The Caged Countess. Joanna Fulford

seem quite so forbidding so she put a toe in the water.

      ‘How did Fouché’s men find out about Alain?’

      ‘Someone betrayed him and, along with him, potentially an entire section of the British intelligence network in Paris.’

      ‘A double agent?’

      ‘It looks that way,’ he said.

      ‘Do you have any idea who it might be?’

      ‘Not yet.’

      ‘I never knew who Alain’s other contacts were. Do you think he managed to warn them in time?’

      ‘Let’s hope so.’

      ‘Yes.’ She felt suddenly cold as the full implications became apparent. More than ever she was aware of the narrowness of her escape and, like it or not, of how much she owed Duval. ‘It still begs the question though: why were they betrayed?’

      ‘For knowing too much. Alain was on to something of great importance but he wouldn’t say what it was until his sources had verified the facts. Unfortunately, they must have aroused suspicion somehow, because the police closed in before anything more could be passed on.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘How on earth did you get involved in this débâcle?’ he asked.

      Claudine hesitated. She had never been able to talk to anyone about her clandestine activities. Indeed to have breathed a word of it would have brought ruin and disgrace. At first she had hugged the secret with quiet glee, but as time went on it became something of a liability. The chance to be able to speak freely to someone who understood was almost irresistible.

      Duval heard her hesitation. ‘You need not be afraid. Whatever is said here stays here.’

      Something in his tone made her want to believe it. She knew so little about him but, in spite of everything, her instinct was to trust him.

      ‘My brother was with the army in Spain. He was killed at Talavera.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      She smiled sadly. ‘Henry had given his life for his country while I was living in luxury and ease far from the dangers he had faced daily. His death made me question the life I was living, and suddenly it seemed shallow and worthless. I wanted to do something for the war effort on my own account but, short of joining the army myself, I could not imagine how.’ She paused. ‘Then I remembered that Peter, one of my cousins, worked at the Foreign Office. I wrote and asked him to call upon me.’

      ‘I imagine he was surprised by the nature of the conversation.’

      ‘He was at first, but he had also been very fond of Henry and perhaps that inclined him to listen sympathetically. Anyway, some days later he returned with a colleague, a man called Gabriel Viaud.’

      Duval’s brows drew together. ‘Viaud?’

      ‘Yes. Do you know him?’

      ‘We’ve met.’ He paused. ‘But I’m interrupting. Please, go on.’

      ‘I have a property on the south coast of England, an ideal location for getting informants into and out of the country unseen. Viaud asked if I would sanction the use of the coastal access for that purpose. Of course I agreed.’

      Duval had been listening intently, his curiosity thoroughly roused. Was she English then? Her spoken French was impeccable. Her use of the first person hadn’t escaped him either and yet she wore a wedding band. The reminder was oddly unwelcome although he had no right to find it so.

      ‘Did your husband not have something to say about the matter?’

      ‘I live alone, apart from the servants of course.’

      ‘You are a widow?’ Unaccountably he found himself hanging on the answer.

      ‘Not exactly.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s just that I haven’t seen my husband for … some time. He has been serving abroad with the army.’

      ‘I see.’ It was not unusual. He should have expected it. The knowledge brought him back to earth; she was forbidden fare in every way.

      Claudine said nothing. He did not see at all, but she wasn’t about to go into a lengthy explanation of her personal circumstances.

      He sensed her reticence and knew he had no right to probe. ‘Forgive me. I digress. You were saying that you allowed your property to be used …’

      ‘Yes. Then, a few months later, while I was in London, I was approached again by the same gentleman to find out whether I was willing to become more closely involved. The work involved minimal risk—it was merely to act as a courier taking coded messages between London and the coast.’

      ‘And you agreed.’

      ‘It was easy and it was something worthwhile, far removed from the giddy social round.’

      ‘And then?’

      ‘Then, about six months ago, I was introduced to Paul Genet. His department was looking to recruit suitable candidates for overseas intelligence. He knew of the work I had done for his associates; I could speak French and was then entirely unknown to the authorities in Paris. I was ideal for what he had in mind.’

      ‘I can well believe it. He must have rubbed his hands in glee.’

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      ‘He recognised a tool he could use for his purpose.’

      Her eyes sparkled angrily. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

      ‘No?’

      The sarcasm was overt, as Duval had intended. Could she really be so naïve as to think Genet hadn’t used her? Part of the émigré population who had fled their homeland during the revolution, he had lost no time in establishing a new spy network, this time providing valuable information for the British. However, he was also working with those who sought to overthrow Napoleon and restore the French monarchy. Genet and his confederates were prepared to use any means to achieve that end.

      ‘No,’ she retorted. ‘It was my choice. I could have refused.’

      ‘The adventure could have got you killed.’

      ‘I was aware of that.’

      ‘And it didn’t deter you?’

      ‘No, why should it? The risks were explained and I chose to accept them. Genet is not to blame.’

      ‘Women should not be placed in dangerous situations.’

      Claudine lifted one finely arched brow. ‘And yet men do that to them all the time.’

      ‘How so?’

      ‘Men expect their wives to bear children, do they not? Yet there is no more dangerous activity for a woman.’

      He frowned. ‘It’s not the same thing at all.’

      ‘No, on balance, this is much safer,’ she replied. ‘In any case, it’s my life and I’d rather spend it doing something to benefit my country than living some kind of butterfly existence in London.’

      ‘It’s a laudable aim, but it’s over now,’ he replied. ‘This part of the network is finished.’

      ‘This part perhaps, but I’ll find another posting eventually.’

      He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Was this not a close enough brush with disaster?’

      ‘It was unfortunate, but it’s the nature of the business.’

      ‘A business you would do well to stay out of in future.’

      ‘Will you stay out of it in future?’

      The tone was quietly challenging, something that rarely happened in the sphere of Intelligence work, and it provoked in him an upsurge of