Taken by the Rake (The Scarlet Chronicles, #3)
Page 28
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“We have him now,” Sir Andrew Ffoulkes said, slapping a stack of papers on the table where Alex sat cleaning her pistol.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s unwise to startle a woman holding a loaded weapon?”
Ffoulkes glanced at the pistol. “My nanny drilled it into me daily, but your pistol isn’t loaded.”
“This one is.” She pointed to the one she’d finished cleaning and set aside.
“In any case, you heard me come in.” He took a seat opposite her in the cozy attic room above the house she’d rented on a narrow street off the Boulevard du Temple.
The new safe house was close to the theater, which made it convenient for work. It was also near the lodgings of other actors, which made it inconvenient. She’d taken it anyway because the attic was large enough to accommodate half a dozen and the house was built in such a way so that the uppermost room was not visible from the street below. The National Guard had a penchant for searching private residences, usually in order to loot weapons and food, but they often stumbled upon fugitives and former nobles in hiding as well.
Before Alex had moved in, with Lord Edward Hastings acting as her lover, several agents of the Scarlet Pimpernel had made structural changes to the house so that secret panels opened in the walls allowing access to the attic from an internal stairwell. They’d also created an exit from the cellar to the alley behind the house. Washing was always conveniently hung out to dry here, providing cover so the members of the League might leave without being easily spotted.
Then they’d furnished the attic with a small stove for warmth, three narrow beds, a dresser, a wash stand and basin, a table and chairs, and an escritoire with a very wobbly leg Honoria complained about whenever the table and chairs were full and she was forced to use it to make forged documents. Alex rather liked the attic space and spent more time here than she needed, considering she had access to the entire house at any time. The room was small and dark but comfortable.
Except for the fetters hanging on the wall.
But she preferred not to look at those or consider their purpose. This was the fifth safe house Alex had lived in over the past year, and she was rather weary of moving. She was rather weary of Paris, but the Pimpernel needed her for this mission. She could not let him or the little king down.
At present, only she and Ffoulkes occupied the attic space. Dewhurst had gone out with Hastings and Honoria and her marquis were resting—or so they’d said—in the bedroom below. The other members of the League had moved to another safe house. Alex did not know where it was, and she did not want to know.
A week or so ago, she had passed Sir Edward Mackenzie on the street, but they had not even glanced at each other.
She had heard Sir Andrew Ffoulkes come in. He’d used the lever that rang a bell in the attic when one of their own entered through the cellar door. She hadn’t known it was he, but she was glad to see Ffoulkes rather than Dewhurst or Hastings. Ffoulkes had been with the Pimpernel.
“Whom do you have?” she asked now, laying her pistol down and peering at the stack of folded papers.
“Chevalier.”
She raised a brow.
“The Pimpernel met with him today, and he gave us these letters copied from Robespierre’s personal correspondence. I glanced at them and they’re quite damning. And so you see, Tristan Chevalier is not the pinnacle of loyalty you thought him to be.”
“Did the Pimpernel tell you that or is that a conclusion you have come to on your own?”
Ffoulkes tapped the papers. “He gave us these papers to be used against Robespierre.”
She shook her head. “He gave those papers to a man he thinks is a patriot like himself because he wants to stop the reign of terror his superior has unleashed on France. Had he known that man was the Pimpernel or a royalist sympathizer, he would have sent him to the guillotine without a second thought.”
“Even if it compromised him in the process?”
“Yes!” Chevalier was absolutely one for sacrifice. She had known that about him the first time she had seen him.
“I think not.”
She rose and paced the attic. “Because you haven’t looked him in the eye. I have, and I promise you, Chevalier is the wrong man. He will not help us. He will die first.”
“The Pimpernel does not agree.”
She rounded on Ffoulkes. “Did you tell the Pimpernel him I wished to speak to him?”
Ffoulkes leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs. “Yes, and he thinks that is unwise at the moment. He asks you to trust his judgment and proceed with the plan.”
She glanced toward the corner of the attic and the fetters that hung there. “And if I refuse?” She gazed directly at Ffoulkes.
Ffoulkes shrugged as though they’d had this conversation a dozen times before, which they had. “Then we send Honoria.”
Alex stood at the table and placed her palms flat. “The result will be the same. He will not betray his country or his principles. You know I am no coward.”
“No one would ever accuse you of lacking courage, Alex. You’ve done more for our cause than—”
Alex cut him off. She didn’t need platitudes and compliments. “Then you know my objection does not stem from fear.”
“Then what is it?” Ffoulkes stood, his endless patience finally breaking. “Right here we have all we need to blackmail him.” He pointed to the papers. “Everything we have worked toward for weeks is in place. We won’t have another opportunity like this.”
“I know but—”
“But what?”
