1939912059 (R) (33 page)

Her disheveled, unpinned blond hair and thin chemise and corset that revealed far more than curves made him suck in a breath he wasn’t prepared to take. Just beyond the open door of her bedchamber was none other than Robespierre, soundly asleep and naked, her silk stocking and satin garter draped over his bare, muscled chest.

Gérard staggered.

Capturing her gaze in a daze he could barely wade through, he noted the flush of her face and the well-bruised mark of sucked skin on her neck.

He was too dazed to even let it mean anything.
Jésus Christ
.

He grabbed her shoulders hard, barely breathing. “Are you— Did he—”

“I have no words for you right now. None.” She narrowed her gaze as if
he
were Robespierre. “May I never—” She jumped forward and shoved him hard. “
How could you do this to me
?!” She shoved him again and again. “You were supposed to leave! Not—”

He choked and stumbled back. His throat tightened in disbelief, realizing Robespierre was not only naked but wasn’t waking up. “I am trying to understand what I am seeing,” Gérard rasped. “Did he—”

She shoved him again. Only harder. “I need you to get those papers to me now!
Do you understand
?”

God keep him from— Shifting his jaw, he removed his leather belt, setting it onto the floor with trembling hands to ensure he did not enter her bedchamber and use his pistol to slaughter Robespierre and send them all to the guillotine.

Rising to his full height, he angled toward Thérèse, his breath ragged. “Sade told me you were in danger. What the hell is going on?”

She slammed the door of the bedchamber shut and faced him. “Sade has been in alliance with Robespierre from the beginning.”

He sucked in a breath. “No. That is not possible. He helped me. And us. He—”

“It was an illusion, Gérard. He works for the Republic. But when it mattered most, he did his best to help. And this is him helping. Right now, Robespierre is under the effects of Sade’s slumber cake and will be for the next three to five hours. Which means you have a half hour to get those papers into my hands and three days to get to the border.”

Unable to focus, he scrubbed his face. “I have six other people who are depending on me right now. The moment I give up those papers, I have no further stronghold. None.”

“I am your stronghold, damn you!” She marched up to him and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat hard. “Get those papers into my hands and you will have the travelling documents you need to get across the border. I ensured it.”

He stiffened. “You ensured it? By…?”

She leaned in closer and then froze. She tightened her hold on his coat. “Using my five thousand for brandy, I see. I can smell it on you.” She glared and smacked him, stinging his cheek and released him. “You clearly made a choice of putting your sense of justice before the promise you made me. You will now live with it. Because this is me claiming my independence from you and men once and for all.” She frantically grabbed at the ring on her finger, tugging it loose. She shoved it into his hands. “We are done. For as I had once told you, regrets come only after promises are broken. And you have broken every last one.”

His pulse roared. “Thérèse, you cannot mean it. Put it back on.” He grabbed her hand and attempted to shove the ring on her finger.

She smacked away his hands, sending the ring tinkering across the floor. “It will never go on my finger. Consider this my way of saving you.”

He jumped toward her and grabbed her face hard, digging his fingers into those flushed cheeks in an attempt to look into her soul. If she had one. “You told me forever,” he breathed out, “but last I knew,
ma biche
, it has only been eleven days.
Eleven fucking days
! What are you doing?”

She shoved his hands away from her face and glared up at him, her eyes and her tear-streaked features so hardened they did not belong to the woman he thought he knew. “If you do not get to the border in three days, you are dead. So I suggest you deliver those papers to me and get the hell out of my house and out of this country, because this is
not
a game. How
dare
you put your life in danger like this, you-you…
blaireau
! You are putting everyone’s life before your own!
Everyone’s
! Are you not worth more than what your father made you believe?” She shoved him, her voice hysterical. “Move on and live! Because
this
is not living!”

He swallowed against the tightness choking his throat. “For God’s sake, talk to me. Why are you half naked and why is he naked?! Why are you—”

She grabbed his face and squeezed it tight, digging her nails into his cheeks. “If you require proof of the fact that he pleasured me, all you need do is touch a finger between my thighs.”

The corridor blurred. “Did he rape you?”

She released him and stared him down. “No. I raped him. Now give me the papers and get out of my life.”

Something whispered to him that she had purposefully done this. She had purposefully given her body to Robespierre to ensure that he, Gérard Antoine Tolbert, the last remaining heir to the great duché of Andelot, do exactly what she wanted him to do: leave Paris forever.

He would have preferred being dead.

He caught himself against the nearest wall, chanting to himself that he wouldn’t hurt her for hurting him beyond what he could endure. His breaths became too uneven for him to control. His gaze veered toward the garnet ring near his boot. Gritting his teeth, he swiped it up and shoved it into his pocket knowing it wasn’t even his to throw away. “I need to hold my son.”

Her gaze snapped to his. Her features stilled. “There is no time. You have to leave.”

He would have preferred being repeatedly stabbed in the chest. This hell was— He stalked down the corridor, straight toward Henri’s room. Grabbing the knob, he banged open the door.

Thérèse scrambled after him and seized him by the waist hard. “You have to leave, damn you! You have to—”

He shoved her away from himself, refusing to leave until he held their son.

