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Even as he thought the words he heard the crack of broken wood and the thump of the guards’ boots as they started down the steps. Honoria had no way out now. He wanted to yell, to rail, to force her to open the door again, but then he would only doom himself along with her.
He hated her for this sacrifice. It wasn’t to end this way. He should be the one to be captured, not her. He should be the one guillotined, not her. He’d led a useless life and deserved to die, but Honoria—sweet, compassionate, selfless Honoria—should live a long full life.
He heard the guards’ muffled voices and Honoria’s reply. She screamed, and then he didn’t hear anything.
Clutching his head in his hands, he screamed silently. Had they killed her? Hit her? Taken her to their commander? Without her by his side he felt suddenly bereft. He needed her. More than he’d realized.
A part of him wanted to believe this was for the best. She’d ensured he would be able to see Marie-Thérèse safely under her cousin the emperor’s protection. Once he would have believed saving Madame Royale the most important thing he’d ever done. Honoria was just a commoner. What did her life matter? But something strange had happened to him, because he no longer valued a royal life above that of a commoner’s. Had he become a patriot? Had Robespierre’s twisted rhetoric finally won him over? Or was it something else?
He’d made a promise to Marie-Thérèse that he would rescue her. But he’d made a promise to Honoria too. He’d promised never to let her fall, and she was falling now, if only figuratively.
He had to go back for her.
He raced down the narrow stairway and out into the courtyard. He ducked back into the shadows, but the guards were too busy in the Grande Tower with their new prisoner. No one watched the courtyard, although two guards did stand at the entrance and exit. Laurent moved quietly, staying in the shadows, until he had wound his way back to the gardens. As he approached, he saw Dewhurst pacing outside the temple, watching the tablet that opened to the secret passage.
“Dewhurst,” he hissed. The man spun around, hand on the butt of his pistol. Laurent stepped into the light.
“What the hell happened?” Dehwurst asked. “I heard a commotion.”
“When we reached the floor housing the dauphin, the guards were waiting for us.” He held up a hand. “I know. I should have followed the plan, but it’s too late for that. The guards have Honoria.”
Dewhurst swore a particularly offensive oath, then he scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “Mackenzie is waiting with the princess. You take his place and escort her across the French border. Mackenzie and I will go back to the safe house and make a plan to rescue Miss Blake.”
“No,” Laurent said.
“What do you mean, no? All you have talked about was saving the princess. Go and save her. Mackenzie will leave without you if you don’t find the carriage in the next”—he squinted at his pocket watch—“ten minutes.”
“Let him go. Marie-Thérèse will be in good hands with him.”
“Don’t tell me you want to rescue Miss Blake. It’s probably a suicide mission.”
“I don’t care. I love her.”
Dewhurst stared at him, and it took Laurent a moment to realize what he’d said. He’d never said anything like it before, but he had no desire to take it back. Hedidlove her. He’d die for her, and if he couldn’t save her, he’d die with her. There was no life without her beside him.
Why hadn’t he told her that when he’d held her in his arms? He’d save her if only to be able to tell her he loved her. He’d never loved anyone in the way a man loves a woman. Love was not something he gave freely. Now he wanted a chance to give it to her. He’d shower her with it—every day and every night.
“I see,” Dewhurst said slowly. “Then you’ll come back to the safe house with me and help make a plan.”
“I already have a plan,” he said.
Dewhurst’s expression turned pained. “You’ll go right back in.”And get yourself killedwas the unspoken implication.
“No. I have to go to the Palais-Royal first.”
Dewhurst raised a brow, obviously intrigued. “The Palais-Royal? Why?”
“Because they sell everything there. They sell fireworks.”
Dewhurst’s face broke into a grin. “Do you want assistance?”
“I could definitely use it.”
He clapped Laurent on the back. “Then let’s go shopping.”
***
HONORIA WAS WEARY.So weary. She didn’t know how long the leader of the Temple guards had questioned her or how long the representative from the Committee of Public Safety had been present, but she knew she would give anything to lay her head on the table and sleep. That was all she wanted. A few minutes’ rest. Her eyes stung when she blinked from fatigue and her head felt light from thirst. She’d been offered no food or water or any respite from the constant barrage of questions.
