The Paris Affair Part 45

"I don't know how I could have come so close to being seduced by a safe existence. Adventure is so much more satisfying."

"That sounds like something Tania would have said."

Wilhelmine smiled. "Well, she was my sister."

Blanca stared at Suzanne across Suzanne and Malcolm's bedchamber. "You're going disguised as a maid."

"Don't say that with such disdain. I've played a maid before."

Blanca snorted. She'd served as Suzanne's ladies' maid since Suzanne's masquerade as Mrs. Malcolm Rannoch had begun, but in truth was more of a companion. "It will probably do you good to be reminded of how most of the world lives."

"Yes, that's just what I was thinking."

Blanca pulled a face at her, then laughed and set down the chemise she'd been folding. "And Mr. Rannoch will be there as well?"

"Not with me, but on the same mission. Yes." Suzanne took a nightdress from the laundry basket beside Blanca and began to fold it.

Blanca reached for another chemise. "And Mr. O'Roarke."

Suzanne smoothed the muslin frill at the neck of the nightdress. "Yes, he'll be part of it as well."

Blanca folded the chemise, her gaze not leaving Suzanne's face. "You're playing with fire."

Suzanne pressed a stubborn crease from the frill. "When have I done anything else?"

CHAPTER 33.

In general, civilians were a drawback on a mission. They were liable to get overexcited and take unnecessary risks. One could never be sure which way they'd jump in a crisis, and they often needed rescuing at the awkwardest moments. Yet Suzanne couldn't deny that the excitement of Wilhelmine and Dorothee was infectious. Their bright eyes and high color took her back to the start of her time as a spy, when choices and loyalties had seemed simpler, when the thrill of adventure was as bright and unsullied as new-fallen snow. A thrill of adventure that, if she was honest, was as much a part of her love of her work as were her Republican ideals.

Juliette could hardly be said to share that thrill. Her face was set with determination, but her hands were steady as they held Rose, a baby of about ten months, in her lap. Rose, mercifully, had fallen asleep as they pulled away from Wilhelmine's house. Juliette and Suzanne wore gowns borrowed from Wilhelmine's maids Hanchen and Annina, who had once served Tatiana Kirsanova. Six-year-old Marguerite sat bolt upright on the seat between Juliette and Suzanne, studying the two glamorous women across the carriage from them.

Wilhelmine and Dorothee leaned back against the watered-silk squabs, ruched and flounced skirts spread round them. Pearls showed beneath the satin ribbons on Doro's bonnet and emeralds beneath the tulle scarf that anch.o.r.ed Willie's hat. They had dressed to accentuate their positions as Princesses of Courland. They might not be agents, but both knew the role costume played in creating a persona.

Young Pierre sat between them. He and Marguerite were old enough to understand the seriousness of what was happening but young enough still to be wide-eyed with adventure. And to trust that the adults would make sure everything came out right. Trust could be a frightening burden.

Colin squirmed in Suzanne's lap. Bringing him was perhaps another violation of the rules that should govern an agent's behavior. She had told herself it would be helpful to have an extra child in the mix, so the group with them didn't exactly mirror the St. Gilles brood. But the truth was she hadn't wanted to leave him behind, not knowing how long she might be gone. It wasn't the first time she had taken him with her on a mission.

Wilhelmine glanced out the dark gla.s.s of the window. "Not far to the gates now." She must have noted, as Suzanne did, the tension that shot through Juliette, for she added, "Doro and I went out of the city together only last week. The guards just wave us through."

"You don't think they'll notice that your maids look rather different?" Juliette asked.

"I very much doubt it," Wilhelmine said. She seemed about to add more, then checked herself as though realizing it was impolitic.

"People don't look at the servants," Suzanne said, steadying Colin as he turned to the window. "It affords the same anonymity as the uniforms the men are wearing."

Juliette gave a wry smile and nodded.

"Do we need to do anything special?" Pierre asked, looking between the adults.

Wilhelmine flashed a smile at him. "Just pretend we're on an adventure. Which we are."

Rose stirred in Juliette's arms and gave a small but insistent cry. Juliette unfastened the flap on the front of her bodice and put the baby to her breast with the ease of long practice.

