The Prince’s Bride (5 page)

“Yes,” she admitted, “on the night we brought you here. Pierre carried you in, and
I made sure you were comfortable before we left you.”

She heard him tap his finger three times against the wineglass. “Was it
you
who removed my jacket, shirt, and boots?”

“Yes.” There was no point in being coy, especially when she was reminded of his beautiful
half-naked form on the bed.

His chair creaked. She imagined him lounging back in it with his long, muscular legs
stretched out before him.

“I find it rather unsettling,” he said, “that there is a sliding door for the delivery
of supper trays. I wonder how many others have been held captive in this room, and
for what purpose.”

“I could hazard a guess,” she replied, “but I shouldn’t speculate. I could always
ask Pierre. He has lived here, in this wing, all his life.”

“Is he related to the marquis?” Nicholas asked.

Sadly, she knew the whole sordid story of Pierre’s history here at d’Entremont Manor.
His presence was no secret in the village. It had been a source of gossip for years.

“He is, in a way,” she replied, “for he is the illegitimate son of the marquis’s younger
sister. She fell in love with one of the grooms when she was only sixteen. When it
was discovered that she was carrying his child, the young man in question was found
floating dead in the fishpond. She was locked up in the house during her confinement,
and perhaps this was her room. Regrettably, she died on the birthing bed, but the
child survived. That child is Pierre.”

“So he is the marquis’s nephew. I thought he was a servant.”

“He was always treated like one.” Véronique laid her hand on the door again and listened
for any sounds. “From what I understand, when the current Lord d’Entremont inherited
his title and became master of the house, he was more generous with Pierre, for he
loved his sister. That is why Pierre lives in this wing and not with the other servants.
He serves the marquis quite faithfully as his driver and private secretary, though
the marquis still refuses to recognize him as his nephew.”

“It sounds like a scandalous French novel,” Nicholas replied. “Does the marquis have
any children of his own?”

Véronique hesitated, for she felt uneasy revealing details of someone else’s private
life, but supposed it was common knowledge here in France. Besides, she owed nothing
to the marquis. To the contrary, he owed a great deal to her.

“Lord d’Entremont had three children at one time, but lost the two eldest daughters
to consumption ten years ago. Then he lost his wife to some other illness a short
time later.”

“And the third child?” Nicholas asked.

Again, she hesitated, for this was personal information and was perhaps part of the
reason for the abduction. She had suspected it, but was not yet sure.…

“He lost his only son a month ago at Waterloo,” she said. “He was a leader in Napoléon’s
Imperial Guard.”

“A very prestigious position,” Nicholas replied. “Do you think that has something
to do with the marquis wanting to see me? The Petersbourg cavalry was instrumental
in Napoléon’s defeat on that battlefield. Could it be vengeance?”

She swallowed uneasily. “I don’t know. I suppose it could be.”

Lord, what was she doing?

“Where is the marquis now?” Nicholas asked. “From where is he traveling?”

She knew then that she had indeed been brought here to be interrogated, not to help
pass the time.

Véronique sat with her back ramrod straight, her hands folded on her lap.

“Véronique?”

“Yes, I am here,” she quickly said, “and I do not know where the marquis is at the
moment. I have been dealing mostly with Pierre since the initial deal was struck.”

The chair creaked on the other side of the door. “You must understand that it is not
easy for me to remain here,” he said, “like a sitting duck.”

“I do understand.”

“Then why won’t you help me?” he asked. “Whatever it is that you need, Véronique,
I promise I can give it to you. If only you would offer me some assistance.”

“To do what? Escape?”

The chair creaked again as he sat forward and spoke closer to the door. “Yes.”

Her heart began to pound at the mere sound of his voice … so close to the door while
she waited for him to continue.

“If you would only come to my rescue,” he whispered, “I would see to it personally
that you would be rewarded. Not only would you be exonerated from all charges concerning
my kidnapping, but I would ensure that you would have whatever it is that d’Entremont
is promising. Won’t you please tell me what that is?”

