“I don’t think that’s possible tonight”

“I have never been more relieved to hear those words,” he confessed, catching his breath as he pulled back from her sweet, sweet lips.

Her hands moved to unbutton his jacket first. He let her do it, watching her fingers move from one round button to the other until all of it were undone and his black outerwear was pushed over his shoulders. Nick shrugged it off, helping her with his vest then the white long sleeved button-up shirt underneath.

Her fingers brushing lightly against the bare skin of his chest sent shivers through his body. Fingers from both his hands stumbled over the remaining buttons, his concentration broken. Nick retaliated by leaning forward and seeking her lips once more, but her hands were relentless in their exploration. As soon as the last of the buttons was released, though it was only after some moments of clumsy fumbling, Nick freed himself from his shirt. He did not dare check at his bandages, or cared that his wound hurt, Nick was just thankful that he could use both arms again. And with both his hands, he gathered the material of her chemise at the waist then pulled it up over her head, with her cooperation of course.

Then they were both lying on the bed, moving with the instincts of a man and a woman brought together by the holy matrimony. He remembered her telling him that all those stories about her were not true and he remembered doubting her words. Despite the tears shed that day, part of him had wanted to believe that the rumors were true, that Claire had committed adultery with another man, that the woman that was married to him was not as pure and perfect as she appeared to be. But that night, in a cheap inn, all his doubts were proved false.

Although he moved with utmost care and gentleness, if only to pretend he believed her, the surprise must be visible on his face when he finally claimed her. Nick paused, the pupils of his blue eyes were dilated as he stared at her face as if it was the first time he really saw her. She had never been with another man before him. All those things she told him were the truth.

He kissed her brow, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. Nick kissed her slowly as if she would break and when he pulled away to seek her eyes again, all his defenses were gone. “I’m sorry,” was all he managed to say.

For not believing. For the hurt he caused. For the hurt he would surely cause.

********

The music had long faded away, swallowed by the night. Nick guessed that the patrons of the tavern had mostly left or were too drunk to continue dancing and singing. However, the melody was stuck in his head. He hummed the tune as he played with Claire’s golden hair. Curled up beside him, with her head on his shoulder, he wasn’t sure if she was asleep yet. He himself was feeling the weight of his eyelids was almost too unbearable, but pain from his side kept bringing his consciousness back. He did see a blotch of fresh red blood on the bandage, which might have meant that he did way too much for someone who had a near death experience not too long ago. Nick refrained from reacting to it as to not make Claire panic.

A number of things happened that day that it was indeed a long one. And when they got back to their house in Kensington, what would be Mr. Bennett’s news for him? Did he find anything suspicious, a note perhaps that would compromise Claire’s innocence? Surely Claire had nothing to do with the murder of her friend’s husband. She was a lady of gentle upbringing, after all. Why would she be involved in a criminal offense, much more murder? Unless there was a reason – something she mentioned earlier that day under the tree before they went into an argument. She was siding with Hawthorne, stating that there might be a reason behind his traitorous actions. He would know soon enough.

Their night together, Claire’s first intimate night with anyone, left her exhausted with a sense of peace and happiness she hadn’t known in a long, long time. No, it was not between the sheets in a bed at home, or even France. Their relationship was not perfect, and she knew he was not in love with her, but she still could not have asked for anything more perfect than what he gave her.

The first time he laid eyes on her naked form she laid very still, praying she met every one of his expectations. He was, of course, the perfect gentleman. Every whisper was a kind compliment, every touch giving her shivers. Once comfortable in his presence she made a point of finding what gave him chills, made him happy. It actually gave her more pleasure to see his pleased reaction than to receive anything herself. That was the first time Claire Abbot realized she was actually falling in love with her husband.

When Nicholas finally claimed her she noticed how surprised he was, despite dealing with a prick of pain that hadn’t quite been expected. Without a mother to explain before her wedding day, and everyone thinking she’d already experienced this no one had gone out of their way to tell her things were a little unpleasant at first. She didn’t care, though- it gave him the proof needed to trust her at last.

“I’m sorry.”

Claire shook her head with a smile, just happy she felt so close, so connected to him. To her, things could only get better from that moment forward.