The carriage picked up speed as they left behind the crowds at the center of Paris, then slowed as they approached the gates. Wilhelmine's coachman had their papers, but she turned to the window and lowered the gla.s.s. "Sergeant Hebert. How lovely to see you again. You scarcely get a day to yourself, do you?"

The sergeant's ruddy face appeared outside the window. A sharp, dark gaze swept the interior of the carriage.

"Don't stare at my maid." Wilhelmine leaned out the window to tap him on the shoulder. "You must be used to the sight of a woman feeding her baby. It isn't a display for men to leer at. You will be a dear and not detain us long, won't you? I fear we're shockingly late for the d.u.c.h.esse de Lagarde's fete. My sister had the hardest time choosing a shawl."

"Don't listen to her, Sergeant." Dorothee leaned over her sister's shoulder. "It was the d.u.c.h.ess herself who had to have her hair dressed three times."

Suzanne kept her gaze demurely lowered, in keeping with her role, but she heard the sergeant's easy laugh. Colin cuddled against her. He had a good instinct for when to be quiet. A stir of movement followed, and a call of "Let this carriage pa.s.s."

Reins snapped and wheels rattled. Suzanne smiled across the carriage at Willie and Doro as they pulled forwards. Amateurs or not, the sisters had a knack for this.

"Are we safe?" Marguerite asked in a small voice.

"Very nearly," Wilhelmine said. "The rest of the journey should be easy."

"Do you like backgammon?" Dorothee opened a mahogany compartment in the carriage and took out a traveling set. "We can entertain ourselves until we get to the inn."

Now that they had pa.s.sed the gates and inspection, they rearranged themselves in the carriage, Marguerite and Pierre sitting with Dorothee and the backgammon board, Wilhelmine moving across the carriage to sit by Suzanne and Juliette and the younger children.

"Thank you," Juliette said, looking into Wilhelmine's eyes.

"Your children are a delight." Wilhelmine's gaze focused on Pierre and Marguerite. An ache of loss flashed into her eyes, then was quickly banished. She looked back at Juliette. "And I'd say that even if nothing else bound me to them."

Open country flashed by outside the window as they picked up speed. Suzanne felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. Experienced or not, one never lost the wariness. Or one did at one's peril.

Juliette switched Rose to her other breast. Pierre won the first backgammon game, and they began another.

"You look so wonderfully relaxed," Wilhelmine said to Suzanne.

"Never that. One can't risk losing one's edge."

The carriage slowed abruptly. Pierre and Marguerite looked about with anxious faces.

"Probably just something in the road," Dorothee said, steadying the backgammon board.

Juliette smiled at her children, though Suzanne saw her fingers tighten on Rose's lavender blanket.

A m.u.f.fled voice sounded through the gla.s.s of the windows. It sounded like "Papers?"

Wilhelmine shot a glance at Suzanne, drew a breath, and opened the window. "Why the delay?"

Another face appeared at the window. "Your papers, madame?"

"My coachman has them. But we already presented them at the gates. I don't appreciate the delay."

Over Wilhelmine's shoulder, Suzanne could see the uniform of the soldier outside the window and at least four more men beyond him. They would have muskets.

A pause, the rustle of paper as he examined the doc.u.ments Wilhelmine's coachman had given him. "I fear we must ask you to step from the carriage, madame."

"Step from the carriage? Into the mud? What is this?" Wilhelmine demanded. "Do you know who I am?"

"If you'll forgive me, madame, I know who your papers say you are."

Wilhelmine drew a breath of pure outrage, probably only partly feigned. "The effrontery-"

"These are unsettled times, madame. We must use caution. I'm sure you appreciate that as well as anyone."

"How dare you-"

"We've had reports of an escape from Paris by suspected traitors."

"Surely you can't think that has anything to do with my sister and me."

"We must proceed with all caution, madame."

"Willie, what on earth is the delay?" Dorothee demanded. "I never heard anything so tiresome. We're going to be so late for the fete we might as well have stayed in Paris."

"If you'll step from the carriage, madame. Madame," the soldier said, acknowledging both princesses. "This won't take long."

