Elizabeth Boyle (26 page)

“You would leave your post?” She stabbed her finger into his chest, backing him down the hall with her fearless intimidation. “I will ignore your dereliction this time, citizen, but any more of this insubordination and I will bring you before Lamude for discipline. Now, get on with your duty. Show my guard that all the cells are secured. Then you can assist with the fire.”

“
Oui
.” The big fellow turned and lumbered down the hall, his keys rattling at his waist.

She flattened herself against the narrow hall, giving Giles the room he needed to pass by.

Retrieving the man’s lead bottle from next to his chair, Giles clouted the big lug over the head with it. He fell like Goliath, in a heap at Giles’s feet.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

Giles knelt at the guard’s side. “No, he’s breathing.”

Piper grinned, hopped over the body, and was off like a shot down the dark hall. “Lucien,” she whispered loudly, first to one cell and then another. “Lucien, where are you?”

“Piper?” came a dazed answer.

“
Oui
, Lucien. It’s Piper.” She waved to Giles. “Hurry, I’ve found them.”

“Oh, sure. Hurry, she says,” he muttered as he tried for a third time to flip over the giant guard. The narrow hall didn’t leave much room for maneuvering, but with a mighty heave and shove he was able to pry the man over enough to snatch the keys from his belt.

He tossed them to her, then joined her at the door as she tried key after key. Turning his back to her, he held his pistol out in front of him, mindful that at any moment her fire would be put out and the forces would start looking for them.

“Piper, what are you doing here?” a male voice asked from within the cell.

“Rescuing you, Lucien. What does it look like?” she shot back hotly.

Giles smiled at the sibling bickering. It reminded him of Dryden’s brood.

She shook the ring again and selected another key. This one worked and the door opened.

Two small boys tumbled into the hall, followed by a woman with a babe in her arms. A tall, thin man, obviously Lucien, followed, catching hold of his sister and hugging her close.

“I prayed you wouldn’t be so foolish to do this, and I prayed you would,” he said.

“How like you,” she teased back, “to hedge your bets.”

“I hate to interrupt this reunion,” Giles said, “but there’s still a garrison outside to slip past.”

Piper let go of her brother and went back into the now- empty cell. “Where is
Papa
?
Maman
?”

Lucien shook his head. “Aren’t they with you?”

“Why would they be with me?”

“They left here this morning. Under special orders. We thought for sure it was because you’d been able to obtain their release.”

“No!” She backed farther down the hall. “
Maman, Papa?
Are you here?”

Pleas for help were her only answers.

“Release me, I have much gold.”

“Take my children, for the love of God, take my children from this place.”

Giles started pushing Lucien and his family down the hall. He handed the emaciated man a torch and pointed toward the stairwell. Catching Piper by the hand, he towed her along after her family.

She fought him every step. “No, I will not leave them. I know they are here.”

He stopped and grabbed her by both shoulders. Rattling her back to the present, he shook her until her wild-eyed gaze finally focused. “You must save your brother and his family. We will find your mother and father, but not now. As La Devinette you have the best chance of getting us out. Now start acting like that Revolutionary she-bitch.”

Sophia nodded her head and faltered up the dark stairwell.

At the top the light was better, and she saw the radical changes imprisonment had left on her brother and his family.

Lucien, once broad of shoulder and full-framed, now resembled a gangly youth, so thin and brittle did he appear. His wife, Noël, renowned in the Bourbon court for her sweet temperament and fair beauty, wore a wary look, holding her child close to her breast and humming a discordant tune. Her once long blond hair had been cut to her shoulders in ragged clumps.

The twins, Félix and Lucien-Victor, clung to their mother’s bedraggled skirts, their noses dirty and their eyes wide in their gaunt faces.

The shock of their appearances prodded Sophia back to her duty. Untying the cords from her discarded bundle, she pulled out odd pieces of clothing. Handing a cloak to Giles, she told him, “Wrap it around her, and make sure it covers the babe.”