*****

Looking back, her favorite moment would be falling asleep against him, fingers tracing invisible lines and circles on his stomach until she fell asleep. No words were spoken, as she had nothing to say that their actions hadn’t already expressed.

Even the next morning worries of her contact, who apparently went by the name Professor White, and the information she was to obtain at the masquerade did not gain her attention for a moment. Claire woke with a small groan, still feeling a hint of pain. “Nick?” she murmured, slowly sitting up and running her fingers through her hair that was by now completely down in frizzy waves. The blanket fell to her hips, and it took her mentally stopping herself to not immediately cover up. “Nicholas, we should be going. Your father will be worried sick, and you need to see the doctor as soon as possible. The ferry will be running this early in the morning, won’t it?” she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Truth was, even as she spoke of going home Claire really wanted to stay. What if things went back to normal as soon as they walked out that door?

No. They couldn't, Claire wouldn't let them. They were married and she wanted to stay at his side. All she had to do was prove things could be this comfortable, this wonderful all the time.

The morning was a grim reminder of the reality that was waiting for them back in London. He was back to being the government spy and she was again the Duke's daughter who he married for connections. It was the sad reality made lighter by the sound of Claire's voice.

Nick groaned and tried to pull her back against him, but Claire managed to twist out of his weak attempt. He wasn't sure what time he had fallen asleep and how long was he out. His eyes still hurt and the bed was not uncomfortable, but when he opened his eyes, the sight that greeted him banished the sleepiness. Instead, a slow smile crept on his face.

"Nicholas, we should be going. Your father will be worried sick, and you need to see the doctor as soon as possible. The ferry will be running this early in the morning, won’t it?"

His hand travelled to the small of her back, marveling at the perfection of her complexion, making a mental note to find a way to thank Mr. Bennett for talking him into marrying this woman. He kept his lips sealed for a long moment, just staring at her face and smiling like an idiot, while his hand caressed her back. And when finally he found his voice he said, "I cannot help you with your hair, dear wife."

**********

It was already mid-morning, after a warm bath and breakfast, when the two of them checked out of the inn. Nick paid a boy to hire a carriage for them and in no time they were back at the port. The tickets he bought the other day was replaced with new ones and they were finally welcomed aboard.

"Mr. Rochford," called a familiar voice. Nicholas turned in time to see the professor approaching them. He tipped his hat in a manner of greeting.

"Professor," he said. "Urgent business in London? It must be, for you to travel this early."

"Good morning to you, Nicholas. And Mrs. Rochford, I'd say you look more beautiful under bright lighting," he told Claire, but then turned to Nick again. "I thought you two were going back to London last night."

"We were. Only that the ferry service had shut down early. We managed to secure a room nearby."

The professor shook his head. "You should have gone to my place. You know where i live, yes?" Nick nodded and Professor White continued, "I have a spare bedroom at home. Anyway, where did you stay that you looked a bit sick this morning?"

"Do I?" He turned to Claire as if to ask how he looked. "I've been... ah, sick. The accommodations last night has nothing to do with how I look today, I assure you. How long will you be in London?" He asked, hoping to direct his curiosity elsewhere. "My wife and I are hosting a masquerade ball this coming weekend. We will be honored if you would consent to attend, right Claire?"

"My wife and I are hosting a masquerade ball this coming weekend. We will be honored if you would consent to attend, right Claire?"

Words failed her at first. So much for forgetting her worries and duties to ‘the other side’. Claire stared at the professor, wishing he would just decline before she had to answer. But he didn’t. “Well…” Telling him the guest list was full would only make her look like a prude in front of her husband, and she didn’t want to give Professor White the impression she was trying to distance herself from him. Thought that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

“O-of course. It starts at seven o’clock. There will be hors d'oeuvres served. Be sure to wear your best costume, quite a lot of our friends will be there, we’d love to introduce you.” Her voice was timid, much different than her tone throughout their morning so far. They’d been teasing and flirting since they woke up, and now her arm that had been around Nick’s fell to her side. “I didn’t catch what’s bringing you to London, Professor.” It’s your turn to lie to my husband, she though, wondering what his excuse would be. Was it really for work?