All her instincts were screaming at her to confide in him. To accept his offer. To
unlock the door and become his partner in an escape. But could he be trusted to keep
his word, and was it even possible for him to help her and Gabrielle? Could he give
her back her home if d’Entremont refused to part with it?

“Please come inside,” Nicholas softly said. “I want to see you, talk with you. We
could help each other.”

“Nicholas, please do not ask me.”

“But I must,” he replied. His tone was silky with a veiled passion that aroused her
senses, even though she knew it was a clever manipulation.

“There was something between us the other night,” he continued. “Something quite wonderful,
as if it were destiny that we should meet. I believed it at the time, and I still
believe it now. There is a reason you were chosen for this task, Véronique. You imply
that you are trapped by d’Entremont, which is why you agreed to this. But I know you
are no villain.
He
is the villain, and I have the power to buy your freedom from him, and erase this
crime you have committed. You are not my captor, Véronique. He is. You are my rescuer,
and I am yours.”

There was a sudden terrible clatter somewhere else in the house, as if a maid had
dropped a silver tray on a marble floor. It caused Véronique to jump in her chair.
Her gaze darted to the far end of the corridor.

“What was that?” Nicholas asked.

“I am not sure,” she replied. “I don’t think it was anything.”

Then why was her heart pounding as if she had been caught in some secret act of thievery?

“Listen to me, Véronique,” he said. “This can all work well in your favor if you will
unlock this door and come inside. We can plan something together, find a way out of
this. I cannot do it without you, and I do not believe you want to be a part of something
as ugly as what this might become. I do not know what the marquis wants from me, but
clearly it is not a friendly invitation. This is sinister. I feel it in my bones,
as you must feel it, too.”

She realized she was nodding her head. She had been uncomfortable about this assignment
from the beginning, but had ignored any inclination toward feelings of guilt or doubt.
She had intentionally steeled herself into a woman driven by necessity, duty, and
love for her family—for she must get her home back from the marquis. Nothing else
outside of that mattered … until now.

Prince Nicholas had become so much more than a mere package for her to deliver. He
was a man—a handsome, regal prince who had aroused her desires and touched something
inside her, even when she knew he was manipulating her to get what he wanted. What
she felt was something quite unfamiliar, which she did not yet understand.

She didn’t want this to turn ugly. That would be a terrible tragedy. She would never
be able to live with herself if d’Entremont did something foul, and she did not trust
him, for he was no gentleman.

“I do not have a key,” she told Nicholas at last. “Pierre has it. But there must be
another. The housekeeper would surely have one.”

Oh, what was she saying?

“Could you get it from her without Pierre knowing?”

“I could try.”

A heavy silence ensued while she considered all the possible consequences of this
decision. Was she really going to do this? Was it the right course of action? Or was
she letting her emotions, and her desires, rule her intellect?

“We do not have much time,” Nicholas said. “D’Entremont will be here in less than
two days.”

Despite everything, Véronique found herself nodding her head again. “I will do my
best. So I must leave you now. Expect me later, at dusk, after the supper trays have
been delivered.”

She stood up and turned the back of the chair against the wall, then heard the deep
timbre of Nicholas’s voice behind the door. “When you slip the key into this lock,
Véronique, I should warn you about something.”

She listened.… “Yes?”

His voice, though quiet, possessed a raw, ominous quality. “I
will
need to kiss you.”

A sizzling, almost alarming spark of anticipation danced down her spine at the mere
thought of being in this man’s arms again and accepting his gratitude. She had spent
far too many moments over the past two days conjuring him in her imagination, fantasizing
about what might have occurred in the coach if she had not put laudanum in his champagne
at the ball.

But could she trust him?
Should
she?

Surely this was madness.

“I will return at dusk,” she said nevertheless in a steady voice. As steady as she
could manage.

Then she hurried back to her room to talk this over with Gabrielle.

