“Good, very good, Raoul, and a great relief.”
“I wanted to tell you and to advise you to be careful. The colonel grows more and more interested in you. Why did you not just bed him and be done with it?”
“Because I am not sure I would have survived his attention. Madame Rostine warned me, but I could see it myself. He is brutal if he is not satisfied, and his kind never is.”
“You will be careful, then?”
“Of course I will. Thank you for the warning, if not the good-bye. I cannot imagine Le Havre without you.”
“You have a new plan for tonight?” he asked, avoiding, as usual, anything that was at all sentimental.
“There is no plan for tonight but for sleep. In the morning.”
“It is not as straightforward as last night’s plan, is it?”
“No. More a deep disguise that will fool anyone who is still awake enough to approach us.”
“You have found more of the children, then?”
She nodded.
“And your prize is as much an actor as we are?”
She shrugged. “Desperation awakens all kinds of talents and sensibilities.”
As if on cue, they heard a commotion on the stairs, someone racing up as though followed by a troop of demons, and then a pounding on the door. Without a word Charlotte stood up. The door slammed open as she stepped closer to Raoul and into his arms.
GABE RESTED HIS ARM on the kitchen table and stared into the fire, mesmerized by the glimmering of the coals as they cooled. The coals were like his fear, reduced to a manageable glow but never fully smothered. Even now in the safety of the house, he could feel fear in the pit of his stomach, and an ache at the back of his head.
There was no damn clock in the room and no way of knowing how long Charlotte had been gone. He had suggested a card game at least an hour ago, but Georges had shaken his head. He appeared as stoic as a Spartan warrior. No need to worry about Charlotte, his expression said. She knows exactly what she is doing. Gabe wondered if that included sleeping with the guard captain.
He could tell, by the sound of footsteps, that they were not alone in the house. Georges did not respond at all to the noise. Odd. Gabe turned to him even as a small snore drew his attention. Georges was asleep standing up.
“Georges,” he called quietly, and the man opened his eyes instantly, his whole body jerking awake. He looked embarrassed, and Gabe laughed. “Do you see now that you can trust me? I could have bashed you over the head and escaped quite easily.”
Georges nodded, a flush coloring his face.
Gabe stood up, deciding instantly to press his advantage. “The children are already here, are they not?”
Georges looked at the door to the main part of the house.
“No, they have not been to see me. I can hear them. Scampering is the only way to describe how they sound. Add to that the kind of giggling sounds a little girl would specialize in, and one other, a boy. Only two, I think. I do believe that they are chasing the cat. If you wish to check on them, then I will come with you.”
Georges shook his head.
“Or promise to wait here until you return.”
“No,” Georges said firmly.
“Then do fall asleep again,” Gabe invited in a silky voice. “I will wake you if anything should require your attention. Did you know you snore?”
Georges did not react at all to the half insult. He checked his timepiece and pulled out his pipe.
“Has Charlotte been gone too long? Should we be worried?”
“Non,” Georges replied. “She has only been gone an hour.”
“You know,” Gabe continued, “if she is protecting us, then we must, in our turn, do what we can to protect her.” He held out his hand. “My name is Gabriel Pennistan. I am from Derbyshire. Do you know it?”
Georges shook his head. “You nag more than a fishwife. But like all women there are rare occasions when you make sense.” He stared at the floor a moment. “I am from Gradsbourg.”
“Ah yes, one of those European principalities ensnared by Napoleon.” Gabe took his turn ignoring an insult, delighted with the information. Something, anything was a beginning.
“He destroyed us in one battle, barely noted.”
“You fought hard and lost many. I read of it. You should be proud even in defeat.”
Georges did not appear to be convinced.
Gabriel banged a fist on the table. “It’s the truth, not false praise.”
“My brother and cousin both died,” Georges said, unmoved by Gabriel’s vehemence. “I was nowhere near home at the time.”
“Were you already working with Charlotte?”
“Yes,” he said with the kind of inflection that meant there was more to the story than that.
“How long have you known her?” Gabe asked with casual interest.
“Longer than you have.”
Gabe laughed. This was like the riddles he and Olivia used to play with her governess. “Longer than three days? Odd. I would have said more like three years.”
“Longer. She was a lovely young lady when I met her.” Georges’s face gave the words a wistful edge.
“She isn’t lovely anymore.”
Georges narrowed his eyes.
Perhaps it was best not to play riddles with his jailer. “She is beyond lovely. Amazing, generous, resourceful.” Suspicious, secretive, hard. He kept those harsher aspects to himself.
Georges nodded.
“Does she think she can save the world?”
“Yes, monsieur, she does.” Georges smiled, actually smiled; then drew on his pipe. “I have convinced her to settle for this small corner of it.”
“What is here that is so important to her?”
“She wishes only to make the world a better place, monsieur.”
“Did Charlotte tell you of Dr. Borgos?” Gabe asked, angry at the way Georges was using the doctor’s words to make her actions seem valorous.
“No. Doctor who?”