“I am meeting with a fellow colleague on business. We are hoping to give a lecture together in the future,” he answered casually, to which Claire gave a small nod. Figures, he was able to give one line and get off the hook.

She looked back toward the ferry before giving Nick her attention again. “Should we move along? Don’t want to be stuck away from home much longer,” Claire said, nodding back toward the water. Others were already boarding, but her hurry was obvious. Even once on the boat Claire claimed sea sickness, leaving the deck she’d been eager to stand on to watch the water during their first ride. She wanted nothing to do with Professor White until the masquerade. Would want her to talk there? She would find out there, probably; he was always good about being clear in her plans.

A couple hours later the couple was pulling up to the estate looking worse for wear. Claire was tired and worried, and seeing their home only made reality crash down on her harder. It was quiet on the outside, making her wonder if his family was there waiting or not. “Would you like me to leave you be with the doctor when we get inside? I have plenty to keep me busy with the ball this weekend. Or perhaps I can call for your father, if you’d like to speak with him?” she asked when they’d stepped out of the carriage.

Nick noticed the change in his wife when, for the second time in Greenwich, they came across Professor White. Perhaps he was just not the kind of people she liked, although Nick failed to find any fault in the way the professor had treated Claire so far. Nevertheless, Professor White would not be something that he would argue with her about, especially not after they started the day so very well. When she suggested to move along, Nick just nodded and bid his old friend good bye and boarded the ferry. The rest of their journey back home was quieter than he expected it to be, with Claire feeling seasick and all.

The rented carriage pulled up to the estate at almost lunch time. Unlike the day before, it was cloudy and the air smelled of the coming rain. Nick watched the reflection of branches of the trees on the pond as they swayed with the gentle breeze. Gray clouds were reflected there too, sailing the sky. It was a good thing they were back before the clouds wept.

The butler and a couple of maids greeted the couple when the carriage stopped. He went ahead of Claire, holding up his hand to assist her down. “Would you like me to leave you be with the doctor when we get inside? I have plenty to keep me busy with the ball this weekend. Or perhaps I can call for your father, if you’d like to speak with him?” she asked as soon as they were out.

Nick frowned, but his eyes were teasing. “You sound like you are in a hurry be get rid of me,” he said aloud, then leaning close so only she could hear, he whispered, “With the way you’ve been acting the whole morning, I am worried that I didn’t meet your expectations last night. Tell me honestly, did I not?” But there was a playful smile on his face when he looked ahead of them and placed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her inside.

“Robert, will you send a note to Doctor McQuerin? An apology, actually. I shall –“

“No need to bother, Mr. Rochford,” said the voice which was definitely the doctor’s. They were at the foyer then and he was walking from the sitting room on the first floor. He was sharply dressed as always, in black, except for his shirt and gray cravat. His hair, still black, though there were occasional grays, was carefully combed away from his face. By the way he was looking at Nick, the younger man guessed that he made the doctor wait long enough.

“Dr. McQuerin arrived early this morning for your appointment, after you missed yesterday’s,” supplied Robert, who was standing to his right. Nicholas didn’t need to hear it, and Francis McQuerin definitely didn’t need a reminder. “Your cousin also dropped by to check whether you have come home,” the butler added.

The doctor either did not to hear the other highlight of the morning, or that he had nothing to comment to it. He walked in quick, long strides towards them. Nick cleared his throat and said to Claire, “Perhaps it is a good idea to leave me with Dr. McQuerin, Claire. I shall see you in the dining area for lunch.” He patted her hand on his arm.

“My apologies, Mrs. Rochford, but I need to borrow your husband for a while, for his own good.” Then Dr. McQuerin turned his charming smile to Nick. “Nicholas, if you will please follow me to your room.”

*****

Later Nick found out that the wound needed to be closed again, and then violently disagreed when Dr. McQuerin suggested it to be cauterized to prevent future bleeding because of Nick’s foolishness. He also found out how harshly the doctor speaks. It might be because of his military background, but Nick sensed that the doctor just didn’t like stubborn patients.

“Have you spoken with my father as of late?” Nick asked after he was neatly bandaged and was leaning against the pillows.

