Augusta frowned. "Richard was brave and adventurous."
"Mmmm." Harry's tone was noncommittal.
"Harry?"
"Yes?" Harry's eyes were on Meredith.
"Did the rumors that circulated at the time of Richard's death ever reach your ears?"
"I know of them, Augusta. I do not consider them important."
"No, of course not. They are all lies. But there is the undeniable fact that certain documents were found on him the night he was killed. I confess I have often wondered about those documents."
"Augusta, sometimes one must accept the notion that one does not always get all the answers one seeks."
"I am well aware of that, sir. But I have long had a theory about my brother's death that I would very much like to prove."
Harry was quiet for a moment. "What is your theory?"
Augusta took a deep breath. "It occurred to me that the reason Richard had those documents on him that night was because he might have been a secret military intelligence agent for the Crown."
When that comment brought no response, Augusta turned to look at Harry. His eyes, hooded and unreadable now, were still on his daughter.
"Harry?"
"Was this the theory you wanted Lovejoy to investigate for you?"
"Yes, it was, as a matter of fact. Tell me, do you not think it very possible?"
"I think it highly unlikely," Harry said quietly.
Augusta was incensed at the casual dismissal of her long-held theory. "Never mind. I should not have mentioned the subject. After all, how would you know anything about such matters, my lord?"
Harry exhaled heavily. "I would have known, Augusta."
"Not bloody likely."
"I would have known because, one way or another, had Richard been a legitimate intelligence agent for the Crown, he would most likely have been working for me."
11
"What do you mean by saying you would have known if my brother had been secretly working for England during the war?" Augusta sat tensely, her mind reeling. "And what on earth were you doing that you would have such information in the first place?"
Harry did not move from his reclining position, but he finally took his gaze off Meredith and looked directly at Augusta. "What I was doing is no longer a matter of importance. The war is over and I am more then content to forget my role in it. Suffice it to say that I was involved in gathering intelligence for England."
"You were a spy?" Augusta was stunned.
His mouth curved faintly. "Obviously, my love, you do not see me as a man of action."
"No, it is not that." She frowned, thinking quickly. "I confess I did wonder where you learned to pick locks and you do have a habit of turning up when I least expect you. Very spy like behavior, I should imagine. Nevertheless, a career in that sort of thing is just not you, Harry."
"I could not agree with you more. In point of fact, I never saw my wartime activities as a career. I saw them as a damned nuisance. The business was a vastly annoying interruption to my real work of pursuing my classical studies and looking after my estates."
Augusta bit her lip. "It must have been very dangerous."
Harry shrugged. "Only on the odd occasion. I spent most of my time behind a desk directing the activities of others and pouring over letters written in code or sympathetic ink."
"Sympathetic ink." Augusta was momentarily diverted by that. "You mean ink that is invisible on paper?"
"Mmmm."
"How marvelous. I should love to have some invisible ink."
"I shall be happy to make you a batch sometime." Harry looked amused. "I should warn you it is not terribly useful for general correspondence. The recipient must have the chemical agent which renders the writing visible."
"One could keep one's journal in it." Augusta paused. "But perhaps code would be better. Yes, I like the idea of a code."
"I would prefer to think that my wife does not have anything so very secret to write in her journal that it requires invisible ink or a secret code."
Augusta ignored the mild warning in his tone. "Is that why you spent so much time on the continent during the war?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"You were supposed to be furthering your research in the classics."
"I did what I could, especially when I was in Italy and Greece. But a great deal of my time was spent on Crown business." Harry selected a hothouse peach from the basket. "Now that the war is over, however, I can think about going back to the continent for more interesting purposes. Would you like to go, Augusta? We shall take Meredith, too, of course. Travel is very educational."
Augusta arched a brow. "Is it me or your daughter you feel needs the education?"
"Meredith would no doubt profit the most from the experience. You, on the other hand, do not have to travel outside our bedchamber in order to further your education. And I must say, you are a very apt pupil."
Augusta was scandalized in spite of herself. "Harry, I vow, sometimes you say the most improper things. You should be ashamed."
"I beg your pardon, my dear. I had not realized you were such an authority on the proprieties. I bow to your greater knowledge of such matters."
"Do be quiet, Harry, or I shall dump what is left of our picnic over your head."
"As you wish, madam."
"Now, then, tell me how you can be so certain my brother was not also involved in secret work for the Crown."
"The odds are that if he had been, he would have worked for me, either directly or indirectly. I explained that a chief portion of my duties consisted of directing the activities of others in the same line of work. Those people, in turn, collected a vast amount of information from their contacts and relayed it all to me. I had to sort through the bloody stuff and try to glean the wheat from the chaff."
Augusta shook her head in amazement, still unable to envision Harry in such work. "But there must have been a great many people engaged in that sort of thing, both here and abroad."
"Too many, at times," Harry agreed dryly. "During wartime spies are rather like ants at a picnic. A great nuisance, for the most part, but it is impossible to conduct the event without them."
"If they are as common as insects, Richard could have been engaged in such activities and you might not have been aware of it," Augusta insisted.
Harry munched his peach in silence for a moment. "I considered that possibility. So I made some inquiries."
"Inquiries? What inquiries?"
"I asked some of my old friends in the business to see if Richard Ballinger had by any chance been officially involved in intelligence work. The answer was no, Augusta."
Augusta drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them while she grappled with the finality of Harry's tone. "I still think my theory has merit."
Harry was silent.
"You must admit there is a small possibility that Richard had gotten involved in such work. Perhaps he had discovered something on his own and was going to take the information to the proper authorities."
Harry remained silent as he finished the last of his peach.
"Well?" Augusta asked, trying to conceal her anxiety over his answer. "Won't you agree that there is at least a chance that was the case?"
"Do you want me to lie to you, Augusta?"
"No, of course not." Her hands clenched into small fists. "I merely want you to agree that you could not have known everything there was to know about intelligence activities during the war."
Harry nodded brusquely. "Very well. I will agree to that. No one could have known everything. There is a great deal of fog surrounding war. Most of the actions, both on and off the battlefield, take place in a gray murk. And when the fog clears one can only count the survivors. One can never really know all of what happened while the mist was shrouding things. Perhaps it is best that way. I am convinced there is much it is better not to know."