“You look confused,” and since it was the first time Georges had asked him a question, Gabe actually believed he was telling the truth. “Dr. Borgos was a friend of mine who believed firmly in the need to make the world a better place.”
“Then he and Madame would have much in common.” Georges nodded and continued, “She has sacrificed a great deal to—”
Georges stopped speaking and Gabriel swore aloud as someone pushed through the outer door after the briefest of knocks. A man stumbled into the entryway, panting, coughing so deeply that Gabe feared for his heart.
Gabe stood up, the banked coal of his fear whipped into flame by a single knock on the door. He put his hand on his weapon and would have rushed forward, but Georges waved him back into a corner. Gabe felt like a coward but followed the order. He could not be easily seen there, and the fewer who saw him, the safer Charlotte would be. He leaned against the wall, not so far away that he could not help Georges if it was needed.
“It’s the colonel, Georges,” the man began, talking between deep gasps for breath. “He is making the rounds of the taverns, looking for something, someone to blame for the spy’s escape. Please tell me that Charlotte is here. It would be one coincidence too many after the last time.”
Georges nodded as he moved to the entryway, pulling the door shut behind him. He could hear Georges talk to the messenger, something soothing and probably a lie.
When Georges came back into the room his expression was troubled.
“What happened last time?” Gabe asked even as he realized that the caller had been the new guard from his prison. The one with consumption. Another ally? Or a paid informer?
“It does not matter what happened before,” Georges said. “The truth is that the colonel wants Madame in his bed and she has refused him. Quite publicly. She would be the perfect scapegoat even if she were not involved. I must go and find her.”
“Will he not arrest you as well? What about the children?”
Georges swore
.
“I will go,” Gabe said. It was the obvious answer. “He has not seen me. I even know where Aux Trois Oiseaux is.”
Georges began to argue.
“She does not have time for us to debate this. I will go. Now.” He pulled on his jacket and ran a hand over his hair. “I will be the lovestruck widower from last night. Looking for her, hoping to spend yet another night with her.” He grabbed his hat and held out his hand. “Give me some money. I will have to buy a drink at least or no one, much less the colonel, will believe I am innocent.” Another thought struck him. “Is the guard captain going to hold her until the colonel arrives? Was this a trap?”
“The captain could be in as much danger as Charlotte if they are found together,” he said, handing Gabe a few coins. “Now go and find her. Bring her back here.”
When Gabriel would have gone out the back, Georges shook his head. “Use the front door. We will try for a semblance of normal.” He opened the connecting door and said good-bye with the words Gabe had fully expected: “If you play me false, monsieur, I will find you and kill you as slowly and as painfully as possible.”
12
GABRIEL SCANNED THE CROWD, doing his best to appear like a man with nothing on his mind but a woman.
The walk from Charlotte’s house had been anything but comfortable. The cool night air had chilled the sweat that trickled down his neck. Odd that his first outing alone should make him feel more, rather than less, vulnerable. The echo of steps surrounded him, the air itself was heavy with fog, confusing the night sounds so he could not tell how near or far the others were until they were almost in front of him.
It was night and men eyed one another as they passed, each with their hand on their weapon, watching for a threatening move. He did the same, hoping they would not discover that his weapon was not much more than a bent spoon. He should have asked Georges for a pistol or a better knife.
More than once he raised his hand to rub at the back of his neck as if that would erase the feeling that someone was keeping him in sight. He forced himself not to run, not to look back. No one stopped him or did more than exchange a curt nod.
He moved down the tavern’s steps after the briefest of pauses at the top. Charlotte should have been easy to spot with her red wig and emerald green dress. He had seen her when she had come to the kitchen to have Georges do up the laces of her gown. Then she covered the ensemble with a green and gold shawl.
Neither color shouted at him in the crowded room. Most were dressed like he was, in ill-fitting, sober clothes. Some in the more shabby costumes that fishermen wore.
He spied only two women in the common room, nominally there to fetch drinks. They were far more interested in providing other services. Neither one of them was flamboyant enough to be Charlotte. Or clean enough.
As he worked his way around the room, nodding to whoever looked his way, it occurred to him that Charlotte’s fresh-washed hands and face were half the reason that men found her so irresistible. Odd, he had never realized that before. Beneath the spicy fragrance that was her favorite, she was sweet, womanly, clean.
By the time he reached the barman he knew she was not in the room. Could she have finished her business with the captain and left? He was not with the group playing cards.
Had the colonel been there? No. He did not feel any fear or distress from the crowd. The fear was all his own.
He ordered a drink from a third woman, who appeared from the kitchen, her tray laden. She nodded. He told her he would be near the fire, on the other side of the room.
As he found his spot by the smoky heat, the slightest pause in conversation drew his attention.
The relief he’d felt on entering was obliterated by the clutch of soldiers who stepped into the tavern. Like everyone who came in, the five men paused on the steps, thoroughly studied the room. Three of them then hurried down.
Gabe recognized the colonel easily enough. His uniform was far from fresh, but his insignia shone gold. He was fat from overindulgence, with an expression that showed he was never satisfied.
