Traitor in Her Arms Page 20

  And then just as she slumped down into a puddle of languidness, he pulled out and spilled his seed onto the blanket.

  She blinked, having not expected this of him. But this was yet another example of how he protected her. He didn’t want her to become with child, knew the scandal it could create.

  But in some small way it made her sad. She wished they did not have to take these precautions…

  She shook her head. She really had lost her mind. Was she thinking of marrying Sedgwick? He’d had his chance, and he didn’t want her…not in that way.

  Now he pulled her into his arms, holding her as they both lay and stared at the flickering light on the ceiling.

  With his arms about her, she did not feel cold. She liked this intimacy, false as it may be. She closed her eyes, wishing the world above them would go away, wishing George’s creditors in London would go away, Robespierre would disappear, the comtesse de Tonnerre would be set free.

  “Do you want to sleep for a little while?” Ramsey asked her.

  But the world wasn’t going away, and she had unfulfilled promises. “No. We should find a way out.”

  “Yes. It might take us several hours.”

  “I want to go to La Force as soon as we’re able.” She was sitting now, pulling on the boys’ breeches and sorting through the discarded clothing for the linen to bind her breasts. “I’ll need to change first, and then we bring the bracelet straight to Toulan.”

  Ramsey was sorting his own clothing. Several of the papers he had taken from Robespierre’s drawer were lying about, having fallen out of his coat. He squinted at them in the light.

  “What are those?” she asked.

  “Some pertain to the military—supplies needed. But this one”—he held the page closer to the lamp—“this is a list of those to be executed in two days.” He lifted his pocket watch. “Or rather, tomorrow, as it’s already after midnight. Your comtesse is on the list.”

  “Then we have no time to lose. They’ll call her name and move her to the Conciergerie today.” Gabrielle’s hands shook as she attempted to dress herself. Why had she been wasting time making love in the catacombs when a woman was about to die?

  “Here, let me.” Ramsey fastened the last of the buttons on her shirt and tied her cravat with practiced efficiency. Then he handed her the coat. “We’re working as fast as we can,” he told her as she shrugged into it.

  “It may not be fast enough.”

  “You have the bracelet, Gabrielle.” He patted her pocket, and she felt the weight of it brush her ribs. “One more step and the comtesse and her daughter will be safe.”

  “And then we’ll be safe as well. Safely out of Paris.”

  And their association would end. But it was already too late to keep her heart safe. She watched as he lifted the lamp and held it in front of him as he began walking.

  She stood in the enveloping darkness for a long moment and listened to her heart beat, knowing that heart was already in far too much danger.

  Chapter 16

  Sunrise in Paris was something Ramsey had always enjoyed. Unlike London’s foggy mornings, dawn in Paris was bright and clear. As he and Gabrielle trudged quickly toward the house, fingers of red then orange and finally pink streaked across the indigo sky until at last they gave way to a shimmer of blue.

  They had found an old door that exited into the cellar of what appeared to be a restaurant. The establishment was not open yet, but they had to tiptoe around a sleeping boy, who was probably supposed to be keeping watch. He was no worry for two thieves. They silently unlatched the back door, crept outside, and latched it again. They’d found themselves near the Louvre, which meant they were blissfully near Alex’s.

  Once glance at Gabrielle and Ramsey was glad they would not be in public for long. Her disguise did not hold up well in the light of morning. Something menacing tugged at him. He kept turning to peer over his shoulder, expecting an enemy to be crouching there, lurking, waiting to pounce. The sooner he delivered the artifact to La Force, the better. He felt the curse of le Saphir Blanc as though it was something tangible.

  The curse had not denied him Gabrielle. But shouldn’t he be satisfied now? He’d touched her, been inside her, possessed her completely.

  But one glance at her, one glimpse of her tangled tresses hanging about her shoulders or the sway of her hips in those maddening breeches, and he wanted her again.

  She glanced at him, met his gaze, and slid her eyes away.

