by Rue Allyn
Richard wiped a hand over his face. “Why?”
“Placing Napoleon in the role of rescuer should appeal to a man who considers himself the savior of Europe, and he is our only hope of getting out of this unscathed.”
“Unscathed?” She’d already done more harm than all the death and tragedy Richard had seen in seven years on the battlefield. She’d stolen what little heart he had left, and, as certain as roses died, he’d never get it back. Added to that, she’d just exposed both of them as spies to a man who could order their deaths on a whim.
“You really believe the man who laid waste to an entire continent would help a woman who claimed she was supposed to kill him? We’ll be lucky if we aren’t clapped in irons before we can return to our quarters. We certainly won’t be allowed to leave until Napoleon is satisfied his life is not in danger, and that could take weeks.”
“But I identified the culprits. It should be an easy matter to verify their duplicity.”
“You told him Malveux and Cochinat were involved? Napoleon, who has always been more than a little paranoid, will suspect a double cross. While not his closest advisors, they’ve been part of Napoleon’s inner circle for years. He’s more reason to trust them than you. You’ve done a perfect job of setting us up as dangerous interlopers in his eyes. All it would take is for Bonaparte to convince himself that England is plotting to remove everyone he trusts from him, and he’ll decide we should be shot on sight.”
Her eyes widened. “Surely, it can’t be that bad.”
“That bad and worse. We should leave immediately. Contact your cousin, and I’ll speak with Colonel Campbell. Meet me at our rooms in an hour.” He turned to go.
“No.”
He performed an about-face. “What do you mean, no? Do you want to spend your days in whatever Fontainebleau has that passes for a prison, waiting for Napoleon to order your death?”
“He wouldn’t. Not with Colonel Campbell present.”
“He might. Colonel Campbell could be arrested with us. His position is not unassailable.”
“Nonetheless, we cannot leave.”
“We must.”
“No, my aunt’s life is still in danger. Unless we can ensure that no one will send word to Malveux, we must remain here until we can devise a solution. If Bonaparte believes me, we should know within a day.”
“We’ll know within hours if he does not. Then it will be too late because we can do nothing if imprisoned or dead.”
She paled and put a hand to his chest. “I understand your concern, but you must understand my need to protect my family. Leave if you must. I will remain until I can resolve this situation safely.”
Could he force her? Probably. And if her aunt were murdered? He’d blame himself for the rest of his life. Yet only a fool would stay. He might be physically attracted to Marielle Stonegreave, but did she truly hold his heart? The thought of her hanging from a noose—firing squads were not for spies—twisted his gut into knots. Evidently, he was a fool, for he was not hard-hearted enough to leave her to her own idiocy.
But he didn’t have to tell her that.
“You will do what you must, as I will, and that starts with speaking to Campbell. He’s the only one I am certain I can trust.”
She winced. Then straightened.
Was she worried that he did not trust her? She should be, for he didn’t, but that did not seem to matter. A part of him refused to abandon her.
“Very well,” she said. “I will meet you at our rooms within the hour. We must discuss what explanation to give for your absence, but I need to speak to René first. In order to decide his own course, he has to know what has transpired with Napoleon.”
“In an hour then. Come now.” He offered his arm. “We entered the maze together. Anyone watching will expect us to leave together.”
• • •
Mari twisted her hands and paced the third floor landing of the servant’s stairs. She checked the watch pinned to her bodice. Ten minutes had passed since the appointed time. Where was René? She couldn’t afford to wait much longer. Another five minutes of pacing, and she checked her watch once again. A noise on the stairs made her raise her head. René. Relief swept through her, and she leaned back against a wall. Everything would be fine now. René could tell her more about Napoleon than Richard with all his apprehensions could guess. And hopefully René’s reassurances would be echoed by Campbell when Richard spoke with the colonel.
She took René’s hand. “Thank heaven you’re here.”
“Cousin, your hands are like ice.” He covered her fingers with his. “What has upset you so?”
She related the pertinent events of the evening, ending with Richard’s belief that they must leave with all possible speed.
René’s grip on her hands tightened. His expression grew serious, and his complexion paled. “Mon Dieu. How could you do something so foolish?”
Oh dear. He must agree with Richard’s dire assessment of their situation.
“It did not seem foolish to me at the time, with Malveux threatening dire consequences for failure. I still believe that Napoleon is the only one who can help us.”
“Perhaps, but will he? Captain Campion is right. Napoleon is as likely to clap us in irons as he is to lend us aid. He does not hesitate to act if he is certain in his mind what action to take.”
“That is a positive sign. At least he did not dismiss my warnings out of hand.”
“Do not be so sure. He may not have believed you but was uncertain what action to take. He hopes the English will give him asylum. Offending England by imprisoning any of her citizens would not help him at this point.”
“Oh dear. According to what Colonel Campbell shared with Richard, England is about to refuse that request for asylum, and the colonel is certain Napoleon will not take it well.”
“Worse and worse. Captain Campion is right. We must escape while escape is still possible.”
“I refuse to leave until I can be certain no harm will come to Tante Vivienne.”
