From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 121)

We married very young. Her father was in the business. Indeed, I’d met her through one of those dinner parties you have to endure when you are first being assessed. The kind of affair where you know that you’re under scrutiny by someone of your father’s set, but don’t yet know why. I had it so wrong. I thought they were recruiting me for banking, and this probably sealed my fate. I’d no interest at all in entering the financial world, and therefore, while I was not rude (that would have been completely against my upbringing) I was entirely myself, doubtless giving off an air of confidence I’d not have exhibited if I’d known I was being examined for service to the crown.

I’d already embarked on my first affair, with the daughter of the master of my college (not as bad as it sounds, and I was far from the first young student she had selected - I suppose it was to be only one of two times in my life I have felt hunted - the other, of course, being Celeste).

So, I sat at the dinning table, and spoke arrogantly of my thoughts on world affairs and the empire. I made light of my academic achievements, and overall gave the impression that I found college rather dull (which I did, but mainly because I felt so cooped up all the time.)

The second eldest daughter of my host (without a title, she was a bit of a reach for me, but I was wealthy even then) showed a flattering interest. She also knew far more than I did about what was really going on. She didn’t know the details, but she had a sense of her father and her brothers’ business. These things do tend to run in families. The general public often think this is due to snobbery and elitism, but really it is more to do with the vetting process, and everyone knowing each other from birth.

Anyway, I enjoyed flirting with her. She was pretty and bright (much brighter than the master’s daughter who had the minds of so many to plunder, but instead preferred to rigorously investigate the contents of their trousers). This new lady in my life was encouraged to meet me several times before I was sent on my first assignment. This was the observation trip that erupted into a rebellion, and where I lost another woman as quickly as I had fallen for her. I came back in a bad state. Most people wouldn’t have realised, but my pretty, bright, English rose saw it more than most.

I thought then that rather than the more violent and passionate affairs I had embarked on, I would benefit most from having a kind and loving wife, who had some idea of my business. I would have an anchor to return to, a safe harbour after a mission.

My Rose was far more than this. She was a truly good person. A kind and compassionate heart combined with an intellect that saw the evil that men could do and still held hope. In this she was far more remarkable than I understood back then.

With her father’s blessing, we married that year. I had every intention of holding up my end of the vows while on British soil, but abroad I knew (as did her father) that the seduction of wives of important figures remained an important weapon.

My Rose and I were well suited in mind and soul, but although gratifying, our martial encounters were more romantic than truly passionate. I was content and I fancied myself deeply in love. The truth, I now realise, is that I was deeply fond of her, but that was the extent of it. I believe it was a fondness that would have grown into love, had we been allowed the chance. She was exactly the kind of wife I needed to move up the career ladder in my kind of employment. Even my father was pleased with the arrangement. The sole dissenter was her younger brother, a strange young man. He adored his sister, but I could tell that there was something about him what would make for an efficient cold-blooded killer once he entered the family business. He always set me on edge. I was wary of him back then, and still am.

While I was away on a mission, my Rose was murdered. I will never know if this was because of her father’s position, or my own. I was profoundly shocked and grieved deeply. I had already experienced severe grief and overcame it then as I had before. Her brother never forgave me for - as he saw it - failing to protect her, and for carrying hedonistically on with my life. He became my enemy from that moment onward, little though I realised it then.

However, this sad and sorry tale is the reason that as soon as I felt myself becoming fond of Alice, I encouraged her to marry and to establish a life outside of my shady world. Of course, in the end, even I could not deny the bond that made us the greatest spies of our time.