A headache slammed inside Elle’s skull.
Her mouth, dry and cottony, tasted foul. Forcing her heavy eyelids apart, she blinked once, then twice, before her surroundings sharpened into focus. She pushed herself into a sitting position atop the narrow bed, taking in the scarred wooden floors and flickering fire in the small stone hearth.
Where was she? Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slid off and stood, the wooden floorboards cool beneath her stocking-covered feet. Cracks of daylight filtered through a small, shuttered window, streaking across the bare top of a nearby dressing table, where her straw bonnet lay. The modest chamber’s musty air was swollen with the underlying scent of dust and lack of use. Her half boots were set neatly by the bed. She sat in a ladder-backed chair and drew them on. As she laced the boots, she wondered how she’d come to be here. Memories began to trickle back—walking with Will in the covered arcade, the altercation between the two men, the terrible odor of the cloth placed over her face.
Her scalp tingled as she put the pieces together into a logical sequence. She’d been abducted and Will had allowed it. Perhaps even planned it.
She crossed over to the door and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. Moving to the window, she shoved open the glass to reach the shutters. They didn’t budge, no matter how much force she used. Turning away from the window, a kernel of panic blossomed in her chest. She was a prisoner. Again.
A chill shivered through her at the possibility that Le Rasoir might have ordered Will to bring her here. Moineau would never find her. Dread rolled in her stomach at the thought of what unspeakable things Duret would do to Susanna if he couldn’t locate Elle and the papers she’d stolen from him.
Footsteps shuffled outside the closed door. She froze by the window, staring at the door as it pushed open, followed by the appearance of Will carrying a small wooden tray. He was in shirtsleeves with the white linen cuffs rolled up, baring strong forearms. Alarm flitted across his face when he caught site of the empty bed, his gaze darting around the space until it landed on her. “Oh, I see you are awake.” He spoke in mild tones.
“Where am I?” The words had sharp edges. “Why am I here?”
“All in good time.” He placed the tray on the dressing table. “I’ve brought you some food.”
“I don’t want to eat.” But even as she spoke the words, her stomach yawned with hunger. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d eaten. “Answer the question. Where am I?”
“Let us make an agreement,” he said. “You eat first, and then we talk.”
“You blackguard.” Her temper rose. “Where are we? Why have you brought me here?”
“Eat so you can keep up the strength to lob more insults in my direction.”
Her stomach growled as she cast a wary gaze at the bread, cheese, and ale on the tray.
“Is there poison in it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Perhaps you’ve laced it with a little something that will render me senseless.”
He winced, ever so slightly, before the untutored reflex quickly vanished beneath his usual stony expression. “You haven’t had any sustenance in several hours. Eat now, and then we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything.”
Keeping a suspicious eye on him, she moved to the table and stood before it, reaching for the cool ale first to sooth her dry throat.
“Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if you sit.”
“I prefer to stand.” She made quick work of the bread and cheese, eating all of it to appease her growling stomach. He watched in silence until she swallowed the last bite and washed it down with a few sips of ale. “There, I’m done. Now tell me where we are.”
“We are close to Paris.”
“Whose house is this?”
“It belongs to a friend.”
She wondered if that friend was Le Rasoir. “Why am I here?”
He exhaled and she noted the deep creases around his eyes. “Please sit and I will tell you everything.” She sat. “Gerard Duret lied to you about your daughter’s whereabouts.”
“Dear God.” Elle’s hand came up to her mouth, panic and nausea swelled, threatening to expel the contents of her stomach. “Is she—?”
“No, no,” he said quickly, once he realized the dire conclusion she’d jumped to. “She is safe and well.”
“Where is she?”
“With your father and brother.”
She sat stunned, unable to immediately comprehend what he was telling her. “But Duret said he stole her when she was born.”
“Susanna was indeed abducted, but not by your general.”
“Who, then?”
“Tristan Fitzroy.”
“Tristan?” She thought of her upright, earnest childhood friend and shook her head. “Impossible.”
“Fitzroy expected to marry you and was sorely disappointed when you wed someone else. I suppose he was determined to have whatever piece of you he could.”
Disbelief spun through her. She’d always known Tristan had wanted to wed her, but to do this? “So he stole my daughter?”
“I’ll explain everything later. We haven’t much time before Duret comes looking for you. Just know that Susanna is happy and safe in the care of your family.”
“My child is alive and well in England?” She whispered the words as if afraid to believe they could be true. Her throat ached at the thought of Susanna with her bighearted brother and tender, generous father.
“Yes, and rest assured she’s been healthy and happy. She wants for nothing.”
Dazed, she shook her head slowly from side to side. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“I can hardly imagine it.” Months of tension flowed out of her body leaving her muscles weak with relief. “Worry for her well-being has consumed me these past weeks.”
