The Escape (2 page)

Brushing her fingers beneath her eyes, Gabrielle straightened her hat and pulled her gloves back on. Once Theodore sent word to Annette and Margaux Fortier, they’d be here hours earlier than planned.

Sure enough, she didn’t have to wait long before she heard their boisterous voices echoing down the hallway. Despite her surety, Gabrielle breathed a sigh of relief at their arrival.

Theodore’s sour frown greeted her as he opened the door, but she said nothing to acknowledge him. Keeping her eyes lowered, Gabrielle slipped past him and hurried down the hall. Embracing her fiancé’s daughters in quick affectionate hugs, she all but ushered them out of the townhouse. She didn’t want to spend another moment in so oppressive a structure.

She climbed into the Fortier carriage and settled in. She genuinely liked Annette and Margaux; they were bright stars in a bleak future. From the corner of her eye, Gabrielle saw Annette elbow her sister and wondered what they were about. Her thoughts still circled to André and Eric, but she forced herself to pay closer attention to her friends.

“Gabrielle,” Annette said brightly, “we’ve news from Father.”

Gabrielle’s heart sank. Forcing a smile, she nodded intently even as her stomach tied itself in knots. “Oh? What did he have to say?”

“He’s to come home,” Margaux put in, her light brown eyes lighting with pleasure. “He’ll leave the front for Paris, and should arrive back here in five weeks!”

Nausea roiled her stomach; she wasn’t ready for his return. She still had much to do, so many old acquaintances to contact for word on Eric and André. While leaving Theodore’s house was preferable to living another moment under her brother’s iron fist, she knew once she married the general she’d be just as much a prisoner of that household. Albeit a prisoner of the Fortier sisters’ care and affection, but still very much a prisoner.

With as much enthusiasm as she could muster, Gabrielle joined in Annette and Margaux’s happiness over the general’s impending return. The ride to the bistro Annette was so eager to share with her felt an eternity as Margaux went on about the now-impending wedding. By the time they arrived at the bistro, Gabrielle had managed to turn the conversation from her wedding and trousseau to news of the Austrian front and the latest rumors circling Paris.

After a quick luncheon, where Margaux continued to talk of the wedding, the three of them walked down the rue, browsing various windows. Gabrielle allowed them to pick whatever items for her trousseau they desired, and tried not to cringe as they spoke of bassinets and baby toys.

No, she was utterly unprepared for the general’s return.

“I’m in need of some air.” Gabrielle stated as she stood by the door. “Would you mind finishing with the shop girl, Margaux?”

“Are you not well, Gabrielle?” Margaux stared at her with very real concern, a frown creasing her unlined brow.

“I’m fine.” Gabrielle smiled reassuringly. “But I don’t think the soup agreed with me. I shall wait just outside.”

“Very well,” Annette responded, one hand on her arm. Gabrielle thought the other woman looked as if she wanted to bundle her back into the carriage and return her to the house, just in case something truly serious ailed her. “If you’re sure, we’ll join you shortly.”

Gabrielle offered another smile and nod, and exited the shop. Before the door closed behind her, she heard their hushed whispers about how delicate she’d be when with child. The thought made her cold, and nausea roiled her stomach again. A child.

She didn’t want to think of this future, wife to a general old enough to be her father. Annette and Margaux honored her wishes and stayed in the store, finishing their transactions. With them in there, she could slip away, and the need to place distance between herself and her soon-to-be stepdaughters spurred her on. Walking briskly down the rue, as fast and far from the shop as she could manage, Gabrielle didn’t look back.

If they found her, she’d say she went to see about a merchant and lost her way. At the corner, she stopped and regained her bearings. Taking a deep breath, she looked around again as an idea came to her.

Or perhaps she’d just keep walking and finally return to the Club. If it lay empty and hollow, scoured clean of the life she’d once loved, perhaps she’d bury herself in its remnants.

Still hovering on the corner, Gabrielle looked back. The Fortier’s had offered her nothing but affection and kindness since being introduced to them. Never once had they scorned her, accused her of buying her way into their family. Their affection was genuine and Gabrielle shared it. And yet here she was, ungrateful in these uncertain times.

Death lay in one direction, and life, a new life, in another. Standing here, Gabrielle didn’t want either.

Backtracking slightly, she rested against an iron gate guarding a private courtyard. Strangers hurried by, some watching her, others carefully avoiding her gaze. Was she brave enough to choose? Life or death.

Her gaze wandered the streets, and she pushed herself off the gate, still uncertain of her choice. A figure across the way caught her attention, and she blinked. Feeling lightheaded, her blood rushing in her ears, Gabrielle felt herself sway and her vision unfocused. She rapidly blinked to clear her gaze, certain her eyes played tricks on her.

A trick of light? Had she lost her senses?

It didn’t matter, and she straightened from the gate. With slow, measured steps, she walked forward, determined to find out. A hand grabbed her, and yanked her backwards, jarring her from her focus. A carriage barreled by, and Gabrielle jumped at the closeness of the sound.

“What were you thinking?” Annette scolded, fear overriding any anger she felt. “You didn’t even look before you stepped into the street!”

Gabrielle didn’t respond, but whirled back to the street. She looked for him, searching him out of the crowd. He was gone.

Heartbroken, and calling herself all kinds of a fool for believing he had walked not a dozen yards before her, she tried to control her disappointment. For a moment, conviction had spurred her on, and she was certain Eric had been there.

