The French Duchess

by Rue Allyn

  “Dieppe is a long walk from here,” Richard said.

  “I don’t suppose we could hire a coach at the first inn we come to?” René asked.

  “What little I have must pay for a ship. I’d rather walk now and be certain of getting across the channel.”

  “You have a point,” her cousin remarked.

  “I suppose walking to Dieppe is a fair trade for being rid of Malveux and his threats.”

  René tilted his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Anything would be better than being at the mercy of a man like Malveux.” Richard offered Mari his arm. Humor and something like tenderness shone in his eyes. “Your grace, may I escort you to Dieppe?”

  Her heart broke. A few more days and she would never again see tenderness from that gray-blue gaze. But she would not let him see her sorrow. She took his arm and smiled. “I am delighted to accept your escort, kind sir.”

  Despite the emptiness of her future, Mari felt light, as she hadn’t felt in the years since Malveux killed her father. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the villain would finally receive the punishment he so richly deserved. Perhaps it was simply being alive

  • • •

  Richard could not relax. Three days ago he, Mari, and René had gotten a ride with a carter in exchange for helping to unload his goods in Dieppe. As the roofs and spires of the town came into view, he could not help but worry. In a perfect world, Malveux was now in chains waiting Bonaparte’s pleasure. Richard did not believe in a perfect world. Malveux was a slippery character. If he could manage to escape, he would. The cur’s first action would be to pursue his revenge. And they had clearly not been headed to Le Havre. Worst case: he lay in wait. Richard strongly believed in preparing for the worst, but without weapons or other resources, he could do little beyond obtaining passage across the channel as quickly as possible.

  While he and René unloaded the carter’s wagon, Richard sent Mari off with most of the coins he’d hoarded to buy passage on the first ship. He warned her to be discreet and quick then meet them at the Turtle Tavern near the quay. They said farewell to the carter and hurried to the tavern, doing a quick reconnaissance of the building and its surroundings before entering. Mari sat inside, still dressed in her male garb, a tankard before her.

  “I hope that’s beer. I am eager to celebrate.” René grasped her tankard and tipped the contents into his mouth. Immediately he dropped the stein to the table, turned his head, and spewed the liquid into the straw that covered the tavern floor. Making a disgusted face, he swiped the back of one hand across his mouth. “That’s lemonade.”

  Mari laughed. “If you’d asked instead of grabbing so rudely, I would have told you.”

  “Ugh.” Her cousin took a chair.

  Smiling, Richard sat. “When does our ship set sail?”

  “Around midnight when the tide turns. Here’s the receipt and your change.” Handing him a few coins, she then turned to her cousin.

  “I managed to persuade a serving woman that beer and wine made me ill. She called me her petit homme pauvre and has been flirting with me ever since. I had to let her kiss me or have my manhood questioned.” Mari wrinkled her nose. “It was mortifying. I’m heartily glad you are here. Please draw her off. She’s promised to give me lessons in kissing and other things when she’s done working today.”

  Richard grinned. Stimulating as the thought of Mari kissing another woman was, he’d much prefer his duchess save her passion for him and him alone.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she ordered.

  He placed a hand on his chest and lifted his brows in mock innocence. “I would never laugh at you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Much,” he added.

  René did laugh. “That image almost makes a mouthful of lemonade worth the bother. Which serving wench do you speak of? The one with the bountiful breasts? Or the one at the bar twitching her hips to attract attention?”

  Mari gaped at him. “René! That is no way to speak to me.”

  Her cousin spoke quietly in her ear, “It is how I would speak to another man.”

  “Oh!” She was grateful for the dim light that hid the heat she knew colored her face.

  “Stop teasing your cousin,” Richard admonished. “It hardly matters which maid you order from. You’ve no time for assignations. We’ll be long gone before the tavern owner lets her go for the night.”

  René sighed. “So much for dallying with a pretty mademoiselle.” He waved one of the wenches over and ordered beer and stew for the table with a request to keep the beer flowing. “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. How anyone survives living on beggar’s fare is beyond me.”

  Richard ground his teeth over the delay. It was early evening. They had close on six hours to wait. “Did you ask if we could board early?” he asked Mari.

  “No more than an hour before departure. It’s another cargo ship, and the captain wasn’t too eager to take us on. I was lucky the ship’s owner was present and insisted on accepting our money. We have the receipt, so the captain cannot refuse us.”

  “That much is good news, but I dislike waiting for so many hours.”

  “We just spent our last sou on a meal, and we’ve made all the preparations possible. You might as well enjoy the stew and some beer,” Mari said.

  “You’re right.” With every passing moment, the likelihood of Malveux’s reappearance grew smaller. It was past time to enjoy the simpler pleasures. Fortunately, the stew was excellent. He consumed two servings before he pushed his dish away and sat back.

  He wished he and Mari were somewhere private. He would make one more try at convincing her that marriage was best for both of them. But there would be plenty of time during the channel crossing.

  The crowd grew raucous. The patrons started betting on a race between two cockroaches. René was bent on joining them. He rose unsteadily.

