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‘I let him go,’ she repeated in a whisper, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘The next thing I remember, I was in a travelling coach, groggy, nauseated, my hands bound, too weak even to push myself upright. Not until we reached the outskirts of Vienna did St Arnaud allow me to regain consciousness.’
‘Vienna!’ Will burst out, incredulous that St Arnaud had managed to kidnap, not a child, but a grown woman, and transport her hundreds of miles. ‘That’s outrageous! Did no one at any of the inns notice anything?’
‘I expect it was easy enough for him to spin some story about my being ill. The actions of a man of wealth and authority are unlikely to be questioned by post boys and innkeepers.’
Realising the truth of that, Will nodded grimly. ‘Go on.’
‘As soon as I was strong enough to stand, I told him I was returning at once to Paris. That was the first time he struck me.’
‘Bastard,’ Will muttered, wishing St Arnaud would appear on the pathway before them—so he could strangle the life from him.
‘He told me if I loved my son and wanted to see him again, I would do exactly as he instructed. Not to waste my time trying to escape him, for he had swift messengers at his disposal and employees back in Paris. Children, like his sister’s son, were so frail, he said. Playing happily one evening, dead of a fever by morning.’
‘He threatened to kill your son if you didn’t co-operate?’ Will said. ‘He truly was evil.’
She nodded. ‘He said my life, my child’s life, was nothing compared to the importance of restoring France to glory under Napoleon. When I asked what assurance I had of ever seeing Philippe again, regardless of what I did, he said he was a “reasonable man”. Reasonable! If I did my part to make sure his plot succeeded, he would provide everything he’d promised: clothes, jewels, a handsome financial settlement. I might even be acclaimed in Paris as a heroine of the Empire for helping him restore Napoleon to the throne. But if I refused to play my role … I was finished, and so was Philippe. So I did what he wanted.’
‘What about your brother?’ Will asked. ‘Did he not try to find you when St Arnaud disappeared after the failure of the plot?’
‘I don’t know. Napoleon escaped Elba within days of the assassination attempt. Maurice’s regiment, like all the French regiments, was called up as soon as the authorities learned Napoleon had landed back in France. He died at Waterloo.’
‘I am sorry. Did the comtesse know where St Arnaud went to ground?’
‘Perhaps. I don’t think she was involved in planning this. We were both just pawns in his game, me in my poverty with a young son to raise, her in her grief and need. When I was reported dead, naturally she would raise Philippe as her own.’
‘But you still want him back.’
‘Of course I want him back.’
‘Very well, I’ll help you steal him.’
Her eyes widened, surprise and a desperate hope in their depths. ‘You’ll help me?’
He shrugged. ‘I doubt you’ll leave France willingly without him.’
A worried frown creased her brow. ‘It won’t be easy. He’s not a purse you can pick at a Viennese market, but a small boy. He’ll feel alone after we grab him. Frightened.’
Remembered anguish twisted in his gut. He knew what it was to be a small child, frightened and alone.
‘First, I’ll need to get back into the house,’ she said. ‘Locate the service stairs, find the nursery, manage to see him again.’
‘How do you propose to do that? The “orange seller” is unlikely to be welcomed.’
‘Probably not,’ she admitted.
Thinking rapidly, Will said, ‘We’ll go as a tinker and his wife. While I keep the staff occupied in the kitchen, distracting them with my wares and wit, you can slip up to the nursery.’
She gave him a wan smile. ‘Have you a cart, pots, pans and fripperies in those wondrous saddlebags of yours?’
‘No, but I’ve the blunt to buy some. Have you another gown, one that will make you look like a respectable tinker’s wife?’
‘I have one more gown in this basket, yes.’
‘Good.’ Will held out his hand. ‘Partners again? No more disappearing at dawn?’
‘Partners.’ Meeting his steady gaze, Elodie clasped his hand and shook it.
Threading his fingers in hers, Will exulted at the surge of connection, as potent and powerful as ever. It was all he could do to refrain from hugging her, so absurdly grateful was he for this chance to begin again. Abducting a child from the household of a wealthy comtesse was a mere nothing; to keep her beside him, he would have pledged to abscond with the entire French treasury.
