He took a slow, deep breath and looked up from the pendulum he was playing with. “Why me? Why not Buckingham, or Arlington or Lauderdale? Such missions are part of their positions. I’m not involved in royal intelligence.”
“Exactly. If I sent any of them to the Continent, they’d be followed. It’s imperative these negotiations remain secret—if the Dutch suspect my designs, they’ll present counterarguments to Louis before he even considers my plan.”
“But there must be someone else. Someone with a lower government appointment, whom no one would notice.”
“Why so reluctant?” Charles flashed a teasing grin. “The Chases have never hesitated to do my bidding before.” Serious now, he put a hand on Colin’s arm. “I’m sorry, but I’ve considered this carefully, and you’re the perfect candidate. No one will question your visit to my mother; you were always close to Henrietta Maria, almost like a foster son. And no one will question when she visits Louis, her favorite nephew, afterwards.”
The plan was flawless, except that Colin wanted no part of it. He swallowed hard and moved away, rearranging some bottles of chemicals. “This is a bad time to leave Amy.”
She’d seemed so melancholy of late, but she always claimed everything was fine.
“Ah, I see,” Charles responded with the sort of genuine sympathy that was an integral part of his charm. “You needn’t stay long; no one would expect it, with a child due soon. Just across the Channel, a short visit, and back. Three weeks—a month at the most.”
Colin lifted a bottle of cloudy green fluid. A month. A month of the precious time he had left before he’d be forced to fail Amy…before everything would fall apart.
“Your wife will be fine,” Charles said. “I’ll send her to Greystone with a royal escort. I want you to leave tomorrow.”
The bottle clinked to the counter as Colin’s head shot up. “Tomorrow?”
“This is very important,” Charles said gravely.
“What about Jason?” Colin asked wildly, casting about for any possible replacement.
“Jason would never holiday in France without taking the twins. Everyone knows he takes them everywhere—trying to be the father they never had, I suppose. To leave them home would be out of character, and to bring them along, too visible.”
“Ford, then.”
“Ford was but a child at the Restoration. My mother wouldn’t even recognize him at, what, sixteen?”
“Don’t you think people will find my leaving Amy at this time a mite suspicious?”
“No one who’d be watching knows you well. You must admit: for a courtier, you keep a low profile. Your reluctance surely took me by surprise. A happy marriage is the exception these days, after all.”
Colin was silent. Defeated. His family had always been there when the Stuarts had needed them, and vice versa. When Colin had asked him, King Charles had granted Lord Hobbs’s license without so much as a blink of his royal eye.
But he was torn apart inside. He couldn’t take Amy on a sea journey, seven-and-a-half months pregnant, and he couldn’t leave her home…he just couldn’t…
Charles put a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “I’m asking you, Colin, as your monarch and as your friend, to do this thing for me.”
He had no choice.
SEVENTY-FOUR
BENCHLEY LOOKED down his beak nose at Amy standing at the edge of Greystone’s quarry.
“My lady, do you not think you’ve seen enough?”
She scanned the site once more, smiling at the view of the quarrymen dotting the stepped-down ledges. The blows of their hammers rang through the air as they toiled in the hot sun. She watched a huge slab of dimension stone begin to crack away from the face, mentally adding its value to Greystone’s ledgers.
“It’s doing well,” she murmured, satisfied. Treading carefully on the uneven ground, she made her way down the rise and back to the two-seater caleche.
Benchley trailed behind. “In your condition, I cannot imagine why you insist on dragging yourself all over the estate. I shall take you home now.”
“Nonsense—I’m with child, not ill. I haven’t yet inspected the sheep.”
She tried to hoist herself onto the seat, then convulsed in laughter, holding out a hand for his help. “Gad, I think my girth has doubled since Colin left for France. I’ve been wondering if he’ll recognize me upon his return.” At Benchley’s wide-eyed look, she couldn’t resist shocking him more. “I’ve also been wondering how a babe this size can possibly fit out of me, but Lydia assures me it will work.”
The tips of Benchley’s ears turned red. He picked up the reins and clucked at the horse.
“I try not to think about it too much,” Amy added brightly.
“Excellent plan,” he choked out, staring straight ahead.
During the thirty-minute drive from the quarry perched on one side of Greystone to the grazing fields bordering the other end, Amy digested what she’d seen. Though but a small portion of Greystone’s income, the tiny quarry it was named for was producing well. Sky-high stacks of newly cut wood from the estate’s abundant forests waited to be sold. The crops were coming in nicely, though she was glad Colin would be home for the harvest—she hadn’t a clue what to do about that.
She’d brought the ledgers up to date, delighted to discover that Greystone had become self-supporting and then some. There looked to be a small profit due in the fall. She wondered why Colin had seemed so worried; did he not realize that?
She could hardly wait for him to come home so she could tell him. She missed him fiercely, his reassuring smile and the heavenly feel of his arms around her, especially when she lay alone at night in their big bed. She missed him more than she missed working with gold and diamonds.
Marry come up, she loved him. When he made it home, she’d tell him so—a million times. Maybe he would have missed her, too. Maybe he’d be truly happy then.
The caleche rolled to a halt. While Benchley went off to hail a shepherd, Amy lowered her ungainly body to
