by Rue Allyn
“I won’t be caught, so I won’t be hung.”
“That’s absurd. Of course you will be caught. The people who you believe are helping you, the ones who furnished the poison you are supposed to use, need a scapegoat. Who better than a greedy man who though French by birth has lived his entire life in England? That man might as well be an English aristo who therefore deserves death for harming their beloved Napoleon.”
René blinked. “You are right.” His posture drooped. “What shall I do? I already have the poison in my possession. By the way, how did you know about it?”
“Campion overheard last night when Hittenrauch told you how to use it. If Richard could learn your plans, anyone might. In all probability, Cochinat or the Prussian will expose you to serve Malveux’s purposes as I explained.”
“And you are certain of this? Why would you believe anything Malveux told you?”
“I believe he would use any means to accomplish his goals. He did so in the past. And any harm he can bring to me and my family in the process is an added pleasure for him.”
René’s shoulders slumped more, and his jaw slacked. “You are right. That is Malveux to the inch. I have difficulty believing Madame Cochinat is part of his perfidy, but her hatred for Napoleon is real. She said Bonaparte insulted her. She’s never given me details, but she’s never held his favor in the way she wished.”
“Her motives hardly matter. What is important is that you are in danger.”
“As are you. How could Campion bring you here?”
“He did not want to. But I persuaded him that you would not listen to anyone but me.”
A sheepish grin turned up René’s lips. “Well, you are right there. I almost did not listen to you. But I have and must now figure a way out of this mess.”
The mess was much greater than he knew. He and Tante Vivienne were still in grave danger. Marielle should tell him of Malveux’s threats, and she would, but not until they were far enough from Bonaparte that René could not act foolishly.
The only way out of this problem was to take it to the emperor and plead for his help. No one could do that but Marielle. And if Richard was correct about Napoleon’s reaction to the English refusal of asylum, she had to gain a private audience with Bonaparte at the earliest opportunity. Before that, she must remove any evidence that René was part of Malveux’s plan.
“Cousin, you must give me the poison so nothing can tie you to the plot against Napoleon.”
“No, I will get rid of the stuff myself.”
“You would do so at great risk. I’ve seen how closely Hittenrauch, Madame Cochinat, and their servants watch you.”
“No one watches me.”
“No? What about this morning? I came in from my ride and saw you hurrying toward the imperial offices. One of the footmen watched you, then called over the doorman to take his place. Afterward, he walked off in the direction you’d taken. How often are you alone? Or do Hittenrauch and Cochinat find excuses to be with you whenever you are not involved in your duties as third undersecretary?
“But I’ve agreed to do as they asked. Why would they set spies on me? Why spend time watching someone who is cooperating?”
“Perhaps they worry you will change your mind. Perhaps it is their nature to spy on others, even those they believe to be friends. Who knows? My point is, that while they believe me to be urging you on, they watch me less carefully.”
“Very well, I will give you the poison for disposal. But I’m not fool enough to carry it with me. I will retrieve it and pass it to you just before dinner.”
She could not be seen returning to his rooms. She’d already all but destroyed her disguise as a love-struck newlywed. She had little choice except to wait. She wished she could confide in Richard. But he would forbid the entire plan. He didn’t trust Napoleon any more than she did. However, Richard did not share her experience of Malveux. She would trust the Corsican Monster over that French viper any day.
“ . . . that’s what we must do.”
She shook her head. “What were you saying?”
“I said, once the poison is destroyed, we must leave immediately. I will make arrangements now, and you can meet me with Campion after dinner.” René turned as if to walk away.
Mari stood and captured his hand, pulling him to a halt. “No, prepare if you feel it necessary. But be very discreet.”
“I set up a distraction, and that will take some time. To give ourselves the greatest chance of successful escape, it will be best if no one thinks of us for at least a day or more. We have until the twelfth before Malveux and his agents will grow anxious. A day of normal seeming behavior might lull any doubt they have about your dedication to their purpose.”
