The Revolutionary and the Rogue

by Blake Ferre

  De Vesey hastily crumpled the missive into his fist. It mattered little. Tonight, de Vesey’s home would be empty, ripe for sneaking. Henri pressed his teeth together. Was he truly considering entering de Vesey’s home without permission from the Committee? Though he could envision his father’s disappointment, Henri simply couldn’t bring himself to name de Vesey to his superiors. Not yet, at least.

  “We’ve got him. Chevalier, you chose the wrong carriage,” Luc sang in a mocking tune from the cart directly behind them. “I’ve nabbed Duclos.”

  Henri’s stomach churned when he saw de Vesey’s pained expression. He turned to join the other soldiers to aid in the arrest. But he couldn’t shake the hurt in those viridian eyes. Clearly, the aristo knew his time was running out.

  Chapter Six

  Perrin’s heart thudded in his chest. He’d been so distracted by Chevalier and their little games, he’d been taken off guard by Duclos’s arrest. Had the officer merely diverted their attention so his cohort could catch Duclos? Or perhaps as a means to lure Duclos out of hiding. But no, Chevalier had appeared completely focused on finding a stowaway. There had been the flirtations as well, but those might have been a part of his ruse.

  “We can’t just leave Duclos like this. We must do something.” Perrin poked his head out of the carriage window and demanded the driver turn around.

  Quill tugged at Perrin’s coat sleeve and urged him back into his seat. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Not in the slightest. I can finally see things more clearly.” He still had a great many questions and didn’t know how he’d succeed, but Perrin knew precisely what he wanted—to help Duclos. And also, possibly confront Chevalier for his meddling. “Duclos sacrificed his safety to protect whatever he was working on.”

  “La, which is why we need to leave the city,” Quill pleaded.

  “Duclos deserves better than to die alone.” With Duclos’s arrest, Perrin was even more determined to speak with the remaining members of Crimson Rose. Someone had to know more about this Scarlet Crest and their warnings.

  “My lord? What about the ship?” Philippe shared a worried glance with Quill.

  “To hell with the ship. Why did Duclos run so foolishly, in broad daylight? Unless he aimed to be caught.” Perrin tugged at a wayward curl that had escaped from his queue.

  Quill nervously plucked at his lace jabot. “I think that’s precisely what he wanted.”

  “He’s right, my lord. That letter last night instructed us to leave. Duclos allowed himself to be caught as a means to divert those officers from questioning us,” Philippe said.

  “Indeed! And now you propose to ruin everything he sacrificed for us? No.” Quill snapped his fingers. “You’re coming with us, and we’re meeting that ship. Tell the driver to head for the gates.”

  “I can’t. I’ll not leave Duclos behind. He took Julien in. Loved him like a son. If Duclos risked his own life to save us today… I need to try.”

  “You don’t even know what Duclos has involved himself in.” Philippe rubbed his long jaw.

  “Whatever the case, he doesn’t deserve to die. If I don’t step in, that might be his fate.” Though he appreciated his friends’ concerns, Perrin wouldn’t be swayed. “I’m sorry. I’ve no right to risk your safety. Please, take the carriage. Leave this city and meet your ship.”

  A moment of silence hung over the tight compartment as each man considered the mortal gravity of the decision.

  Philippe’s gaze met Perrin’s. “I can’t say I’m eager to participate, but I’ve spent the past year watching you waste away. This urgent need to act—even foolishly—well, I never thought I’d see it again. I can’t think of a better way to honor Julien’s memory than to free the man who once helped him.”

  “I’ll not leave your side.” Quill leaned back in his seat. “Wouldn’t Julien have wanted us to stand together? To Stand and Shield.”

  “To Stand and Shield.” Perrin wiped the corners of his eyes, unable to stifle the tears.

  Philippe offered a saddened smile. “To Stand and Shield.”

  Perrin lifted his chin at the recitation of Crimson Rose’s code. A reminder that his friends would stand by his side just as they had done in times past, rescuing other members in need. A great comfort in a world that rejected their inclinations.

