Traitor in Her Arms Read online

  All except the night she’d spent with Ramsey and that nightmare ride on the tumbrel.

  Ramsey had been holding her hand, but now he moved her hand to his elbow, a more appropriate location. They had no luggage and no coin, no means to return home. She was about to ask him what they should do next when she spotted Sir Andrew Ffoulkes.

  “Sir Andrew!” she called, although he was already making his way toward her.

  He inclined his head and squeezed past the last of a group of sailors to bow before her. “Lady McCullough. Lord Sedgwick. Welcome home.”

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle said, and squeezed Ramsey’s arm.

  “Lady McCullough, I am certain you are eager to return home. You as well, my lord, but if you don’t mind, we have a mutual friend who would like to speak to you.” Now he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small white card. “I’m to take you to him.” He flashed the card and Gabrielle saw the small red flower, a scarlet pimpernel, on the other side before Ffoulkes slipped it into his coat again.

  “Both of us?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Yes, my lady,” Ffoulkes agreed.

  Hope leapt in her heart. She had promised not to help Ramsey. That didn’t mean the Scarlet Pimpernel couldn’t help him.

  “You will have to pass on my regrets, Sir Andrew,” Ramsey said. “I have another engagement.”

  “What?” Gabrielle recoiled as though stung. “What do you mean?”

  Ramsey gave her a placid stare. “Exactly what I said. I have another engagement.”

  “But this could mean your salvation. The”—she lowered her voice—“Scarlet Pimpernel could save you.”

  “If I allowed that, I’d be an even less honorable man than I already am. I did my best to betray him. I don’t deserve his aid nor do I want it. I may be watched, and if I go with you, I may be followed. I won’t put you or the friend we speak of in danger.”

  “But Ramsey—“

  He removed her hand from his arm. “I’ll see you again as soon as I can,” he said, kissing her hand and placing it on Ffoulkes’s arm. “Take care of her, will you?”

  Ffoulkes nodded.

  Ramsey strode away and didn’t look back.

  Once in Sir Andrew’s carriage, Gabrielle allowed herself to close her eyes. It helped keep the tears at bay.

  “He made the right decision,” Sir Andrew said quietly.

  Gabrielle blew out a breath. “That doesn’t make it any easier. I don’t want to watch him die.”

  “Nor I, but sometimes death is not the worst punishment.”

  She shook her head, the lump in her throat making speech impossible. The coach rattled through the streets, taking her God knew where, and she didn’t care. All she could think of was Ramsey. Where was he? Where had he gone? Would she ever see him again?

  Suddenly the coach pulled to a stop.

  “Are we there?” she asked. The interior of the coach had been dim as the curtains were closed, but they must have been under a bridge or passageway, as it had grown even darker.

  “I’m not certain.” Sir Andrew opened the door. “Allow me to speak to the coachman.”

  A late autumn breeze whipped in behind him, extinguishing the lamps. Gabrielle pushed back into the squabs and buried her head in her hands. When the carriage door opened again, she swiped at her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath before saying, “What did the coachman say?”

  “You will have to ask Sir Andrew, as I’m not privy to that conversation.”

  Her head snapped up, but in the darkness she could see nothing but an amorphous shape in the seat across from her.

  “It’s you,” she whispered.

  “Are you so surprised? Did you not think I would welcome you back personally?” She sensed the Pimpernel’s movement, and a rap sounded on the roof of the coach. As it began to move, she caught a glint of silver. It must have been the end of a walking stick he held.

  “I hadn’t thought of it. I suppose I am simply grateful to be home.”

  “Well you should be,” came the low voice from the shadows. “You had a narrow escape.”

  Of course he knew all about it. Gabrielle didn’t know why she should be surprised. “Miss Martin risked her life for me.”

  “That comes as no surprise. She has more courage in her little finger than most men have in their whole bodies. But she is not the only one who saved you.”

  “Ra—Lord Sedgwick risked his life as well.”

