The Bed and the Bachelor (31 page)

Calvière glanced up, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and relief. “You would do that? You would see to their safety?”

“Yes, I would do that.” And Drake realized in that moment that regardless of his original reasons for tracking Sebastianne here to her home village, none of that mattered anymore. She was in trouble, and in spite of what she had done, he would come to her aid.

Sebastianne’s father blinked, his eyes slightly pink around the edges. “You are good, my lord, a true and noble gentleman. It is a pity you were not born French.”

At the remark, Drake couldn’t help but laugh.

Seemingly recovered, Calvière picked up his brandy and tossed it back, sighing with pleasure at the excellent libation.

Drake hesitated, not wishing to upset the older man again. Yet he had to know. “One last question,
monsieur,
before we return to our adventures in prime numbers.”

At the reminder of mathematics, Calvière’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Drake hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by mentioning Calvière’s favorite topic and thus losing the other man’s focus entirely.

“Did you happen to hear his name?”

Calvière stood and crossed the room, leaning down to root through a stack of papers. “Whose name?” he asked distractedly.

“The one who came to the garden. Do you know how he is called?”

Calvière’s fingers slowed, the frown returning to his face. For a long moment, Drake didn’t think he would answer.

“Vacheau,” Calvière whispered with a quiet shudder. “The villain’s name is Vacheau.”

Chapter 29

S
ebastianne went about her usual routine for the remainder of the afternoon—if anything could be considered “usual” under the circumstances. She cleaned and tidied the house, gathered herbs in the garden and put the bread in the oven to bake and the chicken on the stove to boil, as she’d originally planned. The boys returned from finishing their chores, then after washing their hands and faces, helped her set the table.

Just when she was about to call them for supper, her father and Drake emerged from his workroom, both men still deep in discussion over number theory. Deciding Drake could be of help, she thrust a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew into his hands and left him to do the rest. With the food steaming fragrantly in bowls and platters on the table, they all sat down to eat.

She said little throughout the meal, content to let Drake tell the boys a few interesting tales that held them riveted. Even Julien relaxed the last of his guard, his eyes fixed with interest.

After the meal, she left them all at the table while she went to wash up. To his credit, Drake did offer to help, but she refused, preferring to work alone while she considered the impact of Drake’s presence in the house, and in France. The fact that he’d so easily charmed her family was both a blessing and a curse since she vowed that, come morning, she would have to kick him out.

And if he refused to leave?

She would think of a way to force him to go. It was dangerous enough having him in the cottage. But if Vacheau should arrive and discover Drake . . . a cold shiver raised gooseflesh on her skin at the thought of what might follow.

Non,
she told herself,
Drake will stay the night, then go on his way.

And once he was gone?

Her heart gave a sharp pang at the idea. Losing him once had been wrenching. Losing him again . . . she wasn’t sure she’d be able to recover from the pain. But Drake wasn’t here to woo her, he’d come for retribution, and she would do well to remind herself of that fact.

“You can sleep in Papa’s workroom,” she told Drake more than an hour later, as her father and brothers called good night and made their way to their rooms. “I’ve made up the sofa in there, and while it’s not up to your usual lordly standards, it should suffice for one night.”

She expected him to argue and renew his entreaties to sleep in her bed. Instead, he smiled and thanked her for the meal and the accommodations, dropping a kiss on her forehead before turning away.

Puzzled and strangely disappointed, she went to look in on the boys in the loft and say another good night before returning downstairs to her bedchamber at the rear of the house.

The night was too warm to sleep with the windows closed, so she left them open, allowing a faint breeze to bring the fragrant scents of grass and climbing roses into the room. Insects chirped out a soothing chorus beyond the drawn curtains, the occasional croak from a frog adding a punctuation to the harmony.

Easing out of her dress, she hung it in the wardrobe before pulling a thin cotton nightgown over her head. Crossing to the washbasin, she bathed her face, then scrubbed her teeth with a bristle toothbrush and a precious bit of tooth powder that she’d managed to bring back with her from London. Next, she took up her brush and gave her hair a hundred strokes that made the long strands crackle. Laying the brush down, she went to her bed and climbed in, then leaned over and blew out the candle.

