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Angelette gasped in a breath. Surely Daventry had to realize the trial would be a farce. They would find her guilty and then they would murder her. That was if they didn’t kill her before taking her to Paris. Now was the time to run or to fight. She’d rather die fighting than go meekly to her death. Daventry would fight for her.
But to her shock he moved aside, leaving her open and vulnerable. He simply stepped away from her and even before the peasants seized hold of her, she knew she had been wrong about him.
He was a coward after all.
Six
The look in Angelette’seyes as they pulled her away was sharper than a thousand daggers and pierced him just as deeply. But to her credit, she walked without stumbling, keeping her head held high. Dirty hands grasped her, pulling her into the center of the mob, but the peasants were true to their word—for the moment. They led her away without hurting her, walking in the direction of Paris. It was a formality and they all knew it. If she was put on trial, she would be found guilty of any and all fabricated charges.
She didn’t look back at him, but Hugh could feel the hatred burning off her. And he could hardly blame her. She thought he had sacrificed her to save himself. Hugh could admit the thought had crossed his mind. He didn’t owe her or the nobility of France anything. He had duties and obligations back in England. He couldn’t afford to waste time leading French nobles through woods and rescuing them from mobs.
But he hadn’t surrendered the comtesse to save himself. He’d done so because there was no other choice. And as long as she was alive, he could still save her.
He watched the mob lead Angelette away. He could easily make out her dark hair in the center of the group. Her back was straight, and she walked gracefully. Hugh wondered if he would have comported himself so well if their positions were reversed. He couldn’t help but admire her. He couldn’t help but feel more than just admiration. He genuinely respected her.
He turned to walk in the opposite direction, keeping his pace steady but not rushed until he rounded the bend in the road and was out of sight. Then he sprinted into the wooded area and scrambled out of view, lying down to make sure if he’d been followed he would not be spotted. He watched the road for several minutes and when no one appeared, Hugh jumped up and raced through the woods at a dangerous speed, back the way he’d come. He was one man, and it would be easy to catch up to a mob of a dozen or so, but he did not want Angelette out of his sight. He needed to see her, to make certain she was unharmed.
Ignoring the creek that had brought them up to the road in the first place, Hugh ran through it, paying no heed to the way his feet slid in the boots. He ran on, passing matted places in the woods where the peasants had obviously lain in wait. One way or another, he and Angelette would have been caught. Finally, he heard the sound of voices, and he stopped running, cocking his head and holding his breath to listen. He thought it must be the peasants, and he ventured close enough to the edge of the woods to see them. His gaze immediately found Angelette. She walked, chin still in the air, but blood dripped from a cut in her cheek, and Hugh knew she must have been struck.
Anger rose within him, but he tamped it down. He’d hold on to that fury and use it later. Now he slid back into the woods, far enough that he would not be seen but close enough to the edge that he could catch glimpses of the red caps among the peasants. After what seemed a long time, he sighed in relief. The peasants really were taking her to Paris, as promised. He knew the road well enough and, as it was so well traveled, the woods had been cleared to make it safe from bandits who might lie in wait for a passing conveyance. Hugh had no choice but to allow the peasants to walk far enough ahead that he could follow without being detected.
It would take most of the day for them to reach Paris on foot. And then if they were too late, they would have to wait outside for the gates to open in the morning. This would be the best outcome because he could use the cover of darkness to steal Angelette back.
Walk slowly, comtesse,he thought, feeling more helpless than ever.
***
ANGELETTE DID EVERYTHINGshe could to slow the peasants’ journey to Paris. She feigned illness, stumbled and fell, and complained incessantly. She was the model of the spoiled comtesse, and by the end of the day she hadn’t won any of the peasants’ favor. They were especially annoyed at her when they arrived outside Paris to discover the gates were closed for the night. A few of them grumbled about finding a tree and hanging her then and there. No one had a rope, which was probably the only reason she was spared.
The risks she’d taken by angering the peasants today were worth it. Once she was inside Paris she’d be taken to the Palais-Royal and the leaders of this so-called revolution and be killed as an example to other nobles who dared resist. She had to try and escape tonight and enter Paris on her own. Then she could go to the homes of her friends and beg for shelter. She knew it would be offered freely if she could find someone still in the city. Most would be at their country estates in the summer. Perhaps the Vicomte de Merville and his wife would be at home. The vicomtesse was with child and had not felt well enough to travel the many miles to the vicomte’s estate.
The peasants built a small fire and sat around it, eating their meager rations. Most had no provisions. Angelette herself had not eaten since the day before and had only managed a few drinks of water from muddy creeks. She was dirty, hot, and hungry, but she didn’t complain. She pulled her knees to her chest and made herself small and unobtrusive. The less attention they paid her, the easier to escape. When her captors were done eating, some of them lay down to rest. Angelette lay down too, pretending to sleep. It was difficult not to allow fatigue to overcome her. Instead, she concentrated on listening for the sounds of heavy breathing that would indicate those around her had fallen asleep.
After what must have been hours, all was quiet and Angelette opened one eyelid a sliver. A couple of men stood off to the side, keeping watch and smoking. Their backs were to her, but one turned to glance at her. She closed her eyes again and breathed slowly and rhythmically. When she opened her eyes again, the man was looking away. Now was the time to creep away and into the dark, except that at that moment someone emerged out of the darkness and slinked into the clearing. He stepped over the sleeping men and women and approached the guards without making any sound. What was the man doing? If he was a thief, why not rifle through the pockets of those sleeping? He seemed intent upon those watching over the camp. One false move and he might wake the entire group. Should she run now while she still had a chance or wait and pray the man succeeded in his plan—whatever that might be?
Angelette had had enough waiting. Just as the man reached the first sentry, she rolled over, jumped to her feet, and started away. She’d intended to run, but she’d lain so still for the past few hours that her legs cramped. She fought the sting of needles as her muscles protested and limped into the shadows as quickly as she could. What a fool she’d been. She’d walked all day and her body was not used to so much exercise. She should not have been so still. Of course her muscles had seized up after so many hours of sudden inactivity.
