Fates for Apate (20 page)

He turned his best smile on the duchess. As he expected, it distracted her from teasing his wife. “Tell me, your grace, how did you and the duke meet?”

The duchess gave her husband a sweet smile, while the duke sighed and stared into his wine glass. She turned her grin back on Casimir. “We met in the foyer of my brother’s town home.” Her grin became devilish. “Where Quince proceeded to invite me to be his mistress.”

Gina dropped her fork. “He did not!”

The duchess turned to her husband again. “You did, didn't you? Admit it."

The duke squeezed his wife’s hand and looked at her adoringly. “How could I not? Your beauty blinded me.”

Casimir knew glibness when he saw it, he practiced it often enough himself. Saying what seemed charming for the moment rather than what one really thought. The duke struck him as a private man, not the type to discuss such a story with even his most bosom companions. That impression seemed supported by the duke quickly finishing his wine and signally for another. Casimir gave the duchess his most earnest look, “You must understand that we men all become foolish when blinded by love. You’re fortunate he didn’t say something even more outrageous.”

The duchess chuckled. “One has a hard time imagining what that might be.”

“What were some of the more outrageous things I said when we met?” Casimir turned to Gina. He expected her to join his game of saving the duke from embarrassment, but instead she looked pale and stricken.

“Oh my,” the countess said with a laugh, “they must have been outrageous indeed for George to have that look now.”

Casimir was rarely short of patience with teasing banter, but right now he wished all of Gina’s friends away so that he could find out what was bothering her. He reached for her hand but she withdrew it.

Mastering herself a bit, she gave the duke a small smile. “Don’t feel bad, your grace, perhaps she turned down your offer to be your mistress, but Sabre wouldn’t even marry me.”

That started gales of laughter from both the countess and duchess. The countess recovered first. “Oh my, I had forgotten that.”

Casimir looked among the three friends. “You were going to marry each other?”

The countess dabbed the corners of her eyes from the tears the laughter had caused. “Since I was officiating you could say that I was going to marry them.”

Gina relented and said, “We were playing a game. Jack had to be the vicar because she was the only one who knew Latin, and I was going to be the groom because I was tallest.”

The duchess sat back in her seat, arms crossed. “A stupid logic, really. I mean, George your husband is shorter than Jack.”

Gina gave the duchess a brief smile and continued to explain. “As you can see, Sabre didn’t think much of our game.”

The countess snorted. “She threw her bouquet on the ground and jumped up and down on it, screaming that she would never marry and submit to a man.”

Gina nodded. “So really, your grace, you’ve done quite well.”

The duke’s smile appeared genuine this time. “Quince,” he correctly gently.

“Oh! I know what we should do!” Everyone turned their attention to the duchess and her rediscovered enthusiasm. “We should have a wedding.”

“Sabre,” the countess said dryly, "you just had a wedding.”

“Not for us, for them,” the duchess said, pointing to Gina and himself.

Casimir looked at his wife. “I would prefer to be the groom.” The small gathering burst into laughter, as he expected they would. Gina chuckled as well, even though she still seemed withdrawn.

The earl looked amused. “You’re woefully unlucky for your age. I hadn’t been married at all then, much less twice.”

“How old
are
you?” the duchess inquired.

“Twenty, like my wife.”

“Nonsense, George is still nineteen. I’m the oldest.”

Casimir looked at Gina again, but she seemed disinclined to address the discrepancy. He searched his memory to remember which of them had said their age first. What an odd thing to lie about. He knew as well as anyone that mentioning commonalities usually drew people together, but why lie about such a simple fact? Something so easy to confirm. But if she didn’t want to address it, then he wouldn’t either. “Well, I suppose now I have the opportunity to ask your father for your hand.”

The duke finally spoke again. “What will you do if he says no?”

Casimir gave the duke one of his best smiles. “I’m good at persuasion.”

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George watched Casimir charming her friends and their husbands. He really was startlingly good at it. But if he wasn’t going to be straightforward about his thoughts and feelings, she had to infer them from what he said and did. When he said that all men become foolish when blinded by love, it had pained her. He had never been foolish with her. Had never been less than perfectly controlled until that moment on the boat to Dover when he had admitted that he didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t trust many, but had been more honest with him than most. She really was twenty, something that very few people at all knew. Only her parents and herself. And now Casimir, if he still believed it. She had seen the doubt in his eyes when he turned to her after Sabre dismissed the idea of George being a year older.

No, he had never been foolish, and that lodged a thorn in her heart. She loved him. Intensely, irrationally. And she had just inferred that he had never loved her at all. She was the one who had been foolish. Who had compromised her mission. Had crossed Vienna to check on him. Had married him impulsively in a foreign church. She had been resoundingly stupid over him, and knew that no matter what she might tell herself in the moment right now, she would be again. Because there were other things he had shown her, too. He had protected the secret of their marriage even though it had caused him physical pain. He openly adored her biting sarcasm. And when he touched her she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Yes, Casimir was good at persuasion. He would handily convince her father that he was just the man to take over her care. That would be how her father thought of it. Taking over the care of his eldest daughter, a girl that had caused him nothing but trouble for years. Her father had never approved of her biting tongue and wayward behavior. It had only been Sabre and Jack’s superior social position that had ensured she was able to continue as a Haberdasher. That, and keeping the truth of most of their activities from her parents. Her father would undoubtedly see Casimir as something of a godsend.

The question for her heart was, had he been sent by God or the devil?

* * *

"But you've never been to Derbyshire."

