“And you think the Englishman can give that to you?”
“Yes,” she replied.
Etienne shook his head in disbelief. “You could have been my Comtesse, Juliet. Isn’t that a better life than what the lowly Captain Adams can offer you?”
When she answered, it was like a knife sliding into his belly.
“No,” she said. “I love him. Nothing can change that.”
He gave a brittle smile. “Very touching. Brava. But we both know that Colonel Arnaud is an expert in helping soldiers change their minds about what he deems to be important. I’m sure he can find a way to restore you to your senses.”
Her eyes flashed a warning at him then, and she assumed a familiar fighting stance. Before he had time to talk her out of such a foolish course of action, her leg flew out in a hard kick toward his groin.
Etienne barely managed to avoid it and dodge to the side. But Juliet was on the attack and leapt into the air, her leg arcing in a quick head-strike. She made contact and sent Etienne rocking backward on his heels.
His temple thudded with pain as he scrambled to avoid another kick. It was then he realized how serious Juliet was. If she would challenge Etienne—a man whose elite fighting skills she was well-acquainted with—then Lady Blade was deadly serious about her intentions to leave.
“You stupid fool!” he warned. “Even if you escape from here, you can’t re-join the Englishman now that the battle is about to begin. He’ll think you’re part of it.”
As they circled each other, a thunderous explosion echoed in the night.
“It’s begun, Juliet,” Etienne said. “Come with me before you get us both killed.”
There was another loud explosion, this time closer than the others. Seconds later, the side of a nearby building was hit. Juliet and Etienne were thrown across the alleyway. Heavy wooden beams splintered like sticks while stone and thick chunks of plaster rained down upon them. Tall flames, like hellish trees from an underworld nightmare, stretched into the night.
Etienne got to his feet, yelling through the smoke, “Juliet!”
But she was gone.
Now, after that betrayal, Etienne intended to make Juliet and the English captain pay.
Everything was falling into place. It was only a matter of time before the Emperor returned and Etienne would have his revenge.
Chapter 27
In the week that followed, Carver and Juliet investigated new leads, attended society events, made a number of new acquaintances and searched for irrefutable proof regarding the plot to liberate Napoleon. Yet the trail always came back to the Marquess and Marchioness of Bosworth, the Earl and Countess of Hargrove, and their associates.
Juliet, however, had made one discovery that seemed to prove her instincts right. She had missed her monthly time, and that was unusual for her. That, along with her other symptoms and mild nausea in the mornings, suggested that she was most likely with child.
She hoped when this mission was over, she would be able to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t think about that now. She and Carver both had to remain focused. If not, any distraction could lead to a costly mistake and ultimately, failure.
As Juliet looked about the drawing room at the handful of guests here at the Bosworth mansion, she was pleased to see them indulging in more champagne and brandy. It would be easier to slip away from the group if they were half-drunk.
Both she and Carver worked to create the illusion of their own intoxication without actually imbibing, for they knew the importance of keeping their minds razor sharp.
During certain conversations over the past few days, Lord Bosworth had revealed several incriminating facts regarding the plot to liberate Napoleon, but in order to arrest the culprits, Juliet and Carver needed hard evidence to present to Major Nye.
So, tonight, while Carver kept Lord Bosworth and Lord Hargrove busy playing billiards, Juliet would search Bosworth’s study, looking for papers and plans detailing the plot. Referring to a call of nature, Juliet excused herself from the company of the marchioness and her friends, and went in search of her quarry.
Quickly and quietly, Juliet made her way to Bosworth’s private study, hoping that any documents would be stored there. Of course, they could be anywhere in the house, but she had to start somewhere.
On a night such as this, the house was well-lit, perhaps to show off Bosworth’s wealth. Juliet closed the study door behind her, and moved to the desk. It was locked, of course, which she expected, but she had ways of getting past locks. First, she looked for a key, running her hands under the desk to find any hidden compartments. Her search came up empty.
She didn’t want to have to pick the lock, but there was a need to get in and out of there quickly and return to her hostess before she was missed.
Reaching under her skirt, Juliet retrieved a lock-picking tool from the leather sheath she wore on her right thigh. It held, among other things, several thin metal tools and, for defence, her famous blade. She crouched down behind the desk and began working the lock.
With a surge of pride, she felt the lock click. She pulled the drawer open and withdrew a collection of papers from within. Of course, she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, only that she’d know it when she saw it.
There were notes regarding financial transactions and investments, and upon closer scrutiny what seemed to be a note from a female friend to Lord Bosworth, praising the passionate talents of one of his body parts.
Juliet scanned more documents and felt her heart skip a beat as she read over one paper in particular. It was written in French with English notes in the margins about numbers of troops, numbers of ships, predictions of casualties, amounts of funds to be transferred, as well as upcoming dates.
At the bottom was a short list of English names, some of whom were the richest and most powerful members of the ton. They were under the heading of ‘Partisans de l’empereur.’
Supporters of the Emperor.
The Marquess of Bosworth and the Earl of Hargrove were among the names listed.
As Juliet read over the other names, a cold realization hit her. The handful of aristocrats listed on the document were, at this very moment, all inside the Bosworth mansion.