  She was all business now. The comtesse was her priority, as she should be.

  But after they saved the comtesse…

  It was still hours before they would be admitted to the prison, and as it was unwise to roam the streets, Gabrielle suggested they return to the house to wait and make themselves presentable. He sighed as they turned onto Rue Saint-Honoré and started the last leg toward Alex’s. After they freed the comtesse, he had to warn Ffoulkes—if Madame Fouchet’s assistant hadn’t gotten to him yet. But it took some time—even for the most trusted informants—to have arrest warrants drawn up. He would find Ffoulkes, warn him that he’d been compromised, and then consider himself absolved.

  Gabrielle could return to England safely, and he…

  What would he do?

  If he didn’t deliver the name of the Scarlet Pimpernel, he wasn’t safe in France. The assistant had made it clear she wouldn’t mind sending him to the guillotine. And he couldn’t go back to England. He’d be hanged for making false claims and impersonating the heir of the Earl of Sedgwick. He didn’t know what was worse—hanging or decapitation.

  America was looking better and better…

  They’d reached Alex’s town house, and he followed Gabrielle around the back. It was early, so they were quiet upon entering, hoping not to wake Alex. But she stood by the door, waiting for them.

  As soon as they entered, she peered out then shut and locked the door. “Were you followed?” she asked.

  “No,” Ramsey answered. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had two domiciliary visits last night. I was sure they were searching for you, and then this morning I received word of a break-in at the Hôtel de Ville.”

  “Already word is out?” Gabrielle sounded astonished.

  “This news didn’t come through normal channels. I doubt it will be made public at all. Robespierre won’t want the fact that his office was rifled to be made public knowledge.” Alex looked at Gabrielle. “Did you get the bracelet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. The comtesse—“

  “Yes, we know,” Ramsey interrupted. “I took these from Robespierre’s desk as well. Her name is listed there.”

  Alex flipped through the documents quickly. Her eyes widened. “Do you know what these are?”

  “Military secrets. Take them.” Ramsey gestured with his hand. “Give them to someone who can use them.”

  “We must arrive at La Force as soon as the warden does,” Gabrielle said, stripping off her coat. “I must see Toulan before the comtesse is moved to the Conciergerie.”

  “Yes.” Alex grabbed her arm and began to lead her toward the stairs. “Wear the redingote I gave you. You need to look your best, so spend a few moments on your hair. Toulan appreciates an attractive woman.”

  Ramsey followed more slowly, frowning now. Gabrielle would bribe the warden, not seduce him.

  “I’ll send word to Lord Antony and have him meet you at Notre Dame. There you can give the comtesse and her daughter into his safekeeping.”

  Lord Antony? Who was this? It couldn’t be Lord Antony Dewhurst, could it? Sedgwick had gambled with the man—knew him, if only slightly.

  “Wait.” Ramsey stopped them before they could disappear into the small bedroom he and Gabrielle shared. “Is this Lord Antony another of the Pimpernel’s men?”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “I…” He shook his head. Alex was too suspicious. He would get nothing out of her. Today was his last chance to discover the Pimpernel�
�s identity from Gabrielle. “I’ll wait for you in the drawing room.”

  An hour later, Gabrielle appeared in a red-and-white-striped redingote. Her skirt was royal blue, and she had a tricolor cockade pinned to her hat.

  “You look patriotic.”

  “Good.” She smiled at him. “That was the effect I was hoping for.”

  The truth was she looked beautiful. She appeared every inch the viscountess she was—regal, graceful, polished. It was good to see her like this, good to be reminded she could never belong to him.

  He had to look out for himself. He had done what he could for England when he’d taken those papers from Robespierre’s desk. And today he would do what he could for the Pimpernel’s cause.

  He might like to pretend he was the dashing hero, but Gabrielle fit that part far better than he. He was little more than an informing weasel. But better to be a weasel than to hang at the end of a noose.

  He offered his arm. “Shall we go to the prison, citoyenne?”

