Ok, I lied. I've completed another chapter before I left. So sue me. And now I'm really leaving. I'll start writing this as soon as I get adjusted, as I know exactly what I shall be doing for the next six chapters. Fun stuff. Ah, anyway, no particular notes for this one besides my general pitching for reviews. This one is pretty straight forward. Enjoy, I really like this one!

Disclaimer.As a whole, the Scarlet Pimpernel is not mine. But Lucian and Tacey are very much mine.

Soon the Moon Will Smoulder

Chapter 10: Such Beautiful Lovers Have Found Me

For two months, Lucian locked himself up in his study and looked over the information that had been delivered to him, and left the room only if it was absolutely necessary. His father's notes were extremely helpful; the agent had apparently managed to capture several of the Pimpernel's assets, which narrowed the list that Acton brought him, making it that much more accurate and all the more useful. And while the notes did fall short on the path of the Pimpernel, Lucian did learn that his own uncle, Armand St. Just, was in League with the man. And if Armand was fool enough to get caught, he may be fool enough to let slip the man's identity.

As for Acton's list, most of the people listed had been marked as dead by Chauvelin's letters, leaving but two people on the list, one of which was located in Calais, and he could only assume that he was dead, being that the entire city bad burned, killing all those inside. The other was none less than Louise Lange, his uncle's wife. It seemed that every associate of the baronet had been connected with the Pimpernel, and he was beginning to think if it were possible that Percy might have been in League with him as well. It seemed likely; Tony, Andrew, Armand, Louise, Suzanne, Marguerite…they had all some connection to either the Pimpernel or Chauvelin.

Everything pointed to France; this list could not have been all that recent. Perhaps the soldiers or Andre knew of further assets, any possible inclinations that Chauvelin had and did not put down. There was nothing much that held him in England; soon he could leave with no remorse and no regret, knowing that he had left nothing undone, that he had done everything necessary in England before he departed to France, to home…

All he need do was ensure the loyalty of the Dewhurst twins and Allison, and that would be easy. He already had those girls wrapped around his finger, and he had yet to unleash that little weapon of his that Teresia had given him the ability to wield. Allow time for setbacks, and Lucian estimated that it could take no more than a year before he left England for good.

And then there was the agent; there was still a huge gap in his knowledge of the man. He knew the entirety of his life during his service in the Revolution, and would be sure to acquire knowledge of his childhood and whatnot from the two soldiers, who he assumed to be close to the man. But that gap…He was well aware that Chauvelin and his mother had been lovers, but he knew nothing of that. And being that the second component of avenging his father was dependant on that knowledge, he could not leave without it. Of course, his key to this knowledge rested in England; why leave without it?

Pushing his chair back, Lucian suavely walked out of his study; time to talk to his mother.

Lucian nearly killed himself in frustration looking for his mother. Everywhere he went he seemed to run into Percy and was instantly subject to his inane prattle. After hours of tirelessly searching for Marguerite, he finally gave up and wandered out into the gardens for some peace and quiet, and happened upon his mother sitting upon the stone bench in her rose garden, eyes closed, a peaceful smile upon her face.

Smiling softly to himself, he slowly approached the woman, laid his hand on her shoulder, and she tensed slightly in surprise, her eyes shooting open. "Good afternoon, mother."

"Hello, Lucian!" she said happily as she rose and drew the young man to her breast. "It seems ages since I last saw you! I never see you anymore! What is it you do in that room of yours?"

"This and that, mother," Lucian said quickly, brushing the matter aside. "Beautiful day, is it not?"

"That it is." Gracefully sitting back down, she patted the spot next to her. "Come, Lucian. Sit down. Talk to me."

Complying, Lucian sat beside the lovely woman, taking a deep breath, his eyes half closed in a sort of drowsy euphoria; like his mother, he loved it here, in this corner of the estate. She loved it for the home she missed; he for the home he longed for. "You are very fond of your garden, mother."

"As are you, Luc."

"Why?"

Breathing deeply, she quietly said, "It reminds me of Paris."

"You miss it."

Looking her son in his eyes, she could not help but remember his father as those pale eyes bore into her own. "No. I had some good times in Paris, but I belong here in England with my family."

Not what he wanted. Damn. "What good times, may I ask?"

"Well, I met your father there."

I know that. Tell me about him. Tell me about your affair, mother. "Did you really?"

Slowly nodding and smiling happily at the memory, she quietly responded, "Yes. We fell in love nearly immediately and six weeks after we met, he swept me off to England and we wed."

"And that was during the revolution, correct?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And you have not been back since?"

Marguerite shifted uncomfortably. "Once, very briefly. Armand had gotten into a bit of trouble and he required my assistance."

Lucian smiled slightly; she went to France to help Armand. That must have been when he was arrested, and that must have been when she and the agent had their affair. The two of them sat in silence for a little while before Lucian softly said, "I must ask you something, mother."

"Of course."

"Have you ever met the Saint Chauvelin?"

