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She lifted a brow, as if wondering why he’d abruptly veered from threatening her to talking about plants. ‘The daffodils, you mean.’ Her lips barely curved in amusement, she looked at him quizzically. ‘You grew up in the city, Monsieur Ransleigh, no?’
‘Commonplace, are they?’ A reluctant, answering smile tugged at his lips. ‘Yes, I’m a city lad. But you, obviously, were country bred.’
‘Lovely flowers can be found in either place,’ she countered.
‘Your English is very good, with only a trace of an accent. Where did you learn it?’
She waved a careless hand. ‘These last few years, English has been spoken everywhere.’
She’d grown up in the country, then, he surmised from her evasions, probably at an estate with a knowledgeable gardener—and an English governess.
‘How did you come to be your cousin’s hostess in Vienna?’
‘He never married. A diplomat at his level has many social duties.’
Surprised at getting a direct answer this time, he pressed, ‘He did not need you to perform those “duties” after Vienna?’
‘Men’s needs change. So, monsieur, do you accept my bargain or not?’
Aha, he thought, gratified. Though she gave no outward sign of anxiety—trembling fingers, fidgeting hands, restless movement—the abrupt return to the topic at hand showed she wasn’t as calm as she was trying to appear.
‘Yes,’ he replied, deciding upon the moment. At least seeming to agree to her demand was essential. It would be a good deal easier to spirit her out of Vienna if she went willingly.
He was still somewhat surprised she would consent to accompany him upon any terms. Unless …
‘Don’t think you can escape me in Paris,’ he warned. ‘I’ll be with you every moment, like crust on bread.’
‘Ah, warm French bread! I cannot wait to taste some.’
She licked her lips. The gesture sent a bolt of lust straight to his loins. Something of his reaction must have showed in his face, for her eyes widened and she smiled knowingly.
He might not be able to prevent his body’s response, but he could certainly control his actions, he thought, disgruntled. If anyone was going to play the seduction card in this little game, it would be him—if and when he wished to.
‘How did you, cousin to Thierry St Arnaud, come to be here alone?’ he asked, steering the discussion back where he wanted it. ‘Why did he not take you with him when he fled Vienna?’
‘Nothing—and no one—mattered to my cousin but restoring Napoleon to the throne of France. When the attempt failed, his only thought was to escape before the Austrian authorities discovered his connection to the plot, so he might plot anew. Since I was no longer of any use to him, he was done with me.’
It seemed St Arnaud had about as much family loyalty as Will’s uncle. But still, self-absorbed as the earl might be, Will knew if anyone bearing Ransleigh blood were in difficulties, the earl would send assistance.
What sort of man would not do that for his own cousin?
Putting aside that question for the moment, Will said, ‘Were you equally fervent to see Napoleon restored as emperor?’
‘To wash France free of the stain of aristocracy, Napoleon spilled the blood of his own people … and then created an aristocracy of his own. All I know of politics is the guillotine’s blade was followed by the emperor’s wars. I doubt the fields of Europe will dry in our lifetime.’
‘So why did you help St Arnaud?’
‘You think he gave me a choice?’
Surprised, he stared at her, assessing. She met his gaze squarely, faint colour stirring in her cheeks at his scrutiny.
A man who would abandon his own cousin probably hadn’t been too dainty in coercing her co-operation. Had he hurt her?
Even as the question formed, as if guessing his thoughts, she lowered her gaze and tucked her left hand under her skirt.
An unpleasant suspicion coalescing in his head, Will stepped closer and seized her hand. She resisted, then gasped as he jerked it into the waning sunlight.
Two of the fingers were slightly bent, the knuckles still swollen, as if the bones had been broken and healed badly. ‘An example of your cousin’s persuasion?’ he asked roughly, shocked and disgusted. A man who would attack a woman was beneath contempt.
She pulled her hand back, rubbing the wrist. ‘An accident, monsieur.’
Will didn’t understand why she would protect St Arnaud, if he truly had coerced her participation, then abandoned her. He didn’t want to feel the niggle of sympathy stirring within him, had that really been her predicament.