Self-preservation had Gabe tensing as the soldiers crossed the room. They pushed through the crowd, past him, to the table of officers, who had stood up as soon as they recognized the colonel. Gabe let out the breath he did not know he had been holding.
The man in charge of the squad spoke in a low voice while the colonel waited by the door with the other soldiers.
Gabriel forced himself to look away. He considered leaving through the kitchen. He would have, if the colonel did not have such an excellent vantage point.
Tension pulsed through the room. How many others were in fear for their life? Gabriel wondered.
Besides him. And Charlotte.
Even as he began to hope they would leave and he could ask for her, one of the officers crossed the room to a man who had a hat pulled low across his face.
“What are you hiding from?” the officer asked as he pulled off the man’s cap. The accused would have fallen to his knees if one of the soldiers had not grabbed him by the arm. “Come with us and explain yourself.” Gabriel and the rest of the assembly watched them drag the babbling man up the steps and out to the street.
He tried to convince himself that the nausea he felt was from eating too much. Not because he could easily imagine the kind of questioning that man would face. The scars on his back throbbed in sympathy.
If he had been asked to pick out the traitor in their midst, he too would have chosen the fellow with the hat. He was guilty of something. That much was obvious. It proved that there was much to be said for Charlotte’s idea of hiding in plain view. Even if it did, on occasion, leave one in desperate need of a drink.
The colonel did not leave with his men. Gabe watched him scan the room one last time. “Where is Captain Desseau?” He addressed his question to the room in general.
No one answered. Gabriel turned to the fire, closed his eyes, although he was as interested in the answer as the colonel.
“You there!” The colonel came down the steps. The waitress was coming to him with his tankard, the colonel following her. Do not hide. Stay in the open.
The colonel and the waitress reached him at the same time.
“You, woman. Have you seen Captain Desseau tonight?”
“Yes, Colonel. He is upstairs with the redheaded whore right now.”
Gabriel mentally swore in three languages and did what Charlotte would have done. “Charlotte Parnell is upstairs with the captain? I have been looking everywhere for her.”
Ignoring the colonel, he ran to the stairs. Bits of conversation reached him. One or two recognized him from last night. Another asked if he was back because she had not given him his money’s worth, or because he wanted more.
He kept going, happy to have an audience.
He was furious with her. Anger exploded through him, erasing fear, worry, distress, like lava from a volcano destroying whatever lay in its path. He had been worrying about her safety and she was in a bedroom entertaining a man? When he heard the slower steps of the colonel following him, he tamped down his anger. He had one flight of steps to decide what to do. With an audience on his heels he would have to play this out. Breathing hard from more than his run up the stairs, he tried to think it through. The crowd had given him a script, the betrayed or enchanted lover. He could take his pick.
“The first door on the left.” That helpful bit from someone longing to see a fight.
Pounding on the door, Gabriel pulled the latch up and swept into the room, trying for a melodramatic line that would sound both betrayed and enthralled.
“Charlotte,” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse with what could only be stage fright compounded by fear, “you have played with my pride long enough.”
“Move out of the way, you bombastic fool!” the colonel said as he helped Gabriel with a hard shove. “Desseau, what are you doing here?”
If his question had been bombastic, the colonel’s was stupid. It was obvious what the captai
n was doing. Or had been doing.
The captain and Charlotte stood in each other’s arms—the captain’s shirt unbuttoned, her dress around her waist, her front-fastening corset undone.
“I am not on duty tonight, sir. I arranged to see madame yesterday and was hoping to spend the evening with her.” Desseau spoke as he did his best to right his clothes.
“Is that so?” the colonel asked, as if the guard captain might change his mind.
“Yes, sir, but if you have need of me I will come immediately.”
“Give me the rest of your hour,” an onlooker called out.
The colonel ignored him. “While you finish dressing I will speak with Madame Parnell.” He turned to Charlotte, who had fastened her corset and pulled her dress up over her shoulders.
“Where were you last night?”
“I was here awhile and then spent the rest of the night at Madame Rostine’s.”
“With me,” Gabriel added.
“With you?” The colonel turned to him. “Who are you?”
“His name hardly matters, Colonel. He paid me for the entire night and we were together until this morning.”
The colonel seemed more annoyed than intrigued. “You were seen near the prison last night, madame.”
“Oui, Colonel,” she said. Gabe watched as she stepped away from Raoul and the colonel, coming closer to him. “I met monsieur there and we came here soon after.”
Gabe judged it his moment to speak. “Your men, even Captain Desseau, saw us here last night. They came just before it started to rain.”
“This man is no more a spy than Charlotte is the wife of Napoleon.” Desseau poured some wine and offered it to his colonel. “Last night, he was jealous of the few words I spoke with Madame. Only a fool would act that way around a whore.”
The colonel took the wine and looked from one man to the other, finally settling on Gabriel. “You are a worthless guttersnipe. If I ran you through with my sword, no one would care.”
With that, Gabriel ceased to exist for him, but the colonel stared at Charlotte with a lecherous hunger that was as close to hatred as lust. Gabriel was grateful for the crowd. They, at least, were on Charlotte’s side.
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