Page 17 of When the Duke Met His Match

She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that her parents had to see her in such a grave condition. She only imagined how disheveled she appeared, unsure how much time she had spent there without bathing.

His hand was firm yet loving against her shoulder, his eyes wide with concern. “I came here numerous times, but they wouldn’t allow me to see you. I had to pay for my way in. But don’t think we never tried, Odette.”

“It has to be a misunderstanding,” her mother cried, watching her with frantic eyes as she rubbed her daughter’s hair away from her face. “Tell me this is a big misunderstanding, my poor, poor girl.”

Odette tried to form the words she wanted to say. She hoped to think of a lie to remain decent in her parents’ eyes. But it never came to her. She couldn’t lie to them, not when they paid to see her in hopes they had the wrong girl.

Embarrassed, she stayed quiet and glanced down at her hands. Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t stand to look at them, knowing she was guilty of what the crown accused her of.

She only ever wanted to do what was right.

Her mother’s gasp sent a chill down her spine, and her parents pulled away. The moment of silence that followed was scathing. Odette found it hard to breathe.

“How could you?” her father demanded of her, his eyes wild with emotion. He dropped his voice to a hushed tone. “How could you endanger yourself like that? War is not a game you can meddle freely in.”

Her ears were hot with shame, yet her conviction came through as clear as ever the moment she met his eyes while her own welled with tears. “I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing while the others risked their lives. I never cared for the fancy dresses, the fuss, or the balls. My country was suffering. I couldn’t idle and pretend that our people weren’t dying daily for our freedom.”

“Foolish, idealistic girl,” her father uttered, voice breaking as he wrapped her in his arms again. He pressed her tightly into his chest and whispered to her, “I will get you out of here, even if I must give up every last penny I have.”

A rush of emotion fell over Odette as she went to open her mouth to speak, but the door opened abruptly before soldiers entered.

“Your time is up,” one of them said gruffly, grabbing her by the arm once again.

“Can’t we have another moment?” she asked them, her eyes frantic. “Please, just another minute!”

But the soldiers paid her no mind. They pulled her out of the room even as her feet dragged, fighting to stay back. It was fruitless, and her resistance crumbled as she was pulled through the doorway.

She heard the confused muddle of her mother’s pleas while her father yelled. She trembled in the arms of the guards, her skin hot with anger and sadness.

She felt torn from them all over again.

“I love you!” she screamed back at them in French before disappearing into the hall.

Her last glimpse of her parents’ faces was heart-wrenching and traumatic, but there was nothing she could do.

Odette followed down the halls until they reached that familiar cell. Her face twisted with her distraught feelings. She was tossed inside once more, and the door slammed behind her.

She promised herself she wouldn’t cry in this place, no matter how difficult things were. She didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. But the moment she was back on the floor, surrounded by soiled straw and the dirty faces of the others, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she cried into her hands. The tears came in burning waves, streaking down her cheeks. She saw no sense in wiping them away, not when they kept coming.

She didn’t care who watched or what they thought.

All she could do was cry.

Chapter Ten

THEOPHILUS

Weeks went by, and many interrogations were held in that small room. Yet, no progress had been made. Theophilus’ questions and Odette’s resistance were leading to nowhere.

Their games continued, becoming more of a display of their stubbornness rather than progress. To make things direr, Odette seemed more like a shadow of her former self with each passing day.

The quick humor and sharp sarcasm he had come to associate with her were gone as if all hope had drained from her. It was almost frightening to see how distant and lost she was.

Even if she was his prisoner, it became harder for him to watch her whither into that shell.

Despite how he should feel about it, Theophilus feared the prison was taking a toll on her.