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“Who attacked all those folks, Nash?” came his mother’s French-accented voice.
Robbie raised his eyes to see Claire Powell gliding into the parlor, her black hair neatly coiffed, the few strands of gray adding to her dignity but taking nothing from her beauty. She wore one of her French gowns, a confection in sapphire silk.
He allowed himself a brief smile for her confusion in her sons that had her addressing him by his twin’s name. “’Tis the poet William Hone describing the grievances of the reformers and the blood spilled by the yeomanry in Manchester.”
Her blue eyes flashed in anger. “Sacrebleu. I cannot think about that horrible—” She froze, turning to give Robbie an assessing gaze, then pursed her lips.
He laid aside the newspaper and tried to look innocent. “Is something amiss?”
“Robbie, you scoundrel! You have cut your hair to match your brother’s. Even I cannot tell you apart when you do that. Well, not unless I hear you speak for a while. Why ever have you done it?”
“Nash and I believed it… necessary.”
“I see.” Likely she did, for their mother knew well that he and Nash had been on the Crown’s business in Manchester. “The two of you have accepted another assignment, haven’t you?”
He nodded, admitting the truth of her words but not providing any details.
“But why now when you are sailing to Scotland for Christmas?”
Robbie folded the newspaper and set it on the small table in front of the sofa, slowly rising to give his mother a knowing look, the message unspoken but clear nonetheless. She would not fail to note it.
Hands on her still slender hips, she scowled. “Alors, I begin to comprehend. Your next assignment is in Scotland, isn’t it? No wonder you were so eager to join your older brothers when Lord Ormond extended his invitation.”
Robbie cast his gaze toward the window looking out on the Thames, feeling only slightly guilty for not telling her he and Nash would be acting as spies once again. The family business, after all, was shipping, which served as a respectable cover for their more clandestine activities.
“Combining a holiday with friends and business for the Crown seems ill-advised, Son. I do hope Lord Sidmouth knows what he is doing.” She dropped her hands from her hips and shook her head. “I’ve never been overly fond of that man, even when he was just Henry Addington.”
“Believe me, I do understand and, as you might imagine, Nash is none too pleased with the Home Secretary either. But as this assignment is related to our last, I felt compelled to accept Prinny’s summons.”
She let out a sigh. “I can see there is no use arguing. I have long been aware that my four sons, like their father, do not require my help in making decisions. Are you and Nash packed? Mr. Stephen’s ship is expected to sail within the hour. When Nick and Martin brought the children, they left immediately to join Tara and Kit who were already aboard.”
Nick and Martin, Robbie’s two older brothers, were married and had homes of their own. Robbie and Nash still lived in the family house on the Thames but, in recent years, their work for the government kept them away from London much of the time.
“You needn’t worry, Mother. Nash and I sent our luggage to the ship with the footman when we came down. I only await Nash’s appearance. He tarries over breakfast with some book on Scotland’s plants, I believe.”
“Well, if you hurry, you’ll have time to say goodbye to your niece and nephews.”
“Are you prepared for the three little hellions this Christmastide?”
His mother smiled. “Oui. Both their nannies came with them, so we’ll have plenty of help. Your father and I are eager to spend Christmas with our grandchildren. One of these days, you and Nash—”
“Yes, yes. No time to discuss that now,” he said, striding toward her. “I must find Nash if we’re to sail with the tide.” Inclining his cheek toward his mother as he passed her, he accepted her kiss.
Her forehead creased in a momentary frown. “Robbie, you will take care of your brother, oui?”
“Haven’t I always?”