  “I don’t deserve you.” Perrin’s lips quivered. “I only wish I had a plan to free Duclos. We won’t be able to sneak him out of the city without drawing attention. Most certainly not while Chevalier is sniffing around.”

  The carriage drew free from the clustered Rue Saint-Honoré. Their path was set to Crimson Rose. With the godawful congestion in the streets, they didn’t reach the backside of the club until an hour later. Thankfully, when they knocked, Guillaume himself answered.

  Perrin planted his hand on the door to prevent Guillaume from locking them out again. “We’re not leaving until you let us in.”

  Guillaume sighed and shook his head. “Hurry it up. Can’t have you seen out here.” He stepped aside and waved them into the back room of the club.

  Walking past Guillaume, Perrin pressed a finger to the man’s chest. “Duclos was arrested by that no-good officer, Chevalier.” He practically spat the name, unable to purge the bitter tang. How had he ever thought that sneaky swindler was handsome?

  “I feared as much.” Guillaume ushered Philippe and Quill into the room and closed the door behind them. “Once someone is marked, it’s only a matter of time before the Committee pounces on them.”

  “Marked?” Perrin pulled the crumpled warning letter from his pocket. “I received such a note last night.”

  Guillaume rubbed the sides of his head. “Precisely.”

  “Sink me. How convenient this Scarlet Crest person knows so much. One might think this unnamed friend is the one who arrested Duclos.” Quill plucked a stray thread from Guillaume’s velvet coat sleeve and inspected it.

  “He’d do no such thing,” Guillaume protested.

  “He?” Perrin asked. “So you’ve met this person?”

  “No, I…” Guillaume snatched the loose thread from Quill’s grasp and shoved it in his pocket as if the act might hide the fabric’s worn condition.

  Quill offered him a pitying smile. “Guillaume, I know you too well. You’d not allow a perfectly fine suit to fray in this ghastly manner without something weighing heavily upon you. Out with it.”

  Guillaume ran his fingers down the crumpled velvet. A great many threads had frayed along the gold floral embroidery. “Have a seat. I’ll explain everything.”

  Stepping toward the round table where they’d sat with Duclos not so many nights ago, Perrin stared at the thick wood beams that jutted from floor to ceiling. They appeared to squeeze the walls in around the central table. The space certainly lacked the flamboyant decor of the primary member areas. One of the beams overhead was crooked and split at the joint. Unadorned cream panels hugged the cracked plaster walls, surrounding a rustic stone hearth. The glowing logs crackled as a branch succumbed to the fire’s rage with a snap. The scent of charred wood filled the air.

  This space, where they’d shared a great many late evenings lazing about and drinking together, had offered a refuge from the world. But a dark realization struck Perrin. Chevalier knew about Crimson Rose. The club wouldn’t be safe from that scoundrel’s sneaking.

  Perrin turned to Guillaume. “You closed the club. Does the Committee have evidence against it? Will the officers come here and arrest more of our members?”

  “To our knowledge, they’ve no evidence. Sit down, please.” Guillaume gestured to the round table.

  Jittery from the morning’s events, Perrin slumped onto one of the wobbling chairs and placed the crumpled warning note in front of him. Instead of taking seats, Quill paced behind him, and Philippe chose to lean against the hearth’s mantel.

  G
uillaume remained at the door, clinging to the handle as if someone might barge in on them at any moment. “The Scarlet Crest is a name we use as an homage to our club. Our leader, who shall remain anonymous, signs his missives in such a manner as to create confusion amongst those who seek him.”

  “He’s a member of Crimson Rose, then? Have we met him?” Philippe swung his arm and caught a series of hanging pots, knocking them to the floor with a clanging assault.

  Perrin pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Hold up. Let’s return to the part where you said the Scarlet Crest is a sort of homage to our club. Are all the members involved in this?”

  “No. No. Of course not. But many of us are. Including our leader.” Guillaume shrugged one shoulder. “As I mentioned, the Committee hasn’t found damning evidence against the club yet, but they’re getting closer.”

