A Fine Passion by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online

when I spent weeks in dockside taverns teasing out and piecing together information on the deals planned. As the war dragged on, less and less was done through official channels, which made it that much harder to discover what was really happening—what was being brought in, what sent out, when, how, and by whom.”
    “And you were still under the command of that certain gentleman in Whitehall?”
    “Indeed. He’s still there, still active.”
    James nodded, chewing. He swallowed, then said, “So what happened after Toulouse? Things must have changed then?”
    Clarice fought to hide her interest. She kept her gaze trained on her plate, kept her lips firmly shut, did all she could to make herself the proverbial fly on the wall. She’d encouraged Warnefleet to join them for luncheon because she’d known James would interrogate him, and she’d wanted to be there to watch him squirm and be made to appreciate his shortcomings.
    Instead, she was the one squirming. Or at least, she would be, if she wasn’t so engrossed. She’d obviously misread things, misinterpreted comments made about Warnefleet, not just by James but by all around, including the manor staff, but before she could decide just how badly she’d been off target—just how much of an apology she would have to make—she had to piece together the truth by reading between the lines of James and Warnefleet’s conversation.
    Their annoyingly imprecise conversation, but she could hardly insist they speak plainly.
    “Yes for most, but not for me.” Warnefleet paused as if selecting his words, then he glanced at James. “There were many in our particular line of defence who were skeptical of the abdication. We all had roots in French society. None of us thought the battle was truly won.”
    “Yet most came home.”
    Warnefleet nodded. “But I and a few others remained. In my case, I had a good and reliable line to Elba. Others stayed in the ports most likely to see first action. How long we’d have stayed, keeping watch as it were, I don’t know, but as it transpired, we didn’t see out a year before it was war again.”
    “And then what?” James leaned forward, the eagerness in his face transparent.
    Clarice found herself holding her breath; she risked a quick glance at Warnefleet’s face.
    He was looking at her, but not seeing her.
    She got the impression he was looking into the past.
    Then his lips twisted, and he glanced at James. “Waterloo came on quickly.”
    “You were there, weren’t you?”
    “I and a group of others were technically involved in the engagement, but we didn’t get within ten miles of the battlefield.”
    James’s eyes narrowed. “Supply lines?”
    Warnefleet nodded. “We went first for the munitions, then the mounts, and lastly the reinforcements.”
    James frowned. “I can see how you’d manage the first two, but the last?”
    “Confusion and preferably chaos.” Again Warnefleet’s lips lifted in a wry grin. “We had to be inventive.”
    To Clarice’s dismay, Macimber came in and started to clear the dishes. The meal had ended, but she hadn’t yet heard all she wished. How had he been inventive? How inventive had he been? What…?
    James drained his wine, then set the goblet down and grinned engagingly at Warnefleet. “Well, m’boy, let’s go for a constitutional and you can tell me the details.”
    Before she could think of some way to delay them, James rose and smiled at her. “Excellent meal, m’dear.”
    She hid her disappointment behind a cool facade. “I’ll be sure to pass your commendation to Mrs. Cleever.”
    “And mine, too, if you’d be so kind.”
    She looked up and met Warnefleet’s eyes. He’d risen with James and now stood looking down at her. His gaze held a certain weight; she had no difficulty interpreting his message.
    He was too clever to gloat, but he knew just how wrong she’d been, how awkward and untenable her attitude to him now was, and he wasn’t above letting her know it.