She was nearly asleep when she felt a hand slide over her mouth. Panicked, she gave a muffled cry and began to struggle.

“It’s only me,” a deep, familiar voice said against her ear. “I didn’t want you taking fright and waking up the entire house.”

She stared at Drake in the darkness, her heart pounding in violent strokes beneath her breastbone. Glaring at him, she spoke again, but her words came out garbled and indistinguishable against his palm. Annoyed, she gave him a tiny nip with her teeth.

“Hey!” he complained, pulling back his hand. “There’s no cause for that.”

“Oh, isn’t there?” She sat up in bed, the sheet falling away. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk. By the way, that sofa of your father’s isn’t very comfortable.”

“Comfortable or not, you should return to it and go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” When the sun would be shining and she would have the strength to send him away for good—she hoped.

“No,” he said, soft but emphatic, as if he knew exactly what she planned. “We’ll talk now.”

“I’m tired, Drake,” she said, realizing she was not only tired in body but in spirit as well. “Go away.”

“Not until you’ve answered my questions.” Walking to the window, he pulled back the curtains and let in enough moonlight for both of them to see. Nudging her over, he sat down on the bed. “Tell me about Vacheau.”

She felt her eyes widen, her throat growing tight. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Your father. He notices far more than you might imagine.”

She resisted the urge to groan.

“He heard the two of you arguing a few days ago. He says the man threatened you and that you have something that he wants rather badly. Is it the cipher, Sebastianne? I assumed you would already have handed it over. Is that not the case?”

She lifted her gaze to his, the rich green in his eyes visible even in the low light. Slowly, she shook her head. “I gave him only a portion.”

“What do you mean, a portion?”

She raised her chin with a kind of defiant pride. “I made a few adjustments to the equation that left out some rather important bits and pieces. He is too poorly versed in mathematics to realize what I’d done and that I’d rendered the cipher essentially useless.”

“So you duped him?” Drake barked out a quick laugh. “Good Lord.” But his humor faded almost instantly. “But now he knows what you did.”

She suppressed a shudder. “Yes, he knows, and he wants the real code.”

Drake ran his fingers through his hair, a worried scowl on his forehead. “Why on earth did you cross him when you had to realize he’d figure it out eventually. What did you hope to gain, particularly after you went to so much trouble to acquire the cipher in the first place?”

“He promised to leave us alone if I went along with his scheme, but I knew he would never keep his word. So I decided to provide myself with a measure of insurance so he couldn’t so easily betray me. Do you believe me, then? Do you see that I had no choice?”

“I’m starting to,” he said. “Tell me everything and start at the beginning, then I’ll decide what I do and do not believe.”

Hugging a pillow to her chest, she unburdened herself to Drake, leaving nothing out from the moment Vacheau had shown up at the cottage last autumn to the hour she’d arrived back home in France. The only part she didn’t include were her feelings for Drake. She knew what he must think of her, and she couldn’t bring herself to admit that while she was carrying out her mission, she’d made the fatal error of falling in love with him.

By the time she was through, Drake was leaning against the footboard, his arms crossed over his chest, a half-incredulous, half-furious expression on his face. “So let me make sure I understand you clearly. You hid the genuine cipher in a cave around here and, in exchange for it, you’re blackmailing Vacheau for a writ of safe passage signed by Napoleon himself?”

“Yes, that about sums it up.”

He raked a hand through his hair again. “Either you’re insane or far less intelligent than I gave you credit for being. My God, you can’t seriously think he’ll let you get away with this?”

“He won’t have a choice,” she defended. “If he wants the cipher, he’ll have to give me the writ.”

“And kill you the instant it’s in his hand. A man like that has no morals, no conscience. He won’t let you or your family go, Sebastianne. He’ll never quit.”

With a sinking heart, she knew he was right. After all, it took a miracle to save a soul from the devil. “But what else was I to do? I couldn’t just hand the cipher over to him. I would have had nothing. He would simply have used me again.”

A long silence fell, even the night creatures having gone quiet.

