Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (33 page)

“Christ, Helene! I’m trying to save your life, and you act like
this is a stage production from a very bad playwright. I don’t have
a plan except to get us out of the city gates and book passage out
of Le Havre!”

“Le Havre? You’ve decided to dispense with the usual ports,
too? Calais is the fastest way to England, Gil.”

“Don’t you listen to anything? I already told you I knew it
was risky to come here. I’ve checked passage from all the ports. We can’t use
Calais. That road will be
watched, damn it!”

“You’re serious?”

He threw his hands in the air. “You think I enjoy exiting buildings down ropes? What blasted reason could I have for doing
so tonight if not for the purpose I just gave you?”

“To tire me further?”

She said it in hopes of seeing his smile again.

“You’re impossible, Lady Tremayne. And we’re out of time.”

He had her over his shoulder with her thighs locked under his arm
before she could react. And once she saw the blackness of space
under him, she didn’t dare. She kept her eyes
closed and her limbs locked about him, the entire time wondering at her stupidity.
She rather slide
down hundreds of ropes than have to rely on someone else. Even him. And his strength.

“Rescuing you...is a bit...of work, My Lady.”

The words were huffed between breaths once they’d
reached the ground
.

“Put me down, Gillian.”  

“What? And risk…another argument? Trust me with some sense,
Madame.
”

The gate that led to the back of the palace loomed ahead,
but Helene barely noticed. She wasn’t aware of anything except
how much her head throbbed and how hard Gil’s shoulder was against her waist.

“God damn everything. He isn’t here.”

Gil set her down amid the straw and refuse
any good coach house would’ve swept up. She longed to point out
that not only didn’t it look like they were expected, but no one else
had been for a long time, either.

“Blast the bastard! Oh darling. This isn’t good. If Renee turned coat on us, it might be a powerfully long time before I see you again. How many years will it take to
defeat Bonaparte this time, do you think?”

“Don’t jest about it, Gillian. It’s no longer amusing.”

“Give it a rest, would you? I grow weary of your
lack of trust.” He looked worried enough that he might be telling the truth. “Damn him, anyway! I gave him and that maid
of yours the necklace. What more could they want?”

“What…necklace?”  Her voice was missing.
He knows?

“Your diamond one, love. The one you used earlier to bribe those two. I said you were
responsible for this escape, and in a roundabout way, you are. You found out who
could be bought. All it took was Evette’s longing for a dowry and
Renee’s greed…but blast everything! I was a fool to trust them. Now, we may have to move to another option.”

“You…gave them—?”  Her mouth fell open.

“Your new diamond necklace, love. That’s the reason you’re
wearing that monstrosity right now. I had a feeling English gold wouldn’t
get us far, so you’re wearing our bank account,
Madame.”

“Gillian, I’m beginning to believe you
!”

The sound of a harness made them start, and Helene saw the
relief on his face.

“Oh. He’s here. Thank God for greed.”

He grabbed her arm and raced into
the alley.

“Monsieur!”

Two black horses whickered from their positions in front of
a black carriage. Renee tipped his hat to them before he jumped down.

“You brought the uniform?” Gil asked.

“Of course,
Monsieur.
I’m afraid I couldn’t find one quite
your size. Pardon the lack, if you will.
Madame,
it’s a pleasure to
see you again.”  He bowed in a courtly fashion.

“And a cloak for
Madame
?” Gil asked.

“Oui.
It’s all in the carriage. I must go now. It’s a fair walk back to the Peacock Palace. They’ll be awaiting your
return from the fest. I must be there.”

He faded into the night. Gil started stripping.
Helene watched wide-eyed.

“Find my clothing, will you, love?”

He pulled off his satin-edged trousers and tossed them. Helene almost
jumped at his words. There was a uniform folded nearly on the carriage seat. She handed it to Gil. It looked new and
extremely official, but it fit Gillian so tightly he’d pop a
button if he took a deep breath. The boots were worse. She
couldn’t stifle her giggle as he tried to shove his feet in twice
before giving up and donning his own boots again.

“He brought you a cloak, Helene,” Gil reminded her.

She looked back into the carriage. Ah. She’d missed it earlier. It was the brown tr
aveling cloak Evette vehemently
objected to that morning.

“So. What do you think?
Will I pass?”

He finished buttoning the final one, and stood, waiting for
her appraisal.
She looked him up and down for flaws.

“You look just like one of
Colonel Fontenelle’s pups. But, tell me. What am I going as?”

The cloak effectively covered her golden dress. After she tied
the strings, the necklace made only a small bulge.

“Can you do
Madame
Bonaparte’s voice?”

“Josephine…Bonaparte?”

“Of course. That’s
the only reason I let you keep your appointment today. And I never spent a worse ten minutes in my life.”

She couldn’t answer. She could barely contain the glow permeating her. At what he said. And what it might mean.

“Helene? What the hell? Can you do her voice or not? We’ve got…maybe two
hours head start, no more, and you stand there gawking! Shore
up, already. Don’t get tongue-tied on me now. If you can’t do her
voice, just say so, and we’ll think of something else. Hell, even Colonel
Fontenelle’s voice might get us out the gates unless they look at you
closely.” He chuckled.

