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To Laurent’s surprise, he embraced Honoria, whispering something only she could hear. Words of love? Laurent had not suspected the two of them of being lovers. Had he missed some sign?
And then Ffoulkes grasped his hand.“Bonne chance,monsieur.”
“Merci,but I don’t need luck. God is on my side.”
Ffoulkes gave him a sad smile. “I pray you are correct.”
Laurent led the way from the dark doorway of the safe house to the coach. Once Honoria was inside, he closed and locked the door and made certain the curtains did not gap. Then the vehicle jerked to a start, and he felt his heart pound as they moved inexorably closer to the Temple and the princess. Today he would watch the prison and begin to formulate a plan. He might even see her walking in the courtyard. Among the discussions had been a suggestion that while Laurent watched the prison, Honoria sleep and vice versa.
“When we arrive,” he said, “you go back to bed. I will take the first watch.”
She nodded, stifling a yawn. “Sir Andrew wants us to take copious notes. I brought paper, ink, and pen. You should write down everyone you see entering and leaving and the approximate times.”
“I don’t have my pocket watch any longer.”
“Sir Andrew says the lodgings are furnished. Surely it will have a clock. If not, we will purchase one.”
“Very well. We work in four-hour shifts. While one observes, the other sleeps, but—” He waited until she looked up at him and he had her full attention. While it had grown lighter beyond the curtains, the interior of the carriage was still dark and her expression was hard to read. Her eyes merely looked dark and large, their color obscured. “If you should glimpse the princess, you must promise to wake me. I need to see her.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
And then to his surprise, she reached across the carriage and took his hand. “We will save her, Laurent. I know we will.”
Fifteen
The four hours sheslept felt like only a few moments. The bed was comfortable enough and quite large, but she had not slept well the night before and the exhaustion had finally caught up to her. If she hadn’t been exhausted, she would not have slept so well. She still didn’t fully trust the marquis, though understanding his motives and knowing about his sister Amélie had helped.
They occupied two rented rooms on the third floor of a well-maintained building on the Rue de la Corderie. The residents were merchants and prosperous tradespeople, and Honoria could not complain about the furnishings, but the accommodations were small, especially if one hoped to stay out of another’s way.
The first of the two rooms possessed two windows that overlooked the gardens of the Temple. Honoria finally had a clear view of the Temple. It was every bit as imposing up close as it looked from afar. The Temple Tower was a tall dark mass flanked by four imposing turrets with pointed roofs. The exterior bore no ornamentation. The few windows the gray stone structure boasted were narrow and small. It looked like what it was—a dungeon.
The marquis had shoved a small table next to one window, arranged paper, ink, and quill, and did not move again. In the meantime, she’d explored the rooms—not much to see—and finally retired to the other room, which housed a bed and a privacy screen with a chamber pot and washstand.
The bed had been made with clean linens, and Honoria only removed hat, gloves, and shoes before climbing under the covers and falling asleep. She awoke again when something touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes and gazed into the marquis’s soft green ones. “It is your turn. Are you still tired? I can watch longer.”
He would too. He would exhaust himself and never sleep. Already, he had bruises under his eyes, and she doubted he had slept at all the night before.