Her daughter was alive and safe. And in England, far removed from Duret’s clutches. The realization left her reeling and feeling almost giddy. Then a terrible thought occurred to her. “I have no way of knowing if you are lying.”
“It is the truth. I could never dissemble about something of such great importance.”
She stared at him. “How long have you known Susanna is safe?”
“For many months, from when she first came into Cosmo’s care.”
“You’ve met her?” She grasped his forearm where it lay on the table. “What is she like?”
“Very much like you.” His stoic expression softened. “Lively and always in search of her next adventure.”
“Does she look like me as well?” She’d known for some months now that her child was alive. But to have Will confirm it, to know he’d actually spent time in her company, made their child’s living, breathing existence compellingly real.
“Her hair color is somewhat similar to yours, I suppose, but her eyes are quite different,” he said, studying Elle’s features. “I presume that is because she looks more like her sire, although I was never acquainted with the man so I cannot say for certain.”
Emotion filled her chest. Her beautiful Susanna was alive and mischievous and playing along the Dorset cliffs, just as she had as a child. And she looked like her father. The wonder of it made her insides glow. “But wait.” She frowned. “If you’ve known all along where my baby is, why did you not tell me before now?”
“You never mentioned her.” He rose and went over to kneel before the hearth where the fire had quieted down. “I presumed you weren’t interested.”
“Not interested?” She stared at his back. “What do you mean?”
“You never asked about her.”
“You believed I didn’t have a care about my child’s whereabouts?”
“You didn’t seem worried about your father or your brother.” He threw some wood on the fire. “I assumed it was the same with Susanna.”
She felt the blood leave her face. She might be an unnatural mother, but she wasn’t a monster. “How could you think that?”
He twisted around from his position before the hearth to look at her. “It seemed the most natural conclusion.”
She rose and paced away, the floor creaking under each footfall, before abruptly turning to face him. “You think I am the sort of woman who would give birth and willingly, knowingly abandon my child without a care for her whereabouts?”
He rose to his full height, standing before the now-robust fire, which sparked and crackled behind him. “What was I to surmise? It isn’t as though you’ve been a prisoner. You live in a comfortable abode, dress in the latest fashions, and your life revolves around parties and other entertainments.” He spoke dispassionately, as if he were analyzing the characteristics of one of his blasted coins. “I naturally presumed you were living the lifestyle you’d chosen.”
“What you mean to say is that naturally you assumed the worst of me.”
He walked over to the table and remained standing. “You’ve been keeping company with Général Duret; everyone assumes you to be his mistress, and you seem quite happy to allow people to do so,” he said tightly. “What did you expect me to think?”
Disappointment throbbed in her chest. He’d truly never known her at all. Obviously, he’d never found any reason to bother to try. To him, she’d always been Cosmo’s cosseted little sister, someone to humor, to tolerate, to occasionally lust after, and nothing more.
She stalked back to face him across the short length of table. “Would you care to know why I did Duret’s bidding?” She leaned into the table, her palms flat on its battered surface. “He threatened to sell my five-year-old child to the highest bidder.”
He blanched, the pallor emphasizing the smattering of freckles across his sculpted cheekbones. “That blasted blackguard. I assure you I had no idea―”
“No. You preferred to assume I’d forgotten my child.” She straightened, suppressing the deep ache in her heart. “That I sent her away so I could dabble in Paris society and take numerous lovers.”
“How could I have known the truth?” He sat heavily in his chair, apparently no longer mindful of gentlemanly etiquette. “You’ve conducted yourself with complete jollity every time we’ve had occasion to meet.”
“Perhaps you harbored hopes my coterie of lovers would include you,” she said bitterly. “The loverly skills you demonstrated during that seduction in the garden were quite impressive. Perhaps you decided to keep my daughter’s whereabouts a secret in hopes I’d bed you—a continuation of the affair begun on my eighteenth birthday.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Let us be clear before you impugn my honor beyond all salvation.” The words vibrated with muted fury. “I am not so much of a scoundrel as that—to obscure the truth of your daughter’s fate in order to bed you.”
“How would I know that to be true? I have no idea who you are anymore.” Contempt coated her words. “The Will I thought I knew would never drug me and abduct me and hold me against my will. You’re a complete stranger to me now.”
“I suppose there is something to be said for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is good that you no longer regard me through the idealized eyes of a young girl. I, too, see you more clearly than ever.”
He rose, stiff-spined and without sparing her another glance, left the chamber, closing the door hard behind him. A few seconds later she heard the click of the lock and knew she was a prisoner again.
She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed when he returned again a few hours later with meat pies and ale.
She sat at the table and ate in silence. He sat across from her, as he had before, his manner detached. “How long do you plan to keep me here?” she asked, washing her last bite down with the cool ale.
“That depends on you.”
She sat back in her chair. “Are you going to enlighten me as to what you mean by that?”
“I’m referring to the packet you took from Duret’s domicile.”
She tensed. “What about it?”