Marguerite shivered; of course the boy was going to ask about the agent one day. The boy was extremely smart; no doubt he noticed that she and Percy had been hiding something. She was about to respond negatively, but when her eyes met those gold ones, she could not help herself from uttering, "A few times before, yes."

Lucian's eyes lit up with feigned surprise and genuine triumph; from here on out, he would get what he wanted from his lovely mother. He may not get a confession of their affair, but anything about the man from his mother was golden information. "Really? Where? What was he like?"

Marguerite blanched, held her breath; talk about messing up. But still, she could not refuse to say anything; that would just make it all the more clear that she was keeping something from him. It could not hurt to tell him a little…after all, he did not need to know that she had been Chauvelin's lover. "A few times in Paris, and once here in England. We were…associates of sorts. Not well acquainted, but we knew of each other."

In England? What were they doing together in England? "You…you met with him here?"

"Yes," Marguerite said softly, sighing softly, suddenly missing the agent very much. "He came here to ask for my help in locating the Pimpernel." Laughing nervously, she quickly added, "I couldn't help him, of course."

"He was here?" Lucian asked in a daze. She had thought that she meant here in England, but he had been here? At the manor?

"Yes, right here," she said firmly as she stood up, forgetting for a moment who she was talking to, and pulled Lucian to his feet, "and he stood right here," she said as she placed Lucian right on the spot, "just so…"

Lucian looked in wonder at his mother, how she had suddenly grown younger before his eyes, had suddenly become somehow…different…

"And I…we stood, like this…" she said softly, slowly becoming absorbed in those golden eyes, the same as his father's. "And I…"

Lucian slowly disappeared and she was alone in her garden with Chauvelin, a look of curiosity and concern – no, longing – in his golden eyes, his hand softly grasping her arm, the other gently brushing her cheek. He said something, but she couldn't hear, and it didn't matter in any case. The man that she had once loved, perhaps somewhere in her heart still loved, was standing before her, and in a moment of desperation, in a final hope that she could bring the man back from the dead, softly pressed her lips to his. Moaning softly, she wrapped her arms about his neck and tender kissed him the way she used to so long ago in Paris…

There was something wrong. This man that loved her did nothing, just stood immobile, did nothing to bring her to him as he should have. Slowly pulling away, she turned deep scarlet, could not breathe, as she found herself looking into the shocked beyond all belief face of her son. She tried to utter a hasty apology, but failed miserably, hung her head in shame. What had she done? Her own son, not his father…she owed him an explanation. What else could be done?

"And for how long was that again?"

"About a year starting from the summer of 1789."

Lucian and Marguerite sat out in the garden, quietly sipping tea that they had served to them. His mother had just finished confessing that she had, in fact, known Chauvelin, loved him for a time before she hated him, had been his lover for over a year.

"And tell me again why you left him."

"He got too involved with his work and had no time for me anymore. And then I met Percy and fell in love with him. I couldn't be helped, Luc. It was no one's fault, really."

"I see…" That just blew his theory out of the water. True, his mother did once love Chauvelin, but Percy certainly did not steal her from him. It was all bad timing…Of course, she mentioned nothing of the affair that she must have had to conceive him, but he could only assume that it had something to do with Armand; Marguerite was terribly protective of the man, and would stop at nothing to keep him safe…

"But, Lucian, you must promise me that you will not tell your father that I have said this to you! He would be very cross with me were he to know…"

"Yes," Lucian said quietly, tragically disappointed, "yes, of course. I shall say nothing."

"Thank you, my little Luc," Marguerite said as she breathed a sigh of relief, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

Lucian stood slowly, gently kissed his mother's hand. "If you will not mind too terribly, mother, I must take my leave of you. I do have quite a bit of work that must be done."

"Of course, Lucian. I shall see you for dinner?"

"I would imagine so, yes." Bowing slightly, he slowly walked away back toward the house. It was as if his entire world had been smashed. For one brief moment, he had thought that his mother was still in love with the agent, had leaned over and kissed him, mistaking her son for her lover. But no, she loved Percy. Once, maybe Chauvelin, but no longer. No, she had hated him, and Percy had nothing to do with it…God, why?

Lucian suddenly found himself on his back, unable to breathe at all and having difficulty moving. Quickly managing to free himself, he quickly stood up and glared viciously down at a helplessly giggling Tacey Dewhurst. "What have I said about touching me without my consent! Do you wish to kill me, Madame?" Lucian shouted as the girl slowly stood up, clearly ignoring the harsh tone of the golden-eyed boy. A pity the girl was so stupid…

"Oh, Lucian, do lighten up. You are so much more handsome when you are not angry," she said flirtatiously as she pressed her body against the man's, slowly moving her hand across his chest. "Besides," she sweetly drawled as she cupped his cheek with her delicate hand, "you are going to regret using that tone when you find out what I have for you."

"Oh?" Lucian said quietly as he drew the woman against him, smiling in satisfaction as she slightly gasped. Heavens she was easy to play… "And what have you for me, my darling Tacey?"

Smiling slyly, Tacey wrapped her arms around the boy's neck. "Oh, I don't know. What shall you do for me?"