His heart lighter than it had been since the terrible moment he’d awakened to find her gone, Will contented himself with kissing her hand. ‘We passed a café just outside the entrance to the Place. You can wait for me there.’ He offered her his arm.
She took it and he tucked her hand against his body, savouring the feel of her beside him as they walked together. Comrades again, as they’d been on the road.
A few moments later, they reached the small establishment he’d noted. After he’d escorted her to a table, rather than release his arm, she held on, studying him. ‘You’re a remarkable man, Will Ransleigh,’ she said softly.
It wasn’t exactly an apology. But it was close enough. ‘So I am,’ he agreed with a grin. ‘Give me about two hours to obtain the necessary items.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll be ready.’
A spring in his step, Will headed off to the market, running through his mind a list of items to procure. Having spent much time wandering around in markets in his youth, perfecting his skill as a thief, he knew just the sort of shiny objects that would tempt footmen, housemaids, cooks and grooms, and where to obtain them quickly.
He paced through the crowded streets on a wave of renewed energy and purpose, buoyed by the knowledge that Elodie hadn’t, after all, abandoned him for another man. She’d been pulled away by a bond he, more than anyone, could appreciate: that between a mother and her son.
That loyalty would no longer stand between them. In fact, her gratitude for his help in rescuing her child would reinforce their powerful physical attraction.
Bit by bit, like a clever spider creating its web, fate and circumstance were adding strand after strand, linking them together. Mastering this last challenge and then completing the voyage to England would take time … time to examine the many subtle threads of connection. Time to sample passion and see if it tasted of a future.
He hadn’t solved yet the problem of how to vindicate Max while protecting Elodie from retribution, but he’d figure out something. All in all, he felt more hopeful than at any time since he’d smuggled her out of Vienna.
Chapter Fifteen
Three hours later, in his latest guise as a travelling tinker, Will Ransleigh was putting on his best show for a staff happy for a bit of diversion during the break between the preparation and serving of dinner. After convincing the housekeeper to allow all the employees—including the nursery maid—to come down to the servants’ hall, Will’s witty repartee, glittering wares and a magic trick or two kept his audience preoccupied enough for Elodie to slip unnoticed to the service stairs.
Before they began their charade, he’d told her he’d give her half an hour to find the nursery, bundle up her son and get him out of the house. He’d then finalise any purchases and meet her with the cart, its contents conveniently configured to hide a small boy, on a side street a short distance away, ready to make all speed out of the city.
She’d nodded agreement. She just hadn’t told him that she might not be bringing her son. Her gut twisting at the very thought, she ran up the service stairs, heart pounding in anxiety and anticipation.
As she hurried up, she recalled with perfect clarity every detail of her visit to this house that infamous day eighteen months ago. Please, Lord, she begged silently, let this day not end as that one did, with me leaving without my son.
The comtesse had told her the nursery was on the third floor. Exiting into the hallway, she peeked behind several doors before, beyond the next, she found a small boy playing with soldiers.
His eyes fixed on the toys he was meticulously placing in assorted groups, Philippe didn’t look up as she stealthily opened the door. Taking advantage of his preoccupation, she studied him, her heart contracting painfully with joy at seeing him, with sorrow for the years together that had been stolen from them.
He was a lithe-limbed, handsome little boy where she had left a toddler just out of babyhood. He had her eyes, her lips, his now pursed in concentration as he positioned the soldiers just so, Jean-Luc’s nose and sable hair that always fell over one brow and his long, graceful fingers.
Just then he looked up, his bright blue eyes curious. ‘Who are you? Where is Marie?’
‘Down in the kitchen. She asked me to come stay with you while she looked at some fripperies my man is selling.’
‘“Fripperies”? Is that something to eat? I hope she brings me some!’
She smiled; Philippe obviously still loved his sweets. ‘No biscuits or cakes, I’m afraid. Things like hair ribbons or lace to trim a collar, glass beads for a necklace, or a shiny mirror.’