The doctor, who was washing blood off his hands on a washbasin, looked over his shoulder at Nicholas. “No, I have not. The last we saw each other was when he called for me to tend to you on the night of your wedding day.”

Nick nodded and looked away. The doctor was not involved in their operation. Friend or not, he doubted Mr. Bennett would carelessly share information with this man. He might know that they were up to something, but he was not that well versed as to what it was. As if reading his thoughts, Dr. McQuerin said, “Even if we have had the chance to talk, your father will not be discussing business matters with me, you understand?”

“I know.” He reached for a fresh shirt, which was hanging at the back of a chair.

The doctor turned around and regarded her with one of those looks that made him feel like a boy again. “What are you doing?”

Nick shrugged and tugged on the shirt until it was free. “I am meeting Claire in the dining hall for lunch,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

McQuerin shook his head and sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid you are not, Mr. Rochford,” he said. “How soon do you want to be back in the field?”

He knew where the conversation was leading to, but Nick answered, “As soon as possible, of course. Not a day later than necessary.”

“Then you shall stay on that bed until I tell you it is safe to walk around. I shall order your lunch to be served here instead.”

“You sound like you are in a hurry be get rid of me. With the way you’ve been acting the whole morning, I am worried that I didn’t meet your expectations last night. Tell me honestly, did I not?”

Claire’s eyes widened and her eyes darted toward the few in front of them. How could he say such a thing around them! Still she grinned, putting a hand to her cheek. “You went beyond my dreams, but perhaps I need another night to make any final judgments,” she answered in a whisper before they were approached by the doctor. She watched the two go back and forth with a guilty look on her face, starting to regret she kept him busy last night. He should have just laid still and gone to sleep.

As it was, Claire couldn’t bring herself to regret it. She nodded with a worried look as the two left, standing there alone with her thoughts. Someone, one of the maids, asked her a question but she didn’t hear. She wanted to still live in the dream of love, in what they had while alone. It seemed by his words Nicholas had brought that dream back with them, keeping it alive and well. But what if he was just flirting, and had no intention of spending so much time together again?

No, she couldn’t think like that. It was her own lying that made her assume Nicholas must be doing the same thing in his life, which was very foolish of her. Wasn’t that exactly what they’d spoken of at the river, exactly what had hurt him? Claire shook her head, heading inside to make the final arrangements for that weekend and see who had sent notes back agreeing to come. There were some key people that needed to attend.

******

Claire was visibly pouting as she walked down the carpet laid hallway carrying a silver tray with chicken soup and French bread. When she reached the master bedroom she knocked quietly before entering carefully, having difficulty with looking graceful while opening a door with full arms. Yet at the sight of her husband in bed yet again her features softened and she let out a soft sigh.

“I waited a full five minutes in the dining room before someone finally informed me you would not be able to join me. How difficult is it to just pass along that kind of information? Especially at lunch time, when I know the staff is aware since they were going to bring this up for you. Well not this exactly, the doctor was going to give you that gruel again but I convinced the cook this would be better for you,” she told him, placing the tray on his bedside table before going to the other side of the bed to sit by him.

“Be honest. No lying to me. How are you? Are you going to have to stay in bed even longer this time?” Claire said sadly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I feel guilty. I swear I'm not touching you again until the whole wound is healed not even a scar.” She paused, blushing again. "All right, that's not true...but I'm still being careful. You obviously don't know or follow your limits, so I have to be the responsible one here."

Being advised by the doctor to stay in bed until further notice was like being thrown into prison for doing something not entirely against the law. Therefore he was neither a prisoner nor a free man, but to be fair his prison was surprisingly comfortable. The problem was that he was not looking for comfort, but for the adventures that was never inside his bedroom. Surely, he thought he would die of boredom and not of blood loss.

It was a good thing that Dr. McQuerin left for Nicholas the latest issue of The Times. “To keep you updated,” the doctor had said as he dropped the folded newspaper on the bed before he left. That was how Claire had found Nick – sitting on the bed, frowning at whatever he was reading.

