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“You must be exhausted,” she said, not completely fooled by his tone or his gift for understatement. He had been through a harrowing ordeal these past two days. “Why not eat and then you can rest?” She indicated the bed.
“And while I sleep, you will make your escape?”
“I am not that big of a fool.” She crossed to the basket and examined the contents. She was relatively certain the preserved vegetables were green beans. She had no idea what to do with a raw artichoke. Perhaps they could roast it. The beans might be heated if he could unearth a pot of some sort.
“Then you will make the documents I require to rescue the children?”
She looked up at him. “I did not say that. You may have no desire to live, but I would like to return to England with my head still on my shoulders.”
“What if I promise you that once you create the papers I need, I will take you back to the safe house?” As he spoke, he walked toward the basket where she knelt. He crouched down before her. “I will make certain you are returned safely.”
“Why would you do that? It’s obvious you care for nothing and no one save yourself and your own schemes.”
“It is a bargain we will strike. You give me something, and I will give you something in return.”
She had no choice but to agree. He would force her to make the papers if she refused, and then he would not help her return to the Rue du Jour. And what did it matter if she forged papers for him? If he wanted to attempt to smuggle the royal offspring from the country, who was she to stand in his way? She imagined the guards at the Temple would do that well enough.
“If I do this your death will not be on my conscience. Do you know how many rumors of escape plans I have heard? No one can reach the inmates of the Temple.”
“I can.” He lowered himself to sit across from her, his face illuminated by the fire. The light played on his high cheekbones and green eyes, while the shadows enhanced his full lips and the planes of his face. He was a handsome man by any standards. He would have been irresistible when in his prime and in his element at Versailles. Thank God she had not known him then.
“So certain are you?”
“It is part arrogance, I grant you that, but I am also in a unique position. Do you know why your Scarlet Pimpernel spared me from Madame Guillotine?”
Her hands rested on the side of the basket, and now she found her fingers traced the wood that had been used to weave it over and over. It gave her a distraction when she fell too deeply into the spell of his eyes.
“You have been inside the Temple,” she replied. “Were you imprisoned there before La Force?”
“No. The Temple is more than simply a prison. It does have dungeons. After all, it was a medieval fortress built by the Knights Templar. But there is more to it than the tower housing the royal family. There is also the Temple Palace and the king’s youngest brother, the Comte d’Artois, as the Grand Prior of France, was its proprietor.”
“And so it was actually a royal residence.”
“Yes. In fact, Artois made it his residence when he came to Paris. It just so happens Charles Phillipe and I are close friends.”
She was hungry and all of the names and titles made her head spin, but she made her best effort. “Charles Phillipe is the Comte d’Artois?”
“Exactly. And he has now fled the country, but if anyone besides the comte knows the rooms and the corridors and the secret passageways of the Temple, it is I.”
“And that is why you think you can rescue the prince and princess.”
“That is why IknowI can. But more importantly, I am duty bound to try.”
Duty. It was a common theme among the nobility, but she had to wonder if it was not merely a pretty word with no more substance behind it than the fog that settled over London most mornings.
“Why?” she asked him. “Surely your life is in as much danger as theirs if not more. It is hard to believe even such a man as Robespierre would condone the murder children.”
“After what I saw in prison, I put nothing past these bloodthirsty revolutionaries. I promised to keep Marie-Thérèse safe, and I will do it no matter the cost. If I die, then at least I die having done something worthwhile in my life.”
Honoria could only imagine the sort of debauched life a man with wealth and charm might lead in Versailles. She had read the papers and the libelles, and she knew many of the accounts of life at court were widely exaggerated. But even the most overblown stories had a kernel of truth. Had the marquis been one of Marie Antoinette’s many lovers? Had he promised her to save the children out of love? Or perhaps there was some reward he hoped to gain. He could ransom the children to the highest bidder.
“If you want me to help you, then you had better tell me everything,” she said. “What was this promise you made? Was it to Marie Antoinette?”
“The queen?” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as though it pained him. His hair had curled slightly as it dried, falling in waves over his forehead. It was not as long as many men wore theirs, but it did curl about his neck. She imagined he had worn wigs and kept his hair short beneath. Now that all the trappings of nobility had been banned, his hair had grown longer. “She never asked for a promise from me, but I gave it nonetheless. I’m no soldier, no strategist like von Fersen, but she knew I loved her and the children.”
“So you were one of her lovers?”
His eyes narrowed. “Not you too.”