A startled wail made his heart drop. He jogged up to Henri’s cradle and lifted him out with trembling hands. He held his son against his face, wanting to remember that softness, that warmth he would never get to know. He wanted to walk out the door with Henri in his arms. He wanted to do it and never look back.

Thérèse pushed away from the wall and scrambled toward him with an anguished sob. “Gérard, I beg of you. You are assuring your death every minute you stay.
I am begging you
!” She sobbed. “
Do you mean to slaughter yourself
? Get me those papers so you can leave. You have to leave tonight or you will never make it to the border on time!”

Henri’s quivering wail and outstretched hands that brushed at his chest and face made Gérard realize he had lost the last of his rational mind thinking he could tear his son away from Thérèse merely because she had slept with another man in an effort to save him.

Whilst he would never forgive her for butchering the last of his heart in an effort to save his meaningless and worthless life, he knew he couldn’t put his own son at risk.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he kissed those soft, small cheeks and pressed his lips hard against that head that shifted against him.

He numbly passed his son to Thérèse.

Refusing to look at her, he tonelessly said, “Sade will bring you the papers.”

He left.

Twenty minutes later

Citoyen de Sade’s residence

“If you had left when I told you to,” Sade said in a toneless, cool voice from beside him, “none of this would have ever happened. Fortunately, you now have travelling papers.”

Sitting on the staircase steps facing the bolted foyer door, Gérard dragged the leather valise with the remaining papers the Republic wanted closer to himself.

While a part of him wanted to open the valise and flick the papers out one by one without caring as to what would happen next, he still had the Laroche’s elderly wife, her widowed daughter and four of the woman’s children to get out of France.

Gérard squeezed his eyes shut and rasped, “I would have left days ago, but no one was willing to take the Laroche family out of Paris. No one would take my money. Not even when I asked them to save the children.”

Sade remained quiet for a long moment. He swiped his face. “Given most of the people I associate with are part of the Convention, no one I know will help them. And if word gets back to Robespierre that I am assisting other aristocrats, my head will be in a basket right along with yours.” A breath escaped Sade. “Lady Madeleine’s father informed me he can leave Paris anytime. He can take you tonight, if need be. The sooner you leave, the more likely you will make it before the papers expire.”

Half-nodding, he whispered, “What about the Laroche family?”

“Thérèse knows a lot of men at the theatre who might be able to help get them out.”

Gérard almost ripped the valise he held apart. “No. I have no need for her help.”

Sade smacked him upside the head. “Your pain has no fucking place in this.” He rose to his feet and snatched the leather valise out of his hands. “I will get this to her myself to ensure Robespierre no longer harasses her. She has endured enough on your behalf. Now get ready to leave.”

Gérard swallowed, his eyes still burning from seeing Robespierre naked on her bed. “You should have let me die,” he whispered. A sob escaped him. “What happened to her was…I will forever blame myself for it.”

Sade fingered the valise. “You are young. And so is she. You will both survive this and learn that life is not meant to be lived like a fairytale.”

“She loved me,” Gérard choked out. “I know she did.”

“Yes, and you betrayed her by trying to be a fucking hero to everyone but her and yourself.”

Jumping up, Gérard gritted his teeth and swung at Sade, his breaths becoming more and more riled. “How could you have let that fucking bastard—”

Sade grabbed Gérard’s throat hard and shoved him into the wall, thudding him hard into it. Meeting his gaze, Sade bit out, “Begging your pardon, Gérard, but if you are dead, the glory of your love hardly matters, does it? I negotiated to get those travelling papers for you. I saved your goddamn life. And I did not have to. So be thankful. If you dare swing at me again, I will take you to Robespierre myself the moment he wakes up. I have no qualms doing it.”

Gérard was too numb to respond.

Sade released him with a shove. “Get Laroche’s family ready to leave within the hour. You will leave shortly after they do with Lady Madeleine’s family.” His voice darkened. “One day, when you are old enough to see past the pain, you will be thankful.”

Gérard rose to his feet and whispered, “I will never see past the pain.
Ever
. My godfather is dead, my father is dead, and now this?”

No. He wasn’t ready to— Gérard flexed his hands and stalked to the door, banging it open.

Shoving his trembling hands into his pockets, he jerked to a halt, his fingers grazing the garnet ring Thérèse had returned. He dug the stone into his skin, chanting to himself that she would forgive him. She would forgive him for putting his righteousness before her safety.

Walking out into the night, he dragged in uneven breaths, trying to focus.

If she truly loved him, she would forgive him. Because that is what people who truly loved each other did. They forgave each other.

He only prayed her love was strong enough to save them both.

An hour later

In the corridor of an abandoned window-shattered building

Setting down the lantern onto the warped floors at their feet, Thérèse shoved the large basket she was holding into Jacques’s hands. “Tell Andelot there is plenty of food and money for him and the Laroche family. His travelling papers are in the basket, as well. Give it to him. I will wait outside in the carriage. I have to get back to the house before Robespierre wakes up.”

Jacques angled in. “Are you saying this Andelot is the father of your child?” he demanded. “That godforsaken
aristo
impregnated you and then left you to suffer scandal as if—”