Nicole Jordan (35 page)

Martin Perrine offered her a deadly smile as he aimed his own pistol at her. “Are you perhaps looking for me, Miss Laurent?”

The assassin, Dare quickly discovered, was a minor French noble, a baron. Dare could scarcely make out his confession, though, for he was sobbing in French and broken English.

“
Ma fille, ma pauvre fille,
forgive me….”

His story spilled out: his daughter had been abducted two days ago, and he had been blackmailed to gain her return. If he hoped to see the girl alive, he was to kill that man—he pointed at Lord Castlereagh. He’d drunk three full carafes of wine before he could summon the nerve to try, but now he had failed and his daughter would likely die.

“Je suis coupable,”
he moaned, dropping weakly to his knees.

“There may be a chance to save your daughter,” Dare said bracingly.

The baron drew a strangled breath and grasped Dare’s hands, his pleading look holding desperation. “Monsieur, can you help me? I beg you—”

“Who is the man you say forced you?”

“Il s’appelle Caliban.”

“Could you identify him? It is of vital importance.”

“Oui.”

“Brown hair, brown eyes, average height?”

“Oui. Il est un monstre.”

“So I understand,” Dare muttered, agreeing that Caliban was a monster.

“I did not want to kill anyone,” the baron whimpered. He gazed up at Lord Castlereagh through streaming eyes. “Forgive me, please, forgive me.
Je suis désolé….
” His face suddenly crumpled in agony. “
Je sais
…you cannot save my daughter.”

He bowed his head and began to weep brokenly, hopelessly, his face in his hands.

Castlereagh drew Dare aside to ask what had happened.

“I suspect,” Dare answered, “that Caliban sent this wretch in his place because he knew we were watching him.”

“Is it Perrine, do you think?”

“Undoubtedly. But we still must prove it.”

Castlereagh frowned down at the sobbing man. “The poor sod. He didn’t stand a chance against Caliban. I would imagine his daughter is dead.”

Dare nodded grimly, but his mind had already shifted to Julienne. Glancing up, he searched the gallery above, expecting to see her. Perhaps she was making her way down to the lower floor. Then again…

A stark foreboding gripped him. Was it possible Perrine had feared discovery and somehow taken her as leverage? Dear God.

He had to find Julienne at once. His interrogation had taken no more than two minutes….

Snapping out a harsh order, he told Castlereagh to deal with the baron’s arrest. “And keep him safe. He can identify Caliban.”

Not waiting for a reply, Dare snatched a musket from the hands of the nearest British soldier. “I need to borrow this, if you please.”

Spinning on his heel, he practically ran from the room.

To his left was a stairway leading to the gallery. The stairs were empty but for an object lying near the bottom.

Needles of panic drove deep into his chest when he recognized the pistol he had given Julienne. The thought of her in Caliban’s clutches made him wild with fear.

Frantically his gaze moved about the hall. He doubted Perrine would still be in the palace, and they might have taken any one of a dozen exits. Making an instant decision, Dare broke into a run, heading for the nearest door, which faced south.

Another object lay on the marble floor nearby. Julienne’s reticule. They had passed this way, Dare was now certain. In fact she might have dropped it deliberately to give him a clue to follow.

He burst through the door, wincing at the bright sunlight, and nearly stumbled over two bodies.

The king’s troops.

Lying in a pool of blood.

Both their throats slit.

The fear that tore through Dare was tangled up with fury and fierce self-recrimination. Cursing himself for having allowed Caliban to dupe him, for allowing Julienne to become exposed to such lethal danger, he sprinted across the lawns, through the gardens.

The crowds were thinner on this side of the palace. In front of him lay the River Seine and one of its many arched bridges—the Pont Royal. Beyond the stone quay he could see gaily decorated barges plying the river, along with several small sailing vessels.

If he were Perrine, he would have arranged a method of escape, Dare thought; perhaps more than one. He might have crossed the bridge and disappeared in a closed carriage. Or he could have planned to leave by river, thinking no one would suspect that mode of transportation.

Dare ran to his right, along the upper level of the quay, perhaps a hundred yards past the bridge, seeing nothing suspicious in the milling crowds or on the lower level below him. Retracing his steps, he went east another hundred yards beyond the bridge—and saw exactly what he dreaded.