  Mari caught his arm before he could leave the table. “You have nothing with which to place a bet. Besides we do not wish to draw attention to ourselves. The last thing we need is to get involved with the local constabulary.”

  René shrugged out of her hold then fell back into his seat.

  It was obvious he’d had one too many mugs of beer. Richard waved off the wench bringing another pitcher to their table. René gave him a stony look but said nothing. He simply rested his head on the table and began to snore.

  “Oh dear.”

  “Your cousin appears to have passed out.”

  “Perhaps it’s for the best. He can be very difficult when he’s had too much drink.”

  “If we can’t wake him, we’ll have to carry him.”

  “We managed before when he was ill. We’ll manage again. Our ship isn’t that far from here.”

  A burly man in seaman’s garb approached the table. “Are ye the blokes what bought passage on the Bitter End, a good English ship?”

  Mari nodded.

  “T’ cap’n says ye’r t’ come aboard now.”

  “But I thought . . . ?”

  Richard silenced her with a wave of his hand. “We’ll come along gladly. Could you help us with our friend here?” He gestured at René.

  The man looked around nervously. “Oi gots t’ get back t’ me post. Ye’ll haf t’ bring ‘im yerself.” The man turned about and disappeared through the main entrance.

  What did such a man have to be worried about when carrying out his captain’s orders? The sailor’s behavior might have nothing to do with his errand, or perhaps . . . The hair on the Richard’s nape prickled the way it did in battle when an attacker approached from behind. He scanned the room and chose his target.

  “We need to leave, now.”

  He stood with Mari, and together they lifted one of René’s arms onto each of their shoulders. Why did her cousin have to choose this moment to imbibe too deeply?

  Mari turned toward the main entry.

  “Not that way.” He bent and whispered in her ear, “We need to leave b
y the alley in the back. And try to stumble as if you also have had too much to drink.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “I’m sure you’ll explain all this later.”

  He nodded. “Now is definitely not the time.”

  They lurched away from the table. Richard used the excuse of apparent drunkenness to careen from one side of the aisle to the other making sure to jostle several patrons as he went. He received a number of curses, but only one patron threatened more.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Richard said in the overly precise syllables of a drunk trying to prove he wasn’t. “But our friend here is about to be sick, and we’d like to get him away before he makes the tavern unbearable for everyone.”

  René emitted a loud, foul-smelling belch.

  The man covered his mouth and nose. “Get on with it then and leave decent folk alone.”

  “By all means.” Richard gave him a fool’s grin. The three of them continued lurching their way to the back of the building and into the yard beyond.

  They found themselves beside a midden.

  Mari hastened to the tavern yard wall farthest from the odoriferous garbage heap. She released her side of René to let him lean against the wall. “I need clean air,” she gasped. Then she dragged herself off to where the gate stood open into the alley.

  Richard took on more of René’s weight and marched after her.

  She sucked in great gulps of alleyway air that was only marginally sweeter. “I swear, I don’t know which is worse, that heap of offal and rotting food or my own cousin. If beer makes a man stink so much, I vow I will never imbibe or go near a man who does.”

  Richard leaned against a gatepost and smiled. “Not all beers are the same. Some produce a very pleasant scent. You should sample some other brews. I hear apple ale has an especially sweet odor.”

  She glared at him. “I do not care to risk the bad while trying to identify the good. What in the world possessed you to leave the tavern by this exit?”

  “I believe that sailor was not sent by his captain but by Malveux in an attempt to lure us into a trap.”

  Her hand went to her throat. “Malveux? How could that be? Did you see him?”

  Richard shook his head. “No. However, he could have escaped his captors and made his way here.”

  “But you don’t know for certain he lies in wait for us?” Impatience frowned on her face.

  “I don’t know that he does not. I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  She sighed. “I suppose it matters little which exit we chose to leave the tavern, but what do we do now? If the captain of the Bitter End did not send that sailor, he won’t let us aboard the ship for several hours. If Malveux truly does lie in wait and we do not come out of the tavern, he will search for us. If we linger here, anyone could see us and tell the first person who asked.”

  “And that person is likely to be Malveux or a cohort,” Richard finished the train of thought for her.

  “Richard.” Tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. “I’m scared. We’ve come so far, and if René and I don’t make it home, who will take care of Aunt Vivienne? She’s not at all practical and doesn’t have the good sense of a baby rabbit.”

  The niece was almost as unrealistic as the aunt. Mari was perhaps the most impractical woman he’d ever met. No woman with any good sense would have embarked on the rescue mission that Mari saw as her bound duty. Although he must give her credit for attempting to protect her identity.

  But practicality and good sense were highly overrated. He wouldn’t have this woman be anything other than what she was. Brave, generous, loyal, heartbreakingly kind, and a fierce defender of those she loved. Once they were out of this situation, he would do everything he could to earn a place among those she defended. It would be the blessing of a lifetime to spend all his years by her side. If only she would allow it.

  “You are smart to be frightened.”

  “What?” She gave him a quizzical frown. Her lips pursed in a way that made him long to kiss her.