Turning back to her brother, she handed him a uniform not unlike the one Giles wore. “Get into this, the jacket at the very least.” Outside, the shouting and cries were still going on in full force, the bells of Abbaye pealing with the news of the fire. They hadn’t much time left.

Kneeling beside her nephews, she topped their heads with bright red caps.

“Who are you?” Félix asked.

“I am—” She was about to say, “your
tante
Sophia,” but stopped herself. “I am Citizeness Devinette. And we are going to play a game.” She picked up Lucien-Victor and handed him to Giles, then she gathered Félix into her arms and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now, the first step in this game is to be very, very quiet, and then we are going to hide. . . .”

And with Félix in her arms she sprinted along the inside wall of the courtyard, with Lucien pulling Noël along and Giles bringing up the rear with Lucien-Victor.

Oliver had moved the horses nearer the entrance. The moment the family scrambled into the cart, Oliver snapped the reins. The horses took off just as the alarm raised.

“Escape! Escape! The prisoners are escaping!”

With no guards at the gates, there was no one stop them. From behind, gunfire broke out. Giles returned fire, yelling at her, “Get them down. Get them all down.”

She did, scrambling to cover the children. The cart careened into the square and turned down the first side street they came to. Zigzagging through the narrow streets of the Unité section, Oliver drove the horses like a man possessed.

“Does he know where he is going?” Giles shouted.

“Yes. Not much farther,” Sophia said, a twin tucked beneath each arm. She held them tight as the cart rocked back and forth. She looked back toward the high walls of the Abbaye, regret and fear filling her heart. Her parents—what had happened to them? How could she have been too late?

She found Giles watching her, a grim look on his face. “We’ll find them. We’ll find them together. I promise,” he told her.

When the jolting ride came to a thundering halt, she looked up and found they were still far from the city’s gates.

Oliver glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t push them much faster,” he said, nodding at the poor nags. “And if we continue at this pace we’ll only draw attention to ourselves.”

She agreed. “The word of our escape will spread quickly. We’ll have to use our alternative.”

Giles stepped down from the cart. “I take it you have another plan?”

At this she shrugged her shoulders. “When have you known me not to?”

He grinned and began helping Noël and her baby down from the cart.

Digging through the straw, Sophia pulled out two more bundles. “Get rid of those uniforms.” She pointed at a pile of trash in the middle of the alley. “Bury them in there and then put on these,” she told them, once again doling out more clothing.

For herself she’d stowed away a modified version of her old-lady outfit. Since she would be unable to have the complete makeup to twist her face into the aged contortions Emma usually devised, the cape fitted with a hump on her back would have to do. If she kept her head down, most people wouldn’t bother looking for a face.

Once everyone changed they abandoned the cart and horses several streets away and set out on foot for the banks of the Seine.

Giles leaned over to her. “This pace isn’t fast enough.”

“I know,” she said, looking back at her brother and his family. With the children and the combined ill health of their parents, it was difficult to get them to move along quickly enough.

“Go ahead,” she told Oliver. “Make sure our friend is ready.”

Oliver took off, a look of pure determination setting his grim features.

Around them church bells pealed, and the Guards’ tocsins seemed to cry out for retribution.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

Stopping at a corner, Sophia realized the streets were too empty. Most of Paris had gone to the Queen’s execution. Everyone else was shuttered in their houses, fearful of the celebrations or rioting that could follow. They stood out, obvious in their haste and number.

Giles stood at her elbow. She looked up into his eyes and saw the same concerns.

“We have to split up. It isn’t much farther, but together we stand out.” If she expected him to argue with her, his answer surprised her.

“I agree. You take your sister-in-law, the baby, and one of the boys. I’ll go with your brother and the other son.”

“Exactly my idea.” She smiled at him. “There is a small blue boat near the Pont Neuf. The boatman is an Italian called Aldo. He has been paid in advance, but more than likely he will demand additional money before the city’s walls. Pay him with half of this,” she said, handing Giles a pouch. “Pay him no more until you are well outside Paris.”