“Quite so. What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not certain yet. I will let you know after dinner. I must speak with someone first.”
“Who?”
Who indeed. “The woman who serves as my maid. She’s been at Fontainebleau for some time and knows most of the routines here. I’ll question her and discover what would be most disruptive."
René nodded. “Very well. I’ll arrange for horses as discreetly as possible. If you need me for anything, send a message.”
“It might be best if you allow Campion to provide the mounts. He and I have reason to leave Fontainebleau, and you do not.”
René ground his teeth. “You are right, but I must do something to help.”
“Go about your normal business. Meet Richard and me tomorrow morning at breakfast. We will take a walk, and we can make final plans then.”
“You will tell Campion?”
“As soon as I may.”
“Good. Then I will say farewell until tonight at dinner. God keep you safe, cousin.”
“You also.”
She watched him walk away, then returned to the arbor and waited until she was certain no observer would associate her departure in the opposite direction with that of Napoleon’s third undersecretary.
Getting the poison out of René’s hands was a good first step, but what was she to do with it? She couldn’t just pour it out on the dirt in some isolated corner of the Fontainebleau grounds. What if some animal came along and ingested it or, worse yet, a child who didn’t know better than to play with poisonous muck? She would love to plant it among Madame Cochinat’s possessions, but madame could return to her rooms at any time. And how could Mari draw attention to Cochinat’s possession of the poison without explaining how she knew it was there? No, the poison was one more thing she would have to add to the desperate plan forming in her mind. A plan that she could not confide to Richard until it was too late. He would never agree, but this was their only hope.
• • •
Richard entered the reception room just prior to dinner to see Marielle flirting with her cousin. Four other men surrounded her. Each man wore an expression easily recognized as lust, and Marielle, curse her, was encouraging them. She postured and swayed as she spoke, giving her audience an excellent view of her décolletage and leaving no doubt in any male mind of how supple her body was under the tissue-thin pewter-hued silk she wore. There had certainly been no room for so elegant and revealing an ensemble in the one case she’d brought from England. The garment could only be one of the bridal gifts Bertrand had said would come from Napoleon.
The group stood on the far side of the chamber next to the crowd surrounding Bonaparte. Around the room, sly glances and knowing smirks were cast Mari’s way. Even the emperor eyed the antics of Richard’s supposed new bride with the interest of a man who might like a sample of what she appeared to offer his third undersecretary. Should Richard be comforted that the fiction of their marriage was holding or furious that Marielle was behaving like a trollop? It was clear that all present believed the runaway bride to be an unfaithful jade at best. He’d better exert his husbandly authority before the duchess ruined everything.
Halfway to his quarry, a hand on his arm halted his progress. “Captain Campion, I am
so pleased to meet you again. We had so little time to talk yesterday, and it has been too long since Salamanca, n’est-ce pas?” The softly accented voice could belong to only one person.
“Madam Cochinat, how nice to see you,” he lied. “What a pity I cannot remain and exchange reminiscences with you, but I must attend my wife.” Removing her hand from his arm, he brushed a kiss across her fingertips before releasing her grasp. He wished he could wipe her touch from his person but knew better than to let on how disgusting he found her.
“Oh la.” She ignored his brush off and crossed the room beside him. “I am curious how a man of your vaunted control captured the elusive Marielle. Also, you must tell me sometime if you find her as satisfactory as did our friend Malveux.” Cochinat fluttered her fan and lowered her lashes.
Two weeks ago, he would have taken the implication that Malveux and Marielle had been lovers as fact. Perhaps Malveux had ruined her. She claimed not, but Richard didn’t know what to believe. The uncertainty made his head ache. He had no doubts about Cochinat. She’d used gossip and lies as finely honed weapons to manipulate the soldiers who swarmed around her before she’d been expelled from camp in Spain.
