“Roughly thirteen miles. At the speed of a horse and cart, it will take us a good three to four hours. I could teach youLa Marseillaisewhile we are on the road. It would be a good distraction.”
The broth and omelet churned once more in his gut.
Three to four hours. The devil should take me.
By the time they reached the seaport, he would be word-perfect with the song.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Evangeline’s right hand eventually lost all feeling. Considering how hard Gus was squeezing it, she was rather relived. Her brave, fearless sailor lay beside her in the wooden box. He was as stiff as a corpse. The only signs that he was alive were the beads of sweat on his brow and his labored breathing.
For the first hour of their journey, she talked. Told him everything from her earliest childhood memories, including the years when the La Roche family had been forced to live away from their own home. She skipped the parts about the death of her parents, figuring that wouldn’t help Gus in the current situation.
He managed the occasional grunt or nod, but no real conversation. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
“And then we get to just after Napoleon had been exiled to the island of Elba, and the night Sir Stephen Moore and George Hawkins arrived at our doorstep in the middle of a storm.”
Gus turned and gave her a grim smile. She was encouraged by this glimmer of life from him.
Good. Familiar stories might help.
“Go on,” he whispered.
“That first time, Stephen was very businesslike. I expect he knew the danger that working together could put us all in. The British hadn’t signed the Treaty of Fontainebleau, so we were still technically at war.”
“Stephen was more concerned about the negotiations rather than ongoing arguments over Napoleon. He was nervous on the boat, kept worrying that his command of the French language wasn’t good enough and your uncle would take offense,” he replied.
Finding two pistol-brandishing Englishmen standing in the foyer of her family home had come as quite a surprise, though not as big a shock as when they’d announced that they were looking to form a smuggling alliance with Armand.
The memory of Armand brought tears to Evangeline’s eyes. She was doing her best to hold back her grief, knowing that when it finally did hit her, the tears would be impossible to stop.
“And then you appeared the next morning.” She would never forget the first time she laid eyes on the man who now held her heart. He had been walking up the hill from the small jetty with the sun at his back, the light through the trees creating a dappled effect all around him. It had been magical.
For a moment she had simply stood and stared, lost for words at the sight of this unusually clad stranger. His greatcoat and tricorne hat old-fashioned remnants of a past era, and that magnificent dark brown mane of his, stunning.
Evangeline reached over and pinched Gus.
“Ow. What was that for?” he said.
“For making me think your hair was real. I was so disappointed when you took off your hat and wig.”
Evangeline was relieved when Gus laughed. They still had some way to go before they reached Binic. Anything which calmed him was welcome.
“I should buy you . . .”
The first strains ofLa Marseillaisedrifted to her ears, bringing their light banter to a sudden halt. Gus cocked his pistol and took a deep breath. The first person who opened the lid was going to be met with a loaded weapon pointed at them.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gus glanced over at Evangeline. The promise he had made to his father not to be a hero sprang immediately to mind. But if it meant keeping her safe, he would gladly sacrifice himself.
This woman means everything to me. Without her, life wouldn’t be worth living.
“I love you too,” he replied.
He reached for the edge of the lid and pulled it down. It dropped firmly into place. They were immediately plunged into darkness.