  “Interesting, considering he was sent to discover my identity.”

  Now Gabrielle did gape, thankful the interior of the coach was too dark for the Pimpernel to see her. “How did you know that?”

  She saw movement and realized he’d shrugged as if to indicate it was nothing. “The comtesse and her daughter have been reunited with the comte de Tonnerre.”

  “Have they?” Gabrielle felt guilty for not having asked after the comtesse before. “My only regret is that the warden now has possession of such a treasure as le Saphir Blanc.”

  “Especially when it’s worth ten times what you owe in debt. Yes, I am aware of your debts. I do hope now that you have returned, you have no plans to revert to thievery.”

  “No.” Gabrielle said it firmly. She would rather face debtors’ prison than go back to that life.

  “If only you could marry Sedgwick.”

  Gabrielle clenched her fists in her lap. “That’s not possible.”

  The only sound was the clop of the horses’ hooves and the drone of voices of those they passed on the street. Gabrielle felt her eyes sting and clenched her hands more tightly.

  “You love him,” the Pimpernel said.

  She nodded, sniffed. “I’ve always loved him.”

  “Then let him deserve that love for once.”

  She didn’t care whether Ramsey deserved her love or not. He’d more than proven himself to her when he’d risked his life for her. Her anger at his betrayal had seeped away with his explanations and time. She wanted him, not the cold bed she would lie in if he died to prove he deserved her.

  She might have said as much if the Pimpernel hadn’t knocked on the roof again.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked.

  “No,” came the quiet response, followed by a low chuckle. “You are.”

  The door swung open, and there was Sir Andrew lowering the stairs. He held out his hand, and Gabrielle took it without thinking. As she descended, she looked back over her shoulder.

  All she saw was darkness and a small red flower on the seat where he’d been.

  How did he do it? She turned back to Sir Andrew, and glancing beyond him, saw the carriage had stopped in front of her town house.

  “Thank you,” she said. She might have said more, but the door opened, and with a yelp, Cressy ran out to meet her. A moment later, Gabrielle was wrapped in arms smelling of lemon oil then shepherded inside. By the time she remembered Sir Andrew, the carriage was gone.

  —

  Madame Fouchet’s lair was as dark and gloomy as Ramsey remembered it. Though the sun shone brightly outdoors, the curtains of Madame Fouchet’s residence stubbornly refused to allow any light to penetrate.

  The servant who answered the door carried a candle to light the way to a small parlor Ramsey had never seen. He’d always been admitted to Madame’s boudoir or, on a few occasions, her drawing room. The parlor was near the front door, which would make escape convenient, if it came to that. He was willing to pay for his crimes, but not at the hands of Madame Fouchet.

  He’d paid her enough.

  He didn’t take a seat; instead he crossed to the black velvet curtains and drew them aside. The furnishings—several chairs and a couch—seemed to shrink in the sunlight. Ramsey stared out at a view of a withered garden.

  He turned when the door opened, and Madame held her hand up to shield her face. “What the devil are you about? Close the draperies!”

  He obeyed slowly, closing them sloppily so light still filtered in. She looked old in the light, her fa
ce lined and pale, her ruby lips wrinkled and stained with lip dye. No wonder she preferred the dark. It maintained her illusion of beauty.

  “Sit,” she ordered him.

  “I prefer to stand. I cannot stay long.”

  “You’ll stay as long as I want, Mr. Barnes.”

  He didn’t flinch at her use of his real name. He might as well claim it. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I have other pressing engagements today. In fact, this will be our last visit. Ever.”

  “Do you have the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel?” she asked, the corners of her mouth curving in a smirk. She knew he did not, and she enjoyed knowing that she held his ruin in her hands.

  “No. As I’m certain your assistant already informed you.”

  “She did, but I thought perhaps you had a change of heart, and you might have discovered it en route to London. I hear you and Lady McCullough spent a great deal of time together. Alone. Perhaps you persuaded her to reveal what she knew.”

