Taken by the Rake (The Scarlet Chronicles, #3)

by Shana Galen

  But once they entered the floor where Madame Royal and her aunt resided, they did come across two guards. They were crouching by the doorway, throwing dice, but they stood immediately when the party approached.

  “Citoyens,” Laurent said, doing his best to make his accent coarser. “I’m to escort these maids to Citoyenne Capet’s room. They will collect her linen and replace it with fresh linen.”

  The guards looked from Laurent to Honoria and then Ernestine, who held the hamper and stared down at it.

  “The prisoners wash their own clothing and linen,” one of the guards, a lad who could not have been older than sixteen said. “That’s on the order of Citoyen Robespierre.”

  “Orders have changed,” Laurent said. “We are to confiscate the prisoners’ linen and replace it with that of the republic.”

  “I haven’t seen you before,” said the other guard. He was older, closer to forty, and he looked directly at Honoria. “I’d remember a face like yours.”

  Saints! She knew her looks would cause her in trouble. “Citoyen Robespierre replaced the other maids with us.”

  The guard narrowed his eyes, and Honoria felt she should say something more. “Will you allow us to pass? We must wash the linen before we can go for the night, and the hour grows late.”

  “Where are your papers? Your orders?” asked the older guard.

  Honoria fought the urge to run, to flee. They hadn’t discussed what to say in this situation. “They are with the captain of the guards,” she said, hoping that was what the servants did with papers. Or were they required to carry them at all times?

  “I’ll wait while you fetch them.”

  “No need for that,” Laurent said. “I have them right here.” He reached into his coat and brought out what might have been the handle of an axe at one time. Now he swung it at the older guard, hitting him across the face before he could respond. The younger guard called out and raced for his bayonet, resting in a corner, but Honoria tripped him, then jumped on him to hold him down. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping Laurent had incapacitated the first man, but the two were fighting—and rather loudly—over the axe handle. Laurent still had it but the guard had his hand wrapped around Laurent’s wrist as he tried to wrench the weapon away.

  The guard beneath Honoria recovered from his fall and tried to buck her off him. She thudded on the ground, then grabbed him about the neck, trying to push him back down again. He rose, and she hung on to his neck, trying to cut off his air. His elbow made contact with her belly, and she let out a whoosh of air, but she wouldn’t let go of him. Lurching like a monster from a child’s nightmare, he started for his bayonet.

  Honoria squeezed his neck tighter, knowing if he reached the bayonet, she would have no chance. She tried to pull him back down, but he was taller and stronger, and he pulled her inexorably closer to the weapon.

  “Laurent!” she called.

  “One. Moment.” His voice was filled with frustration, and she knew he still fought the other guard. Honoria made one more attempt to put the guard off balance. He stumbled, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Just then Ernestine rushed past them, grabbed the bayonet and swung it at the guard.

  Honoria released him and rolled away. When she rose on her knees, Ernestine was facing the guard, bayonet pointed at him.

  “Give me that,” the boy demanded.

  Ernestine flicked a gaze to Honoria, but what could she do? Still, she understood the terror in the girl’s eyes. She didn’t want to run him through. “Hit him with the butt,” Honoria told her.

  Ernestine turned the weapon and struck just as the lad made to snatch it. The butt end of the weapon hit him in the shoulder, knocking him back, but not rendering him unconscious.

  “Again!” Honoria called.

  With a little cry, Ernestine hit him again, this time landing a blow on his temple. Blood streamed from the wound, but the lad was not incapacitated. He grasped the weapon and tried to jerk it away. Honoria raced to Ernestine’s aid, and the two of them managed to keep hold of the weapon. But this could not go on. Any moment someone would hear the commotion or an alarm would sound. They had to deal with these guards quickly, get the princess, and get out.

  As though the young guard read her mind, he opened his mouth and yelled, “Help! We’re under attack!”

  Honoria tried again to free the bayonet from his grasp, but she couldn’t manage it. The boy opened his mouth to scream again, and the weapon was torn from Honoria’s hands. Laurent smashed the butt down on the lad’s head, and he crumpled to the floor. Silent at last.

