Surrender to a Stranger (34 page)

“Oh no, my friend,” ground out Nicolas. “I do not believe the likes of you belongs in a gilded cage like this. But do not concern yourself. I am sure we can find something more appropriate.” He nodded to the guards and two of them stepped forward and grabbed Armand from each side. “Take him to La Force,” he ordered brusquely. “All of you act as escort. I will follow in my carriage.”

The guards permitted Nicolas to get through before closing in around Armand. They walked him to their horses, where they bound his hands behind his back before helping him to mount. Then they mounted their own horses and slowly started out for the prison La Force.

Momentarily putting aside the issue of how he could have been so stupid as to walk into a trap, Armand tried to focus on his situation. It was obvious Nicolas believed he had captured quite a prize. If Nicolas could show that he had finally caught the Black Prince, the public humiliation Armand had caused him by snatching Jacqueline right out from under him at the Conciergerie would be forgotten. Nicolas would be heralded a hero. But Armand sensed that would not satisfy Nicolas’s personal disappointment that he had not managed to catch Jacqueline as well. It was possible Nicolas might try another tactic to lure Jacqueline back to France. Armand realized he would have to be careful not to do or say anything that might make Nicolas believe he could use him as bait.

Whatever was to happen to him, he was ready for it. He had always known he would eventually get caught. If he was to die under the blade of the guillotine, then so be it. He stared calmly into the black night of Paris, resigned to his fate, and eminently grateful that despite his mistakes, he had not been foolish enough to let Jacqueline go with him.

The city of London lay blanketed under the same snow that covered the streets of Paris, although Londoners would have been loath to accept the idea that they shared anything in common with “those murdering Frenchies” across the channel, including the weather. Sir Edward and Lady Harrington had moved their extended family into the city after Christmas, because Laura had complained that there was absolutely nothing to do in the country. In London, she argued, she and Jacqueline could go shopping, visit friends, and attend the theater. The fact that Jacqueline had not the slightest inclination to do any of these things seemed to give merit to Laura’s argument, and did not diminish Laura’s enthusiasm for London in the least.

After considerable pressure had been put on Jacqueline to get out and enjoy herself, she finally relented one night and went with the Harringtons to the theater. But the play was a fast-paced English comedy, and after about five minutes she gave up trying to understand the words. For the rest of the evening she stared at the stage and pretended to listen attentively, but her thoughts were firmly centered on Armand, as they so often were since he had left. She wondered where he was, what plan he had devised to rescue François-Louis, if he had started to put that plan into action, and if in fact he had already successfully completed his mission and was on his way back. During intermission she found herself searching through the crowd in the theater, as if she expected him to appear at any moment, and had to mask her disappointment when he did not. After the theater the Harringtons joined a group of friends for a late supper in an elegant restaurant, and Jacqueline was seated beside Viscount Preston, who seemed determined to fawn over her all evening. Jacqueline remained polite but cool with him, pretending not to understand when at the end of the dinner he kissed her hand and said that he would like to call upon her. His smitten behavior did not escape Laura’s watchful eye, and she gave Jacqueline an enthusiastic lecture in the carriage afterward on all the things that made Viscount Preston an excellent catch. Jacqueline thanked Laura for her advice, but politely reminded her that she was still betrothed to a man who was awaiting trial in a Paris prison, and informed her she was not looking for a “catch,” excellent or otherwise. She hoped that put Laura’s mind at ease, for she was certain Laura’s sudden interest in her romantic life was in reaction to the night she had walked into the library at the Fleetwoods’ ball and seen Jacqueline and Armand together.

