Christian Seaton_ Duke of Danger(34)

‘Did you know your uncle, André Rousseau?’

Lisette stilled. ‘I believe I told you that he died before I arrived in Paris...’

‘I believe you did too.’

‘And?’

Christian Seaton grimaced. ‘And I have no way of confirming whether that is the truth.’

Lisette’s chin tilted challengingly. ‘Unlike you, Your Grace, I do not lie.’

His mouth thinned at the rebuke. ‘I did not start out with the intention of lying to you, Lisette.’

‘That may be true,’ she allowed grudgingly. ‘But you are certainly responsible for continuing to do so.’

He grimaced. ‘I had no way of knowing if you were to be trusted with the truth.’

Lisette gave what she knew to be a humourless smile. ‘You still do not.’

‘True,’ the Duke conceded. ‘But we are on English soil now.’

They were, yes, and, despite Lisette’s outward show of bravado, she was more than a little unnerved by being in a strange country where she knew no one. Except the man who had been lying to her from the moment they first met. A man whose reason for being in Paris had been to spy on Helene Rousseau.

‘What did you hope to learn by watching Helene?’ she prompted cautiously; she knew that the woman who was her mother had been plotting and planning—even if Lisette had no idea of the details of those plots and plans—during those late night and secret meetings in a room above the tavern. But she had no way of knowing how much Christian Seaton knew of those meetings, or indeed Helene herself.

In the circumstances, sadly perhaps more than Lisette knew herself, in regard to the latter.

‘How much do you know of her...nocturnal activities?’

Lisette blinked. ‘I am uncertain of your meaning,’ she came back cautiously.

Christian could not help but smile ruefully at Lisette’s guarded response to his question. No, there might not be any physical similarities between Lisette and her mother, but the intelligence was most certainly there.

‘Oh, I believe you understand me perfectly.’ He nodded. ‘That you are well aware your mother is a Parisian who has no affection for her own King.’ He paused but Lisette offered no reply. ‘Your uncle, André Rousseau, was another. He came to England two years ago under an assumed name, to work as tutor to the son and heir of an English earl. During the year he spent here he set up a network of spies, within the homes of many members of society as well as the English government,’ he continued evenly. ‘Their ultimate intention was to assassinate the Prince Regent, as well as the other leaders in the coalition, and thus cause chaos within those countries which would allow the newly escaped Bonaparte to march on Paris and resume his place as Emperor of France.’

Lisette was so shocked by what Christian was telling her that her legs felt so weak she now stumbled her way across the bedchamber to drop down onto the chair beside the window before answering him. ‘That is incredible.’

‘But nevertheless true.’

She swallowed with difficulty, her mouth having suddenly become very dry.

‘To achieve their goal they kidnapped the young grandson of a powerful man behind the English government, threatening to kill the boy if that gentleman did not hand over certain information regarding the date and locality of Bonaparte’s second incarceration,’ the Duke continued remorselessly.

‘No...!’ Lisette felt her face pale.

‘Yes,’ he confirmed grimly. ‘Luckily, we were able to rescue the boy in time, without that necessity, and so prevent Bonaparte from escaping a second time.’

‘And you believe—you are of the opinion Helene was involved in this plot?’ Lisette felt sick at the thought.

Although why she should be she had no idea; Helene had already demonstrated, by not so much as bothering to see or visit her own child once during the first nineteen years of that child’s life, that she was not in the least maternal. Nor, apparently, was she afflicted with any softer feelings in regard to a child’s life.

‘Your uncle, André Rousseau, was instrumental in setting these plans in motion, but I believe that it was your mother, Helene Rousseau, who was responsible for seeing that those plans were carried out after his death.’ He nodded tersely.

Lisette moistened the dryness of her lips before speaking. ‘I had no idea...’

Christian so much wanted to believe that. He did believe that. Convincing Maystone of the same was the stumbling block.

His discomfort now owed nothing to his wounded thigh and everything to do with what he had to say next. ‘There are...people in England who will wish to speak with you, Lisette.’