Chapter Twenty-Six

 

 

 

The man known to the small band of runaways as Professor Dee went by many names, each governed by the territory in which he found himself. His interest in the espionage business had, until now, been academic, a lucrative exercise in paperwork. After all, he was nothing more remarkable than a Dublin scholar with the occasional sideline in acquiring priceless treasures even if now and again he also contracted freelance agents to carry out the odd bit of work for the British crown. Not until this trip to France had he been quite so in the heart of the action, though. His first instinct, upon discovering that Gaudet and William were on the run, had been to gather up his daughter and the best friend who traveled with them and flee for safety, leaving the lot of them to it, but he would not, could not, as well he knew.

He was not a man who could turn his back on anyone, and he suspected that, one day soon, Bastien Dupire might need someone reliable when his mother showed her true colors and grabbed for the diamond.

Now Dee lay in the gathering dawn, half-awake and half still dreaming of a life without danger, no longer on the road but settled once more in his tranquil home, living a few quiet months after weeks of travel.

Soon, he promised himself as he rolled over and tugged the blanket up farther. Soon we will be home.

The sound from beyond the door alerted him to the presence of another in the second before the door itself started to open. He slipped his hand beneath the pillow for the touch of the pistol there as someone entered the room, the door closing a moment later.

The light tread of bare feet suggested that the intruder must be one of the few women in the house. He knew immediately who it would be and why. Gaudet’s drama the previous day had delayed their departure yet when Sylvie had disappeared for her short sojourn that same morning, she could not have known they would be remaining here in the farmhouse. That Sylvie Dupire was passing information to Tessier’s agents was beyond question—that she would now fear they would suspect her of betrayal might drive her to anything.

What that anything might be became clear a moment later as the covers shifted, the thin mattress beside him dipping with Sylvie’s slight weight. There was a long pause then, the only sound the softness of her breathing beside him.

“I believe, Mademoiselle Dupire,” Dee opened his eyes to look at his unexpected companion, words soft, “you have happened into the wrong room.”

“On the contrary, Professor…” She lowered her eyes for a moment, he noted, before meeting his gaze again. “I’m exactly where I meant to be.”

“You are seeking to…secure our alliance?”

“If you want to put it like that.” She chewed at her lip, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Yesterday, just before breakfast”—Dee reached up to run his hand gently down her hair, gaze sweeping over her—“I searched the house but I couldn’t find you—you were all I could think about.” He met her eyes, asking, “Where did you run away to?”

Her gaze dropped briefly before she shrugged. “Sometimes you just need to get away.”

“Do we really need the diamond, Sylvie?” One last chance to save herself, to prove his suspicions wrong. “We have our children, we could have a quiet life.”

“With the diamond…” She leaned close enough that he could feel her breath. “We could have anything. Everything.”

“Would we endanger our friends to get it?”

“Oh, they’d be all right.”

“Tessier would look to them for his revenge.” Dee held her gaze, needing her to say something that would convince him he was wrong about her traitorous nature. This pantomime of flirtation might have been ungentlemanly, but to send the party to their deaths was a risk he was not about to take. “And it would be brutal.”

“We’d have the diamond.” Nothing flickered in Sylvie’s gaze. “As consolation.”

“I think we will change our route to the coast,” Dee commented idly, catching the flash of panic that crossed her delicate features. “Just in case we are followed.”

“Why would we have been?” She shook her head. “Surely—”

“But why take the risk?” He stroked her hair again. “Charron knew all of the contacts. He might have given them away. He told you where to find us, after all.”

“Which route will we take instead?”

“I wouldn’t put you at risk by telling you.”

“We’re in this together.” A flicker of something close to anger passed over her gaze then, her mouth tightening. “Remember?”

“Just you and me.” He caressed her cheek with one hand whilst he slipped his other arm around her waist, a threat as much as an embrace. For a moment, they were so close it might have been the prelude to a kiss. “And Vincent Tessier?” There was no romance in Dee’s knowing tone, nor his embrace when he tightened his arm around Sylvie.

“He’d never catch us.” The hint of panic was brief but it was enough. “You know that as well as I do.”

There was nothing worse than a traitor, he knew, and one driven by money was worst of all. Sylvie Dupire had no ideology by which she was guided, no radical fire, nothing but a love of avarice and influence. In a moment, he had drawn the pistol from beneath his pillow and told her, “Because of you, good people are dead—you are neither half so charming nor half so plausible as you think, Madame.”

“We can talk about this.” Fear was definitely the dominant emotion then, the color draining from her face. “It’s not what you think.”

“Your son loved that man. Charron was a father to him, Sylvie.”

“There was nothing we could have done to save him.” She shook her head. “He’d have wanted us safe.”

“Did you try, Madam?” he asked frostily. “No, you did not—if you had, you would not be here today.”

“I’ve got my boy to think of,” she tried then. “You said it yourself, children come first—”

“And I believe you said that sacrifices must be made…your boy was among them.”

“You misunderstood my meaning, Professor.”

“Then clarify it, Mademoiselle, and let us understand one another better.”

“What sort of a mother would I be?” Sylvie laughed, the sound hollow and desperate, before turning on the offensive. “You have played me most badly, sir.”

“And you are an innocent in thrall to my cunning?” He could hardly help but smile then, wondering when the world had come to this. “In that case, let us travel to Le Havre by a different route. You will be free to come and go, but only with a chaperone. If I am wrong and no harm meets us at the coast, then I will offer you my abject apologies. If, however, I am right, then Tessier will believe you complicit in the deception and you will be the object of his vengeance.” He watched her for a moment, reading a slight hint of fear in her eyes. “Of course, if I am wrong, then you have nothing to fear from the Butcher of Orléans.”

“You’d make me a prisoner?”

He watched unmoved as she mustered outrage out of her panic, twisting in his grip.

“These are dangerous lands. I would not let any woman travel alone.”

The laugh that followed was hardly reassuring, much less convincing him that Sylvie was in any way innocent. He tightened his grasp as from the corridor outside came the sound of cheery whistling. Recognizing Adam’s manner, Dee called casually, “Adam, apprehend our traitor on your way down to breakfast?”

Sylvie flew from the bed at that, face flaming. “Traitor? There are many worse than me. What about the lies your man Morel tells?”

“Lies?” Dee slipped from the bed calmly as he heard Adam come to rest outside the closed door. He waited for her to elaborate, pulling a shirt on to accompany the breeches it was always germane to wear when sharing a house with a woman who had designs on spoils of one sort or another.

“If you knew the half of it.”

“If it involves a drunken stumble and a deep ditch, believe me, I know.” He shrugged on a waistcoat, well used to such empty claims once a villain found their back to a wall. “It won’t buy your freedom, Madame, be assured of that.”

“No.” There was a pleased little smile then, “No, not that.”

“God help you, Mademoiselle, if Tessier ever discovers your plan.” Dee’s words were not bitter, not gloating, only honest. “But as long as you travel with us, consider yourself protected—too many children have been left orphans.”

“You had better watch your back.” She met his gaze, brazen to the last. “Professor.”

“And if harm comes to me, you had better watch your neck.” He shrugged, plenty of similar threats having come his way down the years. “Because that head won’t be half so smart when it’s resting in the basket.”

Sylvie had, as he suspected, no response to that, the door slamming behind her before her voice, all sweetness, could be heard responding to Adam.

“Put her back in her room,” Dee called. “And lock the damn door.”