  Honoria stared at the young guard and then at the older one. He too lay in a heap on the floor, blood matting his hair where a blow had struck home.

  “Hurry,” Laurent ordered. “If anyone heard him, we’re done for.”

  He grabbed the hamper and stuffed it in Honoria’s arms, then he opened the door to Marie-Thérèse’s room. It was sparsely furnished, but not entirely devoid of comforts. The walls boasted paper-hangings of green flowers on a blue background. The fireplace was not lit, and the room was cold and dark, shrouding the couch, table, and chairs in shadow. Just past Laurent, Honoria saw two women huddled at the far end, obviously afraid of the commotion they’d heard outside. But as soon as they saw Laurent, they cried out with happiness. “Monsieur!” the older one, who must be Madame Élisabeth, cried.

  “Montagne,” said the young woman, whose face lit with a smile. “Have you come to save us?”

  “I’ve come to rescue you and take you to Vienna. We must hurry before we are discovered.”

  “But Ernestine! What is she doing here?”

  Ernestine gave a deep curtsy. “I am here to take your place, Highness. We must change clothes and then I will stay while you are taken to safety in Vienna.”

  “But what of my brother and my aunt?” Marie-Thérèse asked, her blue eyes widening with concern.

  “We will take your brother as soon as you are safely away,” Laurent said. Honoria saw Ernestine’s head snap toward him, but she said nothing. “As for your aunt, she is welcome to come with us. In that case, there is no reason for Mademoiselle de Lambriquet to stay.”

  Madame Élisabeth shook her head. “Your plan is a good one. And you know me well enough, monsieur, to know I will never leave my country. France is my home, not Austria.”

  “Then I will stay too,” Marie-Thérèse said, clinging to her aunt.

  “No.” Her aunt took her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You must leave. Louis Charles will need your help when he returns to restore the monarchy.” She looked at the small group. “If I am not mistaken, the plan is to leave Ernestine here in your stead. The patriots will be fooled into thinking they still have you to use as a bargaining chip.”

  “Exactly,” Laurent said. “Marie-Thérèse, I once promised you I would come back if ever you needed me. I am here, and though I have not spoken with your parents, I know they would want you to go with me.”

  “Please hurry,” Ernestine begged.

  The princess straightened her back and nodded her head. It was impossible to know what she might be thinking, whether to wonder if her parents were still alive, if she’d ever see her aunt again, or if she deserved the sacrifice Ernestine made for her. Instead, she nodded at Laurent. “If you will give us a moment’s privacy?”

  He turned his back, and Ernestine and Marie-Thérèse quickly traded outer garments. Madame Élisabeth and Honoria helped with pins and tapes and soon Ernestine stood beside the king’s sister and the princess stood beside Honoria. Laurent turned and the little princess rushed into his arms, sobbing.

  He whispered to her and patted her shoulder, then he motioned to Honoria. She opened the door and peered outside. The two guards were exactly where they had fallen. She nodded to him and with a last goodbye and a word of thanks for Ernestine, the three exited the room and closed the door. Honoria stifled a sob at the thought of Ernestine inside the prison cell, but she would think of that later. At the moment, h
er concern was helping Marie-Thérèse to safety.

  She handed the hamper to the princess. “Take this. Keep your head down and don’t speak to anyone.”

  “Follow me,” Laurent said. He led them deftly through the winding maze of the Temple, leading them back down into the dungeon. When they reached the entrance, they opened the door and called to Lord Anthony. He sprinted up the steps and bowed to the princess.

  “Madame Royale, if you would accompany me, I will help see you safely away from here.”

  “But Montagne?” she asked, looking at Laurent.

  Lord Anthony gave Laurent a warning look. “Don’t do anything foolish, monsieur.”

  Laurent ignored him and put a hand on Marie-Thérèse’s shoulder. “I must go back for your brother. I will join you soon, and you and Louis Charles will have a joyous reunion, yes?”

  She nodded, tears in her eyes.