“You could have come to me,” Drake said in a low voice. “You could have told me what you’ve just told me now and asked for my help.”

She squeezed the pillow tighter against her chest. “I thought about it, those last few days in London. But what would you have done if I had come to you? If I had told you I had been deliberately placed in your household and that I was there to steal your code and hand it over to the French? You might have sympathized and offered to help me, but you might just as easily have had me clapped in chains and dragged off to Newgate.”

Tossing the pillow aside, she leaned forward. “I couldn’t take that risk, not with my family’s well-being at stake. I couldn’t take the chance that you would look at me with hate in your eyes like you did when you came here this morning. That you would turn me away, turn me in.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said thickly. “I admit I’ve been very angry since I found out what you’d done, but I don’t hate you.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never seen you look at me the way you did today.”

“And I never thought the woman I lo . . . the woman with whom I shared my bed and the most intimate details of my life could betray me the way you did. I was going to kidnap you, you know.”

Her lips parted on a silent inhalation.

“I’d planned to find you and separate you from anyone who might give you aid. Then I was going to cart you back to England with me.”

She swallowed. “And afterward? Would you have seen me imprisoned? Punished? Humiliated?”

Glancing through the darkness, he met her gaze. “I honestly don’t know. I told myself I wanted restitution, but now I’m no longer certain. Would I be taking you back to pay for stealing the cipher, or for lying and leaving me without so much as a word.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I never meant to hurt you, or any of the others. I did what I was forced to do, but I never liked it. I never wanted to deceive you. Please, after everything I’ve told you, you must believe that.”

A long moment passed before he replied. “Strangely enough, I do.”

An arrow of relief surged through her. “And I’m not lying now. I will never lie to you again.”

“You swear?” he tested.

“Yes. On my family’s honor.”

He inclined his head. “Then I accept that promise and shall hold you to it.”

“Since we’re being honest,” she said, idly studying the patterns of light and shadows playing against the walls. “I might as well tell you now that you cannot stay.”

“What?”

Her gaze flew back to his. “Surely you must see how much danger you are in just by being here? You’ve got to go while you still can. Before someone sees you and realizes you do not belong.”

He shot her a fearsome scowl. “Do you really think I’m just going to abandon you and your family to your fate? Do you imagine I’m going to turn tail and run and let that knave do worse than blackmail you? I’m not going anywhere, Sebastianne.”

“But you must, you have to for everyone’s safety.”

“And let him double-deal you again? Let him have the cipher, then turn around and slit your throat?”

She put a hand up to her neck, shuddering at the image he painted, one she knew to be a very real possibility.

“No,” Drake said, uncompromising. “I’m going to stay and help you, and you’re going to let me.”

Sebastianne stared at him. “But Drake—”

“No buts. Come morning, you’re going to pack a few essentials for you and the boys and your father, then we’re all going to leave.”

“You mean flee? Abandon the house?”

He nodded. “That’s precisely what I mean. It won’t be easy traveling in such a large group without being noticed, but we’ll find a way.”

“A way to where?”

“England.”

The air rushed out of her lungs, and, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “But I can’t go back to England. You must have told someone about the missing cipher and that I’m the one who took it. They’ll want to make an example of me even if you say you no longer do.” She gave her head an emphatic shake. ”No, I’m not going anywhere. This is my home, my family’s home, and I’m not deserting it.”

Not again,
she thought. She’d only just come back, she couldn’t leave again so soon. The boys would be upset and devastated to leave their friends and the only home they’d ever known. As for her father, well, he’d fled to England once and missed France so much he’d returned in spite of the dangers. Asking him to go again . . . well, succeeding at that would take persuasive abilities of a Herculean proportion.

“Anne—Sebastianne, you must see that you don’t have the luxury of staying here anymore, however much you might wish it,” Drake said. “Vacheau is coming for that cipher, and once he has it, you’ll have no leverage left. Your only option is to run while you can.”

She pulled the sheet over herself again, suddenly chilled in spite of the warm night.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you,” Drake went on, “but I cannot do it here in France. Once we’re back in England on my home soil, I can protect you and your family. My brother Edward has a great deal of influence and can smooth your way.”