  She linked her arm with his. “Merci, citoyen.”

  —

  It was a pleasant morning for a walk, Gabrielle thought. The sun was shining, a cool breeze ruffled her skirts, and the sky had not a cloud in sight. And yet she was shaking uncontrollably. She must be mad to enter a prison voluntarily and attempt to bribe the warden. Of course no madder than Diana’s brother joining the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. And all this time they had thought Lord Antony was in Rome on the grand tour. The daft man was in France playing at saving doomed aristocrats.

  They were both daft, Gabrielle decided, but she was thankful Alex had asked Lord Antony to meet her at Notre Dame. She had never even thought how she would move the comtesse out of the city. It was one thing to bribe the warden to look the other way, but the men at the barrières might not be so willing to allow another émigré to escape Paris.

  She shuddered when she thought again of that horrible Sergeant Bibot.

  “Nervous?” Ramsey asked.

  She thanked God he was beside her. She needed him to lean on, to see her through this. How would she have done any of it without him? He had more than proven himself as trustworthy. “A little.”

  “We already know Toulan will take the bribe. He’s been approached. We’re giving him what he wants.”

  Ramsey was right. Hearing him say what she already knew calmed her nerves.

  “The Scarlet Pimpernel has arranged all of this in advance. You only need see it through.”

  “Shh.” She glanced around, noting the men standing in line outside a boulangerie. It seemed even Robespierre couldn’t ensure there was bread enough for all. “You don’t want anyone to hear you.”

  “You’re right. Perhaps I should call him by his name. It would be less suspicious.”

  “I’m not sure that it would.” They were approaching La Force now, and she was on alert for any mobs like the one they had encountered yesterday at the guillotine. Had that been only the day before? After the events of the night, she felt years older.

  “You do know who you’re dealing with, don’t you, Gabrielle?”

  Now she peered at him. “Of course I know who I’m dealing with.” But did she? Diana’s warnings haunted her. What if this was some elaborate ruse? No. She shook her head. No one would go this far, and neither Sir Andrew nor Lord Antony were part of a ruse.

  “Who is he? The Pimpernel.”

  She stopped and faced Ramsey. “You want his identity?”

  “I’ve risked my neck. I’d like to know who I’m doing it for.”

  A whisper of suspicion tickled the back of her neck. But no, Ramsey was right. He had proven his loyalty. “I can’t tell you.”

  He raised a brow. “Can’t?”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  “It’s not.” But he was lying. She could see that he was lying, and he was angry that she hadn’t given him the information he wanted.

  “It is. I can see it in your face.” And then to her horror, she watched as his face changed subtly, and all traces of the anger she had seen were gone. Was he that skilled an actor? What else was he pretending?

  “Will you tell me, Gabrielle? Will you trust me?”

  Did she trust him? The short answer was yes. The longer answer was—she was surprised to admit—no. “It isn’t my secret to tell.” She started for the prison again, but he grabbed her elbow.

  “You don’t know, do you? You’ve been running about Paris, doing this man’s bidding, and you don’t even know who you’re working for.”

  “I’m working for the comtesse and her daughter,” she hissed quietly, aware they had attracted the attention of some of those waiting for bread.

  Ramsey ran a hand through his hair. “Good God. You don’t even know.” And then he began to laugh.

  —

  It was fitting, Ramsey thought as they walked the last few feet in tense silence, that Gabrielle didn’t know the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel. He’d wasted his time and his efforts—considerable efforts—for naught.

  It was precisely what he deserved. And he couldn’t even be angry with her. She had never said she knew who the man was. She had never promised him anything. It was his own assumption that signed his death warrant.

  Oh, and it was signed. Yes it was. He’d seen her in the line at the boulangerie. Madame’s assistant. He watched her step out of the crowd slightly and slowly draw a long, thin finger across her neck.

