A Husband's Wicked Ways Read Free Page A

Moore’s army.”
    Aurelia rose from the sofa and walked slowly across the room to a small satinwood secretaire that stood between two of the long windows. She took up a paper knife and slit the wafer that sealed the packet. With slow deliberation she examined the two sealed papers that it contained. One was addressed to Aurelia Farnham. No honorific, just the plain name in Frederick’s script, which, unlike the other, was clear and unhurried. He must have written the letter itself when he was not in desperate straits.
    The second sealed paper had a simple inscription. To be delivered unopened to the War Ministry, Horseguards Parade, London.
    She became aware of her visitor’s tall, broad form standing at her shoulder. She hadn’t heard his approach across the expanse of Turkey carpet…surprising with such a big man, she thought irrelevantly.
    “May I?” Without waiting for permission, he twitched the second paper from her suddenly nerveless fingers and slipped it inside his coat. “There is now no need for you to deliver this, as I am here. I suggest you read your letter. It will go much further than I can to explain what I can understand must seem like an elaborate and fantastic hoax.”
    Aurelia turned to look at him, disliking that she had to look up to do so. “I must ask you to excuse me, Colonel.” Her voice was cold and stiff. “I would prefer to read my husband’s letter in private.”
    “Of course.” He bowed. “I will return in the morning. There are things we must discuss.”
    “Oh, I doubt that, sir,” she retorted. “You’ve had your say, and we can have nothing further to talk about. If I’m to believe you, the last three and a bit years of my life have been a lie. And I have you to thank for it, it seems. I have no wish to lay eyes upon you again.”
    He shook his head. “I hope, ma’am, that you will change your mind about that. Read your letter. I trust it will enable you to see things in a different light.” He offered another bow, then turned to the door, gathering up his hat and cane. “I will return in the morning.” He left, closing the door firmly at his back.
    Aurelia stared at the closed door, uncertain whether she was on the verge of hysterical laughter or tears. A fit of hysteria anyway. She couldn’t believe what he’d told her, and yet she knew without a shadow of doubt that it was true. The ring and the unopened letter in her hand shrieked the horrendous, unbelievable truth.
    Frederick Farnham did not die on October 21 in the year of our Lord 1805, he died at Corunna on January 16, 1809.
    But where did that leave Cornelia’s husband, Stephen? Viscount Dagenham had set sail with Frederick from Plymouth harbor in the early spring of 1805 ona frigate that was to meet up with Admiral Nelson’s fleet. She and Cornelia had waved after the departing frigate, they had seen their husbands aboard together. And they had received official notifications of their husbands’ deaths within a few days of each other. And yet Colonel Falconer had said that Frederick had never been in the Battle of Trafalgar. At the time that naval battle was being fought, he had been in Bavaria. Bavaria, of all places.
    She couldn’t for the life of her remember what was going on at Ulm in October of 1805. Had the English been involved? And if they hadn’t been, why were Colonel Falconer and Frederick Farnham there?
    Of course the answer was obvious. If they were spies, then they were covertly collecting information.
    Aurelia followed the progress of this seemingly interminable conflict with the voracious tyrant Napoléon as best she could. She read the dispatches that were regularly published in the Gazette, and she listened with interest to the conversations of those who had an inside knowledge of the details. Mostly such conversations occurred around the Bonhams’ dinner table, when Harry and his friends and ministry colleagues were gathered. But information in general was scanty and sporadic,