by Diana Quincy
“I suppose it was at that point that you decided to make your window exit.”
Sophie snorted. “Only she forgot she has an awful fear of heights.”
“Hush.” Elle shot her a withering glare before turning back to Will. “I knew it was only a matter of time before he cast suspicion in my direction so I tied the packet in a kerchief under my skirts and started out the window.”
He stared at her, dread tickling the back of his neck. Her story was so far-fetched, it might actually be true. “If you’ve taken sensitive government information, he will kill you when he finds you, or worse. Do you know what Napoléon’s men do to people who cross them? They think nothing of torture to extract the information they need.”
“I am well aware.” Intense pain shone in her glistening eyes. “Too well aware.”
He went cold inside. What had Duret done to her? “Oh, Elle.” He touched a tender hand to her soft cheek. “What did he do to you? I’ll kill him if he touched you in a harsh manner.”
“It wasn’t that kind of pain.” She covered her face with both hands as a small sob escaped her. “But it’s been torture nonetheless.”
He couldn’t bear to witness her agony. He pulled her into his arms, the scent of violets and her warm skin filling his nostrils. The servant girl watched it all with undisguised interest. “Whatever he’s done, I’ll make it better, I swear it.”
“You cannot.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “Oh, Will. He has my child.”
His gut coiled. He pulled back from her so he could see her face. “You have a child with that bastard?”
Her eyes widened. “What? No, of course not! He has my daughter, Susanna.”
“Are you speaking of your child with Laurent?”
A shadow crossed her face. “Yes, I have no other. Duret’s ruffians took her from me the day she was born.” Her chin trembled with emotion. “They told me she was dead. I should have known better. I failed her.”
He stilled, processing what she’d just told him. His mind reeled. All this time, Elle had thought her child dead? He’d misjudged her, but there wasn’t time to think on that now. He surveyed their surroundings, assessing the narrow alley behind them and the muddied street before them, running the options through his mind.
He raised an arm to hail an oncoming hackney. “It’s not safe for you to return to your home.”
She tugged her hand away. “Of course I am returning to my home. The entire point of my taking the package was to barter for my daughter’s release. He has to find me for that to occur.”
He surveyed the street, confirming what he’d suspected. “We are being followed.”
Excitement sparked in her eyes. “Which means he will soon do just that and I will have my Susanna back once and for all.”
He pulled her into the shadows with him as he calculated what to do next. Sophie followed. “It means you might just have something of great interest to the Crown hidden under your skirts after all.”
“So what happens next?”
Turning to Sophie, he withdrew his calling card from his pocket. “Give this to Mr. Verney at the embassy.” He placed the card in her open palm. “He’ll see you are kept safe from Duret.”
The card disappeared into the folds of the girl’s skirt. “I know how to disappear on my own.”
Elle opened her reticule and emptied all the coins in it into Sophie’s hands. “Don’t let Duret’s people find you.”
Sophie grinned while pocketing the blunt. “Don’t worry on my account, my lady. I can look after myself.” She dipped back into the alley and disappeared into the shadows.
Elle watched her go, her eyes suspiciously bright. “She’s incorrigible, but I daresay she is the most useful maid I’ve ever had.”
“We don’t have time for heartfelt farewells.” Will took her hand, walking quickly. “Come.”
—
Elle struggled to keep up with his fast pace. “Where are we going?”
“We need to lose our unwanted escorts. There’s a passage couverts up ahead. We’ll slip in there and try to lose them.”
She threw him a pointed look. “I thought you had never visited the passages couverts.”
He ignored the comment and drew her into the covered arcade positioned between two buildings.
She strained her neck, looking back over her shoulder. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Nonetheless, they are there,” he said tightly as they took their place atop elevated chairs to have the mud and animal waste from the streets scraped from their shoes.
A chill ran up her spine as she watched two young roughs take a position at the entrance of the cleanup salon. “You think they are waiting for us?”
“Most assuredly.” To the man in charge of the cleanup salon he said, “Monsieur, those two men over there have neglected to have their shoes cleaned.”
The burly man frowned. “That will never do. Everyone must have their shoes cleaned.”
Will handed the man some funds. “I am happy to pay for their cleaning.”
By the time Will and Elle slipped out of the salon, Duret’s ruffians had been dragged into the chairs to be cleaned up. Vendors in the covered arcades valued their tiled floors, and no one was allowed to venture into the bazaar with mud-crusted shoes.
They passed teashops, engravers, and bath houses. The calm coolness of the arcade offered a respite from the noise and filth of the streets. The frosted glass ceiling allowed natural light to stream down on the shops and cafés lining the long, covered passageway.
“Why don’t we just let them catch me so my negotiations with Duret can begin immediately?”
“Surely you are not so naive as to think they wouldn’t just strip that package from under your skirts and do whatever unspeakable things they’d like to you?”
“You have the right of it. I must hide the package away first and then begin my negotiations.”
