“Very nice.” Then she glanced at Alexei. “We are talking about the gathering tonight.”
“I guessed that. Some of the … what do you call them?”
“Signs.”
“Some of the signs are obvious.” He took a sip from his cup. “Mayhap I shall be able to master a few.”
“Both of us are going to have to study hard to keep up with Herr Professor Waldstein’s star pupil.” When she saw Rusak blush, she almost laughed. Then she realized he was not embarrassed by her compliment, but proud of his progress. She must return with him to class if she wanted to understand all he said.
“Do you think you can be ready to leave by Thursday?” Alexei asked as he put his hand over hers. “It is short notice, I realize. I have asked Frau Schlissel to stay on during our vacation.”
“Thursday should be no problem.”
“Good. Rusak, have the carriage checked over. I do not want to lose a wheel in one of the mountain passes. I—”
The door crashed open. A flood tide of men cascaded into the room. Rusak jumped to his feet and knocked one man back into the others.
Alexei shouted, “Run, Michelle!”
She leapt up from the settee.
He grabbed her right hand and pushed her toward the arch. “Go! Get help!” he ordered.
She whirled. Help? What was happening? She turned to run, but a jungle of hands and arms and strange faces tried to entangle her. She screamed as an arm encircled her waist. Another order was shouted, but not by Alexei. A hand clamped over her mouth, and her head was jerked back painfully against a man’s chest. She clawed at the fingers, then stamped on her captor’s feet. He laughed, not letting her escape. When she tried to pull away, his hand shifted to cover her nose.
She fought to breathe as dull thuds were followed by something falling to the floor. Blackness surrounded her. The man’s hand moved again, and she could breathe. As she gasped, another hand grasped her chin and tilted it back farther. Her gaze met a pair of dark eyes set beneath thick brows in a narrow face. Their evil glint sent fear roiling through her.
In thickly accented German, he ordered, “Don’t faint. We are not done with you yet.”
He gave her no chance to answer as he turned away to call something to his men. She paid no attention to his words as she saw Alexei facedown on the floor. She tried to break free, screaming, “No! Don’t hurt him!”
When her captor growled in her ear, she froze.
“You are French!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”
“Idiot!” snapped the man who was clearly the leader. “She understands French!” His scowl lessened as he stepped over Alexei’s prone body and toward her again. When his gaze moved along her, she struggled against the hands holding her. She wanted to put something between her and this man’s icy eyes. “Of course, it is not important what she knows. What is your name?”
“Collette,” she said, hoping he could not guess she was lying.
“Collette? What happened to Michelle D’Orage?”
“She is gone.”
“Where?”
She tried to shrug, but could not move. “The count did not tell me. We do not speak of such things.”
“So you replaced the infamous Michelle D’Orage as this traitor’s mistress?”
“Traitor?”
“No questions from you, Collette.”
Trying to peer past him, she wanted to find out if Alexei and Rusak were still alive. He caught her face between his fingers. When she saw blood on his hands, she gasped.
With a broad smile, he mused, “How much might you truly know, Collette? Enough to make it worth my time to drag you across Europe? Or are you simply the latest pretty plaything he has collected?”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
His smile was frigid. “No questions.” He shrugged, but his eyes examined her minutely. “You really have no idea who I am?”
“Do you think I would have asked if I had known?”
“You look as if you regret asking that.” He patted her cheek. “Don’t. Such a witless question convinces me that he kept you around for something other than conversation.” He eyed her up and down. “I can see why. If I were not so anxious to be on my way …” He chuckled when her face grew cold. Turning his back on her, he called over his shoulder, “She is worthless. Take care of her.”
Michelle opened her mouth to scream. The sound came out in a moan of pain as something struck her head. Agony swelled to encompass her as she crumpled into a pile on the floor.
Michelle roused to something itchy against her cheek. Just the thought of moving seemed impossible. The teasing sensation continued, irritating her awake. As she put her hand against her cheek, she discovered she was lying on the carpet Pain blared through her head.