Twenty yards ahead, beside a skiff that was tied up at the quay, a man and woman struggled.

The sight made Dare’s heart go ice cold. Perrine held a pistol to Julienne’s head as she resisted getting in the small craft, while the boatman looked on uncertainly.

Dare skidded to a halt, gripping his musket, momentarily torn between taking the stone steps he’d just passed or making the ten-foot drop to the lower level. It was too far to shoot accurately without risking hitting Julienne.

The choice was taken from him, however, when Perrine glanced up and spied him. “That is close enough, Wolverton!” he called, dragging Julienne in front of him to use as a shield.

“Let her go, Perrine!” Dare shouted in reply. He heard the desperate edge in his own voice and cursed himself; it was foolish to reveal to his enemy how much he cared.

Aiming the musket, Dare moved closer, till he was almost directly above them, and repeated his demand more calmly. “I said let her go.”

“I don’t believe I will. She is my security.”

“You must realize that you have lost, Perrine. You failed to kill Lord Castlereagh, and you left alive a witness who can identify you as Caliban.”

Perrine shook his head sadly. “Alas, that is regrettable. And my career may be at an end. But I have a fortune to last me a lifetime, and I mean to disappear. I warn you, Wolverton, if you try to follow me, I will kill her. You know what I am capable of.”

Dare offered him an icy smile. “But you have no notion what I am capable of. If you hurt her, you won’t be safe anywhere, I promise you. I will find you wherever you hide, even if it is the ends of the earth.”

“You may try. Meanwhile, I hold the upper hand here. Put down your weapon, or I will blow her brains out.”

“Dare, don’t listen to him!” Julienne exclaimed.

Gritting his teeth, Dare flexed his finger on the trigger of his musket. And yet he knew he couldn’t take the chance that Perrine would make good his threat to kill Julienne. Reluctantly he averted the barrel of his gun, but he took a step closer, hoping to draw Perrine’s fire.

The ploy worked. Perrine shifted his aim, pointing his pistol directly at Dare’s heart.

In that instant, Julienne whirled and attacked her captor, arms flailing, nails raking, trying to scratch his eyes out, diverting his attention.

Seizing the opportunity, Dare leapt the ten feet to the lower quay, just as Perrine struck her a vicious blow. Dare saw Julienne fall back as he landed with a jarring thud and sank to his knees. From the corner of his eye he watched her draw up her skirts and fumble for her knife. Perrine leveled the pistol at him once more.

Dare sprang from his crouch, moving at a dead run.

Julienne was there before him, though. Her knife held out in front of her, she charged Perrine. They collided with a jolt, knocking him to the quay and her falling with him.

Dare’s heart stopped when they both remained unmoving.

Reaching them, he clutched Julienne’s shoulder just as she drew a shaky breath. When she tried to push herself up, he hauled Julienne to her feet and dragged her behind him. But Perrine lay completely still.

With a foot, Dare cautiously rolled the prone man over onto his back. Perrine stared up at the sky with lifeless eyes. Julienne’s knife protruded from his ribs, but it was the blood seeping from his temple that suggested the cause of his demise: his head had cracked open on the stone pavement when he landed.

Dare bent and pressed his fingers against the side of their nemesis’s neck.

“He’s dead,” Dare said very softly.

Julienne shuddered. When Dare straightened and reached for her, she flung herself into his arms. Biting back a sob, she pressed her face into his shoulder and clung as he enfolded her in his embrace.

She was shaking badly, and so was he. She felt his pounding heartbeat as he scattered light, desperate kisses against her hair.

He drew back long enough to kiss her mouth hard, before wrapping his arms tightly around her again, as if afraid to let her go. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “I was so terrified. I thought he would kill you.”

“
You
were terrified?” His tone was incredulous. “That devil held a gun to your head and you were afraid for
me
?”

“Yes.”

“You could not have been any more terrified than I was.”

For a long moment, they simply held each other, celebrating their deliverance. It was longer still before Julienne began to feel her quakes subside.

She sighed, cherishing the protective circle of Dare’s arms. “I’m glad it is finally over.”