  Perrin pointed at the crumpled letter in front of him. “Is it you? Are you the leader? Did you send me this warning?”

  “No.” Guillaume barely spared a glance at the crumpled parchment.

  Another round of clanging attacked their ears. Perrin turned to Philippe, who’d tasked it upon himself to rehang the pots, only to drop them again. “Sorry, my lord.”

  “Leave them.” Perrin offered a small smile to his frazzled friend. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table, turning his gaze back to Guillaume. “But you know his identity? Tell us who he is.”

  Guillaume shook his head in a stilted manner, defeat glazed in his eyes. “I’m afraid only he can reveal that to you. It’s not my place to share.” Using the lace from his sleeves, he wiped his brow. “There was a plan. We’d chosen the anniversary of…well, you know.”

  “Julien. You can say his name.”

  “Yes. On that night, our leader aimed to meet you here, in this very room. He’d intended to recruit the three of you. We had an important mission in mind for you.”

  “What was it?” Perrin and Quill asked in unison.

  “To help Duclos escape from Paris before the Committee could arrest him. Unfortunately, we were too late. Those officers turned up, and we couldn’t discuss it here.”

  An image of Chevalier flashed in Perrin’s mind. If Perrin could only get his hands on that revolutionary…he’d…

  “While you were gathered in this room with Duclos, I caught one of the officers eavesdropping.”

  Perrin clenched his jaw. Sneaky Knight. Chevalier needed to be squashed like the pest he was.

  Guillaume strode to a liquor cabinet, opened one of the doors, and pulled out a decanter of brandy. He raised the decanter and filled a glass.

  Fool that he was, Perrin had fallen into Chevalier’s trap. The scoundrel had been watching him that night at the club, and he must have seen Duclos hand him the parchment. No wonder the officer had been sneaking after Perrin.

  Guillaume raised his glass, looked at the decanter, then drank a swig from the decanter instead. “Philippe, Quill…have a seat. There’s more.”

  After everyone was seated around the table, Guillaume occupied one of the chairs and leaned his elbows on the table, the decanter and glass placed in front of him. “The Scarlet Crest is a network of covert helpers—including some of our own club members—who free those unjustly accused of conspiring against the government.” He gestured to the walls of the room. “Crimson Rose’s establishment isn’t much, but it provides a shelter for those under our protection until we can sneak them out of the country.”

  “Dear God.” Perrin eyed the decanter of brandy, thinking he and his friends needed several glasses of the amber liquid.

  “Duclos, as you now know, was involved. Your English actor friend, Ashford, is also among our numbers. Seamstresses. A butcher. A former comtesse. A doctor.” Guillaume extended a finger for each trade he listed. “Over time, the league of the Scarlet Crest has assisted in rescuing a great many unjustly accused citizens.”

  Perrin rubbed his forehead, stretching the skin. Only the crackles and snaps of the hearth dared make noise. “I can’t believe it.”

  Philippe cleared his throat. “Duclos faces treason for this. They’ll send him to the guillotine for certain.”

  Guillaume rapped his knuckles on the table. “He knew the risks. If the club goes down, the Scarlet Crest’s greatest allies could be exposed. Many more people will die if we fail to continue our efforts. It’s risky to free Duclos.”

  “Then, that’s it? You’re just going to let him die?” Quill asked.

  Guillaume raised a finger, his cheeks now reddened from the drink. “I didn’t say that. First, we have to find a new means of coded communication so we can orchestrate a plan. Duclos’s apprentices acted as our messengers for such matters. We hid secure messages within Duclos’s artwork.”

  Perrin couldn’t help but grin. The scheme had been rather clever. Warning those in trouble through artwork. “How does the Scarlet Crest learn who’s marked for arrest? Do you have someone working from inside the Committee?”

  Guillaume rubbed his jaw, eyes darting around while he considered his response. “We do.”

  Perrin leaned back in his chair. “If we’ve spies working for the Committee, how did the officers catch on to Duclos? Is it possible someone betrayed us?”