  “I knew you would never follow the plan. You’ll get yourself killed. Miss Blake, come with us.”

  Marie-Thérèse looked at Honoria, then Laurent. Honoria stepped back. “I’ll go with the marquis. He’ll need my help if we’re approached by guards.” She bent and lifted the hamper.

  “Honoria, don’t be a fool. Come with us,” Lord Anthony demanded.

  “You should go,” Laurent added. “It’s safer.”

  “Is Mademoiselle de Lambriquet safe?” she demanded. “Will you be safe?” She shook her head. “I will see this through.”

  Lord Anthony swore. “I’ll send the princess ahead with Mackenzie and see if I can secure another conveyance for you. I’ll give you an hour. After that, I’ll assume you’ve been made a permanent resident.” He offered his arm to the princess. She looked at Laurent, then reached up and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked at Honoria. “Both of you.” Finally, she took Lord Anthony’s arm and descended the stairs into the dungeon.

  Laurent closed the door and looked at Honoria. “One more time. This time we strike first. We give the guards no chance to ask us questions.”

  “Agreed.”

  She hefted the hamper and carried it in front of her as she followed Laurent. She would not be able to carry it back down. The original plan had been to secrete the dauphin inside it, using the linen to make a lump in his bed so the guards who looked in would think the boy asleep. But even the weight of the young dauphin would make the hamper too unwieldy for her to manage. Perhaps no one would see them and wonder why a guard carried a hamper instead of a maidservant.

  Although this was her second trip to the Tower, she still did not recognize the path Laurent took. She followed him blindly, concentrating on keeping the hamper from dragging on the floor. Then Laurent rounded a corner and stopped abruptly. Honoria all but ran into him before looking up and past him.

  “There they are!” The older guard from outside Marie-Thérèse’s cell pointed to them. A half dozen other guards turned to look at them.

  “Merde,” Laurent said. Then, “Run!”

  Twenty-Two

  Laurent grabbed the hamper from Honoria and threw it in the guards’ path. It wouldn’t slow them much, but it would give him and Honoria a head start. He knew several paths to the dungeons, and he took the most circuitous, hoping to lose the guards before they reached the dungeon. The last thing he needed was for them to discover the secret passage. He would need it if he were to make another attempt to rescue the dauphin.

  They ran past stone walls, some covered with frayed tapestries, but most bare. Doors were closed on either side, and few lanterns burned, so that they were all but shrouded in gloom.

  But Laurent knew exactly where he was. All those nights he’d spent with Charles Philippe in this drafty building had paid off. He would save Honoria and himself. She had fallen behind him, and he reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her to keep pace with him. Finally, he rounded a corner and pushed her against a wall. “Shh!”

  He listened intently for the sound of booted feet following. He heard nothing but Honoria’s gasps for breath. “And...I...wanted to...be more...than...a pretty face.”

  “You are that, my sweet,” he said, kissing her quickly on the lips. “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her after him again. He hated leaving little Louis Charles, but he had no choice. He would see Honoria safely away, see Marie-Thérèse settled in Vienna, and then come back for the dauphin. “Down these stairs,” he said, motioning at the landing before them.

  “I’m hopelessly lost,” she said.

  “We’re almost there,” he reassured her, though after descending the stairs they would have to cut across the main floor of the Temple and then back to where the dungeons lay. He hadn’t taken this route before because the chance of encountering guards was greater, but there was no point in worrying her. He wouldn’t allow her to fall, whether from a building or into enemy hands. He would get her out because he’d said he would.

  And he always made good on his promises.

  They started down the steps, Laurent first and Honoria right behind him. The steps curved around, making their path down a blind one. Unfortunately, that meant as soon as they rounded a corner, they spotted the guards waiting for them on the other side.

  “Back up!” Laurent yelled. “Back!”

  Honoria lifted her skirts and ran back the way they’d come. This time the echo of boots and shouts of halt were almost deafening.

  But Laurent wasn’t out of tricks yet. There was more than one secret passageway.

