“Of course. I did not know he was not my papa until Monsieur Morris came to visit Maman after Papa died.” She gazed out at the crowds of people traversing Piccadilly. “Monsieur Morris asked me when my birthday was, and I told him. Then he figured out that I was his daughter. And … Maman admitted it.”
“In front of you?”
“Imadeher tell me. Before Monsieur Morris left, he told me where his hotel was, so I could come visit him if I wished.”
He glanced at her. “And that’s when you ran away from home?”
“Not then, no. Not until after Maman invited her brother, my uncle, to live with us. He tried to arrange a marriage for me, and Maman was eager for it.” She scowled. “The man he wanted me to marry was a rich baker who owned many bakeries. But he was arrogant and insufferable. I could not marry him.”
“So, you ran away.”
She looked out at the shops they were passing. “Monsieur Morris and I had visited a few times in Paris before Napoleon sent everyone to Verdun. Maman had even written a letter to her third cousin in Verdun suggesting that she should rent to Monsieur Morris and Jon.”
“Our landlady, Mrs. Dubois?”
She nodded. “So, yes, I ran away, but I liked mother’s cousin, and I thought she might take me in.” She shot him a smile. “And she did.”
“Did she know about Morris?”
“I do not think so. I never told her. I told her he was teaching me English. Because he was.”
Heath stared ahead at the road. “How did my friends and I manage never to know any of this about you?”
“Why would you?” she said with a shrug. “It was a big lodging house. You had your own troubles. Mother’s cousin and I had not met before I went there, so we might as well have been strangers. My real papa had a family by then, so we did not want anyone to know I was his natural child.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“As matters worsened for the détenus in Verdun, Mrs. Dubois began to worry about not being paid, and all of you worried about not having money to pay her, and the commandant was becoming more vicious … How would you notice me and my life? My father cared, and that is all that mattered to me.”
Heath swerved to avoid a dog in the road. Once he’d regained control of the phaeton, he said, “Speaking of Morris, there’s somethingI’ve been meaning to discuss with you. I suppose you know that Jon, Scovell, Morris, and I always suspected that someone betrayed our plans to Courcelles.”
She gazed out at the buildings, trying to hide her hurt. “It was not me.”
He blinked. “Of course it wasn’t.”
“Oh.” Did he mean it? “So … why do you wish to discuss it?”
“I thought you should know we’re trying to find out who the fellow is.”
“It could be a woman,” she said, then added as an afterthought, “just not me.”
“For God’s sake, I’ve never once thought it was you.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he said quite firmly.
That certainly cheered her. “You cannot blame me for believing that you did think it. Jon thought I was Morris’s mistress, for the love of God.”
“I know. That’s precisely why he actuallydidsuspect you might … er … Damn.”
When he said no more, she asked, “Might what?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Forget I said anything.”
“Too late. What did Jon suspect?” She thought a moment. “Wait! Are you saying hedidsuspect I might have betrayed all of you?”
He got that look gentlemen always had when confronted with their mistakes. “I mean …”