“I, too, want my mother to be protected. Let me think on this a moment. There may be a way.” René paced the short length of the landing and back.
When he paused before her again, she raised her head in hope. “Well?”
“We must poison the pigeons before we leave.”
“Kill the pigeons? They are harmless.”
“They are the fastest means of communication with Malveux. Without them, he will not know our movements before we are in England.”
“But to kill them.”
“We need only make them sick.”
“And you know how to do this?”
“Yes. Once when I was a boy I tried to help the Stonegreave pigeon keeper who had been kind to a lonely child. I was ignorant and gave the birds the wrong kind of feed. Within a day, the entire flock was unable to fly, and remained so for a week.”
“Assuming you can get the right kind of feed to repeat that action, what would keep Madame Cochinat from getting pigeons elsewhere?”
“Nothing, but pigeons from elsewhere would not help her. They are trained to fly specific routes, and I doubt any but Napoleon’s flock are trained to fly to Malveux. Malveux would only look for pigeons trained to fly to roosts he knows of or owns, not birds trained to fly to other roosts even if those were in the Le Havre area. Still, if Madame Cochinat retains Napoleon’s trust, she could have us pursued by a force large enough to stop us and bring us back.”
“Not if she, too, is ill.”
“Possibly. How would that be managed?”
“Esme could help us.” Listening to the girl’s chatter had benefits beyond gaining trust and friendship. “As a servant, she would have opportunity to disable both the birds and Madame Cochinat safely, as long as we can provide her the means.”
“Right. A servant will be able to move about Fontainebleau with little notice. Esme might also have horses ready and waiting at short notice?”
“Possibly. I will ask. But we shou
ld learn what plans Richard has made. He may have provided for mounts. I am to meet him in our rooms soon.” She looked at her watch. “In fact, I am already late. Come with me. It will be faster if you are included in the discussion, and we cannot afford more delays. Between Napoleon and Madame Cochinat, our situation is dire enough.”
Mari mentally twisted her hands and smoothed her skirts as they moved silently through the palace halls. René seemed as distressed as she felt. However, Richard was an experienced tactician and much less likely to act from panic. If the most seasoned among them urged their departure, she should act accordingly. Yet her instincts told her to wait for another meeting with Napoleon. She could not shake the feeling that to run now meant disaster.
Chapter Twelve
After a troubling conversation with Colonel Campbell, Richard walked past a knot of French soldiers lingering in the hallway. Their muskets and bayonets suggested they had just come off guard duty. He stepped into the rooms he shared with Marielle and closed the door to the corridor. Light bloomed on the far side of the chamber in the moment before Madame Cochinat’s signature jasmine and ginger scent warned him of danger. What was the cursed female doing here? He advanced into the room, pacing to the side where the light would fall equally between them and allow him to see her as clearly as she could see him.
“Bonsoir, captain. I’ve been waiting for some time to speak with you and the lovely Duchess of Stonegreave.”
“If your wish is to see her grace, you must return at another time. She is not with me.” Cochinat was in on Malveux’s plot. Richard saw no point in pretending Marielle was not the Duchess of Stonegreave.
“Oh, quel dommage. I have a most urgent message for both of you. Sit and wait with me.” She stroked the empty space beside her on the small settee. The settee where he’d coerced Mari into sitting with him when they first arrived and as a result had walked with a kink in his trousers for the rest of the day.
That piece of furniture was becoming a hazard.
Cochinat gestured to a decanter and three snifters in front of her. “We can begin without the duchess, sip some of Napoleon’s excellent brandy, and chat while we wait.”
“You go ahead. I prefer to drink with friends.”
“But, Captain, we are friends. Vraiment, you will see very soon exactly how good a friend I can be, or not. All depends on the—how should I say it—incentives, non?
“No. I cannot say that I see us ever becoming friendly.” Since there was no other place to sit where he could see her well enough to judge her expression, he settled on the settee. The space was small and put him entirely too close to her. Despite his refusals, she reached across him and poured brandy into two snifters, making sure he got an excellent view of the breasts nearly spilling out of her décolletage. Lifting one glass, she presented it to him.
“I said no thank you.” He pushed it away, and in the process, she managed to spill half the contents over his coat and vest.
“Oh, I am so sorry.” She smiled, without a trace of regret in her eyes, and sipped the brandy she held.
He brushed at the stain with his handkerchief. “Enough teasing, madame. Tell me what you want. I’ve had a very long day and wish to retire.”
She lifted a delicate brow. “I would take that as an invitation did I not know from experience that you do not like to share. Nor do I believe the duchess would take kindly to finding her lover in bed with another woman. What a shame. I had so hoped we could renew our amorous adventures, even if only for a few moments.” She sighed.
Richard ground his teeth. He must discover her purpose and get her out of his rooms as quickly as possible.
“Your point, madame.”
“So impatient. You used to want to linger over your pleasures.”
If she thought this conversation anything but the greatest annoyance, she was wrong. But he was sure she wanted to needle him into cooperating with her, because she knew seduction would not work with him. It never had. He’d always had the upper hand in their dealings in Spain, and he would have it now, as soon as she revealed her purpose here.