Whatever her reasons, she was still the woman who’d ruined Max’s career.
‘You’d have me believe you were an innocent pawn, forced by St Arnaud to do his bidding, then discarded when you were no longer of use?’
She smiled sweetly. ‘Used, just as you plan to use me, you mean?’
Stung, his anger flared hotter. Plague take her, he wasn’t her bloody relation, responsible for her safety and well-being. If he used her, it was only what she deserved for entrapping Max.
‘Why is it so important for you to go to Paris?’ he asked instead.
‘It’s a family matter. You, who have come all this way and worked so diligently on your cousin’s behalf, should appreciate that. Take me to Paris and I will go with you to England. I’ll not go otherwise—no matter what … persuasion you employ.’
He stared into her eyes, assessing the strength of her conviction. She’d rightly said he couldn’t force or threaten her into testifying. Indeed, even the appearance of coercion would discredit what she said.
He hoped upon the journey to somehow charm or trick her out of going to Paris. But unless he came up with a way to do so, he might end up having to stop there first.
Although one should always have a long-term strategy, all that mattered at the moment was playing the next card. First, he must get her out of Vienna.
‘It doesn’t appear you have much to pack. I should like to leave in two days’ time.’
‘How do you mean to spirit me away? Though the watchers have not yet interfered with my movements, I’ve not attempted to leave the city.’
Having drunk a tankard with the keeper of the public house on the corner, Will had already discovered the house was being watched, but he hadn’t expected a woman, diplomat’s cousin or no, to have noticed. Once again, surprise and reluctant admiration rippled through him. ‘You’re aware of the guard, then?’
She gave him an exasperated look, as if he were treating her like an idiot. ‘Bien sûr I’m aware! Although as I said, rightfully judging that I pose no threat, they’ve done nothing but observe. But since I have recovered enough to—’ She halted a moment, then continued, ‘There have always been watchers.’
Recovered enough. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know from what. Shaking off the thought, he said, ‘Do you know who they are?’
‘Austrians, I expect. Clara has flirted with some of them, and from their speech they appear to be local lads. Not English. Nor French. Talleyrand has enough agents in keeping, he can learn, I expect, whatever he wishes from the Austrians.’
Will nodded. That judgement confirmed what the publican had told him. Local men, hired out of the army by government officials, would be easier for him to evade than Foreign Office professionals. During the two days he was allotting madame to settle her things, he’d observe the guard’s routine, then choose the best time and manner in which to make off with her—in case the authorities should object to her departure.
‘Are you thinking to have me pay off the landlady and simply stroll out the front door, valise in hand?’ madame asked, interrupting his thoughts.
‘You’d prefer to escape out a window at midnight?’ he asked, amused.
‘The balcony worked well enough for you,’ she retorted. ‘It might be wise to anticipate opposition. I should probably go in disguise, so that neither the landlady nor the guards at the corner immediately realise I’ve departed.’
Though by now he shouldn’t be surprised by anything she said, Will found himself raising an eyebrow. ‘Leave in disguise? Interesting education the French give their diplomatic hostesses.’
‘France has been at war for longer than we both have been alive, monsieur,’ she shot back. ‘People from every level of society have learned tricks to survive.’
It appeared she had, at any rate. If being abandoned by her cousin in a foreign capital were any indication, she had needed to.
‘What do you suggest?’
‘That we leave in mid-afternoon, when streets busy with vehicles, vendors and pedestrians will distract the guards and make them less vigilant. You could meet my friend, Clara, at a posting inn not far from these rooms. Bring men’s clothing that she can conceal beneath the embroidery in her basket. She will escort you up, telling the landlady, if you encounter her, that you are her brother. You will then exit by the balcony while I, wearing the clothing you provide, will walk out with Clara.’
Her suggestion was so outrageous, Will was hard put not to laugh. ‘I’ve no problem exiting by way of the balcony, but do you really think you could pass as a man?’