Catching himself from groaning in frustration, Lucian gently tilted the woman's face up and tenderly pressed his lips to hers, quickly deepening the kiss as he felt her immediate submission. He stayed like that for much longer than he used to, gently running his hands over her back, down her leg, occasionally caressing her face and neck, and gently pulled away from the flushing girl. "Was that sufficient reward, love?"

Smiling mischievously, the girl pulled away and happily skipped back toward the mansion, happily crying, "No!" as she waltzed away, soon to be followed by a furious Lucian.

The chase had gone on long enough, and after coaxing the girl away form her mother, he had managed to gently escort her to his room, where he viciously slammed the door behind them. He was through with playing this child's games. "Where is your sister, Tacey?" he growled quietly, his calm nearly breaking under the pressure of his rage.

The woman shrank back, just a touch frightened. "Tambre is home sick." Glancing to the side, she quickly looked the boy in the eyes and suspiciously asked, "What do you want with her?"

"Nothing at all. It is you I want. You have something I need, and so help me God, Tacey, if you don't give it to me…"

"Very well, Luc, I'll tell you," she said meekly. The boy was really frightening when he was angry, and she knew full well that she had already pushed his limits. "May I ask you something first?"

Groaning in frustration, Lucian slowly slid his hand over his face and calmed down; unlike her sister, Tacey was stupid. All the better for him, he supposed. Stupidity was much easier to manipulate. "Yes, what is it?" he asked tiredly, no in complete control of his functions.

"Who do you love better, Tambre or me?"

"What?"

"I have seen you and Tambre together before, and you treat her the same way as you treat me. It's not fair! Do you love me or her?"

Grinning slyly, Lucian slowly sauntered toward the flustered girl; never mind him doing any work, this girl was playing his cards for him. She was putting herself right into his hands, and he need not lift a finger. "My dearest Tacey, I indulge your sister, but it is you I love."

"But Lucian, you kiss her just like you kiss me!"

"A mere reward for a job well done," he said smoothly as he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "I do the same for you. But you…" He swiftly kissed her, gently pulled her to him and slowly kissed down her neck. "You, Tacey, are far more valuable to me. I love you, Tacey."

She shivered in anticipation; this man was extremely attractive, intelligent, and she quite liked him. She only assumed that the way she longed for him to touch her was love, and put it off as that without a second thought. "Do you really, Lucian?"

Smiling coyly, he softly kissed her and began to let her hair down. "Shall I show you, love?"

"Lucian, what…"

"Hush, darling."

She had no idea what was going on, but she liked it. His hands on her waist, his lips on hers, his long fingers gently undoing any fastenings that adorned her dress…oh, it was maddening.

He carefully lifted the girl and laid her on the bed, gently running his hand down the length of her body, smiling slightly as she shivered and moaned. Pausing only for a moment to look the girl over, he quickly began to remove his own clothing and within moments was leaning above the girl, his hands resting just over his shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her for a moment before he slowly pulled away as the woman's arms wrapped around his neck. Gently biting his collarbone, Tacey pulled the boy against her, and gasped slightly as the man set to work.

"I love you, Lucian."

His back to her, Lucian rolled his eyes at the stupid girl's remark as he pulled on his boot and briefly wondered if he would have this problem with all the women he made love to; the idiot thing suddenly seemed to believe that since they had become intimate, they were in love. Ridiculous. She hadn't thought this way but an hour ago.

Gently running his hand through her hair, he lightly kissed her cheek. "Get dressed, Tacey. Your parents no doubt shall be leaving soon. It's getting late."

"So let me stay here," Tacey sighed happily as she wrapped her arms about the man's waist, gently laying her head against his lower back.

Scowling at the woman, he quickly snapped, "And let Lord Tony know that you have lost your innocence? What would your mother say?"

Flushing slightly, the girl swiftly sat up and clutched her hands to her chest. "Of course, you're right. I'll…I'll do that…"

"What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh. That." She slid out of bed and tentatively picked up her clothing and began dressing herself. "I found out who was there when the saint was killed."

That caught his attention. "Swiftly taking the girl in his arms, he softly whispered, "Who?"

"My father, Lord Andrew, Armand St. Just, your mother and father, and two of the agent's soldiers, Mercier and Coupeau."

A pause, and the man attacked her lips. "You brilliant woman!" he cried, quickly releasing her. "That is the best news I have heard all day!"

"Is it?"

"Without a shadow of doubt!" Quickly kissing her again, he nudged her in the direction of the washroom, with orders to freshen up, for they two would be dining together that evening. When the girl was behind closed door, Lucian laughed nearly evilly in triumph; that confirmed his suspicions. Sir Percy had to be a member of the League. What's more, his very own mother knew the identity of the Pimpernel. Grinning maliciously, he quickly grabbed a pen and wrote the information down, all too clear on it's meaning; Tony, Andrew, Armand or Percy was the Pimpernel. Life was suddenly wonderful.

The girl emerged, mostly decent and, helping her straighten up and regain as much composure as possible, he offered her his arm and the two left to dine.