“Did you lie about taking the dispatches?”
She reached for her ale again. “No.”
“Then where are they?”
She sipped her drink. “As I’ve already told you,” she temporized, “they are in my possession.”
“We didn’t find them under your skirt.”
Her cheeks burned. “You went looking under my skirt?”
A hint of red flushed his cheeks. “You lied.”
“I have them. But they are not under my skirts, as you now well know. I’ve learned to trust no one but myself.”
“Now that you are reassured of the safety of your child, I ask that you give them to me.”
She experienced a strong desire to provoke him out of his controlled complacency. “What need would a simple clerk have of dispatches sent from the highest levels of Napoléon’s government?”
He ignored the question. “I could force you to return them.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “How would you manage that?”
“I could have stripped you while you were unconscious,” he said in a matter-of-fact manner, as though he routinely did such things. “I’ve spared you the indignity thus far.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. “You are wrong to assume I have them on my person.”
“Did you give them to your maid for safekeeping?” He canted his head to the side. “Is that why you gave the girl all of those coins? As payment?”
“Only a fool would give important dispatches to that careless girl.”
“So you didn’t give them to anyone and you don’t have them on your person.”
“Exactly.”
“Regretfully, I cannot take your word for it.” He regarded her expectantly, as if waiting for her to grasp his meaning. “The stakes are far too high.”
They took each other’s measure in silence. Then her eyes rounded. “You cannot possibly expect me to—”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He shifted his gaze away from her. “It cannot be helped.”
She shot to her feet. “You want me to disrobe while you watch.”
He grimaced. “No. I’ve sent for a woman who can be trusted in matters such as these.”
“What matters are those precisely?” She wanted him to admit he worked for Le Rasoir.
He ignored the query. She realized he made a habit of doing so whenever she asked questions he didn’t care to answer. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Ketchum has been detained on another matter. She should be here in a day or so. You will remove your clothes in front of her, and she will search you and your things.”
Elle’s heart pounded. She could not allow this Mrs. Ketchum to search her. The dispatches were her only guarantee of reuniting with her daughter. Once Will and Le Rasoir had them, who knew what would happen to her. “And what is to occur after you’ve had me stripped like a strumpet?”
“For devil’s sake, Elle.” Removing his spectacles, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of this would be necessary if you’d just tell me where the papers are.”
She remained silent, her mind busily working through her options.
He let out a heavy sigh at her stubbornness. “After we have the packet, you are free to go about your business.”
“You’ll allow me to leave?” A sudden image of Susanna playing on the beach near Langtry provoked a painful yearning in her chest. “I can go home to England?”
He put his spectacles back on, carefully setting the ends around each ear. “Once I have the packet, I’ll have no reason to keep you.”
She didn’t trust him. The papers were her only leverage, and she still intended to trade them in exchange for reuniting with her child. Only now, instead of making a deal with Duret, she would forge an agreement with Will. In order to do that, she had to make certain he didn’t find the dispatches before she was ready to relinquish them.
“As I’ve told you,” she lied, “I no longer have them on my person.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” he said. “You would not have left them at Duret’s home, and you haven’t had the opportunity to tuck them away elsewhere.”
“We were in the arcade. There are many places to hide them there.”
“Although I considered that possibility to be highly unlikely, I had my factors search the arcade, to no avail.” His keen gaze settled on her. “No, I am convinced you’ve kept the dispatches close.”
She turned her limited options over in her mind. If his Mrs. Ketchum was an expert in this sort of thing, she’d be sure to discover where Elle had hidden the packet. She eyed Will speculatively, noting his tense position and his obvious intimate awareness of her―a remnant from their past together. He might not love her, but he wasn’t physically indifferent to her charms. He was a man, after all.
She made up her mind in an instant. Distracting him with the sight of her body was her only option. She came to her feet. “Let’s do it now.”
He tipped his head back, his eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?”
“My child has been on this earth almost six years and I’ve never laid eyes on her.” She fisted her hands on her hips so that he wouldn’t notice how badly they were shaking. “I’m not going to allow modesty to delay my reunion with her.”
He pushed slowly to his feet. “You’d prefer to disrobe here and now…err…before me, rather than wait a day or so for Mrs. Ketchum’s arrival?”
“Unless there is someone else here who’d like to watch my performance.” She reached for her ale, hoping it would give her the courage to do what she must. “As Duret’s whore, disrobing before another man shouldn’t discommode me in the least.”
He grimaced. “It’s only a day or two, Elle.”
She needed to be far away from here before this Mrs. Ketchum appeared. It was a ramshackle plan, but her only hope was to keep Will sufficiently distracted in order to hinder his discovery efforts.
“One more unnecessary hour away from my child is too much.” Tilting her head back, she poured the bittersweet ale down her throat until nothing remained. Setting the empty cup on the table with a decisive thud, she spoke with a bravado she did not feel.
“Let’s get this over with.”