Madame Bonnard had told Jacqueline he would return in about two weeks, and as the second week dragged to a close Jacqueline grew more and more anxious as she anticipated his return. She never wanted to leave the house, just so she could be there when he and François-Louis arrived. Every time the butler appeared to announce a visitor she went rigid with tension, waiting for him to say Armand’s name. But the butler never did announce his name. The second week ended and the third week began, and still there was no word from him. Jacqueline assured herself that this was no cause for alarm, that sometimes his missions probably took longer than he anticipated. Had he not told her it had taken him a while to locate her and Antoine? A few days more meant nothing. He was probably setting sail on
The Angélique
this very moment and would be here by tomorrow. And so she waited, day after day, hour after hour, until finally the third week was over and the fourth had begun. And still she kept telling herself, He is all right, he has done this many times before, he is just waiting for the right time to strike, he will be here any moment and he will look at me and say in that arrogant way of his, “Did you think I would leave you, Mademoiselle?” And one night as she lay in bed silently repeating these assurances to herself, she suddenly realized that not once had she thought about the safety of François-Louis, who was her betrothed and the reason she had pleaded with Armand to return to France in the first place. And that realization so stunned and confused her she curled up into a tight little ball, buried her face in her pillow, and fought to stifle a sob. Once the sob was controlled, she lay there, silently, clutching her pillow and thinking that if she allowed herself to shed a single tear she might never stop. First she would weep for her father, and for Antoine, and for the girl she had once been, a girl who was now a distant and unfamiliar shadow from a life that was over. And then she would weep for her sisters, who were trying so hard to fit into the new life they had been thrust into, and who would eventually forget their father and brother, in the same way that Jacqueline was having trouble remembering things about her mother. And finally she would weep because she was afraid, because somehow she knew that Armand should have returned by now, and if something had happened to him she would never, ever forgive herself for sending him to France.

She did not go down for breakfast the next morning, so exhausted was she from her sleepless night. When she finally did appear the butler informed her that Suzanne and Séraphine were upstairs having their lessons, Sir Edward had gone to his club, and Lady Harrington and Miss Laura were out shopping. Grateful beyond measure at not having to face anyone for the next few hours, Jacqueline ordered coffee and a roll to be brought to her in the small salon off the music room, where the bright winter sun was streaming through the windows. She had not been settled in there more than five minutes when the butler appeared and told her a Lady Charles Fairfax was there and wished to see her.

“But…I do not know a Lady Fairfax,” protested Jacqueline slowly in English, not particularly wanting to endure the ritual of visiting with someone who had heard she was an escaped French aristocrat and was eager to ask her a lot of questions. “Perhaps she would come back…when Lady Harrington and Miss Laura are in,” she suggested hopefully.

Cranfield shook his head. “She did not ask to see Lady Harrington or Miss Laura, she asked to see you, your ladyship. She said to tell you she is the sister of Mr. Armand St. James.”

Jacqueline practically leapt out of her chair. Armand’s sister? Here? No doubt she had been sent to give her a message from Armand. “Send her in
immédiatement,”
burst out Jacqueline, positive that this meant Armand had returned safely.

The woman who stepped into the salon a few minutes later bore such a strong resemblance to Armand that for the first moment all Jacqueline could do was stand and stare at her. She was very pretty, and Jacqueline guessed her to be in her late twenties. Her hair was the same coppery gold as Armand’s, not quite blond, and not quite brown, but a magnificent mixture of light and dark, swept back into a thick cluster of curls that cascaded down from an elegant emerald velvet hat. She wore a matching emerald velvet coat, which at first made her eyes look quite green, but on closer inspection Jacqueline realized that Lady Fairfax’s eyes were also flecked with blues and grays, making them change color from one moment to the next. It was a family trait that had constantly worked to Armand’s advantage when he was in disguise, she reflected. In stature Lady Fairfax was as petite and dainty as Armand was large and powerful, but she shared the same, unmistakable confidence and sense of purpose that always came through in every movement Armand made.

“I hope I am not disturbing you, Mademoiselle de Lambert, but I must speak with you on a most urgent matter,” explained Lady Fairfax in French. Her voice was high and musical, but it also sounded troubled.

“Please sit down, Lady Fairfax,” invited Jacqueline in French. “Would you care for some tea?”

“No, thank you,” she replied as she seated herself on the small sofa across from Jacqueline.

“Do you have a message for me from Armand?” asked Jacqueline hopefully.

Lady Fairfax shook her head. “I am afraid I have come to seek information rather than to give it,” she replied. “I am most concerned, you see, because my brother has disappeared, and I fear that something terrible may have happened to him.”

