of voices below indicated that the guests were beginning to arrive. This was the social occasion of the year at Richmond. He dismissed the rest of them and turned back to the mirror to check his appearance once more before making his entrance. His tailor had worked for weeks on this particular ensemble, and it would more than help him retain his position as one of society’s best-dressed gentlemen.
Just as he was about to turn away, a flicker of movement reflected from the adjoining room caught his eye. Gabrielle. He frowned – how long had she been there? She was supposed to be in her room preparing for the evening. With everything else that was going on, the last thing he needed was for her to overhear something she shouldn’t.
It was strange – after having her under his roof for almost a fortnight, he knew nothing more about her than he had when she arrived. He could scarcely recall the last time he’d met someone so skilled at talking so much while saying so little. Except, candour compelled him to admit, for himself.
He crossed the room and stepped into the sitting room where she had been. No one was there. Another doorway led to the hall, so he exited there and almost knocked her over. She was standing right outside the door, examining one of the portraits on the wall.
She showed no surprise at his abrupt entrance, only bowing her head slightly to acknowledge his presence. Before he could speak, she asked, “Who is this man?”
Percy turned to look at the portrait that had caught her attention. It was a recent painting, and not a particularly good one. Probably one of the least distinguished in the collection. He couldn’t imagine why she would be interested in it. Unless she was trying to distract him.
“That’s my uncle,” he replied in his light-hearted manner. “Rather the black sheep of the family, I daresay. But the guests are here, and dinner is almost…”
“What is his name?” she interrupted, with an intensity he had not felt in any of her previous conversation.
“Edward,” he answered, somewhat confused. “He’s passed away now, I’m afraid.”
“Was he ever in France?” was her next question.
He was beginning to think there was more to this than a mere diversion. “Yes, he was. Spent his last few years there, actually. Why, do you know him?” He laughed at this, but her eyes didn’t leave the picture.
“He’s dead,” she repeated, almost to herself. There was a moment of silence, and finally she seemed to remember herself and turned to him.
“Of course I don’t know him,” she said with a smile. “He simply reminded me of someone. Shall we go to dinner?” And picking up her skirts, she gracefully moved past him down the hall to the staircase.
Percy took one last look at the portrait himself before following her down the stairs. He still couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was not until they were seated at dinner that he realized he hadn’t discovered what, if anything, she had heard of the meeting with his friends.