Casimir kissed the tip of his wife's nose. No one had ever worried about him quite as much as she did. "By definition, the first time you go somewhere you've never been there before. I've traveled quite a bit,
ukochany
. I'm sure the English countryside will not be a challenge. The earl has even insisted that I use one of his carriages and coachmen. I couldn't get lost if I tried." She was still frowning and he knew she was just readying her next argument. He decided to head it off before she started. "If you wish to go with me, of course you can. I just thought we had agreed you didn't want to present our marriage as a
fait accompli
to your family."

"No, but perhaps I could stay at an inn nearby-"

"And how would
that
be received if it were found out?"

She looked displeased but finally allowed, "Not well."

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Just admit that you'll miss me."

That haunted expression he worried about came back, some blend of frustration and melancholy that he couldn't quite put his finger on. As a man who lived by his wits and ability to read the people around him, the irony that he couldn't always read his wife didn't escape him. She finally spoke in a voice so soft he leaned closer to hear her. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too,
ukochany
."

She pulled back. "Why don't you call me Gini anymore?"

Casimir paused. "Your friends all call you George."

"Yes, my friends all call me George, but
you
call me Gini. Or you did."

"I assumed it was part of your false identity. Like Applegate."

She grimaced at the name of her former 'husband'. "Don’t say that name." She became earnest, more earnest than he had ever seen her. "But not exactly. When I was little I didn't like the nickname Gina. I think that's why Robert had me use it in Vienna. He has a downright cruel sense of humor."

"If you don't like it, then of course I won't call you that."

She wrapped her hands in his lapels. "I
didn't
like the nickname Gina. Now it's what you call me. Do you see?"

"Not really."

"If any of the others called me that I would probably still sit on them until they promised to stop. But you. When you call me Gina, or especially Gini, it makes me feel..."

When she trailed off Casimir prompted her. "It makes you feel?"

"Loved."

She sounded hopeful and sad and even a tiny bit defiant all at once. Vulnerable. It tore at his heart. He pulled her close and whispered. "I love you, Gini. I'll call you anything you want."

Wrapping her arms around his waist she leaned her head on his shoulder. "What does
ukochany
mean?"

"Beloved."

"I like that, too."

* * *

George was beginning to hate herself, just a little bit. All of her life she had been obsessed with uncovering the truth, but with Casimir all she wanted was the fantasy. She wanted to believe he really loved her. She wanted to believe she was special, not just another female he had charmed into doing what he wanted. Not that she could see how following her back to England could be part of some grand nefarious plot, but having grown up with Sabre and Robert she knew that there were far subtler minds than her own. Perhaps she should just tell Sabre everything she knew about Casimir and see what her friend would come up with. Then again, that would interrupt the fantasy. And right now, with his fingers tracing slow, sinuous patterns over her back the fantasy seemed terribly, terribly good.

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Casimir was in a carriage again, without Gini this time. He missed her, but if he were a father he would be infuriated to be presented with a son-in-law without being given any opportunity to review the man in question. So, a farce. He would go to Derbyshire and ask for her hand. He would ingratiate himself to Gini's family in whatever way he had to, because there was no question that the final outcome must be their marriage. There were few things he wanted that he was confident he could achieve, but this was one of them.

* * *

On the rare occasion that George had entered the Home Office before, it had been with a certain guilty thrill. She had known that an exciting, adventurous future was waiting for her. That she was special. That the combination of her training and clever mind would be of service to the Crown. Now she only felt dread. She didn't want to talk to Robert. He hadn't summoned her, but there was something she needed to tell him and putting it off wouldn't make it any easier. Of course, she couldn't be certain that he would be at his office. Or that he would be free. After she announced herself to the front office clerk she began hoping that he was out. Busy. Couldn't possibly see her. She waited for almost twenty minutes and was fairly certain that they would finally tell her that he was otherwise occupied. Then his personal clerk came to usher her to the office. It felt, she thought, suspiciously like walking to the gallows.

When she entered his office he was writing and held up a finger to keep her from talking. Her lips twisted into an irrepressible wry smile. As though she were dense enough to interrupt Robert when he was writing. Setting his pen down, his gaze rose to meet hers. His expression was guarded at best. She flopped into her chair the way she once did as a child. The way that always made Sabre scold her. Robert merely raised a brow.

"You needed to see me, Georgiana?"

Formality. Perhaps not the best sign. She picked at her fingernail. "I wouldn't say that I
needed
to see you. More that it is appropriate."

Silence. She was tempted to have a staring contest with him to see which of them would speak first. But as it was nearly a foregone conclusion that he would win, she spent a few moments studying him instead. Just to prove that she couldn't be pressured by his little tricks. She was still somewhat startled by how the intervening months had aged him. By how tired he seemed. How weighed down. And right now it was possible that he seemed, well, hesitant. Robert never seemed hesitant.

She finally spoke again. "I wanted to inform you of my resignation. Due to the nature of our business, I didn't think that a letter would be the correct method."

The impression of hesitancy was shed. "I invested quite a bit in your training, Georgiana."

Her wry smile came back. "And I married my first informant."

He waved a hand. "This isn't a position one resigns from. If asked, you will serve."

She snorted. "Please, Robert. Would you trust me with another assignment? Don't be ridiculous."

"The fact is that you are an agent of the Crown, and so you shall remain. And speaking of trust-" he leaned down to pull something from a drawer in his desk. A file that he set in front of himself, laying a hand atop it. "Do you trust your husband?"

George felt her heart begin to race. "I'm not here to discuss my husband."

"How well do you know him?"

She stared at the file under his hand. Not a particularly thick file. Most likely just a few sheets of paper. "He's my husband," she said simply.

Robert narrowed his eyes at her. "Clever George. Cagey George." He tapped a finger on top of the file. "And terribly, terribly curious George. Certainly she knows everything that I could tell her about her husband? About the warrant for his arrest? About the bloody deaths both his father and grandfather suffered?"