But now he saw the threat in her glance. If she could do it without risking her larger goal, she would destroy Marielle, and him along with her.
“Malveux has told me so much about her. I was not able to speak with her enough last night either to ask if she remembered him.” Cochinat kept pace, and Richard could do nothing about it without causing an inexplicable scene.
He smiled but mentally gnashed his teeth. The woman was as tenacious and dangerous as ever. She’d been a cold-hearted, duplicitous bitch in Salamanca, and had reached new depths as an associate of Malveux’s. Neither love nor affection nor loyalty was involved in that relationship. Leonis Cochinat’s greed was exceeded only by her self-interest, as he’d learned to his regret.
After she’d left the English camp, she’d sold his identity and location to a French patrol that spent the better part of two days beating him for information while she watched. Had it not been for a party of Spanish guerrilleros, he might never have made it back alive.
“I am certain Marielle will be as delighted to exchange views of Malveux with you as I am to see you again.”
“You flatter me, Monsieur Captain.”
As they approached Marielle and her cousin, the flock of other men melted into the crowd surrounding the emperor.
“Wife, you recall Madame Leonis Cochinat from dinner yesterday. She is eager to get better acquainted with you, since she and I met some years ago in Spain.”
“Truly?” Marielle raised a brow, whether in interest or doubt, Richard could not say. “If you were there at the same time as my husband, you must be very brave. Spain was an exceedingly dangerous place at the time.”
“I find danger exhilarating, do you not?”
Marielle took his arm. “My husband provides all the exhilaration I need.”
“That is not what Monsieur Malveux told me. He is a mutual friend, I believe, and he has sung your praises for many years.”
Marielle’s chin lifted. “Monsieur Malveux is the barest acquaintance, madame. I have not seen him since he left England more than three years past. I had almost forgotten him until you mentioned his name.”
“He will be desolate to hear that, I am sure.”
Marielle shrugged. “Madame, you recall Monsieur Truffkill, third undersecretary to the emperor.”
Cochinat allowed René to kiss her hand as she smiled at him. “The undersecretary and I are well acquainted. We share many interests, do we not, monsieur?”
“I . . . ah . . . as you say.”
“Mr. Truffkill was kind enough to show me the gardens this afternoon. Fontainebleau has a dazzling array of roses,” Marielle changed the subject as she looked up at Richard. Adoration shone in her gaze, and a part of him winced. He wished the emotion were not false. “We must walk there tonight, darling. The scents are heavenly.”
“Ah, there you are, Captain Campion.” The hearty tones of Colonel Campbell approached from behind. “Been looking for you. Hoped to be able to talk with you during dinner.”
“I would be happy to engage with you during the meal. Do you know Madame Leonis Cochinat and Third Undersecretary Truffkill?”
“Yes, yes, we’ve met many times. Do you join us for dinner, madame?”
“Alas, no, I am committed to accompany the Austrian commissioner.”
“He’s a terrific fellow,” Campbell said diplomatically. “I know you’ll enjoy yourself.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the announcement of dinner. Bonaparte led the way. Preceded by Campbell and Marielle’s cousin, Richard escorted Mari into the dining hall. Campbell sat on Richard’s right and Marielle on his left. Richard was pleased to see that René Trouvé had been seated near the bottom of the table with the other minor officials of Napoleon’s household. But that pleasure was dampened quite a bit when Hittenrauch, the Prussian commissioner, took the empty chair beside Marielle. She began flirting with the man almost before the soup was served and ignored Richard for close to the entire meal. Had it not been for Campbell and the information the colonel discreetly imparted about everyone at the table, Richard would have been inclined to excuse himself and his supposed wife from the table and lead her away, making a very public display of teaching her how a wife should behave.
As it was, he was forced to endure eight courses as well as cigars and port with the gentlemen before he could retrieve his wayward partner in deception with an entirely false pleasure and an offer to walk in the rose gardens with her. As she accepted his hand, he smiled. Observers would believe they saw a husband eager to be alone with his wife. He knew better. Any eagerness in his expression was entirely due to the lesson he planned to teach Marielle Stonegreave about the proper behavior of wives.