Chapter Five

“Are you certain we can trust him?” Gabby asked while Véronique paced back and forth
across the thick red carpet. “What if he turns us in for kidnapping and refuses to
honor the agreement? What would happen to Mother?”

Véronique stopped pacing and cupped her forehead in her hands. “That would be the
worst possible outcome. But somehow, for some reason I cannot explain, everything
in my heart is telling me that he will keep his word if we help him. I despise d’Entremont,
and I know you do, too. How can we trust him more than we would trust Prince Nicholas,
who has been most unfairly treated?”

“By
us,
” Gabby reminded her. “
You
especially, when you drugged him and carted him off to parts unknown, bound and gagged
like an animal.”

“He was never gagged,” Véronique corrected her. “Now you are just being dramatic.”

“How can I help it? This is quite an unbelievable situation. Worse than any farcical
play.”

Véronique faced her sister. “Do you know if Pierre keeps the key on him, or would
it be in his room?”

“Do you really intend to steal it?”

“Yes, if I can. If not, I will try the housekeeper.”

Gabby crossed the room to meet Véronique at the foot of the bed. “I saw him slip it
into his coat pocket after we locked Nicholas inside on the first night. I do not
believe it’s been used since then. It could still be in his pocket, or he may have
hidden it in his room.”

Véronique experienced a fluttery feeling in her belly, accompanied by an acute sense
of purpose. “I will check his room this afternoon.”

“Should I go with you?”

“No, but you could be my decoy. Go for a walk in the garden so that Pierre will follow
to keep an eye on you, as he always does. He is very suspicious. It’s warm outside.
He won’t likely be wearing his overcoat. With luck, he will leave it in his room.”

Gabrielle hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Véronique asked. “Do you not want to do this?”

“It’s not that,” she replied as she moved to a chair and sat down. “I am just not
feeling well this morning.”

“You do look pale.” Véronique crossed to her sister and placed the back of her hand
on her forehead. “Your temperature seems normal.”

Gabrielle pushed her hand away. “I am fine. It’s nothing.” She quickly stood up and
reached for her bonnet, slipped it on, and tied the ribbons under her chin. “Very
well, then. Off I go.”

Véronique escorted her sister to the stairs, then returned to their guest chamber
to watch from the window.

A few minutes later, Gabby strolled leisurely toward the cherry orchard. Sure enough,
Pierre appeared from the stables to follow her at a distance.

*   *   *

The door to Pierre’s chamber was unlocked, and the rest of the wing was deserted,
so it was an effortless undertaking to slip inside. Véronique quietly closed the door
behind her and glanced around.

It was a comfortable room, well lived in, for Pierre had occupied this space for many
years, since the death of the former marquis. Heavy, dusty-looking fabrics covered
the windows, and the furniture was faded and threadbare in places. A bookcase was
stuffed tight with clutter, where papers lay horizontally on top of books with the
spines out.

Her gaze shifted to the wardrobe. She walked quickly to it, opened the door, and found
the coat he had been wearing on the night of the abduction.

With fast-moving fingers, she searched the pockets, but found them all empty.

Véronique huffed in frustration, then searched all the other pockets.

After closing the wardrobe doors, she turned to peruse the room. Her gaze settled
on the desk in the corner, which was buried under a mountain of books and papers.

Véronique walked toward it and pulled open each drawer. She gasped with surprise when
the bottom drawer revealed a large collection of keys. Surely it contained every key
in the entire manor house.

She searched through them and found them to be labeled according to each floor and
wing, which made it easy to narrow it down to the correct set.

Gently, she closed the desk drawer before tiptoeing out of the room. On her way out,
she spotted Nicholas’s dress sword and belt leaning up against the wall. Grabbing
hold of them, she ran out and shut the door behind her, then hurried back down the
corridor to her own chamber.

Once there, she crossed to the window to ensure that Gabrielle was still leading Pierre
away from the house. When she spotted her sister, however, a wave of panic rose up
within her, for Gabby was running back to the house with Pierre in hot pursuit.