He tried to hand the pouch back to her, but she pushed it away. “You’ll be there. You pay him.”

“In case I don’t make it. There should always be a contingency.”

Giles agreed, yet there was something about the way she’d said it.

In case I don’t make it.

He noticed that she hadn’t included her sister-in-law in her gloomy prediction. After she got done explaining everything to her brother, she turned back to Giles.

“You aren’t planning on going back with them, are you?” he asked.

“Of course I am.” She frowned at him.

Giles didn’t believe her. Catching hold of her, he pulled her close into his arms. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. Promise you will be on that boat.”

She shook her head. “I can’t make that promise. I have no control over what will happen between here and the river.”

He looked down into her face, tempted to tear off her ridiculous patch. From there he would brush back her hair and stare into her features—features he’d never seen in their entirety or under the light of day—to memorize her entire face.

This incredible woman teased his senses, challenged his mind, and never stopped surprising him. He would hold her like this for the rest of his life given the chance.

Dipping his head, he brought his lips to hers, sealing his promise. He allowed his kiss to memorize her, as his eyes could not. First, he explored her lips with a single request. Willingly, she opened herself to him. He continued his exploration onward. The warmth and depth of her response called to the deepest levels of his soul. He no longer felt lost, like a man without a map, but instead found himself remembering every nuance, every tiny detail of her as if he’d known her through the centuries.

He peeled aside the masking layers of clothing until his hands brushed against the warm satin of her bare arms. He deepened his kiss, her tongue meeting his in conquest. Their rising needs found the familiar fire and demanded fulfillment.

The clatter of hooves down the street yanked them apart. The only thing still holding them together was their gazes, which locked in a passionate understanding.

“We will finish this soon,” he whispered to her.

“I’ll be waiting.” She caught his hand and squeezed it. “Promise me, Giles. Promise me this: You will see my family safely to England.”

“But—”

She shook her head. “If something happens to me, do not come after me. Lucien and his family’s safety must come first. They must get to England. Promise me.”

“Nothing will happen between here and the—”

“Don’t say such things. You tempt fate. Just promise me.”

He smiled, leaned over, and kissed her quickly on the lips. “I promise. And there is something I would ask of you in return. I would—”

She placed her finger on his lips and stopped his words. “There is no time. Save your words for another time.” She turned to her brother and whispered privately to him. Lucien did not seem pleased with her instructions, but accepted the pouch she handed him.

Giles was wondering how many plans she had hidden across Paris.

With some coaxing, the twins were divided and Giles found himself carrying an unhappy Félix. The boy’s father was too weak to carry his son, almost too weak to keep up, but they managed to make it to Aldo’s boat in less than an hour after having to take two detours to avoid patrols.

When they arrived Aldo greeted them with a wide smile. “Good, now everyone is here.” He ordered a boy, a miniature of the swarthy and tanned captain, to start untying the lines.

“Where are they?” Giles asked.

“Below,” Aldo answered, jerking his thumb at a hatchway. “Send those two down with everyone else. You can stay up here and help my boy with the lines so we can get under way.”

After the boat had left its moorings and started down the river, Giles went down into the hold, only to find Noël and Lucien stowed comfortably in a wide berth, their children sound asleep between them.

But no Piper and no Oliver.

“Where is she?” Giles demanded.

Lucien shook his head. “She would not leave without finding out what happened to our parents.”

Anger surged through him.

He tore back up topside and stood at the edge of the boat, staring down at the brown water of the Seine. Up ahead the river was packed with boats, as they drew closer to the Place de la Revolution. Giles guessed it was nearing midday, and gauging from the crowds it seemed the Queen had yet to be brought to the square. Crowds lined the banks, and for a moment he thought he saw Piper and Oliver.

A hunched-over crone hobbled along beside a looming giant. The woman looked in his direction before pushing her way into the crowd and out of his sight.

A hand on his shoulder kept him from jumping into the river and swimming for shore.