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Ffoulkes shook his head. “I can give you two men.”
Laurent glared at him, then rose to his feet. “I am proposing to save the children of the king and queen of France from nearly certain death, and you tell me not only do I have one day to finalize a plan, you can only spare two men to help?”
Ffoulkes’s gaze didn’t waver. “That is exactly what I am telling you.”
“Who? At least tell me what men I can expect to aid me.”
“Dewhurst—”
“Merde. Iknewyou would say his name.”
“And Mackenzie.”
“The Scot?”
“Sir Edward is brave and cunning,” Honoria said. “He will be an asset, and Lord Anthony has completed dozens of missions, some of the most dangerous yet. He marched into La Force and rescued you.”
She has a point, but that didn’t mean Laurent had to like the Englishman.
“Three men...” he mused, trying to picture the Temple and location of Madame Royale in his mind.
“And one woman,” Honoria added.
Laurent spun to face her. “Are you certain? You’d be safer here.”
“I’d be useless here.” Her hands landed on her hips.
“You could gather information.”
Before Honoria could say the clearly angry words on the tip of her tongue, Ffoulkes held up a hand. “She can be an asset for you, and not just because she can make you the requisite passes and documents. A woman in less suspicious and will be able to move around more freely in the prison. Disguise her as a servant or use her as a distraction for the guards. From all accounts, Madame Royale and Madame Élisabeth are suspicious of men. You may encounter resistance from them if Tony or Mackenzie attempt to free them. I think it more likely they will go with a woman. In the meantime, you send the male members of the League to find and rescue the dauphin.”
“Any idea how all of that should be accomplished?” Laurent asked.
Ffoulkes smiled. “I have a few, as I imagine you have your own plans.” He took a chair, pulled it to the table, and sat with his arms crossed over the back. “Why don’t we compare notes and strategies?”
With a nod, Laurent drew out the map of the Temple and began to describe his rescue plan.
***
SEVERAL HOURS LATERHonoria worked by the light of a single candle to finalize the last document they’d need for entrance—and hopefully exit—from the Temple. Outside the window behind her, the dark prison loomed like a menacing giant. She must be mad to think of entering a prison when all of Paris was doing its best to avoid imprisonment. She wasn’t even certain Laurent’s plan would work. She was less certain Sir Andrew’s modifications would succeed.
By this time tomorrow night they’d either be on their way to safety or the guillotine. There was no room for error and victory was their only option. They would not have another chance. Ffoulkes had retreated to the safe house a couple of hours before, eager to be back before the curfew. Sir Edward Mackenzie and Lord Anthony would return with him before evening. They wanted to be inside the prison before nightfall.
Honoria blew on the ink she’d just added to the last document and tried not to think of what might go wrong tomorrow. The work had been good for her. It had kept her mind from going over and over the plan and dwelling on every weakness. It had also kept her from pacing a groove in the wooden floors as Laurent had been doing for the past several hours.
She turned now to find him standing at the window, staring at the Temple, his expression brooding. He was one of those men who looked particularly handsome when he brooded. Although, truth be told, he looked handsome when he was smug and disdainful as well. This was their last night together. If they managed to rescue the princess and the dauphin, they could not stay in Paris. Laurent would escort Madame Royale across the border and to safety with her Hapsburg cousins, and Honoria would return to London.
She’d return to the British Museum. She’d return to her role as unobtrusive mouse. She’d never wanted glory or fame. That was not why she’d agreed to help the Pimpernel. She’d wanted to save people, and she would finally have her chance. Thus far she’d been lucky. She’d evaded capture. She was not so foolish as to believe her luck would not run out.
But she did say a quick prayer that it would last until midnight tomorrow—or was it already tomorrow?
No matter what happened, she didn’t regret coming to France. She didn’t regret her work for the Pimpernel. She didn’t regret Laurent. He was afraid she would be hurt if he allowed her to grow any closer to him. That was why he tried to push her away after their lovemaking.
What he didn’t realize was she had already fallen in love with him. It was too late to protect her feelings.
“Est-ce que tu as fini?”he asked softly.
Are you finished?Why was it when he spoke in French it sounded so much lovelier than when anyone else asked her in English—nay, it sounded lovelier than when anyone else asked it in French. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he stood—everything about him spoke of nobility. Even if their destinies would not take them separate ways, they were not meant to be together.
