Page 39 of Souvenir of Love

“It might have, if you wish it to be so.”

“Have you some position for me amongst the clergy, then?” His voice filled with amusement. “I suspect I should make a poor priest.”

“I have in mind to invite you to join a brotherhood of a different sort.” Grenville gestured discreetly toward the quiet clusters of men seated around the room and lowered his voice. “Are you aware of the nature of this club?”

“It’s an oasis, a safe haven, a precious refuge where for a brief moment in time, men can escape the relentless machinations of women.”

Grenville pursed his lips like a disappointed schoolmaster.

“Some sort of philosophical society, isn’t it? Membership by invitation only?”

Grenville nodded.

James studied the soberly garbed men scattered throughout the room. He flicked a wrist encircled in simple but crisp white lace at them. “I assume fashion is not an issue here, and that gambling is not part of the appeal.”

“Not for money,” Grenville said softly, “no.”

James cast him an inquisitive glance.

He continued. “You are correct in assuming that this is an exclusive club and that membership is not extended lightly. Wehave an interest in philosophy, yes, and in affairs of state. We are affiliated, though not directly, with His Majesty’s government.”

James was silent for a full moment. “You arespies?”

Grenville nodded slightly.

James’s fingers slid down his scar. “And you think I’ve fallen far enough to join your…brotherhood!”

Grenville’s eyes blazed within their wrinkled settings, though he kept his voice low. “Though you and others might consider our work ungentlemanly, we do not. Nor do we consider ourselves fallen men. Far from it?—”

“Listening at doors, reading other men’s correspondence…wouldn’t you consider that ungentlemanly?”

“Lying about drinking, gambling, spending money on clothes you cannot hope to pay for, seducing women…”

James flicked his finger up the scar. “Touché, my lord.”

Grenville pressed his lips together. “I had not meant to say that, to lose my temper like that, James. I apologize.”

“You only spoke the truth.” He folded his hands upon the table. “In all this time you have not said a word against me; you have stood by me”—his voice softened—“like a father might stand by his son.” Grenville made as if to speak, but James raised his hand. “It is I who ought to apologize. You have not judged me; I should not presume to judge you.”

“It is true we do those things which you have described, but for a purpose, a noble purpose—to guide His Majesty with knowledge of his enemies’ intentions, to protect our country, to protect our sons.”

“But we are not at war?—”

“We will be soon enough. Already people are suffering.”

“Not in England.”

“In France. Like plague, the misery spreads. Unchecked, it will spread throughout the Continent, cross the Channel, and spill onto our shores.”

“And what is it you would have me do?”

“Go there.”

“They are in the midst of a revolution, not exactly the time for a grand tour.” James attempted to keep his tone light, to conceal his shock.

“I want you to establish a network so that we might work towards the end of this vicious new government.” Grenville sat back in his chair, his dry fingertips pressed together in a gesture oddly reminiscent of prayer. “Tell me, James, have you anything better to do with your time?”

Did he have anything better to do with his time? “Well, my Lord Grenville…”I could continue to dance attention upon Anne, listen with half an ear to her gossip, while pretending not to notice how people eye my face and whisper behind their hands.He’d made a game of it, catching the stares and holding them, gauging the expressions in their eyes. Disdain, pity, revulsion, intrigue, attraction—he’d seen it all. It no longer amused him. Society no longer amused him. “Why me?” he asked at last. “I’ve no particular skills.”