He stopped abruptly. “If I promise to keep your daughter safe, will you give me the package and do as I say?”
She shook her head. “No.” She’d learned long ago not to rely on him. “No. I can only depend upon myself where my child is concerned.”
He frowned. “What the devil does that mean?”
She looked over his shoulder. “It looks like Duret’s friends are making their way toward us.”
He glanced back and saw Duret’s ruffians closing in. He hadn’t any time to waste. They walked on past a café before Will paused at a shop that dealt in ancient coinage.
She tugged his hand. “Surely you are not stopping to buy old coins at a time like this,” she said, keeping an anxious eye on Duret’s men.
“An associate is employed here.” They entered the darkened, musty-smelling space. The young man behind the counter immediately came forward when he spotted them. Will went to him and murmured quietly. The man darted a glance at her and then nodded. Will turned and took her hand, guiding her away almost as quickly as they’d entered.
“What did you tell him?” she asked when they resumed walking.
“Something I fear I will regret. But it had to be done. I must put England above all else.”
She was about to ask him what he meant by that, but a commotion behind them drew her attention. Two men—including the clerk from the coin shop who Will had just spoken to—appeared to be exchanging harsh words. The crowds of shoppers and strollers slowed to watch the interaction as the encounter escalated, the men now nose to nose, shouting, bumping puffed-out chests.
“Tell me, Elinor.” Will distracted her attention away from the altercation. “Is your daughter’s safety and well-being the only thing that ties you to Duret and to Paris?”
“Without question.” She studied his face, feeling his distance, sensing his distrust. “Why do you ask?”
“For no reason in particular.” They moved past a basket weaving shop and then a butcher, where he took a sharp turn, drawing her through an entrance she hadn’t noticed before.
&n
bsp; She peered down a dark, narrow corridor. “Where are we going?”
His expression remained remote. “Will you do anything to ensure Susanna’s safety and well-being?”
“Very gladly.”
“Then we proceed.” He halted and turned to face her, a gleam of regret in his eyes. “Do not be afraid.”
“What would I have to fear?” Even as she asked the question, her muscles stiffened with alarm. Something wasn’t right. A foul-smelling cloud engulfed her, and she belatedly realized it was a white cloth pressed hard against her nose and mouth. “Will?” Disbelief tinged the muffled question. He might not love her, but she never imagined that he could harm her. Or allow anyone else to.
His answer finally came as she lost control of her senses and spiraled into a tunnel of darkness. “It is for the best.” His voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. “You will see.”
Chapter 9
A headache slammed inside Elle’s skull.
Her mouth, dry and cottony, tasted foul. Forcing her heavy eyelids apart, she blinked once, then twice, before her surroundings sharpened into focus. She pushed herself into a sitting position atop the narrow bed, taking in the scarred wooden floors and flickering fire in the small stone hearth.
Where was she? Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slid off and stood, the wooden floorboards cool beneath her stocking-covered feet. Cracks of daylight filtered through a small, shuttered window, streaking across the bare top of a nearby dressing table, where her straw bonnet lay. The modest chamber’s musty air was swollen with the underlying scent of dust and lack of use. Her half boots were set neatly by the bed. She sat in a ladder-backed chair and drew them on. As she laced the boots, she wondered how she’d come to be here. Memories began to trickle back—walking with Will in the covered arcade, the altercation between the two men, the terrible odor of the cloth placed over her face.
Her scalp tingled as she put the pieces together into a logical sequence. She’d been abducted and Will had allowed it. Perhaps even planned it.
She crossed over to the door and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. Moving to the window, she shoved open the glass to reach the shutters. They didn’t budge, no matter how much force she used. Turning away from the window, a kernel of panic blossomed in her chest. She was a prisoner. Again.
A chill shivered through her at the possibility that Le Rasoir might have ordered Will to bring her here. Moineau would never find her. Dread rolled in her stomach at the thought of what unspeakable things Duret would do to Susanna if he couldn’t locate Elle and the papers she’d stolen from him.
Footsteps shuffled outside the closed door. She froze by the window, staring at the door as it pushed open, followed by the appearance of Will carrying a small wooden tray. He was in shirtsleeves with the white linen cuffs rolled up, baring strong forearms. Alarm flitted across his face when he caught site of the empty bed, his gaze darting around the space until it landed on her. “Oh, I see you are awake.” He spoke in mild tones.
“Where am I?” The words had sharp edges. “Why am I here?”
“All in good time.” He placed the tray on the dressing table. “I’ve brought you some food.”
“I don’t want to eat.” But even as she spoke the words, her stomach yawned with hunger. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d eaten. “Answer the question. Where am I?”
“Let us make an agreement,” he said. “You eat first, and then we talk.”
“You blackguard.” Her temper rose. “Where are we? Why have you brought me here?”
“Eat so you can keep up the strength to lob more insults in my direction.”
Her stomach growled as she cast a wary gaze at the bread, cheese, and ale on the tray.
