The Mayfair Affair by Tracy Grant Page B

mind. "I'd manage. Malcolm and I don't have a relationship built on illusions. Especially now."
    "And you'd be tearing yourself apart inside. As he will be."
    Blanca knew more of Suzanne's secrets than almost anyone, but she didn't know Raoul was Malcolm's father. That revelation wasn't Suzanne's to share. "I won't pretend it's comfortable, but then what in our life is? Malcolm knows what was between Raoul and me is in the past."
    "It will never be in the past, and you know it."
    "Blanca!"
    "I don't mean you'd act on it. Or he would. You're both too ridiculously honorable."
    "You must be the only person on earth who'd call Raoul honorable. Or me, for that matter."
    "You both put everything before your own feelings. But the feelings won't go away."
    Suzanne drew a breath, seeing the look in Raoul's eyes in the library just now. "Perhaps. But those feelings aren't the same as they once were."
    "I'm not sure Mr. Rannoch will appreciate the distinction." Blanca regarded Suzanne for a moment. "You like having him back."
    "Don't be ridiculous." An unbidden memory of the warmth she'd felt at Raoul's smile sharpened her voice. "If you think for a minute I fail to appreciate the complications—"
    "I didn't say that. I said you're happy when he's about."
    Suzanne bit back her instinctive retort. It was true there was a part of her only Raoul could understand. A part she wouldn't even want Malcolm to understand. He didn't see the world that way, and she hoped he never would.
    "I understand it," Blanca said. "Just don't make the mistake of pretending you can handle everything."
    Suzanne dropped her arm round Blanca's shoulders. "Whatever comes of this, I won't let it touch you and Addison. I promise."
    "Mélanie, you fool." Blanca brushed her hair back from her eyes. "I told you I'm not worried about Addison. You're my friend. I want you to be happy."
    Suzanne's throat went tight. "Oh, querida , after everything I've done, don't you think that's a bit much to expect?"

    Malcolm slapped the bundle of letters down on the scarred deal table in the tiny cell to which they had been shown in Newgate. "My compliments. Suzanne and I aren't easy to deceive."
    Laura looked up at him with an unblinking blue gaze. "I think you overestimate my reach, Mr. Rannoch."
    Malcolm gripped the edges of the table and leaned forwards. "You were spying on us."
    Laura met his gaze, her own steady. "That's a fraught word, Mr. Rannoch. As I'm sure you can appreciate, given your own work, it can cover a multitude of activities."
    Malcolm kept his gaze on Laura, though he was aware of Suzanne watching him. He himself had always had difficulty with the word spy. Squeamishness, his wife would say, and no doubt she'd be right. "Whom were you working for?"
    Laura tilted her chin back to look up at him. "You can't think very highly of me, Mr. Rannoch, if you imagine I'll simply answer that."
    Malcolm straightened up and drew a breath. He wasn't handling this well. He usually had more finesse with interrogations. The shock of betrayal had particular impact just now. Not that that was any excuse for sloppy tactics. He should know better. He pulled a straight-backed chair out for Suzanne. Other than the table and chairs, the room held a narrow cot covered in a frayed blue blanket. A smell of damp hung in the air, but the floor appeared to have been recently swept, and he saw no obvious evidence of rodents.
    Suzanne dropped into the chair Malcolm was holding out. "Did they give you breakfast?"
    "Yes. Mr. Rannoch's money has ensured I'm well taken care of. Thank you. Though I imagine you're now regretting it."
    "On the contrary. Nothing else you've done negates what you've done for the children." Malcolm dropped into the third chair Roth had had brought into the cell and regarded Laura across the table. Her hair was combed and neatly pinned and she had somehow managed to smooth the creases from her gown, though she hadn't been able to get rid of a smudge on her collar.
    "You