“I see your mind working it out,” a man’s voice said from across the room. “Yes, they’re all here.”
Etienne…
He stepped out of the shadows, emerging from a secret door in the wall. He held a pistol trained directly on Juliet. “You look surprised to see me.”
Juliet regarded the man who had once been her partner, had once been a handsome officer fighting for France. Now, he was a scarred, malevolent figure who fought not for France, but for a greedy madman named Napoleon. “Why would I be surprised,” she asked, “when you sent me those painfully obvious messages?”
He frowned. “Painfully obvious? Now you’re just being cruel.”
“Me?” she countered. “You’re the one with the cruel streak. I saw it more than once on the battlefield. You enjoyed killing far too much.”
“And you pretend to be innocent?” he demanded. “Your name was Lady Blade.”
“I never asked for that name. It was given to me by Colonel Arnaud, the man who manipulated and used me as a human weapon and a tool of French propaganda.”
“You enjoyed it,” he sneered. “You were famous, and very powerful, for a woman. Instead of sitting at home, mending and cooking, waiting for male family members to come home from the war, you saw it first-hand.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” she replied truthfully. “I pray every night for God to wipe those memories from my mind. I can’t imagine you don’t do the same.”
His expression hardened. “Certainly, there are some scenes I wish I hadn’t witnessed—like when I watched you and the English captain rutting together in the field. With all the things I bore witness to during the war, that was undoubtedly the most disturbing.”
Juliet’s temper flared. “I can see why it made you uncomforta
ble, Etienne. Seeing a man like Carver Adams possess me so carnally must have driven you mad with jealousy.”
“Don’t presume to judge me,” he warned.
“No,” she said, “I will leave that to the authorities.”
“The British authorities?” he said with bitter dismay. “My dear Juliet, the only authorities you’re going to be talking to are the ones back in Paris, where you will face trial for treason. At this point, it doesn’t look good for your case as there are many set to testify against you, including me and Colonel Arnaud. You’ll most likely hang, unless I work out a deal on your behalf. As you know, my family is well-connected. I’m sure I can pull a few strings to secure an acquittal for the woman who is to become my wife.”
Juliet scoffed. “You’re mad.”
He pondered her words. “No, I’m not mad. I’m angry. Vengeful. I’m cold and dangerous. But I’m not mad. You’ll see.”
Though Juliet didn’t want to admit it to herself, cold fingers of fear were creeping into her heart. For if Etienne and his cronies were successful, Juliet’s future would be even more horrific than she ever imagined.
Carver… Where was he? Had he realized they’d walked into a trap?
“Once Napoleon is back in power,” Etienne continued, “we will rebuild the French army to its former glory. You will live quietly on my estate, doing your duty and providing me with heirs, grateful to have avoided the hangman’s noose. The Emperor, in gratitude for my efforts to restore him to the throne, may even elevate my rank to that of Duc de Ganot. Wouldn’t that be nice? Lady Blade will live out her days as Duchesse de Ganot. You will be my wife, just as I always planned.”
Juliet imagined the life Etienne had just described to her, and knew most women would jump at the chance to be married to a powerful French aristocrat. But she was not like them. The fact that she believed herself to be carrying Carver’s child only strengthened her resolve.
Etienne might not think himself the least bit insane, but the future he just described showed that he was terribly divorced from reality. Perhaps she could use his state of mind against him in this.
“You would still want me as your wife?” she asked, desperate to keep him talking. “Even with everything you know about me?”
“For me, that desire has never changed,” he replied. “Though you accuse me of being incapable of love, Juliet, I might surprise you. After Villarosa, I knew we’d meet again. And here we are.”
“I already told you that I once had feelings for Carver,” she said, playing up this role for her former partner. “But he and I both agree that we have no future together. As the Duke of Hawksmoor, he wishes to have a young bride with an exceptional pedigree. My past as Lady Blade is too scandalous for him. And if you must know, I am only doing this for money. Hawksmoor is rich as Croesus. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’m sure you can understand that as a woman alone, I had to take advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself. But Good Lord, I have no desire to dance on the end of a noose for Hawksmoor or his English principles. I need you to know that, Etienne.”
“That’s very wise of you,” he replied, lowering the pistol slightly.
“What of Hawksmoor?” she asked. “I would prefer no harm come to him. Can you promise me that?”
“He will be along shortly and will be dealt with accordingly.”
Juliet forced herself to show no emotion at such an open threat. It would not help Carver or their unborn child.
The door to the study opened, and Juliet turned to see Carver being forced into the room by Lord Bosworth. He held a pistol pressed to the back of Carver’s neck.
“The Duke of Hawksmoor has decided to grace us with his presence,” Etienne said. “How nice.”
He strode toward Carver and delivered a hard punch to the gut.
Carver doubled over and groaned, but was forced to stand straight again by Bosworth.
Though every part of Juliet’s heart and soul wanted to scream in outrage, she showed none of that to the men in the room. And she dared not even try to speak to Carver with a meaningful look, for Etienne would be watching for such subtle communications between them.