“Of course I can speak in her voice,
Monsieur,
but, as you
can’t understand a word I say, let me tell you that I think you the basest numbskull born.” She chattered the words in French, airily waving her
hand exactly as
Madame
Bonaparte had. “Furthermore, only a dim-witted
fool would think he could pass as one of Colonel Fontenelle’s
guards without a smattering of the French tongue!

“You, Monsieur Tremayne, are that fool, aren’t you? This is your plan? We’ll
see the inside of a prison yet. Why, if you really wished
this plan to succeed, you’d have put
me
in a soldier’s uniform, while you donned a dress to act as a mute
Madame
Bonaparte. That would have worked better!”

“Oh…quite the contrary, Madame Tremayne,” he replied in perfect elocution. “I have more than a passing knowledge of the
tongue, because French was one of the first languages I excelled in
at Eton. In fact, I converse so well in this tongue, I should have
no difficulty fooling anyone. Even my dear wife.”

She gasped. She probably paled. “You speak French?”

“Oui.
And quite well, actually. How else would I know what Colonel Fontenelle’s orders were this morning?”

“You understood...every time?” she choked out.

“Oh yes. And it was most appreciated during our supper at
Maison L’Amour,
too.”

“You bastard!”

He grinned, and she did the only thing she could think of —
she slugged him.

***

That pleasant memory soothed some of the throbbing
in her knuckles but not enough. She wondered if she’d broken them. Not that
Gillian would stop the carriage for her, but she hadn’t realized a
man’s chin was so hard or that it would hurt her more than it
did him.

The bloody bastard!

She half-smiled in the dim light through the curtains,
recalling the shock on his face. That’s when she decided that even if she’d
broken her hand, it had been worth it.

Gillian’s plan worked. She had to talk only once before
they were free. For a city committing villainous acts
against foreign tourists, the guards at the gates were surprisingly lax in their
security.

If only she wasn’t so bone weary. She could try to sleep, but Gillian
seemed to deliberately hit all the potholes he saw. He probably did it on purpose. He’d do
anything to get back at her. The man was worse than barbaric. He
was cruel, merciless, dominating....

What am I thinking?

He hadn’t reacted in any fashion she was assigning to him. He’d merely moved from a shocked look to an u
ndecipherable one as his fingers rubbed
the spot on his chin. Then he’d moved. He hadn’t cursed her or retaliated in kind, or anything she’d expect. He’d merely taken her elbow, escorted her to the coach, and when her legs failed her, he’d lifted her inside.

The carriage stopped. Helene gathered her cl
oak about her, wondering why. P
erhaps the great Lord Tremayne needed rest. There wasn’t any
other reason to stop driving after nearly seven hours. She tried to
have a disinterested sneer firmly in place as he opened the door, but failed.

“Come along, My Lady. The horses need rest, and I’m fagged
enough to fall into the bloody road.”

“Is that a request to vacate my well-sprung coach,
Monsieur?”
she asked in her most aristocratic French.

“You aren’t still fuming about that, are you?”

He rubbed his chin
, but there wasn’t even the hint of a bruise. She didn’t answer.

“Come along,
Helene. Spare my ears. I’ve been driving all night and sorely need rest.
Can’t you argue with me later?”

“You, Sir, are in sore need of manners. I wouldn’t stoop to
argue with someone like you.”

He sighed and shoved his hair off his face. If he wanted to
look official, he shouldn’t have let it come loose from the small queue he’d worn earlier
.

“It’ll be full light soon, Helene. I have to find a place to
hide the carriage. Are you going to help or hinder me? I’m not at
my best when I’ve had no sleep, remember?”

‘You don’t have a best, Gillian. Don’t look at me for a place
to vent your anger. I’ve had no sleep, either. One could hardly
attempt it the way you drove.”

“I don’t know why I continue to ask. I really don’t.”

He reached for her. And if
she hadn’t grown so soft, she wouldn’t have gasped as he grabbed
her hand. It would’ve been much simpler to face him afterwards, too.

“I’m perfectly capable of climbing from the carriage myself, Lord Tremayne.”

“Let me see your hand, Helene.”  He
motioned with his fingers.

She tightened her grip on the cloak with her uninjured hand. It
was bad enough he suffered no ill effect from her temper without
his knowing how badly it had hurt her. That would be too ignoble
for words.

“No.”

“Helene, I’m warning you.”

“Waste of breath,” she answered.

He pulled her unceremoniously out of the carriage. After
the dimness inside, the morning sun hurt her eyes.

“Oh…love. Look at your poor hand. Why didn’t you
say something earlier? I’d no idea your pugilistic abilities were
exceeded only by your talents at fencing.”

“Shut up, Gillian Tremayne. Just shut up,” she said through clenched
teeth.

“We’ll need cool water. That was probably the most insane thing you ever did. How the hell do you propose to hold
onto your mount’s reins?”

“With my teeth if need be!”

“Spare the dramatics. Please? I’ve a headache, you’re
crippled, and Renee didn’t include any food or drink, the
greedy bugger. About the only thing in our favor is that yonder
palace doesn’t have anyone in residence to question us.”