“I don’t know.” She threw up her hands. “I have a bad feeling.”
Ffoulkes cursed under his breath. Even though he knew she was no lady, he still always afforded her the courtesies he would have given to a lady. “A bad feeling. The entire country has a bad feeling, most especially the condemned sitting in their cells, waiting for the tumbrels to take them to the guillotine in the morning.”
“Listen, Andrew, have I ever opposed a mission before?”
“Yes! You oppose every single one!”
She gave him a flat look. “I play devil’s advocate until we have the details fine-tuned. I am not playing devil’s advocate this time. This time I am stating, for the record, that this mission is doomed.”
“So noted.” Ffoulkes pretended to make a check on the documents before him. “Now, let’s discuss the plan for the festivities tomorrow afternoon.”
Alex sat, leaned her chin on her hand, and tried not to think of this as her last night of freedom.
The next morning she arrived at the theater early, only to discover that in light of the cancellation of Julius Caesar, her presence was not required. The managers were discussing which of the plays approved by the Committee of Public Safety they might present instead, which really meant those plays that hadn’t already been performed all over the city a hundred times.
“I have no great love for Shakespeare, but I do have a fondness for bread.” Élodie, one of the other actresses in the company, followed Alex back into the street. “They may debate the play for days and in the meantime, we starve.”
It was true. If the actors were not performing, the theater was not taking in money, and no one was paid. With winter coming, everyone was keenly aware of the shortage of flour for bread and wood for fires.
“Deville and the others will figure out something,” Alex said, trying to sound reassuring, though she had no great expectations and not a little guilt at her role in the current crisis. The theater had been floundering for some time now, and if it wasn’t for the financial support of the Scarlet Pimpernel, Alex herself would be hungry.
“That is easy for you to say.” Élodie sniffed. “You have a man to look after you. I have only creditors, and if I cannot pay them with coin, they demand payment through other
means.” She plucked at her wilted tricolor cockade, the symbol of the patriots. “I thought this revolution would help the poor. Instead, I find it has impoverished me!”
“Shh!” Alex grabbed Élodie’s arm and dragged her aside. “You take your life in your hands to criticize the government so openly.”
“So then I should wither away quietly and without protest?” Élodie put a hand to her forehead.
Alex suppressed a smile at the other actress’s dramatics. “Will you go to the festival today?”
“What are we celebrating? The beet root or is it the cricket?”
It might have been any of those. The republican government had created its own calendar and religion. Instead of honoring saints on each day, plants, animals, and minerals were honored. Today was a festival that made no sense to anyone but those who had organized it.
“There will be food and drink. Come for that alone.”
“I will go if you go,” Élodie said, twining her arm with Alex’s. “Walk with me?”
Alex had not meant to attach herself to Élodie for the walk to the festival, but she would not resist such a pairing. The more she was seen in the company of those who had nothing to hide, the better. “Yes. I will come to your house at two.”
“Do not be silly! Your house is on the way. I will fetch you.” And with a quick kiss on both her cheeks, Élodie was gone. Alex watched her go, dreading the hours before her, hours she would spend making herself into a woman Tristan Chevalier could not resist.
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Also by Shana Galen
REGENCY SPIES
While You Were Spying
When Dashing Met Danger
Pride and Petticoats
MISADVENTURES IN MATRIMONY
No Man’s Bride
Good Groom Hunting
Blackthorne’s Bride
The Pirate Takes a Bride
SONS OF THE REVOLUTION
The Making of a Duchess
The Making of a Gentleman
The Rogue Pirate’s Bride
JEWELS OF THE TON
If You Give a Duke a Diamond
If You Give a Rake a Ruby
Sapphires are an Earl’s Best Friend
LORD AND LADY SPY
Lord and Lady Spy
The Spy Wore Blue (novella)
True Spies
Love and Let Spy
All I Want for Christmas is Blue (novella)
The Spy Beneath the Mistletoe (novella)
COVENT GARDEN CUBS
Viscount of Vice (novella)
Earls Just Want to Have Fun
The Rogue You Know
I Kissed a Rogue
THE SURVIVORS
Third Son’s a Charm
No Earls Allowed
An Affair with a Spare
Unmask Me if You Can
The Claiming of the Shrew (coming April 2019)
THE SCARLET CHRONICLES
Traitor in Her Arms
To Ruin a Gentleman
Taken by the Rake
To Tempt a Rebel (coming March 2019)
STANDALONES AND ANTHOLOGIES
Mrs. Brodie’s Academy for Extraordinary Young Ladies (duo)
Stealing the Duke‘s Heart (duet)
The Summer of Wine and Scandal (novella)
A Royal Christmas (duet)
The Dukes of Vauxhall (anthology)
A Grosvenor Square Christmas (anthology)