What had happened?
She groped for anything solid and tried to stand. She collapsed to her knees. Hanging her head, she tried to breathe. She dropped back to the floor as she fought the pain rippling across her skull. Weak tears dampened the carpet beneath her cheek.
Pushing herself up to her knees again, Michelle leaned her head against a nearby table. She wiped the tears aside, as everything in the dark room remained wavy.
Seeing someone on the floor not far from her, she knew she must check. As fiercely as she had been struck, she feared what the men might have done to Alexei.
The men! Memory erupted through her head. The Frenchmen who had stormed into their apartment!
Taking one step forward on her knees, she folded again. She refused to be halted. She crept toward the shadow, whispering, “Alexei? Alexei, wake up! Please!”
She moaned. If they had killed him … Pain rushed through her.
“Alexei?” she whispered again. “Alexei, please wake up. Don’t be dead.”
Her fingers stretched out in the flickering light of the flames on the hearth. Fear slashed her. Murmuring a prayer, she touched the shadow, then groped about the floor. It was just her dark cloak that had been tossed onto the floor. She slapped her hand against it and swore in French and German.
She rolled to sit and gasped, “Rusak!”
His face was battered and already swelling. He offered a hand to help her to her feet. Leaning on him, she lurched across the floor to a chair.
“Where is Alexei?”
Rusak handed her a damp cloth, pointing to her head. Instead of putting it on her aching skull, she dabbed at his swollen face.
When he winced, she whispered, “I am sorry. Rusak, do you know where Alexei is?”
Before he could answer, she heard a shriek from the arch. Frau Schlissel stood there with a candlestick in her hand. In the bright light, the housekeeper’s face was as pale as the wax dripping down the candle.
“Come in,” urged Michelle. “Rusak, is there more cocoa? I think Frau Schlissel could use some to soothe her.”
He regarded her in awe. Her voice sounded calm, but it was a ploy to convince them—and herself—that she was not panicking.
“Please, Rusak,” she added when he did not move.
Nodding, he poured a cup and held it out to the housekeeper. Frau Schlissel dropped into a chair and stared as Rusak lit the lamps. Each one showed more of the destruction in the room. The chair where the housekeeper sat was the only one not broken.
Sipping her chocolate, Frau Schlissel whispered, “Where is Count Vatutin?”
“I don’t know.” Michelle looked at Rusak, who stood by the hearth. “Is there any chance he is here still?”
Look for Alexei. Not find him. Find only you.
Michelle closed her eyes in horror. She had not realized how much she had hoped that Alexei was in another part of the apartment. He must have been taken away by the men.
Rusak’s broad fingers pushed a hot cup into her hands and closed her shaking fingers around it. She saw more bruises darkening on the side of his face.
“Who?” she whispered. “Who are they? Where will they take Alexei?”
His hands fa
irly flew with his anxiety to share what he knew. She watched, trying to understand. Rusak scowled when she could not understand what he was trying to say.
“Gone? Yes, I know that. But where?” When he shook his head, she asked, “Did you recognize these men? Yes?” She tried to guess what the next sign meant. “Enemy?”
At his nod, she shivered. “Where do you think they will go now that they have Alexei?”
His fingers formed a sign and repeated it emphatically.
“France?” she asked in disbelief. “Why France?” When he looked at her, clearly frustrated, she asked, “Where in France?”
As he tried to answer, she realized she was not going to be able to understand what he had to say. She needed someone to interpret for her.
“What time is it?” she asked.
Frau Schlissel whispered, “About two in the morning.”
“Rusak,” Michelle said.
Go teacher?
“Yes. Frau Schlissel?”
The housekeeper did not move. She stared at the shattered furniture and the cloak on the floor.
“Frau Schlissel?”
The housekeeper remained silent and motionless.
Michelle sighed. She had no time to comfort Frau Schlissel. “Rusak? Come with me.”
