Page 47 of Souvenir of Love

“And is it fabrics or funds which have caught the attention of Lord Grenville?” Rafe didn’t wait for an answer. “I shall hazard a guess…the funds. But the sums are hardly worth blackmailing an earl to acquire.” He sat back in his chair. “And you wish my shipping and banking contacts as well? Tell me, Dinsmore, speculation is involved, no doubt, but what else is at stake here, and why is it of such urgency?”

“A man’s life.”

“One man?” Rafe prompted. “He must be important,” he added when James was not forthcoming with additional details.

“He is.”

“And will you be representing Lord Grenville at that appointment as well?”

“I will.”

Rafe eyed Dinsmore curiously. “These are dangerous times in France. A man may lose his life for saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong color, looking askance at his neighbor?—”

“Are you concerned for my welfare, Moreham?” James asked, amused.

“Hardly. Merely pointing out the precariousness of the current situation. My wife is French, in case you have forgotten.”

“I doubt I ever could,” James said dryly, thinking Anne rarely referred to Alix without appending some epithet against the French.

“She barely escaped the assault of a bloodthirsty mob on her family’s chateâu; her father, the Comte de La Brou, was not so fortunate.”

Elizabeth,sitting atop a ladder in the library next to Rafe’s study, her ear pressed against the back wall of the bookcase, lost her grip on the leather-bound volumes of erotic poetry piled in her lap.

James Dinsmore is planning to go to France, and he chastised me for walking blindfolded on a wall?Everyone knew what was happening in France, the violence sweeping the country as centuries of peasant wrath boiled over. They’d executed theirkingin January. Now the revolutionaries seemed to have gone mad, slaughtering people left and right—they’d even built a machine, the guillotine, to do the work more efficiently. Making a grab for the sliding books, she very nearly bumped her head against the shelf above it.

She’d discovered this listening post when she was fourteen.

Eager to impress her Latin tutor—who had the loveliest blue eyes—she’d climbed up prepared to do a bit of extracurricular reading. She’d been shocked and then utterly engrossed by what she found, until she’d been disturbed by voices. Certain she’d be caught with the scandalous volumes in her hand, she was trying to stuff them back in the shelves, when she realized the voices were coming from thebackof the bookcase. Leaning her head in among the books, she found that if she stayed very still, shecould make out nearly every word that was said in her brother’s study. It was a fascinating discovery.

Catching the falling books at the last possible moment before they hit the floor, Elizabeth gathered them back into her lap, anxious that she was missing something important being said in the study. Not about Rafe’s business dealings. She’d heard all about that ages ago. He’d been at it for years, and as far as she knew, there hadn’t been a breath of it among the ton. But now James Dinsmore knew. Would he tell Anne? If he did, the scandal would spread through polite society like a burning ember on a carpet. And coupled with what she’d done… She flattened her ear against the wall.

“You have my cooperation, Dinsmore. Not because you threaten me, or because I fear exposure. I would give aid to anyone brave enough or mad enough to risk his life to save victims of the revolutionaries. Along with the list of contacts, I shall include letters of introduction…”

Of course, he has little choice, Elizabeth mused. The family reputation, or what is left of it, is at stake…

“…trust is a rare commodity in France these days; there is far more at stake than reputations. Do not abuse their trust or mine, Dinsmore.”

Even through wood and plaster, she could hear the warning in her brother’s voice.Rafe will have to trust James Dinsmore, just as I did.

“You are staying nearby?”

“At the Hart and Hounds.”

“It will take some time to draw up the list and write the letters?—”

“Forgive me if I put undue pressure on you, Moreham, but every day the situation becomes less secure. The revolutionaries are turning upon each other, seeking not only aristocrats, likeour fugitive, but counterrevolutionaries and spies. We hope to leave for the coast by week’s end.”

Undue pressure? As if blackmail were not enough. Elizabeth wished she could brain James with the books she was clutching. Her brother’s response was far more polite.

“I understand your need for haste. I shall endeavor to have the papers for you by tomorrow, Wednesday afternoon at the latest.”

“You have my deepest gratitude.”

“I have no desire for your gratitude,” Rafe replied sharply.

For several moments she heard only silence. Then he spoke again, the harsh tone of his voice giving way. “Tell me, Dinsmore, why are you risking your life in this way, for a man you don’t even know? You’ve never expressed much interest in politics. Indeed, if I recall, you once described men who debate politics as being all mouths and having no ears. Have you suddenly found a cause? Some newfound sense of honor?”

“I have no sense of honor. You’ve said so yourself. Surely if you’ve forgotten, my face should remind you. Marked for the world to see as a dishonorable cur? I believe those were your words.”