Simon grinned reluctantly. "Well, I didn't suggest she seduce you, but I did imply that she'd have to employ unorthodox measures to gain your attention."

"She certainly did that! Now, can we get on with these questions?"

"Go ahead." Simon leaned over to refill his glass from the decanter on the side table and then sat back cradling the goblet between his hands. Of course Nathaniel was right. Every caution was essential, even where Gabrielle was concerned.

It was an exhaustive and exhausting session, but when the two men parted in the early hours of the morning, Nathaniel had failed to find any holes or even weak spots in Simon's narrative. It would appear that Gabrielle was everything she seemed to be.

He had one last test for Gabrelle. But first he needed to ensure her absence for an hour or two.

******************************************************************

"Oh, Gabby, I forgot to give you this letter. It arrived for you just before we left Vanbrugh Court." Georgie entered the breakfast parlor the next morning, flourishing an envelope. She dropped it beside Gabrielle's plate and smiled around the table.

"Good morning, everyone. I slept like a baby. I think the air in Hampshire must be more restful than in Kent." She leaned over to kiss her husband. "You were up betimes this morning."

"Some of us have been up for hours," Gabrielle said, picking up the letter. The envelope bore Talleyrand's elegant script. "Some of us have already had a two-hour ride."

"And thus feel we deserve our breakfast," Simon added, pinching his wife's cheek. "Unlike lazy ladies who don't bestir themselves until past mid-morning."

Georgie merely smiled at this good-natured raillery and turned to examine the chafing dishes on the sideboard.

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, one booted ankle resting on his thigh, his hand circling a tankard of ale on the table. His eyes rested on Gabrielle, watching her face as she slit the envelope with her butter knife. The handwriting on the envelope was almost as familiar to him as his own.

Gabrielle had been expecting a letter from Talleyrand relatively early in her assignment, and it had been agreed initially that she would use the Vanbrughs' address as a poste restante. Once she'd established herself in the network, she would inform her godfather and they would use a more efficient channel.

Gabrielle wondered if Nathaniel recognized the handwriting. It was highly likely he'd seen examples of it in his work. Some of Talleyrand's correspondence would have surely fallen into English hands at some point.

"It's from Talleyrand," she said calmly, glancing across the table at Nathaniel. He inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgment and raised his tankard to his lips.

Gabrielle decided he had recognized the handwriting and she'd probably just passed another test.

"Quite an honor to have such a notable correspondent." Miles observed innocently, frowning with concentration as he filleted a kipper.

"Oh, I'm fully sensible of the honor," Gabrielle said with a tinge of irony that neither Simon nor Nathaniel could miss. "My godfather is a regular and most interesting correspondent."

"And a consummate politician," Miles said comfortably.

"Indubitably," Gabrielle agreed. "He's the cleverest man in Europe, not excluding the emperor. And his cleverness is exceeded only by his ambition. I defy anyone to untangle the personal motives behind his allegiances. If it suited him to abandon Napoleon, he would do so without a qualm."

"A pragmatic gentleman," Nathaniel commented with a shrug. "Lady Vanbrugh, may Ipass you the marmalade?"

"There's no need to be so formal, Nathaniel," Gabrielle said, unfolding the sheets of paper in leisurely-fashion.

"No, indeed not," Georgie agreed, slightly flustered because she still could not like Nathaniel Praed, despite the magic he so clearly weaved around Gabby.

"You do me too much honor, ma'am," Nathaniel said, confirming Georgie in her dislike.

"Pompous ass. Take no notice of him, Georgie." Gabrielle picked up a roll from the basket on the table in front of her and threw it across the table. It landed in Nathaniel's tankard, splattering ale over his shirt.

"Why you…!" He pushed back his chair, half rising to his feet. Gabrielle's chin lifted and she met his indignant glare with challenging eyes and her mocking, crooked smile.

"What am I?"

"Devil's spawn," he said with a reluctant grin, resuming his seat, dabbing at the mess on his shirt with his napkin.

Simon and Miles exchanged a look of total incredulity and Georgie stared in unabashed amazement at her cousin who, with a complacent smile, had turned to her letter.

It was clear at first glance that she was supposed to share its contents with the English spymaster. It was a cheerful, chatty letter describing the social scene at Warsaw, Napoleon's reception by the Poles, and the emperor's fascination with Marie Walewksa.

Presumably that was the nugget she was to pass on. It was a piece of information that would be of general interest to the English government, and at this point it was something known only to Napoleon's intimates. If Gabrielle passed on the information, it would add credence to her claims of intimate connections within the court surrounding the emperor.

"Well, it seems Napoleon has found himself another Josephine," she said, looking up, realizing that Nathaniel had been watching her carefully as she'd read the letter. What had he been watching for? Signs of evasion or calculation, perhaps. Well, he wouldn't see them. All the years with Guillaume had taught her to show on her face only what she chose.

"In Poland?" Nathaniel inquired casually.

"The wife of a Polish chancellor," she said. "I'll read the letter to you. It's quite entertaining."

It was the civilized letter of a civilized man, full of observations and impressions, descriptions that were pointed and witty, Nathaniel reflected. The significance of a liaison between Napoleon and the Polish noblewoman was not elaborated upon, but it would be obvious to any intelligent observer of the world's affairs.

It would be interesting to read Gabrielle's reply. That would tell him much more about the relationship between the diplomat and his goddaughter than this seemingly innocuous communication. Did she conceal her hostility from Talleyrand under a dutiful filial response? From what he knew of Gabrielle, he'd find that hard to believe. And yet as he'd already observed, the more he learned about her, the less he truly knew her.

"Interesting," he said noncommittally when she refolded the letter and slipped it back in its envelope. "I wonder how Josephine will react."

"She's an extremely jealous woman," Gabrielle observed, pouring coffee into her cup. "For some reason she doesn't consider her own infidelities to be of the least importance compared with Napoleon's. She writes him outraged letters whenever rumors reach her of some possible liaison. He describes her as a tigress when she's jealous, but all she has to do is weep and he comes running again. He's very susceptible to women's tears."

"Then it's to be hoped Madame Walewska learns that rapidly," Simon commented. "Since I'm sure she has an ulterior motive in becoming his mistress."

"Power is a powerful aphrodisiac," Gabrielle said lightly. "Talleyrand told me that Napoleon is actually very sensitive about the smallness of his… his… private parts."

"Gabrielle!" Georgie protested, although her eyes shone with interest.

"Not a suitable topic for the breakfast table? Or is it the mixed company that troubles you?" her cousin inquired impishly.

"Both, I imagine," Nathaniel said, pushing back his chair. "Spare our blushes, you outrageous woman."

Gabrielle laughed. "Very well, I'll change the subject. What are we going to do today?"