  “In Duclos’s case, neighbors of the missing traitors witnessed his young messengers coming and going at odd hours. The officers followed the messengers to his house and have been tracking him ever since.”

  “Why, then, did he try to escape this morning?” Philippe asked.

  “When Duclos returned to his estate that first night, he spotted one of the officers leaving his home. That officer took with him a piece of damning evidence against Duclos. A piece of artwork that held the names of recently escaped traitors. Add to that the fact that an officer had seen the three of you meeting with Duclos here at this club, and we knew our only option was to get you to safety.”

  “Why didn’t Duclos simply hide?” Perrin feared he already knew the answer.

  Guillaume glanced around the table. “He was set to follow you out of the city, hidden on a merchant’s cart. I presume the officers lingered a little too long at your carriage?”

  Perrin’s stomach twisted. “They did.”

  “Well then, he must have feared they’d find the rolled parchments he’d given you. You did have them with you, didn’t you?”

  Perrin’s skin grew cold. “I did. We just sent our driver back to my residence to unpack everything.”

  “You mustn’t let those out of your sight. If the officers had found those parchments in your possession…” Guillaume gazed at the fire, a lost expression on his face.

  “I haven’t even looked at them.” Perrin had feared what he’d find.

  “They were drawings signed by Duclos…and, well…if anyone had recognized the model as a guillotined aristocrat…”

  “We’d be in prison right now,” Quill said.

  Guillaume lifted the decanter and took another swig. “We might be able to make use of you yet.”

  Perrin tilted his chin toward the ceiling; a hand-painted crest with a rose and scroll held the words of their code. To Stand and Shield. “We’ll find a way to free Duclos. We can’t allow him to die simply because the odds are against us. Duclos is your closest friend, isn’t he?”

  Guillaume set the decanter down with a thud so firm Perrin half expected it to break. “It’s because I love Duclos that I’m trying to respect his wishes. Do you think I wanted this?”

  Guillaume lifted his gaze to meet Perrin’s. Though the glass hadn’t shattered, Guillaume’s soul had. Gone was the facade of a pleasure-seeking fop. The Revolution had taken its toll on him.

  “If you’re certain about helping Duclos, we could continue on with our original plan. With modifications, of course.”

  “What precisely was the original plan?” Perrin leaned forward.
>
  “The three of you were meant to disguise yourselves, carry with you false identifications, hide Duclos within a military supply cart, and escort him out of the city.”

  The room remained quiet as they processed this new tidbit of information. A glimpse into how things might have turned out. “We could still make use of the setup. The disguises. The false identities. Only, we’d use them to free Duclos from prison,” Perrin said.

  Guillaume nodded several times, his brows drawn together. “I was thinking of something along those lines.” He sat upright and swayed slightly to the left and right, clearly feeling the drink. “Yes. I could see that working. I need you to deliver a message to the former Comtesse de Lévesque to notify her of your involvement. She has a number of seamstress friends who can help us acquire the disguises.”

  Guillaume pulled some sort of invitation out of his pocket and slid it across the table. Perrin inspected it. “It’s already addressed to me.”

  “Indeed. The former comtesse is hosting a political social engagement.” He grimaced. “Not my sort of scene. De Lévesque was more than pleased for a chance to work with you, though your mission will now veer off course.”

  “And I’m to work with this comtesse? Er, former comtesse.” Perrin needed to remind himself that the aristocratic titles of old had been stripped from existence.

  Guillaume fumbled with the edge of his sleeve, drawing another letter from a hidden compartment sewn within it. “Give this letter to her so she knows we still need the disguises. She’ll notify our leader that a new plan is in motion. From there, we’ll await your disguises and our leader’s next orders. Hopefully, by that time our more secure communications system will be sorted.”

  “Deliver a message? Seems simple enough.” Perrin frowned as he tucked the parchment in his waistcoat pocket.

  “I can assure you, it will be anything but simple. With so many Committee members expected to attend, you can’t let a single person see this note.” He waved his fingers toward the letter in question.