  “Every soldier goes into battle knowing he might not survive. Fear is what gives us a fighting chance. It keeps us from throwing ourselves in front of bullets and bayonets and urges us to approach danger with caution. Bravery is what moves us forward when fear suggests retreat would be better.”

  Her lips curled. “In this case, retreat is not an option. I don’t think bravery has anything to do with it.”

  “There is that.”

  “So, if we cannot retreat, what do we do? Throw ourselves at the bayonets and bullets you believe Malveux has waiting for us?”

  “No. Given that René is essentially dead weight, we need to go around any possible trap. We’ll head for the ship and force our way aboard if need be.”

  “With what weapon?”

  “With these.” He pulled a cutlass and pistol, hidden by his coat, from his belt.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “Remember the large man who objected to being jostled? I, er, borrowed them from him.”

  “You stole them,” she hissed, her eyes wide.

  “Well, I didn’t think he’d be willing to just give them to me, and I couldn’t pay him.” He handed her the pistol.

  She shook her head and smiled. “You are the most amazing man.”

  His heart swelled. Perhaps he had a chance of convincing her to marry him.

  “We’ve lingered too long. Are you recovered enough to shoulder your cousin?”

  “I’ll do anything I must to get us home safe and sound.”

  “Good girl.” Unable to resist, he gave her a quick kiss then adjusted his grip on René.

  Mari moved to her cousin’s other side, and together they stepped cautiously into the alley.

  He might be darting at shadows, but in seven years of war his instincts had never failed him. Keeping Marielle safe was the most important thing he would ever do. He would give his life for hers gladly. For a life without her would be worthless.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mari’s shoulders ached from carrying René, even though she knew Richard had taken the greater part of her cousin’s weight.

  For the moment, her cousin was propped beside her against the wall of a building that fronted the quay. Night had fallen while they were in the tavern, and the long walk down the alley had been fraught with dangers. Discarded objects and refuse littered the entire length. Clouds had covered the moon, and since the buildings on the alley housed mostly businesses, warehouses, and taverns, very few back windows were lit.

  A dozen times she considered giving up and turning back. Let Malveux find them and do his worst. But she knew she could not let everyone down. Her aunt, René, and, most of all, Richard were counting on her to do her part. She’d bitten her lips raw to avoid crying out when she stumbled over some dark object or saw a rat skittering by. She concentrated on Richard’s encouraging words and the fleeting touch of his lips on hers.

  They’d managed to get to the end without arousing notice or encountering anyone. She doubted they’d remain so lucky. The quay was alive with activity. Torches in stands or attached to buildings lit the night. Even the area next to the walls was free of shadows.

  “I don’t suppose the Bitter End is closest to this end of the quay?” Richard asked.

  “The owner, from whom I purchased our passage, informed me the ship was at the seaward end of the quay so it could get a fast start once the tide began to turn.”

  “That puts it farthest away from us.” Richard took another peek beyond the edge of the building where they hid. “Most of the activity involves men moving cargo onto ships. I doubt any time will be better than now. Remember to move casually, as if you belong here and are just helping to return a drunken man to his ship.

  “I’ll do my best.” She took her position at René’s side.

  At a leisurely pace, they moved out of the darkness and onto the quay. No one seemed to take any notice of them. Still Mari could not relax. Her gaze darted here and there looking
for some sign that Malveux was nearby. What she expected to find she could not say.

  “Stop looking around so much,” Richard said from the corner of his mouth. “No one who belongs in a place takes note of familiar surroundings.”

  “You’re right.” She focused on the end of the quay. They’d passed the intersection of the street with the quay and covered most of the distance with only a few yards to go.

  “Vous arrêter!”

  Hasty footsteps clattered behind them.

  “Stop those men. They are wanted for murder.”

  From entirely too near, Malveux’s voice sent chills down her spine. She nearly froze. No, not now. Not with our goal in sight.

  “Run,” Richard shouted. “Take René and get aboard that ship. I’ll hold them off.”

  “Nooo.” He was going to throw himself at the bullets and bayonets. He’d get himself killed, and it would be her fault.

  René’s total weight sagged against her and nearly brought her down. She could not fail Richard. She shoved upward and raced forward with a burst of energy. Sailors crowded the gangway.

  “Give ’im to us. We’ll get ’im aboard.” She shoved her cousin at the reaching arms. Malveux would not be allowed to kill Richard or hurt her family. She turned and saw Richard engaged in combat with Malveux and a constable. A second constable already lay at Richard’s feet.

  Her heart filled her throat. She still had the pistol.

  But she didn’t have a clear shot.

  Richard disarmed the constable, which left an opening for Malveux. The Frenchman’s sabre sped downward. Richard leapt back. The sabre sliced through Richard’s clothing to leave a gash that bled freely. Too freely. Richard parried Malveux’s next stroke and the next and the next. But he was losing too much blood. He was tiring. Mari could see triumph gleam in Malveux’s mad gaze.

  Richard slipped and went down, cutlass still raised.

  Mari lifted the pistol and aimed.