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She put her arm around his waist and draped one of his arms over her shoulder. Under her fingertips, the silk of his coat felt smooth and finely woven. His waist was trim, and she could feel the muscles in his back move as he walked. He smelled faintly of oranges and sandalwood. It was a pleasant scent, and not one she’d expected from a man who had just stumbled in, bleeding, off the street.
“Where did you get the foolscap?” she asked as she could see he had crumpled it in his hand.
“I suppose from the Scarlet Pimpernel.”
“Shh! Don’t—”
“Ah, yes. You said that already. Shall we call himFRforla fleur rouge?”
“If that suits you.”
“He saved me from the mob.”
Honoria almost stumbled on the step. Surprise, more than his weight, made her legs buckle—that and though they’d only walked up six steps, she was exhausted. “What mob?”
“The one slaughtering the inmates in La Force.”
La Force. He’d been in La Force. He’d escaped La Force, and he would be sought. When his body was not found among the dead, the soldiers would come looking for him.
“I see I’ve rendered you speechless.”
“La Force is not an easy place to be rid of,” she said.
“On the contrary, many are rid of it every day. They sneeze into the sack and go to their just reward.”
Three more steps. If she could but support him for three more steps.
“You know...what I mean,” she panted.
“I do. And I can’t for the life of me understand why FR would help me escape. God knows—oh, pardon me—the Supreme Being knows I do not deserve it.”
They reached the last step and Honoria’s legs gave way. She sank to the floor, and he with her. She cushioned him from the worst of the fall, laying his head down gently.
“Are you certain it was FR?” She had reason to suspect the Pimpernel had returned to London with Lord Denys.
“Who else?” he asked, and of course, she did not answer.
“Just leave me here.” He cradled his head in both hands. “My head feels as though it will explode.”
“We must clean the wound.”
He laughed, a derisive sound. “So it does not become infected? No, we would not want to deprive Madame Guillotine by killing me with an infection.”
Honoria took a deep breath, strength returning along with a steely determination. “Neither will claim you, monsieur, if I have anything to say about it. But you cannot rest here. If the soldiers should come looking for you, it would be better if you were in my bedchamber.”
His eyes, which had been either closed or unfocused suddenly shifted and looked directly at her. He really did have beautiful eyes. She’d never seen that shade of green before. People were always commenting on her eyes, but when she looked in the mirror, she found them almost unsettling, such a strange shade of blue were they. His eyes were the green of peace and tranquility.
The way he looked at her did not calm her, though. His gaze swept her from forehead to knee, and she was suddenly aware she’d taken off her fichu earlier and never donned it again. Her dress was modest, but she felt exposed without the covering over the top of her chest. The glasses she wore to disguise herself were forgotten somewhere with the fichu, and she had not straightened her hair after she’d dealt with the mess from the domiciliary visit of the night before. She could feel loose strands of it tickling her neck.
“I wouldn’t dream of refusing an invitation to your bedchamber, but I’m afraid at the moment I would not acquit myself very well.”
Honoria felt the heat rush to her cheeks and knew they must be pink. “There is a hidden space under the floor in my chamber. We hide men such as you there when the soldiers come. That is all I meant.”
He smiled at her, a charming smile, even with the smears of blood on his cheek. “I’m sure it is,” he said in a tone that indicated he didn’t believe her for a moment.
Honoria felt her cheeks heat further, and this time not from embarrassment but anger. How dare he act as though she was propositioning him? Did he think he was that irresistible?
She would show him otherwise. “Stand up, monsieur.” She didn’t feel quite so exhausted now that anger flowed through her veins. “It’s this way.”
