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Authors: Mary Jo Putney
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crown, she had immediately returned to her post in Paris so she could send information to London. After Waterloo, most of the diplomats and hangers-on from the Congress had convened again in Paris, so she had resurrected the countess and rented a house worthy of her rank. But she was getting very tired of being someone other than herself.
Over the years Robert Anderson had played many parts. He had helped her become established in her covert career, and had channeled the money that enabled her to live comfortably and pay her informants. He had also created her lines of communication, not easy when Napoleon's Continental System had closed almost all European ports to the British. At various times information had been sent through Spain, Sweden, Denmark, even Constantinople.
Of necessity, Robin had traveled extensively. Maggie guessed that sometimes he carried vital messages to England himself, crossing the Channel secretly with smugglers. He spent about a third of his time with Maggie, with months passing between visits. His work was far more dangerous than hers, and she was always relieved when he reappeared, jaunty and intact.
For most of those years they had been lovers. Even in the beginning, when she had been in desperate need of his kindness, she had known that what she felt for him was friendship and gratitude, not romantic love. Yet she had drifted along, enjoying the warmth and physical satisfaction they found together. He was her best friend, the man she trusted most in the world, the brother she had never had.
Then one day, three years before, she had woken up with a powerful conviction that friendship was not enough, and that the time had come to end their intimacy. She owed Robin so much, and cared for him so deeply, that it had been wretchedly difficult to say that she no longer wanted to share his bed.
But he had always been the most considerate of lovers, and he had made it easy for her. After she had made her halting statement, he had gone very still for a moment. Then he said calmly that of course he didn't want her to do anything that made her uncomfortable.
They were still friends, they had continued to work together, and he had still lived with her when he was in Paris. The only difference was that he had a separate room.
The fact that Robin had accepted the change in their relationship with such good grace confirmed that he also viewed her more as a friend than as a life's partner. Though he had offered to marry her shortly after he had saved her life, she knew that he had been relieved when she had turned him down.
Still, though she never doubted that she had done the right thing, her bed had been cold and lonely. No doubt that was why Rafe looked so blasted attractive... . Hastily she changed the direction of her thoughts.
Robin had recently emerged from the murkier pools of spying to join the British embassy as a clerk. Maggie assumed that his identity was known to Lord Castlereagh, but the rest of the mission probably thought he was merely an agreeable rattle of no particular ability.
She was glad that he was nearby, and not only because she enjoyed his company. Given the possible threat to the peace negotiations, his remarkable talents were needed.
After deciding on her plan of action, Maggie donned her inconspicuous widow costume and set off to visit her most useful informants. If her women knew what to look for, they should be able to add to Maggie's sketchy knowledge. And if she was lucky, her friend Helene Sorel would soon be back in Paris and able to assist in the task.
Over pot-au-feu, a long baguette of bread, and a jug of wine, Maggie and Robin discussed what they had learned in the last twenty-four hours. Splitting the last of the wine between them, she said, "We're agreed then?"
"Yes, the three men we have decided on are the most likely masterminds, though we'll have to watch half a dozen more." Robin ran a tired hand through his fair hair. "Even then, we may not have the right
Over the years Robert Anderson had played many parts. He had helped her become established in her covert career, and had channeled the money that enabled her to live comfortably and pay her informants. He had also created her lines of communication, not easy when Napoleon's Continental System had closed almost all European ports to the British. At various times information had been sent through Spain, Sweden, Denmark, even Constantinople.
Of necessity, Robin had traveled extensively. Maggie guessed that sometimes he carried vital messages to England himself, crossing the Channel secretly with smugglers. He spent about a third of his time with Maggie, with months passing between visits. His work was far more dangerous than hers, and she was always relieved when he reappeared, jaunty and intact.
For most of those years they had been lovers. Even in the beginning, when she had been in desperate need of his kindness, she had known that what she felt for him was friendship and gratitude, not romantic love. Yet she had drifted along, enjoying the warmth and physical satisfaction they found together. He was her best friend, the man she trusted most in the world, the brother she had never had.
Then one day, three years before, she had woken up with a powerful conviction that friendship was not enough, and that the time had come to end their intimacy. She owed Robin so much, and cared for him so deeply, that it had been wretchedly difficult to say that she no longer wanted to share his bed.
But he had always been the most considerate of lovers, and he had made it easy for her. After she had made her halting statement, he had gone very still for a moment. Then he said calmly that of course he didn't want her to do anything that made her uncomfortable.
They were still friends, they had continued to work together, and he had still lived with her when he was in Paris. The only difference was that he had a separate room.
The fact that Robin had accepted the change in their relationship with such good grace confirmed that he also viewed her more as a friend than as a life's partner. Though he had offered to marry her shortly after he had saved her life, she knew that he had been relieved when she had turned him down.
Still, though she never doubted that she had done the right thing, her bed had been cold and lonely. No doubt that was why Rafe looked so blasted attractive... . Hastily she changed the direction of her thoughts.
Robin had recently emerged from the murkier pools of spying to join the British embassy as a clerk. Maggie assumed that his identity was known to Lord Castlereagh, but the rest of the mission probably thought he was merely an agreeable rattle of no particular ability.
She was glad that he was nearby, and not only because she enjoyed his company. Given the possible threat to the peace negotiations, his remarkable talents were needed.
After deciding on her plan of action, Maggie donned her inconspicuous widow costume and set off to visit her most useful informants. If her women knew what to look for, they should be able to add to Maggie's sketchy knowledge. And if she was lucky, her friend Helene Sorel would soon be back in Paris and able to assist in the task.
Over pot-au-feu, a long baguette of bread, and a jug of wine, Maggie and Robin discussed what they had learned in the last twenty-four hours. Splitting the last of the wine between them, she said, "We're agreed then?"
"Yes, the three men we have decided on are the most likely masterminds, though we'll have to watch half a dozen more." Robin ran a tired hand through his fair hair. "Even then, we may not have the right
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