But before Claire knocked on the door, Nick was half-heartedly skimming through the pages. He had wanted to hear from his handler about his investigation, but the fact that Mr. Bennett was not going besides himself to inform Nick of the results, made him think that there was nothing to worry about. The windows were open and the cool breeze from outside the house was a welcome distraction until he found an article featuring the death of their Matthew Hawthorne. Nick sat up more straight and more focused. And that was when Claire knocked on the door.

Her gentle rapping barely caught his attention, though he absently called for the person at the other side to come in. His eyes, and his full attention, was on the text, as he scanned the words again to make sure that he missed nothing. It detailed the brief life of Mr. Hawthorne, a member of the nobility and a good man. His death was described as a failure of the heart. Oddly, there was no mention of poisoning or of prison. Strings were pulled, enough strings to cover for the real cause of the gentleman’s death. What Nick wanted to know, was whether or not the strings were pulled by people he allied himself with or by the enemy. This was another lead they could pursue.

[/i]“I waited a full five minutes in the dining room before someone finally informed me you would not be able to join me. How difficult is it to just pass along that kind of information? Especially at lunch time, when I know the staff is aware since they were going to bring this up for you. Well not this exactly, the doctor was going to give you that gruel again but I convinced the cook this would be better for you,” she said, setting the tray down on the table beside Nick.

His blue eyes found her, and all traces of impatience and disappointment vanished. He greeted his wife with a slow smile saying, “Should you find yourself in dire need of money, there are people I know who could use a pretty maid, or a waitress.” He followed her with his eyes as he moved around the bed to find her seat beside him. They stared at each other, wordless, for a few moments until she brought her hand to cup touch his cheek. He was rather pale and his hair was tousled. Her hand felt warm and soft against his cheek, so he leaned in to the touch.

[i]“Be honest. No lying to me. How are you? Are you going to have to stay in bed even longer this time? I feel guilty. I swear I'm not touching you again until the whole wound is healed not even a scar.” She paused, a pretty shade of pink coloring her cheek. He found her blushing very amusing, and her words that followed next were fired in quick succession as if she regretted what she said. "All right, that's not true...but I'm still being careful. You obviously don't know or follow your limits, so I have to be the responsible one here."

Finding it hard to resist teasing, he answered, “I find it unfair that only one of us bleeds on our first… So…” He left it at that, leaned forward and kissed her pink, inviting, lips. “Let’s find out how responsible my wife is,” he whispered on her lips, then his hands were on her, on places he discovered the night before that made her gasp. Her corset barely posed a challenge, but it was the pins on her hair that he enjoyed undoing.

“Excuse me, Mr. Rochford,” interrupted a meek female voice.

Raising his head from her collar bone, Nick moved so he was blocking Claire from view. He would have snapped at the person who dared to speak, but the maid was looking away, her cheeks red, and appeared to be as displeased as he was that she happened to walk into them the way she did. “I apologize,” she added, her blush deepening. “Your cousin wishes to speak with you. He waits at the sitting room. Should I ask him to leave, sir?”

“No,” he answered, steadying his voice and his pulse. “Give me ten minutes to finish,” he faltered, looking down at Claire. “To finish my meal, then I shall ring for you to take him to my room. That is all, you may leave.”

Nick waited for the door to close, and the maid’s footsteps to fade away before he sighed, then laughed nervously, thinking how she might react to such embarrassing situation. “I’m sorry about that. Perhaps you’re right about me not knowing my limits.” He raked a hand through his hair then sat back against the pillows, beside her. He reached for the tray and balanced it on a pillow between them. “Will you share this with me?”

Claire couldn’t believe it. As soon as they were interrupted she let out a small, more animal squealing than actual ‘lady like’ sound, pressing her body against her husband. She stared at the maid with wide eyes, unsure if she wanted to yell at the woman or hide under the blanket in embarrassment.

His words about bleeding had already brought red to her cheeks, but this? Instead of saying anything she let Nick handle it, letting out a small groan as soon as she left. “I suppose it’s good she walked in, I don’t know how much longer I could have resisted you. Besides, I don’t think it’s the meal you originally spoke of finishing,” she answered with a guilty grin, getting comfortable beside him with a glance at the door to make sure they were really alone this time.

“Will you share this with me?”

