Heart of Gold Read Online Free Page B

true death. It was only
through improvisation and quick thinking that he'd
reunited his body and soul, but the solution had proved
to be temporary. Magical exertion, such as saving the
Gallian airman, left him weak and exhausted. Since that
massive expenditure of effort, he'd found it hard to sleep
– which only added to his fatigue.
    Through experience and necessity, he'd learned how
to hide such effects, but this drained him even more.
    The streets of Fielding Cross were quiet. It was an
exclusive neighbourhood of elegant sandstone row
houses, and a few other residences that were set in lavish
gardens, well back from the streets. Stubbs waited for
the uniformed guardsman to open the gates and then he
steered the Oakleigh-Nash into Maidstone.
    Aubrey was still unaccustomed to the family home
being guarded; the presence of soldiers was a constant
reminder that his father was now PM and that certain
proprieties must be observed.
    He was barely through the door, and had hardly given
his hat to Harris, the butler, when Duchess Maria appeared.
    'Grandmother,' he said, but only after examining the
word for its neutrality. He thought it safe enough.
    'Aubrey. Good. I need to see you immediately.'
    She glided off. Aubrey glanced at Harris, who
managed to look impassive and sympathetic at the same
time. 'The library, I'd say, young sir.'
    Aubrey went straight to the library but, somehow, his
grandmother was there well before him. She was seated
in an enormous wing-backed chair facing the door, her
customary position. Aubrey entered warily, but when she
offered her cheek, hope rose in him that this was not
going to be one of her usual interrogations.
    Lady Maria was Aubrey's father's mother. She was
tiny, eighty years old, and she looked as if she could last
another eighty. Her hair was silver, but her face had
only traces of wrinkles. Her eyes were a clear, startling
green. She was the custodian of all things Fitzwilliam,
particularly reputation and honour, and she devoted all
her energies to maintaining the family name, through her
vast network of correspondents.
    'You're going on a holiday.' Lady Maria eschewed
questions, favouring a more direct approach. Aubrey had
often felt that the Albion army had been deprived of a
great general by the simple fact of her being born female.
    'I am, Grandmother. University places won't be offered
for some time yet, and it's been a hectic year.'
    'Yes. I believe "hectic" to be an accurate description,
if inadequate.'
    'Quite. So a little travel, some idleness, would seem to
be in order.'
    'Lutetia, I take it. The City of Love.'
    Aubrey managed to stop himself before he gaped. 'I
beg your pardon?'
    'It's where I met your late grandfather. My papa was
attending the same peace conference that your grandfather
was. The one that resulted in the Treaty of St Anne.'
    'Between Gallia and Albion?'
    'Exactly. I was afraid of him at first, with his dreadful
reputation, but it didn't take long before we found out
we shared an interest in roses. He was dashing. A
romantic figure.'
    A romantic figure? Aubrey bit down on an expression of
utter disbelief that would have echoed around the library
if he hadn't. In polite circles, his grandfather was still
referred to as the Steel Duke. In less polite circles –
including on the Continent – he was called the Bloody
Duke, and the name was usually followed by spitting
on the floor. Aubrey found it difficult to imagine this
legendary soldier and diplomat as a romantic figure
interested in roses.
    He strove for neutrality again, puzzled as to why his
grandmother was telling him this. 'I see.'
    She darted a glance at him. 'I wonder if you do.'
    He smiled, but remained silent.
    'I have a task for you while you're in Lutetia,' she
continued, rather more briskly. 'One of my correspondents
has let me know that a certain Alphonse Caron has
some items that belong to me. I would like them back.'
    'He stole them?'
    'He came into possession of them.'
    'You haven't asked the