  Ramsey took two steps forward before grasping the back of a chair to stop himself from slamming a fist into her face. That would only mean a beating. She always stationed burly footmen close by, and the thugs would be on him in an instant.

  “Even if Lady McCullough knew who the Scarlet Pimpernel is, and she does not, I would not have asked her for the information. I won’t betray him. Do to me what you must.”

  With that he strode to the door. Behind him, Madame Fouchet stumbled to her feet. “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving.” He bit the words out over his shoulder and threw the door open, startling the footmen standing guard.

  “I haven’t dismissed you.”

  He looked back at her. “I believe this time I dismissed you.”

  He arrowed for the front door, his boots clicking on the marble floors.

  “I’ll ruin you! If you walk out that door, you had better enjoy the sunlight, because you’ll hang in it by week’s end!”

  Ramsey pushed aside the servant standing at the front door and threw it open. “Do your worst,” he said, not bothering to look back.

  Chapter 22

  “How can I ever thank you enough?”

  “Comte, as I have said, there is no need. My thanks is in knowing your wife and daughter are safe.”

  The comte de Tonnerre had arrived just as she’d finished a small dinner. Cressy had informed her, “One of them Frenchies is at the door.”

  Gabrielle’s heart had leapt with fear, and she’d had to remind herself she was home in England. She was safe. But even as the comte thanked her yet again, she wondered how long she would be safe. If the comte knew she had returned, her creditors certainly did, and Mr. Pin, in particular, was probably none too happy with her.

  “My lady,” the comte said, pressing her hand to his, “if there is ever anything you need, you must call on me. I will do everything in my meager power to help you.”

  She wished he could have helped her with her creditors, but she knew his financial situation was even worse than hers. He was from an old noble family, one that had ties to George III, so she supposed he might convince the king to intervene when she was to be sent to debtors’ prison. She would still be homeless and destitute, but she would be so on the streets instead of locked up.

  “You are too kind.” She rose, intending to see him out. “When your wife and daughter have recovered from their journey, you must come and dine with me.” If she wasn’t in prison yet.

  “We would be honored, my lady.”

  Gabrielle opened the door only to see Cressy rushing forward. “Another visitor, my lady,” she said. “This one—“

  “I don’t have time for this.” Ramsey pushed his way past Cressy and into the small sitting room. It had only been a half day since she had seen him, but she wanted to weep with joy that he was still alive, still free. “I’ll probably be in Newgate by morning,” he said, taking her hand. “But I wanted to say goodbye properly. I wanted to say—“

  He followed Gabrielle’s gaze, belatedly realizing she was not alone.

  “Lord Sedgwick, this is the comte de Tonnerre. Comte, this is the man who helped me rescue your wife and daughter.”

  “My lord!” The comte took his shoulders and kissed Ramsey vigorously on both cheeks. Ramsey’s eyes widened in shock at the uninvited affection, but he recovered quickly.

  “Your thanks should go to Lady McCullough,” he told the comte. “My intentions were not at all honorable, but very soon I will receive my just rewards.” He looked at Gabrielle again. “Madame Fouchet will have sent the incriminating documents to the king by now. By morning, I will be a wanted man.”

  “Then you should flee!” She grabbed his arm and tried to push him toward the door.

  But he dug in his heels. “I won’t run and hide any longer. It’s time I paid for my sins.”

  “Ramsey—“

  Behind her, the comte cleared his throat. She’d all but forgotten he was present.

  “My lady, I fear my presence is intrusive. I will take my leave and give the two of you privacy.”

  “Thank you, Comte.”

  He shook his head before taking her hand and kissing it. “No. Thank you.”

  He turned to leave, and when he opened the door Cressy was once again standing on the other side. “Could you show the comte to the door, Cressy?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Yes, my lady, but I came to tell you that you have another guest.”

  “Another!” The last time she’d had so many visitors had been when she’d hosted a dinner party.

  “This one you ain’t likely to welcome.”