Dare made a fervent sound of agreement. “I’m glad you didn’t need me to rescue you. I don’t think I could have reached you in time.” He raised his head, meeting her gaze. “I envy you, angel.”

“For what?”

“You saved us both,
and
you had the satisfaction of killing that bastard.” A strained but teasing smile curved Dare’s lips. “Do you realize what a blow that is to my self-esteem? You might have allowed me to play the role of hero.”

She gave a shaky laugh at his attempt to lighten the horror she was feeling at having taken a man’s life. “I’ve engaged in enough stage fights during my acting career to know a trick or two.”

“Well, I only wish I could have been spared the uncertainty. I lost ten years off my life in the last ten minutes.” His gaze suddenly grew solemn as he searched her face. “We’ve lost too many years, Julienne.”

Julienne flinched at the reminder, then felt her heart plummet as she remembered the vow she had made to herself. There would be no more years together. She would have to leave Dare now.

A slashing pain pierced her at the thought.

But she would be spared the devastation for at least a while longer, she realized, glancing up to see a crowd gathered above them on the upper level. “Now is not the time, Dare.”

Even as she spoke, she saw Lord Castlereagh descending the stone steps toward them, followed immediately by his bodyguards. Julienne stepped back, relinquishing Dare’s embrace.

Castlereagh took in the situation at a glance. “I believe I have you to thank for my life, Wolverton.”

Dare shook his head. “No, it is Miss Laurent who deserves your thanks. She not only prevented your assassination, but she managed to dispatch the man responsible.”

The foreign secretary looked down at Perrine’s body. “So this is Caliban? The villain who murdered and blackmailed his way across half of Europe?”

“I have no doubt,” Dare answered.

Raising his gaze, Castlereagh smiled gravely at Julienne. “Our countrymen owe you a tremendous debt, Miss Laurent. And so do I. It will be a great relief to no longer live in fear for my life. I hope you will tell me how I may repay you.”

Julienne wanted to respond with a polite demur, but her legs suddenly felt as weak as wet noodles. “I think perhaps I should sit down, my lord.”

“But of course. You have been through an ordeal that would drive most ladies into hysterics. Will you allow me to escort you back to the palace?” Castlereagh gave her his arm. “The king of France would like to express his own gratitude, I’m certain. And he will be delighted to hear the tale of how you defeated a deadly villain….”

Watching them walk away, Dare shuddered at the image of Perrine holding a pistol to Julienne’s head, knowing it would haunt him for a very long time. He seized a raw breath, realizing how close he’d come to losing her.

He could not have gone on without her, he knew. Julienne held his heart, his soul.

He felt a fierce ache in his chest as he watched her retreating figure. She had set a fire burning deep in his heart—but it remained for him to kindle the same fire in her heart, Dare thought grimly.

It would not be easy. He had felt her withdrawal just now, the same emotional resistance he’d sensed last night when he held her in his arms: hunger edged with despair.

Dare felt his hands curl into fists. He had no intention of losing Julienne now. He had initially pursued her for the wager, in order to ferret out her secrets, but he would do it earnestly this time.

He would find a way to truly earn her love and bind her to him for all time.

Chapter

Eighteen

London, June 1814

If Julienne had been the subject of gossip before, upon her return to London she became a genuine celebrity.

In his dispatches Lord Castlereagh had lavishly praised her role in defeating a criminal mastermind, and the newspapers embellished the tale to make her into a heroine. According to the latest rumors, she and Dare had single-handedly brought down one of Napoleon’s chief disciples.

Julienne discovered herself wildly popular with the commoners of London and even many members of the gentry. Her theater performances sold out every single night—which sent the temperamental Edmund Kean into fits of jealousy—and swarms of young bucks surrounded her backstage afterward. Riddingham preened for having helped lead them to Caliban.

Her fame soared further when the Prince Regent gave both her and Dare public commendations. Prinny was one of Dare’s intimates, but it was a high honor for a mere actress to be invited to dine at Carleton House with the likes of General Lord Wellington and Marshal Blucher and the countless other dignitaries, royalty, and aristocrats celebrating the liberation of Europe.