  His time was up. He had failed, and now he would pay the price. They stopped at the prison gate, and Gabrielle asked the soldier guarding it for an audience with Toulan. The soldier consented, and they were admitted.

  And, like the fool he was, Ramsey followed Gabrielle into the prison. He would be here—or at some other prison—before long, and yet he was voluntarily entering this one.

  Why? She didn’t need him to do this. She was quite capable on her own.

  And yet, he couldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t leave her. He cared for her far more than he wanted to admit—another reason he was ten parts fool.

  She will never be yours, he scolded himself. If she knew who you really were…

  And still he watched as his hand touched the small of her back, reassuring her as they crossed into the darkness of the prison.

  —

  She could smell the odor of unwashed bodies as soon as she entered. That and the smell of defeat and despair. Good God, there was a child living in this rankness? The prison was quieter than she expected, considering it, like the others in Paris, was filled beyond capacity. And yet she heard little more than the sounds of the guards speaking and the occasional clink of metal on metal. Dear Lord she hoped it wasn’t the sound of chains.

  She and Ramsey were shown into a small office, and the warden rose to meet her. “Citoyenne, citoyen. You must forgive my surprise at having a visitor. To what do I owe this honor?”

  Oh, he’s used to having visitors, Gabrielle thought. He’s used to the families of the condemned begging and pleading with him. And he likes it too. She could see the look of anticipation in his eyes.

  They were small eyes, muddy brown to match his hair. He had a large nose and full lips. He might have been considered handsome in his youth—but his eyes. No, his eyes were ruthless and hungry, and they destroyed any appearance of attractiveness.

  “I am Citoyenne Leboeuf and this is Citoyen Delpierre.” She indicated Ramsey, who stood protectively behind her. “We need to speak with you privately.” She inclined her head toward the door, which was ajar. Curious soldiers stood just outside.

  “Of course.” Toulan crossed to the door and closed it. His eyes were full of greed. He knows we have come with a bribe, she thought.

  When he was seated once again behind the table he used as a desk, she took a moment to consider her approach. She could be subtle, but it didn’t suit her very well. Besides, she had little time to waste. Once the comtesse was moved to the Conciergerie, there would be little this man could do to free her.

  �
�We’re here for the comtesse de Tonnerre and her daughter,” Gabrielle said.

  The warden’s eyes widened. His gaze darted to the closed door, and he cleared his throat. “You mean, you wish to see her.”

  “No.” Gabrielle shook her head. “We have come to collect her. I have the payment you requested.”

  “You’re from him,” the warden whispered.

  “I don’t know who you mean,” Gabrielle lied. “The comte de Tonnerre came to see me in London—“

  “You’re English? You don’t sound—“

  “I went to school in France for many years, but yes, I am English. As I was saying, the comte asked me to free his wife and daughter. I am here to collect her.”

  The warden was still staring at her. “You take a huge risk coming here.”

  “We don’t intend to linger. The comtesse? Can you have her and the child brought here?”

  The warden crossed his arms. “You say you have the payment I requested, but that is impossible. I requested—“

  “Le Sapir Blanc. Oui. I have it.”

  “With you?” the warden’s eyes were huge and he jumped out of his chair. “Now?”

  “First the comtesse, then the bracelet.”

  The warden shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “If, when you bring me the comtesse, I cannot produce the piece, then you have lost nothing. But if I do give you the bracelet, then the comtesse, the child, Citoyen Delpierre, and I will walk through the prison doors unmolested. Do you have the power to arrange that?”

  “There is another exit.” He was rubbing his hands together now. “It’s not guarded and only I have the key.”

  “Good. Bring me the comtesse.”

  The warden did not move. He stood and studied her. Gabrielle swallowed and kept her gaze level on his. This was it. If she wavered now, if she was anything less than authoritative, all would fall apart.

  Slowly, the warden walked to the door. He opened it and spoke softly to a guard outside. “She will be here in a moment.”

  The three of them stood in silence, only the sounds of the guards’ voices and the creak of carriages passing outside.