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She laughed. “You are incorrigible.”
“Good thing or we wouldn’t be where we are. I’m glad you asked me to stay.”
“I don’t see how I could have refused you.”
“In that case, perhaps you will not refuse me if I ask you to go to England with me.”
She shook her head. “Not a chance. I must—”
This time he put a finger on her lips. “I can see I will have to do more to persuade you.”
“Will you?” she sounded breathless. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to change my mind.”
“We’ll see about that.” And he kissed her again.
***
IN THE MORNING HE WOKEbefore her and though he knew he should rise and prepare to depart, it was difficult to pull himself from her arms. She was warm and her scent of apples and honey made him want to bury his nose in her hair and make love to her all over again.
The night they had shared wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t know if three nights or three hundred would be enough. He would probably have to marry her, but the trick would be convincing her of that—this woman who insisted on throwing herself into the path of danger. Perhaps once this madness in France was over, she would reconsider and he could...
The sound of raised voices drew his attention. Had the coaches arrived already? Surely the servants would have roused them. Hugh rose and went to the window, opening the shutters and looking out. The sun was still low in the sky, the day just dawning. The Rue Saint-Honoré was empty but for the flicker of sunlight on the cobblestones below. Dew sparkled on the flowers planted along the walks and in the boxes on the windows, but soon enough the July sun would burn it away.
“What is it?” came a feminine voice, and Hugh turned. Angelette had risen on one elbow, her long dark hair falling over her bare shoulder in a tumult of tangles and curls.
“I don’t know. If the attack had begun, surely we would have heard the cannons of the Bastille.”
She nodded. “But the people are congregating, marching.”
The sound of raised voices lifted and fell, echoing through the early morning stillness. “The sooner we are out of the city, the better.”
She pressed her lips together and looked away. “Perhaps you could stay another day.”
He shook his head. Crossing quickly to the bed, Hugh took her hands. “I must leave today,mon ange. Soon enough the mobs will forget the Bastille and remember how much they hate the nobility. Then there will be no safety anywhere.”
She nodded. “I suppose you are correct.”
“I am correct. Dress quickly.” He stood and pulled on his breeches. “I will see if all the preparations to depart have been made. You can still change your mind. We could be in Calais tonight. Or if the roads are crowded and we do not make good time, we will stay in another town. I have exporters in almost every town or village. They will take us in, and we’ll be safe.” After pulling his shirt over his head, he gathered the rest of his clothing, bent to kiss her, and went to the door. “I’ll wait for you below.”
Hugh had dressed and, since he had very little to pack, made haste to find the butler. On the way downstairs, he encountered the vicomte coming up. “How are the preparations?”
The vicomte shook his head. “Nothing is ready. I asked the servants to bring our trunks to the foyer, but they haven’t been moved.” The two men continued down the stairs, pausing outside the drawing room, which was empty and dark.
“Then have them do it now.”
“That won’t be easy. I can’t find any of them.”
Hugh closed his eyes. It made sense. When he’d heard the sounds of the crowds gathering somewhere in the city, the house had been far too quiet. He should have heard the servants bustling about to prepare for the day. “They’ve left in the night.”
“All but a few maids and my chef. The maids are too scared to speak. My chef just curses and calls the others imbeciles.”
French chefs were notoriously arrogant. It didn’t surprise Hugh that the chef thought himself better than the other servants. But a few maids and a haughty chef would be of little use. “We’ll have to move the trunks ourselves. Do you think the coaches were ordered?”
“I don’t know. I sent my man with the money, and he returned with the bill. I have no reason to believe he lied.”
“Then we proceed as planned.” But now they had an added worry. If the servants had turned against them and the mob decided today was a good day to kill more nobles, then the Merville servants knew the vicomte and his wife planned to leave Paris. They could send the mobs after them. Hugh could only pray the people were too busy at the Bastille to think of the hated nobility that day.
Hugh and the vicomte moved the trunks themselves. By the time they had finished, the day had dawned and the heat was stifling. Shouts and chants had sounded all morning long, but there had been no firing from the guns of the Bastille. “What time were the coaches to have arrived?” Hugh asked.