“No I will not. You’re already not eating enough for a grown man lately, and I won’t take what little you’re having for this lunch.” She sighed deeply, running her fingers over his hair to straighten it out. He had a bad habit of doing it himself, only after his hand brushed through his gorgeous locks it looked like he’d just woken up. “You always mess it up,” she murmured, touching each piece until everything was in place again.

Her grin faded into a content smile. Claire sat back and looked at him with her hands in her lap, not saying anything for the longest time. “You’re beautiful,” she finally whispered. “I know that isn’t what a man wants to hear, but it’s true. I hated how charming and good looking you were when we met. I thought it must make you arrogant,” she giggled, reaching out to touch his cheek. “But I truly am falling in love you with you.” With a small blissful sigh she leaned forward again, placing a light, affectionate kiss on his lips. “I cannot wait to fall the rest of the way. Thank you for showing me how wonderful marriage can be. I don’t believe I could enjoy a single day of this with anyone but you.” Another kiss and she slipped off the bed, glancing at the door again.

“I know how much you enjoy speaking to your cousin, and I’m sure he’s terribly worried. I’ll leave you to it, all right? I need to finish preparations for the party, anyway. Try and get some sleep, all right?” She gave him a small blown kiss before heading out of the room and downstairs to tell Timothy he was welcome to come upstairs. As soon as she reached the sitting room Claire knocked before entering, forgetting that Nick had taken out a couple pins in the front of her hair, leaving a few blonde curls loose on the sides. It probably looked sexy, what with that and her silly smile giving hints as to what was on her mind.

“Hello, Timothy, it’s good to see you again. Nick is just finishing up lunch, you can go ahead up. Just- try to not keep him up too long, please? He didn’t get much rest, and while he won’t tell me what happened I’m just positive they put new stitches in. He’s got to be in pain,” she said with a shake of her head, the smile fading. Just talking about it made her want to ask him to leave so Nicholas would sleep.

“Oh! I’ll see you this weekend, right? You received your invitation?”

There it was. Claire had said it. There was one of the goals of his mission – to placate Claire and make her fall for him, to trust him, so that she didn’t get in his way. He should be happy about it, smiling and itching to tell the story to Antoine, but there he was sitting dumbfounded on his bed, thinking of what he might have told her had she waited for an answer. Instead, he smiled and kissed her back, reacting as he thought a lover would to his woman’s touch.

Then Nicholas decided that he had nothing to say and he was thankful that she didn’t wait for him to say anything at all. He could lie and tell her that he felt the same, but Claire didn’t deserve his lies any more than he deserved her affection. If he was hungry, his brain might have already forgotten about it, because Nick was looking at his soup like it was poisoned.

Then there was a knock at the door, but the person knocking didn’t wait for the invitation to come in. Timothy simply assumed that it was alright to come in. The tall French man entered the room dressed in red waistcoat and black jacket. His wavy hair was cut shorter and though he kept his expression neutral, his eyes were alight with a hidden knowledge.

“Why, cousin, that soup certainly looks good.”

“Yes, I wager it tastes better,” Nick answered instinctively, his voice hollow, and his attention still on the thick liquid inside the bowl. If he could see his reflection on the surface of the liquid, he would have observed that Claire did a splendid job of fixing his otherwise mussed hair. She claimed that his hands were no good as a comb, because whenever he ran his hand through his hair, it ended up ruined.

The sound of wood scraping against wood caught his attention. His “cousin” took the liberty of pulling a chair close to the bed and making himself comfortable in it. “Your lovely wife came to fetch me,” he informed Nick casually.

“Yes, she told me that she intended to personally see you. Have you any news from father?”

“And yes she did,” he answered with an amused smile, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “I also had the chance to have a short conversation with Doctor McQuerin before he left the house. He mentioned that you went back in the house in worse shape than when you left. I imagine your father would feel guilty of encouraging you to go out on your own, though looking at you, I don’t think you share the sentiment.”

Nick reached for the spoon and stalled by slowly taking a sip from his soup. He knew this would happen, but not that soon. “I don’t,” he shrugged and shoveled another spoonful of soup in his mouth, making eating an excuse to avoid his friend’s inquisitive eyes. “It’s well worth it, if that’s what you want to know.”