  “Excuse me,” Gabrielle said over her shoulder, following Cressy to the door. The comte exited, walking past a thin man in a dark coat standing in the doorway. He had the look of a clerk about him, and Gabrielle wondered what he could possibly want with her.

  “Begging your pardon, my lady,” he said in a nasal voice. “I’m Skivvit. I work for Mr. Pin.”

  She inhaled sharply. A warm hand on her back alerted her to the fact that Ramsey had followed her to the doorway and stood ready to protect her. “Mr. Skivvit,” she said coolly. “Forgive me if I do not invite you in. Please return to your employer and tell him he will have the money I owe him as soon as I have it myself.”

  Skivvit frowned. “But, my lady—“

  Ramsey interrupted. “You heard the lady, man. She can’t make blunt suddenly appear. Your employer will have to be patient.”

  What would she do without him? What would she do when he was gone? She couldn’t let him die. He had fought for her. She would fight for him.

  “But, my lady, Mr. Pin did not send me to collect.” Skivvit consulted a small notebook he held. “No, I have it right here.” He tapped the page with a pencil stub.

  “I don’t understand. You have what right there?”

  “A notation. This morning your balance was paid in full, including interest, and a bonus for Mr. Pin’s patience and understanding.”

  Gabrielle stared at the thin man. He couldn’t be correct, but she was loath to correct him. And if she didn’t, Pin would find out eventually and come for her.

  “I’m afraid there’s been some mistake,” she said in little more than a whisper. “I didn’t send payment to Mr. Pin.”

  “Was there a note with the payment?” Ramsey asked. “To inform you to whose account the blunt should be applied?”

  “I believe there was. I opened it myself, as I do all of Mr. Pin’s correspondence.”

  “How was it signed?” Ramsey asked. “Did Lady McCullough sign it?”

  Gabrielle gave him a confused look. What was the man getting at? Of course she had not signed the paper. He knew as well as she that she had been on the ship this morning.

  Skivvit scratched his temple with the pencil stub. “She did not sign it, no, but she did draw a small flower at the bottom.”

  Gabrielle pressed a hand to her heart. “A red flower?”

  “Yes. Do you remember now, my lady?”
/>   “Yes, thank you.”

  “No, thank you.” Skivvit reached into a satchel at his feet and pulled an envelope from it. He handed it to Gabrielle. “This is the paper Lord McCullough signed for the loan Mr. Pin gave him.”

  Gabrielle took the paper, her hand shaking.

  “Mr. Pin also bade me tell you that this concludes your business together. Permanently.”

  Gabrielle almost laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Skivvit. I assure you, if I am ever in need of a loan, Mr. Pin is the last man I will approach.”

  Skivvit puffed up his chest with indignation, but Gabrielle shut the door on him. “Can you believe it?” she said to Ramsey. “Do you think the Scarlet Pimpernel paid him?”

  “I think the Scarlet Pimpernel paid all of your creditors. You did him a great service, and it’s the least he owes you.”

  “But I didn’t ask for anything.”

  Ramsey took her hand, kissed it. “Of course not. You always think of yourself last.”

  “You make me sound far more noble than I am. In fact, I am not noble at all. I would beg you again to leave London.”

  “Gabrielle—“

  “And take me with you.”

  His eyes closed for a moment, and she knew she had swayed him. “Please, Ramsey. I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. I just want you to live.”

  His eyes opened, so green and clear. “And what kind of life would that be? My one regret in turning myself in would be that I would not be here to take care of you. But the Pimpernel has seen to that. If he’s paid off Pin, he’s paid off all of your creditors. You’re finally free. I won’t condemn you to a life of running and hiding, a life of exile from family and friends.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “If that is the price I pay to be with you, it is nothing. I’ll pay it in an instant.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not your debt to pay. I came to tell you goodbye. Will you give me a kiss before I go?”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean to go now? Tonight? Surely the king can wait until tomorrow to imprison you.”

  “I’d rather go than be taken.”