Jacqueline struggled to keep her expression calm and composed. She did not know how much Lady Fairfax knew about Armand’s activities in France. Armand had asked her not to disclose to anyone that it was he who had rescued her from the Conciergerie, because that information could find its way to the wrong person and pose a threat to him. Even Sir Edward, who had hired him to rescue Jacqueline, believed that Armand merely used his connections in France to get Jacqueline to the coast, where he picked her up and sailed her across the channel. Although Lady Fairfax was his sister, it was possible his work was kept secret even from her. She must be careful not to reveal too much.

“What makes you think something has happened to Armand?” she asked casually.

“Mademoiselle de Lambert, I know you are aware of the work my brother does in France,” began Lady Fairfax, “just as I know it was he who rescued you from some terrible prison there and brought you here to safety. You must believe me when I say you can trust me, for my sole concern is the welfare of my brother. What I must ask is, can I trust you?” She looked at her pointedly, as if trying to decide whether or not she had made a mistake in coming here.

“Yes,” replied Jacqueline quickly, her concern for Armand growing by the minute.

Lady Fairfax considered a moment, and then, evidently feeling she had little choice but to trust her, continued. “Yesterday the first officer of my brother’s ship, Mr. Sidney Langdon, came to see me. He informed me that Armand sailed to France some four weeks ago, but did not return to
The Angélique
on the day he said he would. At first Mr. Langdon was not overly alarmed, because my brother often must alter his plans to compensate for unforeseeable circumstances. His men know that twenty-four hours is an acceptable period of time for him to be delayed. But after two days without a message from him they sent three men ashore to see if they could find out what happened to him. This was nearly impossible, since Armand never informs anyone of his plans, out of concern for their safety as well as his. The only thing they could determine with certainty was that he had not made any of his connections outside of Paris, which led them to believe he never left the city. Since they did not know who his target was, and there were no public announcements concerning his capture, they had very little to go on. After waiting several days in Paris and learning nothing, they followed the orders Armand has given them if he does not show up within a week. They returned to
The Angélique
and sailed home.”

“They left him there?” gasped Jacqueline in disbelief. “Without knowing if he is alive or dead?”

“They followed his instructions,” repeated Lady Fairfax. “Armand has always been very concerned about the safety of his ship and crew. He would not want them to remain on the French coast any longer than necessary. And Sidney felt that if he could speak to me, he might learn more about Armand’s mission in France, which would enable him to go back and find him. Unfortunately, Armand does not keep me informed of his plans because he knows how much I worry, so I could not be of much help. We went to his home last night to see if we could find a note or anything which might shed some light on his latest mission. Of course we did not. Armand would never be so careless as to leave something in writing which might endanger his operations. We then decided to question the servants. Which led me to you.”

Jacqueline colored slightly.

If Lady Fairfax noticed Jacqueline’s embarrassment, she gave no sign of it. “Armand’s servants are very devoted to him, and at first refused to say anything about your visit, which of course was in accordance with his instructions. But once I explained to Madame Bonnard our urgent need to know anything that might explain why he went to France, she finally admitted that Armand had dined with a Frenchwoman at his home the night he left. Sidney was convinced by her description it had to be you, but it was the carriage driver who confirmed it and told us where you were staying. And so here I am, and now I must beg of you to share with me any information you have that could help us find my brother.” She looked at her intently, her blue-green eyes filled with hope. “Do you have any idea who Armand was trying to save in France?”

Jacqueline heard the question, but the voice sounded far away because of the roaring in her ears. The room was beginning to spin, and she closed her eyes, trying to make it stop, and trying to come to grips with what Lady Fairfax was telling her. Armand was missing. Something had gone wrong. Maybe he had been captured. Or killed. The thought caused a tightening sensation around her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.

“Mademoiselle de Lambert, are you all right?” asked a voice from far away, a voice that seemed to be filled with concern.

It was her fault. He had risked his life to save her, and in return she had pleaded and bargained him into going back to save her betrothed. It had seemed so important at the time. She had thought she could not live with the guilt of François-Louis’s death. That guilt was nothing compared with the panic and terror that was gripping her now.

“I sent him to France,” she whispered, wondering how she could not have considered the danger involved.