“I’ve just been chatting with your soon-to-be former partner,” Etienne said to Carver. “As we both know, she has gone by many names—Juliet Reed, Lady Blade, and most recently, Baroness de Rochefort, but she has just agreed to adopt a new name, La Comtesse de Ganot. It seems, my dear Hawksmoor, I’ve made her an offer she cannot refuse. She would rather become my comtesse than your duchess. Who am I to deny her what she really wants?”
Juliet’s blood was boiling, but she remained silent. Now was not the time to let her temper get the better of her, not when Carver’s life was on the line. She could only hope he would be able to see through Etienne’s words and recognize the truth of her feelings.
Carver winced in pain and glared at Etienne. “You can have her. Truth be told, you’ll be doing me a favor, ridding me of any gentlemanly obligations. We were just using her to get to you, Ganot. British Intelligence has been monitoring you for over a year. We knew you were involved in this scheme to restore Napoleon to power. We needed to flush you out, so we used Lady Blade as bait and it worked like a charm. Now we know the identity of Le Taureau.”
Etienne scowled. “What does it matter if British Intelligence has flushed me out, Hawksmoor? You have a pistol to your neck. And Lady Blade will return to France where she belongs and she will become my wife and bear me many children. And one more thing—after Bonaparte escapes Saint Helena, he will invade England and seize the British throne for himself. Your entire nation will be bowing to a French king.”
Carver scoffed. “If you think that’s even a remote possibility, you don’t know the English very well.”
“The man holding a gun to your head is English,” Etienne pointed out.
“Perhaps, but he’s a sniveling bastard who didn’t have the bollocks to fight in the war,” Carver growled.
Lord Bosworth shoved Carver and pistol-whipped him a few times. Carver stumbled forward.
Juliet dug her nails into her palms to keep from launching herself at Bosworth. She had to keep her eye on the prize. No matter what happened to Carver or herself, their immediate goal was to get out of here alive.
She was certain Carver’s nasty comments about her were simply a strategy to keep their captors off guard. If they weren’t… Well, she would live with that hard truth as she raised their child on her own.
If only she could tell him. Dear God, if these were their last moments together, she wanted him to know.
“The joke is on you, Hawksmoor,” she said, with bravado. “Not only do I have the money your government paid me, but there is something else I have from you which is only going to grow in value. A little gem I have cleverly hidden away.”
Carver panted as he struggled to stand upright, his green eyes burning with heated anger. If there was a hint of understanding in his damning gaze, she couldn’t see it. Perhaps he was that good of an actor. Or perhaps he was truly disgusted with what he perceived to be her betrayal. Whatever happened now, at least she had tried to tell him.
“I should have kicked you out long ago,” he said, darkly.
Kicked… Was he telling her to deliver a kick to Etienne? Her gown, though made of light lute-string silk, would hamper her movements. But at this point, she couldn’t let that stop her.
She feigned laughter. “That’s something I’d like to see.”
“You and me both, Lady Blade,” he growled.
She took that as her signal. It was now or never.
In the blink of an eye, Juliet’s leg struck out towards Etienne’s left knee. As her foot made contact, she heard a satisfying crack of bone.
Etienne yelled in shocked pain and struggled to stay on his feet.
Carver ducked away from the barrel of Lord Bosworth’s pistol, reached up and twisted the man’s wrist. A few well-placed punches to the jaw sent Bosworth reeling backwards. Carver then d
elivered a debilitating kick to the groin.
He retrieved the pistol from the floor, then jumped to his feet.
Juliet turned to see Etienne level the gun at Carver. “No!”
She threw a heavy paperweight at her enemy’s head, just as he pulled the trigger. But Carver was already barreling toward Etienne. A shot rang out and Carver stumbled, then ducked behind the sofa.
It was just the distraction Etienne required. In a split second, the cold barrel of his pistol was pressed against Juliet’s temple.
God help her. Had Carver been hit? During the war, she’d witnessed men quickly bleed to death by a well-placed lead ball.
“Come on!” Etienne barked, forcing her toward the door. “This little gathering has become a bore.”
Carver replied in a raspy voice, “And I thought the party was just getting started…”
Chapter 28
Carver cursed at the burning pain where the bullet had grazed his arm. “Going somewhere?” he demanded, aiming his pistol at Etienne.
“Very observant, Your Grace,” Etienne said, darkly. “Yes, I believe it’s time for me and the lovely Lady Blade to make our exit. I may have missed the killing shot with you, but I promise, I will not miss with her.”
Lord Bosworth had recovered sufficiently from the kick to his groin to get to his feet. He looked around the room, in search of another weapon.
Carver swung the pistol toward him. “Don’t even think about it, Bosworth.”
“Yes,” another voice said from the doorway. “Don’t even think about it.”
Several men piled into the room. They were armed to the hilt and looked ready for a fight.
It was Beckett, the Earl of Ravenwood, Alfred, Baron Weston, and Xander, Viscount Courtenay.
With them stood a motley crew of war veterans, including Carver’s old right hand man, Sergeant Hackett.
Etienne took several steps backward, dragging Juliet along with him.
“He’s trying to get to the secret door,” she warned.
The Duke's Defiant Bride (Brides of Mayfair Book 4) Page 19