Timothy paused to consider Nick’s discomfort, but after a few thoughtful seconds, he burst into laughter. “I can’t believe the risks you are taking, Nick. I just can’t.”

Me neither, he thought. “Claire is lovely. It’s eternally difficult to hold on to your values when you are trapped in the same room as her,” Nick said, turning to face Tim who was grinning and nodding his head, looking like he was far away daydreaming. “Now that your curiosity is satisfied, why don’t you start narrating what happened yesterday while I am in Greenwich?”

“Of course.” He sobered. “Your father said he found nothing notable, but it doesn’t mean that we are excluding her as a suspect. Have you seen the news?” When Nick nodded and held up the copy of The Times, Timothy continued, “It is not our doing. The final report of the laboratory says that he died of heart failure and not poison. The family requested the detail about prison removed, yes, but the examining physician swore that the cause of death is heart failure and not poison as was the initial findings.”

“And how does he explain the error?”

Tim shrugged. “Simple human error, he said, wrong analysis by his associates. Apparently, he is working with an apprentice or two when Mr. Hawthorne’s body was examined.”

“I don’t believe it,” Nick said, shaking his head slowly.

“Neither do we.”

“What’s the physician’s name? And his associates?”

It was Timothy’s turn to shake his head then he smiled at his friend. “Not yet, Mr. Rochford. Let me handle this for now. I came here just to entertain you with the latest gossip, like our women do, and also to make sure that you are well. The doctor said you are recovering fast, which is good news for me, because your father has been like a slave overlord since you fell ill.”

Nick chuckled. “You should have gone to France.”

“Oh, but I love you too much to leave you alone in this judgmental city,” he said in that silky voice of his. His eyes were earnest and his expression so very tender that it made Nick laugh out loud until his side hurt and he winced. “I’ve said what I need to say. Your father is surely looking for me. By the way, I have heard that important people are invited to your wife’s ball.”

“She did mention inviting some of the generals. With her status, it is not impossible that they will come. Have you all considered what I told my father?”

“Yes,” Tim started to get up from his seat. “Yes, we are watching a couple of men now, and the night of the ball, I will personally brief you. I suppose you will be in better shape than you are now. I’ll leave you to rest, just like your wife said.”

The week flew by for Claire both from excitement and anxiety. By Saturday evening everything was set, from the Hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen on glistening silver platters to the pins that held Claire’s hair in the most extravagant, lovely way to let a few locks cascade down around her neck to her left shoulder. For the night she had picked out a light purple dress, and of course the necklace Nicholas had given her before the wedding. Part of her was reminded of the more ‘negative’ days together, but she quickly dismissed it. The last week had been filled with time cuddling in bed, making her almost thankful for his wound; he never would have spent so much alone time with her if he’d been working.

To finish the outfit she had a black mask that covered the top half of her face, a couple flowers in the corner that matches ones in her hair. The guests had been arriving for the past fifteen minutes in groups of twos, threes, and fours. The entire estate was crowded with staff, friends, and of course those invited strictly for political reasons. They would be spoken to later; for now, Claire was surrounded by the women she hadn’t seen in much too long. It seemed her marriage to Nicholas and the wedding had helped her standing with them, and they all couldn’t get over how extravagant of a home someone that wasn’t nobility had provided.

“Where is his husband of yours, Claire? I haven’t gotten to see him, surely he isn’t hiding from you,” Martha McCoy said, fanning herself despite the cooling weather that evening. She was always doing it, Claire assumed it was just because she couldn’t sit still or wanted to remind people she was there even when silent.

“I’m not sure…I’m sure he’s busy greeting his own guests.” Honestly, despite her flirts of wanting to spend the night searching for each other in the crowd…Claire was eager for him to keep busy with his own devices. She needed to get vital information for the Professor, information that would hopefully be her last to pass on. Things were getting complicated, and she wanted out before they started a family, started a life. She couldn’t get close to her husband having something like this hanging over her head.

Claire had already spotted a couple of the higher military officials, her best bet to getting the job done quickly. With enough drinks and cute flirting she should get her way.