become rather mundane, from a girlish devotion to wait for him forever to a completely ambivalent tone.
Could he risk the additional time away from her? Not if he wanted to ensure their marriage, and he did. Her importance to his happiness had been magnified by their time apart and by his memories of her child-like devotion. Since he left home, he hadn't felt that degree of affection from anyone. Her love was like a beacon, shining in the bleak darkness of his life. He couldn't lose that.
He rode through the darkened forestry with great care, watching and listening for the sound of any other presence.
Before he came to a decision, he should first read Robert's communiqué. Perhaps it would tell him something reassuring, something that could help him make up his mind. But he held forth little hope.
At the gypsy camp, John moved silently, desiring no undue interest in his activities. Several figures moved about the fire circle or between the wagons and tents, but John avoided them. When he reached his own tent, he took one last glance around then slipped inside.
It took only a few seconds to reach for a flint and light a candle. Then he ripped into the seal on Robert's letter.
Somerset,
How surprised you must be at this turn of events. Bet you never saw me as the patriotic type, then again, perhaps you have paid attention to the newspapers and are aware of our difficulties with France.
I realize acting as a spy is not considered the most honorable endeavor. There are often times when lying to the innocent is just as necessary as lying to the guilty, but I focus on the bigger picture. Napoleon must be stopped by whatever means we have at hand.
By the way, your mother did not betray your secret. Michel told me how to reach you. I have not revealed to him what the Foreign Office suspects of his people. I'm sure he would instantly vanish with every other tribe of gypsy folk, along with all our leads.
Give me, I pray, a portion of your time to see this through. I assure you that your affairs are in order. Your steward has been relentless in his pursuit of your aims. Somerset Park flourishes as do your mother and Kitty, though I doubt you would recognize Kitty. She is becoming a young lady. You are a lucky man, or will be, at any rate.
Find the truth, John. You alone can be the deciding factor for Michel's family. I feel we owe it to him. I thought you would feel the same.
I trust Sir Lincoln James and Reginald Newport. I have been involved with them for close to a year. Newport, especially, is adept at removing himself from sticky situations. He would be a good man to have around in a fight.
The final decision is yours. I know you have a multitude of problems to consider right now. Needless to say, I would be disappointed if you and I don't work on this together, but if you decide against such action, it won't hurt our friendship.
Yours, Robert Westley
John held the letter for a moment, staring into the golden flame of the candle before setting the damning sheet of paper alight. If any of the gypsies happened upon such a note, he could very well find his throat cut.
Before he had time to consider the best choice of action, the door to his wagon burst open. The candlelight flickered over the alarmed face of Rasvan.
"John, have you seen anyone sneaking around the camp tonight?"
"No one who isn't usually sneaking about the place."
John's wry comment brought a grimace from Rasvan.
"Enough of that. Dago was found unconscious near the horses."
John felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. "I was there not ten minutes ago. I saw nothing, not even Dago."
"You better come. You're always at the top of the list for an interrogation."
John sighed as he stood. He was tired of being a man that belonged nowhere with no honor. At least, he had Rasvan to stand up for him. Where would he be without him? Could he now betray that friendship even if it seemed he would be helping?
By the time they reached the camp fire, John's
Could he risk the additional time away from her? Not if he wanted to ensure their marriage, and he did. Her importance to his happiness had been magnified by their time apart and by his memories of her child-like devotion. Since he left home, he hadn't felt that degree of affection from anyone. Her love was like a beacon, shining in the bleak darkness of his life. He couldn't lose that.
He rode through the darkened forestry with great care, watching and listening for the sound of any other presence.
Before he came to a decision, he should first read Robert's communiqué. Perhaps it would tell him something reassuring, something that could help him make up his mind. But he held forth little hope.
At the gypsy camp, John moved silently, desiring no undue interest in his activities. Several figures moved about the fire circle or between the wagons and tents, but John avoided them. When he reached his own tent, he took one last glance around then slipped inside.
It took only a few seconds to reach for a flint and light a candle. Then he ripped into the seal on Robert's letter.
Somerset,
How surprised you must be at this turn of events. Bet you never saw me as the patriotic type, then again, perhaps you have paid attention to the newspapers and are aware of our difficulties with France.
I realize acting as a spy is not considered the most honorable endeavor. There are often times when lying to the innocent is just as necessary as lying to the guilty, but I focus on the bigger picture. Napoleon must be stopped by whatever means we have at hand.
By the way, your mother did not betray your secret. Michel told me how to reach you. I have not revealed to him what the Foreign Office suspects of his people. I'm sure he would instantly vanish with every other tribe of gypsy folk, along with all our leads.
Give me, I pray, a portion of your time to see this through. I assure you that your affairs are in order. Your steward has been relentless in his pursuit of your aims. Somerset Park flourishes as do your mother and Kitty, though I doubt you would recognize Kitty. She is becoming a young lady. You are a lucky man, or will be, at any rate.
Find the truth, John. You alone can be the deciding factor for Michel's family. I feel we owe it to him. I thought you would feel the same.
I trust Sir Lincoln James and Reginald Newport. I have been involved with them for close to a year. Newport, especially, is adept at removing himself from sticky situations. He would be a good man to have around in a fight.
The final decision is yours. I know you have a multitude of problems to consider right now. Needless to say, I would be disappointed if you and I don't work on this together, but if you decide against such action, it won't hurt our friendship.
Yours, Robert Westley
John held the letter for a moment, staring into the golden flame of the candle before setting the damning sheet of paper alight. If any of the gypsies happened upon such a note, he could very well find his throat cut.
Before he had time to consider the best choice of action, the door to his wagon burst open. The candlelight flickered over the alarmed face of Rasvan.
"John, have you seen anyone sneaking around the camp tonight?"
"No one who isn't usually sneaking about the place."
John's wry comment brought a grimace from Rasvan.
"Enough of that. Dago was found unconscious near the horses."
John felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. "I was there not ten minutes ago. I saw nothing, not even Dago."
"You better come. You're always at the top of the list for an interrogation."
John sighed as he stood. He was tired of being a man that belonged nowhere with no honor. At least, he had Rasvan to stand up for him. Where would he be without him? Could he now betray that friendship even if it seemed he would be helping?
By the time they reached the camp fire, John's
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