Page 47 of Souvenir Heart

“Mind if I join you?”

“Free country, free wall.”

They leaned companionably against it, Andre breaking the silence with the code that indicated he hadn’t spotted any surveillance. “I don’t see any stars, do you?”

“Nary a one,” David agreed.

Then, still cautious, Andre added softly, “She’s sent for me.”

“Finally. How did you manage it?”

“I didn’t.” Andre’s voice brimmed with an amusement he could barely contain. “Scribbler did.”

“Marcus?”

“On my advice. I suggested he show the lady his better self.”

“His better self?” David couldn’t contain a snort of laughter. Or from ticking off the skills he imagined Marcus thought revealed his ‘better self.’ “Forgery, fencing, marksmanship, lengthy silences, intermittent sarcasm…”

“You forgot hand-to-hand combat…”

“Did he threaten her?” David shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t be his style.”

“He has a sad lack of style,” Andre agreed mournfully.

David glanced over at him. “By lack of style, you mean he doesn’t share your preference for lace cuffs, embroidered waistcoats, and heeled pumps?”

“Heels make a man more imposing.”

“If you say so,” David allowed his gaze to travel meaningfully down the distance to Andre’s ribbon-trimmed bicorne, before lowering his voice and saying, “Was it forgery? Did he finally decide to forge a visitor’s request? He should have done it earlier. With only two weeks left...”

“As if Marcus isn’t constantly reminding me, time’s running out. I’ve had the devil’s own time assembling everything he’s asked for.”

“But you have it all?”

“Of course,” Andre snorted, “this should be the last of it.”

Both men’s eyes returned to the prison where a trickle of soldiers stepping out through the gate indicated the change from day to night shift.

Andre blew a series of perfect smoke rings. “He told her we’re rescuing her for the money.”

“He…what?”

“You heard me.”

“For the money? And she believed him?”

“Apparently so...”

“She thinks we’re mercenaries.” He turned to look at Andre, frowning. “That’s his idea of his better self?”

“Her father did offer him money. And apparently it convinced her. Though, I’ll admit, I prefer the role of knight in shining armor.”

“Mercenaries,” David repeated, shaking his head.

“Though, when you think on it. Armor’s inconvenient and the devil to keep properly oiled. And it’s not as if we haven’t posed as disreputable characters before. Remember that time we were following the double agent with a penchant for…” He trailed off, muscles tensing like a pointer sighting a bird.

Following the focus of Scott’s attention, David spotted a young private, his figure so slight that he looked barely into his teens, walking out of the prison.