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“One more night,” the marquis muttered under his breath.
“We will go at first light,” Honoria assured him. She understood his impatience. She felt it too, but she could see the wisdom of Sir Andrew’s instructions.
“I will see that the coach is here in the morning,” Sir Andrew said, “and I can provide you with a few assignats to buy bread and cheese. Miss Blake, you will have to go. If Monsieur is seen, he could very well be recognized.”
“I don’t need your assignats,” the marquis said. “I have my own cache.”
Sir Andrew’s brows lifted. “I see. Apparently, you did not think to volunteer those for the cause.”
“I am volunteering them for my cause. If, after the princess and the dauphin have been liberated, I have assignats to spare I will happily donate them to your worthy charity, monsieur.”
Sir Andrew inclined his head. “Then if you will excuse me, Miss Blake, I will make myself presentable for dinner.”
Honoria looked down at the vegetables, bread, eggs, and cheese spread on the table before her. Her head spun at the thought of this new venture. Montagne and Sir Andrew left her to begin preparing the meal, and her hand shook as she lifted a knife and began to slice vegetables. Was it fear that the revolutionaries might discover them and imprison them or have them guillotined that made her hands shake?
That was certainly part of it. She did not want to be caught.
But Honoria suspected the real reason her hands shook was because she could not quite contain her excitement at being alone with the Marquis de Montagne.
He would not touch her without her consent.
But how long would it be before she gave in to her desire?
***
MADEMOISELLE BLAKEcould certainly cook, Laurent thought as he sat at one end of the long dining table, Mademoiselle Martin on his right and Sir Andrew on his left. Honoria sat across from him, her eyes on her plate.
The meal she’d prepared—a vegetable soup, cooked eggs, and bread—paled in comparison to the sumptuous meals he had enjoyed at Versailles or when dining with friends at their homes on the Champs Élysées. But it was a marked improvement over the food he had paid for at La Force, and though it was simple it was flavorful. She had a way with seasoning and a talent in the kitchen. The vegetables in the soup were neither too crunchy nor too soggy and it was just salty enough with hints of other herbs in it.
He was eating his third serving before he realized he should not have taken so much. But when he paused in the act of serving himself more from the pot on the table—they were diningà la française—Sir Edward motioned for him to go ahead.
“Eat,” the Scot said. “Ya need it mair than we after yer time in La Force.”
Laurent did not argue. He had grown so used to hunger he’d forgotten what it was to be full, and now that he’d had a taste of real food, his belly could not get enough. Honoria barely ate, though. She pushed her spoon through the soup and pretended to sip it, but her bowl was as full as when they’d sat down.
After dinner Ffoulkes explained the new plan. Laurent answered several questions, while Honoria kept her eyes on the table. Finally, Ffoulkes suggested they all retire early. When the men all rose, Mademoiselle Martin pointed at them. “He means Honoria and Monsieur le Marquis should retire early as they must rise before dawn in the morning. The rest of you have dishes to wash.”
The men groaned, but they didn’t argue. As they tromped into the kitchen and Alexandra Martin followed Honoria and Laurent up the stairs, Lord Anthony poked his head back out from the kitchen. “And where are you off to, Miss Martin? There’s a dish here with your name on it.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I have to help Honoria pack.”
Lord Anthony scowled at her and disappeared back into the kitchen.
“Actually,” Honoria said, “I don’t need any help. I didn’t bring much.”
“Good,” the pixie said as they reached the top of the stairs. “That gives me a moment to speak with Monsieur le Marquis.”
Honoria paused in front of the room she shared with the petite blonde. Laurent could see her thinking of ways to save him, but he already knew it was hopeless. “Shall we speak in my chambers, mademoiselle?” he asked, holding his door open.
“Thank you.” She marched past him.
“Bonne chance,”Honoria said before entering her own room.
Left with no other option, Laurent stepped into his room, leaving the door open.
“Well,” Miss Martin said, turning to face him. “Your plan worked.”
“My plan?”