“Is there poison in it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Perhaps you’ve laced it with a little something that will render me senseless.”
He winced, ever so slightly, before the untutored reflex quickly vanished beneath his usual stony expression. “You haven’t had any sustenance in several hours. Eat now, and then we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything.”
Keeping a suspicious eye on him, she moved to the table and stood before it, reaching for the cool ale first to sooth her dry throat.
“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if you sit.”
“I prefer to stand.” She made quick work of the bread and cheese, eating all of it to appease her growling stomach. He watched in silence until she swallowed the last bite and washed it down with a few sips of ale. “There, I’m done. Now tell me where we are.”
“We are close to Paris.”
“Whose house is this?”
“It belongs to a friend.”
She wondered if that friend was Le Rasoir. “Why am I here?”
He exhaled and she noted the deep creases around his eyes. “Please sit and I will tell you everything.” She sat. “Gerard Duret lied to you about your daughter’s whereabouts.”
“Dear God.” Elle’s hand came up to her mouth, panic and nausea swelled, threatening to expel the contents of her stomach. “Is she—?”
“No, no,” he said quickly, once he realized the dire conclusion she’d jumped to. “She is safe and well.”
“Where is she?”
“With your father and brother.”
She sat stunned, unable to immediately comprehend what he was telling her. “But Duret said he stole her when she was born.”
“Susanna was indeed abducted, but not by your general.”
“Who, then?”
“Tristan Fitzroy.”
“Tristan?” She thought of her upright, earnest childhood friend and shook her head. “Impossible.”
“Fitzroy expected to marry you and was sorely disappointed when you wed someone else. I suppose he was determined to have whatever piece of you he could.”
Disbelief spun through her. She’d always known Tristan had wanted to wed her, but to do this? “So he stole my daughter?”
“I’ll explain everything later. We haven’t much time before Duret comes looking for you. Just know that Susanna is happy and safe in the care of your family.”
“My child is alive and well in England?” She whispered the words as if afraid to believe they could be true. Her throat ached at the thought of Susanna with her bighearted brother and tender, generous father.
“Yes, and rest assured she’s been healthy and happy. She wants for nothing.”
Dazed, she shook her head slowly from side to side. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“I can hardly imagine it.” Months of tension flowed out of her body leaving her muscles weak with relief. “Worry for her well-being has consumed me these past weeks.”
Her daughter was alive and safe. And in England, far removed from Duret’s clutches. The realization left her reeling and feeling almost giddy. Then a terrible thought occurred to her. “I have no way of knowing if you are lying.”
“It is the truth. I could never dissemble about something of such great importance.”
She stared at him. “How long have you known Susanna is safe?”
“For many months, from when she first came into Cosmo’s care.”
“You’ve met her?” She grasped his forearm where it lay on the table. “What is she like?”
“Very much like you.” His stoic expression softened. “Lively and always in search of her next adventure.”
“Does she look like me as well?” She’d known for some months now that her child was alive. But to have Will confirm it, to know he’d actually spent time in her company, made their child’s living, breathing existence compellingly real.
“Her hair color is somewhat similar to yours, I suppose, but her eyes are quite different,” he said, studying Elle’s features. “I presume that is because she looks more like her sire, although I was never acquainted with the man so I cannot say for certain.”
Emotion filled her chest. Her beautiful Susanna was
alive and mischievous and playing along the Dorset cliffs, just as she had as a child. And she looked like her father. The wonder of it made her insides glow. “But wait.” She frowned. “If you’ve known all along where my baby is, why did you not tell me before now?”
“You never mentioned her.” He rose and went over to kneel before the hearth where the fire had quieted down. “I presumed you weren’t interested.”
“Not interested?” She stared at his back. “What do you mean?”
“You never asked about her.”
“You believed I didn’t have a care about my child’s whereabouts?”
“You didn’t seem worried about your father or your brother.” He threw some wood on the fire. “I assumed it was the same with Susanna.”
She felt the blood leave her face. She might be an unnatural mother, but she wasn’t a monster. “How could you think that?”
He twisted around from his position before the hearth to look at her. “It seemed the most natural conclusion.”
She rose and paced away, the floor creaking under each footfall, before abruptly turning to face him. “You think I am the sort of woman who would give birth and willingly, knowingly abandon my child without a care for her whereabouts?”
He rose to his full height, standing before the now-robust fire, which sparked and crackled behind him. “What was I to surmise? It isn’t as though you’ve been a prisoner. You live in a comfortable abode, dress in the latest fashions, and your life revolves around parties and other entertainments.” He spoke dispassionately, as if he were analyzing the characteristics of one of his blasted coins. “I naturally presumed you were living the lifestyle you’d chosen.”
“What you mean to say is that naturally you assumed the worst of me.”
He walked over to the table and remained standing. “You’ve been keeping company with Général Duret; everyone assumes you to be his mistress, and you seem quite happy to allow people to do so,” he said tightly. “What did you expect me to think?”