Wilhelmine flicked a glance at Suzanne under cover of looking at her sister. Suzanne inclined her head a fraction of an inch. Their options were limited. If they made a run for it they'd rouse suspicion with armed men on their tail. An easy target.

They climbed from the carriage, Dorothee holding Marguerite and Pierre by the hand, Suzanne carrying Colin, who clung tightly to her, Juliette soothing Rose, who had begun to cry again, sensing the adults' fear.

There were five soldiers, counting the man in a lieutenant's uniform who had ordered them from the carriage. The men stood respectfully at attention, but they ringed the women. Suzanne was all too aware that they were surrounded with the carriage at their back. And her own son in her arms. She pressed a kiss to Colin's head and handed him to Dorothee. Dorothee accepted him without question. Colin looked at Suzanne but went into Tante Doro's arms willingly. It might look odd to the soldiers for a maid to give her child to her mistress, but it couldn't be helped. Suzanne suspected she would need her hands free.

The lieutenant's gaze swept the small group and settled on Pierre. "What's your name, young man?"

"Michel." Pierre delivered the alias with the easy skill of a trained agent. Perhaps some of it was in the blood.

"Right. If you'll come with me, young Michel, the ladies can be on their way."

"What?" Wilhelmine's arm shot out in an instinctive gesture to protect the child, the way Suzanne would protect Colin when their carriage came to a sudden stop.

"No need to trouble yourself, madame," the lieutenant said. "All we want is the boy."

Tension ran through the women in a palpable wave. Juliette's hand tightened on her son's shoulder.

"That's absurd," Dorothee said. "He's only a child."

"Nevertheless."

"You can't possibly imagine I'd acquiesce," Wilhelmine said at her most imperious.

"I don't believe you have a choice, madame." The lieutenant drew a pistol from inside his coat and leveled it at them. "The boy."

CHAPTER 34.

Children changed everything. Suzanne had heard that more than once when she was pregnant with Colin. She'd nodded her head, but she hadn't properly understood it until Malcolm placed the baby on her breast and she felt the joy and terror of what she owed this small, blue-tinged, squirming human. It was never truer than when one faced danger. Any number of options for escape were impossible with the safety of four children at stake. And yet the threat to the eldest of those children made escape imperative.

Suzanne gave a cry and crumpled to the ground, twisting her legs under her to avoid banging her knees in the trick her actress mother had taught her for fainting onstage.

"Maman!" Colin screamed. Heartrending but effective. Fortunately, they'd been speaking French in the carriage. Colin switched back and forth between calling her "Mummy" and "Maman."

"Margot!" Wilhelmine dropped to her knees beside Suzanne and began to chafe her wrists. "I think she's. .h.i.t her head. Oh, what have you done?"

"She's just pretending," one of the soldiers muttered.

"She isn't," Wilhelmine cried. "Come and see."

Suzanne could hear Doro murmuring to Colin. The lieutenant's boots thudded on the ground as he took a step forwards. Suzanne moaned, half pushed herself up, then gave a cry and reached into her bodice as though gasping for breath. Her fingers closed round her pistol, tucked into her corset. She moaned again and collapsed back, the pistol concealed in her palm.

The lieutenant loomed over her, muddy boots and buff breeches. "Here now, what the devil-"

Suzanne pushed herself up, the pistol pointed between the lieutenant's legs. "I advise you to let us go. If you ever want to produce children of your own. Or even enjoy the attempt."

His gaze shot down. The look of horror that crossed his face would have been comical in other circ.u.mstances. "You d.a.m.ned b.i.t.c.h-"

"Watch your tongue." She pressed the pistol into his groin.

"My men are armed."

"Oh yes. They could do incalculable damage. But not before I unmanned you. Not that I think much of the sort of father you'd make, but somehow I don't think you want to lose what I could destroy."

A vein fairly popped in his forehead, yet his mouth was white with fear. "Who are you?"

"I might ask the same question, but I fear we haven't time for pleasantries."

He drew a breath.

She pressed the gun into his flesh. "Tell your men to drop their muskets and withdraw to the tree line."

Gut-churning silence for perhaps the length of half a dozen heartbeats. Then, "Sergeant," he said in a hoa.r.s.e voice. "Withdraw."