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Laurent pressed his fingers lightly to his eyes. He could only imagine the state of the rumpled bedclothes.
“Unfortunately, we have no more time to indulge your covert activities.” Ffoulkes closed the bedchamber door and eyed them both with disdain. Laurent moved closer to Honoria, who had jerked her chin high.
“I would hardly think planning the rescue of the royal heirs to the kingdom of France an indulgence.” Her voice held a hint of steel.
Ffoulkes crossed his arms over his chest. “And have you planned the rescue or have you merely wrinkled your bedclothes?”
Laurent stepped in front of Honoria. “I resent your implications, monsieur.” He would have given a thousand livres for his sword right now.
“Is it implication if the facts are clearly before me?” Ffoulkes raised a brow. Then he blew out a breath. “Forgive me, I am merely...disappointed.” He leveled a gaze at Honoria, and not for the first time Laurent wondered if Ffoulkes had wanted her for himself. Honoria would have been better off with Ffoulkes. The man could more likely give her some sort of future.
But Laurent had always been a selfish man. He’d wanted her for himself and damn the consequences.
“You will not be disappointed when you see the work we have done,” Honoria said, crossing to the table. “Monsieur le Marquis has refined his map of the Temple, and we’ve both made copious notes as to the schedule the guards in the prison follow. With a little more time, we should be able to proceed with confidence.”
“I cannot give you more time.” Ffoulkes looked from one to the other, and finally Laurent understood the purpose for this visit. The League, perhaps the Pimpernel himself, was putting an end to this mission. “Today we received word that the queen’s trial will begin tomorrow.”
Laurent put a hand on the table where his notes were scattered and sat. “Then Robespierre really does mean to try her.”
“He intends to accuse her of all manner of wickedness,” Ffoulkes said. “And she will be found guilty too.”
“You cannot know that.”
Laurent looked up as Honoria’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. Did she understand the pain he felt knowing his queen would be convicted of heinous crimes—treason against her country for certain, but others as well? Of course she did. She was the only one who understood what the queen’s friendship had meant to him and why he needed to rescue her children from the same prison he’d visited as a child.
“The verdict has been decided,” Ffoulkes said. “The trial, like all others brought before the Tribunal in this godforsakenrepublicwill be a sham. The queen will be found guilty and sentenced to die.”
Honoria’s hand tightened. “No!”
Laurent rose. “That is ridiculous. She is a woman and not even French born.” Although she’d lived in France since the age of fourteen, the people had never forgotten she was an Austrian by birth. Cries ofL’Autrichienne—Austrian bitch—had followed her all of her life. “Surely she will be exiled to Austria or confined to a convent to live out the rest of her years.”
“She will follow her late husband to the guillotine,” Ffoulkes said without blinking. “My source declares it has been decided, and he has yet to be proven wrong.”
“My God,” Honoria whispered.
“God is dead,” Laurent said, aware his voice sounded bitter and hard. He looked up at Ffoulkes. “How long do we have?”
“We must act tomorrow night.”
Laurent had been so eager to act, but now that he had no choice, he was not certain he was ready. “We have not yet seen the dauphin or managed to verify he is in the Grande Tower.”
“I have my orders,” Ffoulkes said.
“Has the Pimpernel returned?” Honoria whispered.
Ffoulkes’s expression did not change. “I cannot say. What I can say is that our mutual friends have their hands full. Miss Martin has already departed for her next mission. If you want the assistance of the rest of the League, tomorrow night is your last chance.”
“We’re not ready.”
Laurent held up a hand. “We are not as ready as we would like, but there are advantages to acting now.”
Honoria sat in the seat across from him. “Such as?”
“All eyes in Paris will be on the queen and the trial.”
“That does not mean the Temple will be left unguarded,” Ffoulkes reminded him.
“Of course not,” Laurent agreed. “But it does mean some of the usual attention will be pulled away. If we have a team of five—”
