Mary Blayney (10 page)

“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

G
ABRIEL 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 captain 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.

As the silence drew out, one man called to her, “You are not a whore. You love every one of us, do you not, Charlotte?” Another laughed. “Be kind to the fool.” To Gabriel he said, “It is your money she loves, but she is worth every sou.”

The woman in question, the only woman in the room, waited with a calm disinterest that was not human. The wine-swilling tyrant had the power to decide whether she would go free, spend the night in prison, or worse. Gabe was afraid for her even if she was not. He had enough worry for the both of them, even had a little to spare for the captain, who was dressed and waiting by the door.

“Come, Desseau. Your leave is over.” The colonel finished his wine in one long swallow. “Madame, we are not finished, you and I. I have a man to question and a spy network to uncover. After that I can give you my complete and undivided attention.” Without a bow or any other farewell courtesy, the colonel left the room. The crowd parted and Desseau followed him without a backward glance.

Charlotte nodded to his back as graciously as the Queen at the end of an audience. Following the two officers to the door, Charlotte spoke to the crowd, which still waited there. “I am safe because you were witnesses. I thank you all for your support.” She nodded to one of the men. “Jean, will you please tell the barkeep that I would like to buy everyone who supported me a drink. If only to prove that I love my fellow Frenchmen as much as I love money.”

Jean nodded and hurried to the steps, the whole of the crowd following, with applause and shouts of
“Vive la France! Vive Charlotte Parnell!”

Closing the door behind him, she fastened the latch before turning to face him. Now he saw fear in her face. “Who did they arrest?” She crossed to him and asked again. “Tell me, who did they arrest?”

“I have no idea. I know no one here.” Then he realized who she was worried about. “It was not Georges.”

She nodded, went to the table and drank some of her wine. “What are you doing here?” There was no concern for him, only anger.

He explained about the visitor and that both he and Georges had feared for her safety. He continued before she could laugh at him. “When I arrived and you were not downstairs I wondered if you had already been detained. Then the soldiers came in. I was bothered enough that I hoped Georges had followed me and we could devise a plan to help you. Georges, who would just as soon see me floating in a river facedown, and where were you? Up here with your lover.” The anger echoed in his voice.

“Oh for God’s, sake, would you stop talking lines from a poorly written play? It is only the two of us.”

“Charlotte, this is no pretense,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was afraid for your life.”

“There was no need for that.” She dismissed his concern with a curt wave of her hand. “I know exactly what I am doing.”

“Pride goeth before a fall.” He spoke the words slowly, doing his best to control himself. For Charlotte Parnell, control was power. He walked to the table and picked up her glass, sniffing the wine. “Do you know how close you came to arrest? If I had not been here, if Desseau had not been able to verify my story—” He stopped when he saw she looked more bored than concerned. “Is he your lover?”

“That is none of your business.” She took the goblet from him. Finished the last of the wine.

“Oh, I think it is my business,” he said, grabbing the glass back from her. He set it on the table.

Charlotte lifted the carafe and refreshed the glass and took a small sip as he continued speaking.

“You are being paid by my family. If you work for the Pennistans, you work for me.” He took the glass from her and set it on the table. “I want to know why you were meeting with him and how it affects our escape.”

“You took too big a chance coming here,” she said, completely ignoring his question.

“It was a calculated risk drawn from your own example. Hiding in plain sight. Who would expect a fugitive to be in the same room as the man searching for him, to talk to him? I am no longer a suspect. My ruse worked.”