Chapter Ten
Marielle was relieved to depart the house for the gardens. She hadn’t felt so much on display since she’d been the talk of the ton while she followed her father’s coffin. But what could she do? The rumor had flown around Fontainebleau that Captain Campion’s bride was a promiscuous tart. To avoid drawing attention, she had to act the part expected of her.
“Was the meal not delicious?” she asked.
“Hmm.” He nodded, then turned down a path that bordered the rose garden.
“How was your conversation with Colonel Campbell?”
“Informative.” He guided them into an opening in the tall hedge that formed the outer wall of a maze.
She sighed. The man was impossible. “Did you enjoy watching the nymph’s dancing naked in the moonlight yesterday?’
“Perhaps.” He continued walking, left, right, right, left. He obviously knew where he was going.
“You’re not listening to me.”
They arrived at the folly in the center of the maze, and he escorted her within, seating her on a cushioned bench in the middle of the structure.
“I have listed to every word you’ve said, including that ridiculous question about nymphs. Indeed, I’ve listened much more closely to you than I believe you have listened to me.”
She narrowed her gaze, focusing on his expression. “You have been beyond my reach all day. How could I possibly listen to you?”
“Did I not warn you before we arrived to be most circumspect and not draw any attention to yourself? Yet just before dinner I find you dressed and behaving like a trollop. That ensemble must be one of Napoleon’s bridal gifts, but surely something more appropriate was among the outfits he sent you. You’re supposed to be madly in love with your new husband, not sniffing about the entire male populace of Fontainebleau like a bitch in heat. You don’t even have the discretion to hide your behavior from your husband. I watched you casting lures all evening to every man you met. Do you have any idea what suspicions such behavior may arouse? You put our entire enterprise at risk.”
“How dare you? This gown is completely appr
opriate for a state dinner. By wearing it, I show the emperor much needed appreciation. I cannot say I admire his taste, but I am decently covered.”
“Just barely.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “I’ve been at great pains to give credence to every rumor flying about this place and thus keep our disguise intact. It is not my fault if the people here jump to unwarranted conclusions. If anything, this debacle is your doing. The story you gave about our elopement evidently does not fit your reputation for cool calculation. Before our arrival, your friend Colonel Campbell told stories about your level-headed demeanor in battle and in camp where women cast lures at you and you refused almost all of them.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
She almost laughed to see astonishment combine with anger in his expression, making him appear like a bear, irate because a bee had the temerity to sting him on the nose after he’d stolen the bee’s honey. She’d like to sting him herself.
“Let me enlighten you. I spent a most of this day finding my cousin and speaking with him at great length. I managed to convince him to abandon his scheme to assassinate Napoleon and leave with us at the earliest opportunity. But it took time to do that. While I used all possible caution to prevent our being overheard, we were seen. In addition, there was no way to reach him without inquiring for him publicly. I was forced to claim I was his aunt. Naturally, the footman of whom I inquired was not fool enough to believe such a story. He drew his own conclusions and no doubt shared them. Thus a rumor was born about my loose morals. I was doing everything I knew to conclude our business here as rapidly as possible.”
He gripped her shoulders and dragged her close enough to see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. “Outrage is expected of a man with a straying wife, and wife or no, you need instruction. You’ve been torturing me for weeks. It’s time you learned what it means to play with fire and take responsibility for setting the blaze.”
He brought her closer, and closer still, so close she had to shut her eyes or burn in the intensity of his gaze. But she could still smell his lemon, leather, and musk scent, hear the rasp in his voice, feel the strength of his grip, the brush of his lips on her cheek, the demand of his mouth on hers. With a mew of surrender, she circled his neck, thrust her fingers in his hair, and gave herself to the flames.