  When Honoria made to leave the stairs at the landing, Laurent took her waist and pushed her up higher. “To the gallery,” he said, indicating the open air walkway the royal family had been allowed to use at one time. She ran higher, but she was flagging, and he passed her, grabbing her hand and pulling her. When they reached the gallery, Laurent closed the door, but there was no way to bolt it from the outside. “Run across!” he directed.

  She followed him, and Laurent tried to ignore the shouts of pedestrians on the streets below. They were seen now, but they would disappear soon enough if he could only reach the far side of the gallery and the turret.

  The door behind them slammed open, spewing forth guards, just as he reached the other side. He yanked the door open, pulled Honoria inside, then slammed it shut. This time he bolted it. He pulled her down the narrow steps until he reached the landing. There he pulled on a wall sconce, and a panel in the wall opened up.

  “Another secret passage?” she gasped.

  “Yes. This one leads to the main building. From there I can find my way to the dungeon and back out.” The passage was very narrow, and only one person could fit at a time. “I’ll go first and you follow.”

  She jumped as the guards who had been chasing them reached the opposite side of the gallery and attempted to break the door down.

  “What about the door? The guards will discover it.”

  “Artois and I were never able to discover the mechanism to close it from inside. It only opens and closes from the sconce. There’s nothing to be done for that.”

  She shook her head and took a step back. Panic rose in Laurent’s chest. Was the pounding of the guards growing louder? “Honoria, hurry!”

  “Go, Laurent,” she said, looking far too calm. “This is the only way. Get out and take Marie-Thérèse to Vienna. We’ll never make it if the guards discover the secret passage.”

  “No!” He held his hand out. “I don’t care about that. Come with me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, stepping out of his reach. And then she pushed the sconce back and the door slammed shut.

  LAURENT STOOD COMPLETELY still for three hard heartbeats, staring at the wall now separating him and Honoria. Why the devil had she done it? Why had she doomed herself to capture?

  Even as he thought the words he heard the crack of broken wood and the thump of the guards’ boots as they started down the steps. Honoria had no way out now. He wanted to yell, to rail, to force her to open the door again, but then he would only
doom himself along with her.

  He hated her for this sacrifice. It wasn’t to end this way. He should be the one to be captured, not her. He should be the one guillotined, not her. He’d led a useless life and deserved to die, but Honoria—sweet, compassionate, selfless Honoria—should live a long full life.

  He heard the guards’ muffled voices and Honoria’s reply. She screamed, and then he didn’t hear anything.

  Clutching his head in his hands, he screamed silently. Had they killed her? Hit her? Taken her to their commander? Without her by his side he felt suddenly bereft. He needed her. More than he’d realized.

  A part of him wanted to believe this was for the best. She’d ensured he would be able to see Marie-Thérèse safely under her cousin the emperor’s protection. Once he would have believed saving Madame Royale the most important thing he’d ever done. Honoria was just a commoner. What did her life matter? But something strange had happened to him, because he no longer valued a royal life above that of a commoner’s. Had he become a patriot? Had Robespierre’s twisted rhetoric finally won him over? Or was it something else?

  He’d made a promise to Marie-Thérèse that he would rescue her. But he’d made a promise to Honoria too. He’d promised never to let her fall, and she was falling now, if only figuratively.

  He had to go back for her.

  He raced down the narrow stairway and out into the courtyard. He ducked back into the shadows, but the guards were too busy in the Grande Tower with their new prisoner. No one watched the courtyard, although two guards did stand at the entrance and exit. Laurent moved quietly, staying in the shadows, until he had wound his way back to the gardens. As he approached, he saw Dewhurst pacing outside the temple, watching the tablet that opened to the secret passage.

  “Dewhurst,” he hissed. The man spun around, hand on the butt of his pistol. Laurent stepped into the light.

  “What the hell happened?” Dehwurst asked. “I heard a commotion.”

  “When we reached the floor housing the dauphin, the guards were waiting for us.” He held up a hand. “I know. I should have followed the plan, but it’s too late for that. The guards have Honoria.”