The Rogue Pirate’s Bride Page 28
Inside the bedroom, the courtesan scrambled to dismount as the intruder spoke again.
In French.
Saint allowed herself a smile—the first in weeks. It was Ducos. It had to be. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and extracted her pistol from beneath her mantle, shifting the dagger to her other hand.
The footsteps drew closer, and the courtesan’s whispers grew more frantic. “You must hide. If he catches me with you—”
“Ha! You think I am afraid of some little French clerk? His time is over.”
Little French clerk? Ducos was over six feet tall and known for violent outbursts.
“Please,” the courtesan all but begged. “Please, hide.”
If the stallion had an ounce of sense, he’d listen.
The courtesan continued, “Hide in the wardrobe. I will get rid of him.”
Saint’s eyes widened. No! Not the wardrobe. Damn!
She scrambled to arrange a dressing gown so it concealed her, but she knew the furnishing would never fit them both. The wardrobe shook as the stallion stumbled against it.
Footsteps thumped on the landing, and a tap rattled the bedroom door. “Ma chérie? Are you in there?”
“Who is it?” the courtesan called innocently. Then she hissed, “Never mind, there’s no time. Get under the bed.”
Saint exhaled loudly and closed her eyes in relief.
“Ma petite chou? Open the door, chérie.”
“I’m coming.” There was the sound of clothing rustling, and then the woman’s footfalls as she crossed the room and opened the door.
Saint squinted through the keyhole in the wardrobe. Lucien Ducos, wearing a black greatcoat with a chapeau bras tucked under his arm, stepped into the room. Wasting no time, he pulled the courtesan into his arms and kissed her.
Saint held her breath. Now was the time to take action—burst out of the wardrobe, pistol in one hand and dagger in the other. In a matter of moments, she could disable Ducos, tie up the courtesan and her lover, and begin her interrogation.
Heart drumming, Saint extended two fingers and pushed gingerly on the wardrobe’s door.