He followed her into her room. Reaching into her armoire, she pulled out a dress. When she loosened her wrapper, he turned his back. She pulled on her dress.
“Help me, Rusak, please.” She struggled not to give in to tears. Such a short time ago, Alexei had teased her about not allowing any other man to touch her. Now he was gone.
He quickly hooked her gown. They hurried out into the main room, where Frau Schlissel was on her feet and trying to right some of the furniture.
When Michelle pulled on her cloak, the housekeeper cried, “Where are you going?”
“To the one man who can talk to both Rusak and me.” Michelle pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.
“It is the middle of the night.”
“I cannot wait until morning to speak with Herr Professor Waldstein.”
“But Fraulein D’Orage, what if the men come back?”
“They will not be back. They got what they wanted. Lock the door, if it makes you feel better, Frau Schlissel.”
Rusak put his hand on Michelle’s arm and pointed to the door. Biting her bottom lip, she shivered. The bolt had been broken off, leaving the wood shattered behind it.
She took a deep breath. “Frau Schlissel, you might be safest in your room with the door bolted.”
“Be careful.” The housekeeper wrung her hands.
“You can be sure of that.” When Rusak took her arm, she stepped over the fragments of wood littering the carpet and went down the stairs that were shrouded in shadows.
Stay here, he signed when they reached the door to the street. I get carriage.
“All right,” she whispered. When the door closed behind him, she huddled to one side where she could see out the etched window.
Nothing moved on the street. In the distance, she could hear bells tolling the hour. Tears were a hot pressure in her eyes, but she tried to ignore them. It seemed impossible that only a short time before, she had been walking up these stairs with Alexei and they had planned a night of love.
Who? And why? And what would happen now? If Bartholomew had been the one kidnapped, she would guess that his abductors wanted ransom. That could not be why they had taken Alexei. If his captors wanted a ransom, they would not be taking him farther from Russia.
Somehow his enemies had discovered where Alexei was. They must want the information he had. That he would die before revealing any secrets only added to her fear. The cruel man who had taunted her would delight in torturing Alexei. She moaned and pressed her face against the wall.
Rusak tapped her shoulder.
“All set?”
He waved aside her words and signed his own.
“What do you mean the carriage is gone?”
Gone. Carriage. Horses. Gone.
“They took it, didn’t they?” She laughed without mirth. “They wanted to be sure we did not follow too closely. All right, Rusak. Let’s go.”
To teacher?
“We need his help more than ever.” She put her hand on his arm. “They hit you hard. Can you walk there?”
Go now.
Agreeing with his vehemence, Michelle walked with him onto the deserted walkway. It was not far to Herr Professor Waldstein’s house. She hoped the information he could help her understand would offer the clue needed to save Alexei.
If not … she did not know what they would do.
Michelle had passed from pain into a debilitating fatigue by the time they reached Herr Professor Waldstein’s house. Lifting her heavy feet, she climbed the steps. She knocked and glanced worriedly at Rusak. His assertion that he was fine had been a lie. He leaned against the wall and panted.
Impatiently she knocked again. No answer.
“Herr Professor Waldstein?” she called as she banged on the door. “Herr Professor Waldstein, are you here?”
The door was opened a slit by the housekeeper.
“We must see Herr Professor Waldstein immediately,” Michelle said.
“Fraulein, come back tomorrow.”
“We must see the professor. Now!” She pushed the door open.
The housekeeper scowled, but said, “I will see if Hen-Professor Waldstein wishes to speak with you.”
“No need,” came a voice from the dimness at the top of the stairs. Herr Professor Waldstein followed his voice’s bass rumble down the steps as he tied his robe in place. Making no effort to hide his surprise, he asked, “Fraulein, why are you here at his hour?”
“Forgive us for waking you, Herr Professor Waldstein. It is an emergency.”
He touched the unbuttoned cuff of her dress. “I can see that, Fraulein, but why are you coming to me?”