“I’m waiting.”
“Very well. You should know that your lover is in a precarious position.”
“My . . . ?”
Both brows lifted. “You do not share the duchess’s bed? How very amusing. I wonder if it is nobility or her refusal that restrains you from her charms. Perhaps you imagine the rumors about the duchess and Mr. Truffkill are true.” Cochinat shrugged. “It is nothing to me, but I have information that suggests she is not deserving of your nobility or your restraint. And, I assure you, there is no liaison between her grace and Bonaparte’s third undersecretary. Truffkill is her cousin.”
“If that’s the best you can do, you might as well leave. The duchess’s relationship with Truffkill is no news to me. In fact, I know everything about them, why they are here, and your part in the scheme to murder Bonaparte.”
“Ah.” Cochinat settled back. “And I suppose you think to stop her grace and her cousin from carrying out their task. That would have a very disastrous effect on her aunt’s health.”
“I am aware of the threats you and Malveux are using to force Marielle into doing your dirty work. Nonetheless, you will fail. Her grace has made sure of it.”
His former lover laughed long and loud. “I suppose you refer to the Duchess of Stonegreave’s very foolish and ill-considered conversation with Napoleon this evening?”
“Napoleon is slipping to trust you with such information. He’s tipped his hand.” Richard’s fist clenched. He’d been right, not that being right made him feel better. But if Cochinat knew of the conversation, it could only be because Napoleon wanted her to know. To what purpose? Other than as a witness to Marielle’s guilt as a foreign agent plotting against the emperor, Richard could not imagine. Whatever Bonaparte’s reasons, their escape from Fontainebleau was more urgent than ever. What a horrible time for Campbell to be called to Paris. What a blessing Richard had managed to catch the colonel and obtain traveling papers before the man raced away.
Richard had had enough. He grasped madame’s wrist and stood, jerking her to her feet with the intent of dragging her to the door and tossing her into the hall.
She used the momentum of his pull to throw herself against his chest. “I do not think he has tipped his hand at all,” she whispered just before she screamed. “Help. Rape, râpé. Aidez moi.”
Richard struggled to free himself, but Cochinat only clung tighter, somehow managing to rip her bodice in the process and drag them both to the floor.
The door burst open. Several booted feet surrounded Richard and Cochinat. The point of a bayonet pricked his throat at the same moment a gruff “Arrêtez!” speared the air.
Madame Cochinat released her hold on Richard, and he slowly rolled away, coming to a sitting position against a nearby wall.
Madame curled into herself, covered her head with her arms, and emitted loud, noisy sobs.
Three soldiers from the hallway held Richard at bayonet point. A fourth helped madame to her feet while he listened to her lies.
Richard shook his head. He should have known better. When he’d broken things off in Spain, she’d vowed revenge. He’d thought his capture within days after the break had satisfied her, and believed himself safe from her plots in Fontainebleau. She must be very sure of her position with Napoleon—or very scared. Back a female into a corner, and she became more dangerous than any army. What could possibly cause Cochinat to be fearful?
“Get up,” ordered one of his guards. “We cannot have English rapists at large in Fontainebleau. The emperor will deal with you when he has time. Until then, you will be a guest of the jailer. Avant.” A small jab of the bayonet at Richard’s neck encouraged him to comply. Evidently, he’d have plenty of time to consider Cochinat’s motives and how they might be used to defeat her.
Right now he had to discover a means for getting the papers in his coat pocket to Marielle and warn her not to involve he
rself. She and René must take the documents Campbell had provided and get away with all possible speed. He would manage. Though he wasn’t certain how, this was not his first experience with trouble.
• • •
“Why would Captain Campion leave the door to your rooms open?”
“I do not know, René.” Mari picked up her pace.
René took her arm and slowed her down. “Be careful. Anyone could be within. Best let me enter first.”
“Nonsense.” She shook free of his grip.
“Mari, please.”
His tone more than anything halted her. One look at the worry on his face changed her mind. “Very well.”
“Thank you.” He escorted her to the wall near the open door. “Wait here. If you hear anything but my voice telling you all is well, run. Do not stop until you come to a very public place. Preferably one where many soldiers are available to help you.”
René sidled against the wall to the door then stopped and peered within. A moment later he slipped into the opening and disappeared.
The wait seemed interminable, but less than a minute had probably elapsed before René called out.
“Mari, you’d best come in here.”
She lifted her hem and marched into the room, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw Madame Cochinat standing on the far side of the room, holding a pistol on René, who sat on the settee. The rip in the woman’s bodice seemed to cause her no concern.
“Très bien. I am so glad to see you, your grace. Please, close the door and join your cousin.”
The pistol never wavered. Mari could do nothing but cooperate until she could discover a means of disarming the other woman. “What do you want, madame?”
“I must scold you for avoiding your assigned task. I should punish you for your disobedience then send word to Malveux and have him destroy your aunt. However, I will spare her life and settle for warning you that time is running out.”
“We have two more days.” Mari shrugged as if two days were an eternity. She squeezed René’s hand; hopefully, he understood she wanted him to keep silent.