“I cannot understand all that Rusak is trying to tell me. I must understand. It is vital.”
Herr Professor Waldstein signed at Rusak too quickly for her to comprehend. When Rusak nodded, the professor said, “Come to my classroom.” Over his shoulder, he added, “Bring coffee, Matilde. Lots of it, for this may take a while.”
As soon as they were seated at the table as if it were an ordinary lesson, Herr Professor Waldstein said, “You shall ask your questions, Fraulein D’Orage. Feodor, you will sign the answers to me. I want all your concentration on me. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” whispered Michelle as Rusak nodded. Dampening her lips, she clasped her hands on the table. “Who?”
Herr Professor Waldstein watched Rusak’s fingers. “The man’s name is René … René La—”
“René LaTulippe!” cried Michelle.
“Calm yourself, Fraulein D’Orage,” ordered the professor.
She nodded. That one answer told her so much. She recalled the letter she had written to a Monsieur René LaTulippe. Alexei had called him a problem he did not want to deal with. It seemed that the problem had found them. Fear lashed her, but she warned herself to listen to what Herr Professor Waldstein was saying.
“The man’s name is René LaTulippe,” Herr Professor Waldstein continued. “He works for Napoleon.” His forehead rutted as he made some signs back to Rusak. “He is Count Vatutin’s most deadly enemy.”
“Tell me where they are going.”
Although he clearly was curious about what was happening, Herr Professor Waldstein translated, “Either to Geneva or Paris. Most likely Paris, for that is where the Bonapartists are congregating in the hopes of resurrecting Napoleon’s empire and putting Napoleon back onto King Louis’s throne. Because Count Vatutin—” He hesitated, then added quickly, “He betrayed them and helped bring about Napoleon’s downfall.”
“Betrayed them?” That must be why LaTulippe had called Alexei a traitor.
“Count Vatutin,” answered the professor, his eyes wide, “ingratiated himself with Napoleon’s closest advisers
and passed along information to the Allies.”
“How could a Russian infiltrate Napoleon’s inner circle?”
Rusak did not wait for Herr Professor Waldstein to interpret his answer. He grabbed her face and turned it toward him. Not Russian. French.
“Alexei is French?” She gasped. “Being Russian is a disguise?”
Reluctantly Rusak nodded. It was obvious he would have preferred not to divulge that information.
“What is his real name?”
He shook his head.
She understood. He would tell her what was necessary to save Alexei, but no more. Alexei had guarded the secret so well that she had never suspected his name was not his own. So many more questions careened through her head. If Alexei was French, he had hired her for the very reason he had told her so many times. He had come to St. Bernard’s to safeguard her from her mother’s enemies who were seeking her. Was Monsieur LaTulippe that enemy?
“Rusak—” She faltered, wanting to ask if Rusak was his real name. Then she realized it did not matter now. “Do you think it is possible for us to find Alexei in Paris?”
Possible.
“Then we must go there.”
Rusak’s smile became malevolent, and she knew he shared her determination to free Alexei from his captors.
Rising, she said, “Thank you, Herr Professor Waldstein. I doubt if we shall see you again soon.”
Herr Professor Waldstein stood as she did. “Fraulein D’Orage, you cannot be serious about chasing Count Vatutin’s enemies across the Alps.”
“Rusak has experience in these matters. If we do not go, Count Vatutin may die.” Her breath caught on the last word. “Shall we go, Rusak?”
As they left, the teacher said nothing. She suspected he believed that he would never see them alive again. Although she was afraid that he was right, she could not let LaTulippe win. The prize would be Alexei’s life.
Frau Schlissel had regained her composure by the time they returned. She met them at the door. “Come and eat your breakfast.”
Michelle was about to refuse, but Rusak signed, Eat. Need food. Long trip.
As she gulped the coffee that she had craved during the long, cold walk home, Michelle listed what they would need for their trip. The few gold coins she had brought with her from St. Bernard’s would pay for most of their travel. She wished she had taken more from the box.
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