But no, it couldn’t be him. She’d imagined it; saw a man who looked like him. it couldn’t have been him. Maybe she really was losing her senses.

“I’m sorry,” Gabrielle replied contritely, turning back to Annette. But her heart still pounded and her blood raced at the thought of him. “I thought…” she trailed off and said softly, “I thought I saw an old friend.”

“You did.” A strong male voice stated behind her.

Chapter Two

Gabrielle couldn’t breathe. His voice, oh, God, Eric’s voice washed over her as smooth and persuasive as she remembered. Eyes closed, she struggled to breathe, to compose herself. Annette’s hand tightened on her arm, but Gabrielle ignored it and slowly turned.

Afraid to see him, afraid he wouldn’t be there, she opened her eyes.

Her chest hurt, her heart skipped a beat only to pound harder. Gabrielle licked her lips and met his light blue gaze.

She struggled for breath as the band around her chest tightened further. No words formed, and all she wanted to do was throw herself into Eric’s arms. Annette’s hand on her stopped her.

“Oh!” Annette said politely. “So you know Gabrielle from be—” she stopped herself, then hurried to cover the awkward pause. “From some time ago.”

Unable to even nod, Gabrielle stood rooted to the spot. Her mind whirled with a dozen thoughts as she tried to come to terms with Eric standing before her. She wanted to reach out and touch him, check he stood there, real and alive. Make sure this wasn’t all an illusion, a trick her mind played on her.

“Yes,” Eric said evenly. “Yes we did. Mademoiselle Bertrand,” he said in a lighter tone, “was always a favorite in my shop. The shop I once had on what was Rue de Prince, across from the park.”

The look in his blue eyes stopped her from showing her surprise. Taking shallow breaths, Gabrielle forced herself to look at him, really see him. He wore simple clothing, modest and just the other side of worn, and his demeanor showed an unpretentious shop owner, not the well-to-do noble he truly was.

“Yes,” Gabrielle managed. She forced a smile and straightened. “Such a pretty little shop. Thank you for remembering me.”

“I could never forget you, mademoiselle,” Eric said softly. He looked back at Annette and offered a small smile as he expounded on her apparent shopping virtues. “A client with such grace and kindness is difficult to forget.”

“Yes,” Margaux said defensively and stepped beside Gabrielle. Now they flanked her, as if they guarded her from Eric. “Yes, that’s what we think of our Gabrielle. It’s what our father thinks of his fiancée as well.”

Eric stiffened, but Gabrielle knew only she could tell that reaction. Only she could see the telltale flicker in his eyes. With a slight bow he said, “I offer my congratulations on your betrothal.”

“And what kind of shop did you have?” Annette asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

Gabrielle wondered at the tone in the other woman’s voice. Interest? Perhaps, but Gabrielle couldn’t be sure if it was interest in Eric as a man, which would be unusual for the Fortier sisters’ and their resignation to spinsterhood. Or if Annette wondered about Gabrielle’s reaction to Eric’s sudden presence, a supposed shopkeeper, and not a man Gabrielle should socially associate with.

“I’m a shoemaker,” Eric said, a hint of charm in his voice. Gabrielle tried not to be jealous. After all, this wasn’t exactly a social gathering.

“I catered to the royal court,” he whispered and surreptitiously glanced around them. “But my customers have since dwindled, and I’ve lost my shop. However,” he said in a stronger voice as if done sharing confidences, “every day I visit Rue de Prince, rather,” he said sheepishly, “Rue de Fleur, at noon to eat lunch at the park, as I did when my shop still flowed with customers.”

Gabrielle blinked and tried to keep the surprised understanding off her face. Oh, Eric was good. She gave him a quick smile to acknowledge his hint. She knew where he’d be every single day. If she failed to make it to the park tomorrow, he’d be there the following day until she did.

Hope bloomed in her chest and she felt lighter now than she had in the last two years. No matter what she had to do to slip out from Theodore’s gaze, she would. Alive. Eric lived. Gabrielle desperately wanted to ask after André but couldn’t form the words to do so.

Did he live as well? Fear tempered her hope, but Gabrielle compelled herself to wait. Tomorrow, all her questions would be answered.

“Pity,” Annette said. Her tone was even, almost without emotion. “We’d have loved to see your shop and perhaps acquired a new pair of slippers. However,” she said with a gentle tug on Gabrielle’s arm, “the hour is late and we should return.”

“How nice,” Margaux chimed in, “for you to see Gabrielle again.”

“Yes,” Eric said, gaze locking with hers. “Yes it was. My best to all of you.” He bowed, muttered a good day, and left.

Gabrielle watched him disappear around the corner. She blinked back tears, fought not to scream out to him.
Don’t leave me again!
She wanted to shout. But Annette’s hand still rested on her arm, and Gabrielle felt the gaze of both siblings on her. Waiting for her to leave the sidewalk. The spot she had seen her lover again.

“Was he more to you than a kind shopkeeper?” Annette wanted to know as they slowly made their way back to the carriage.

“I’ve known him since I was young,” Gabrielle said honestly. “And when you’re a young woman the difference between a shopkeeper’s handsome son and our station is not so great.”

“I see,” Margaux agreed with a smile that spoke of romanticism. “You were children together. Well, that’s harmless enough. I wish he still had his shop,” she continued somewhat wistfully. “I’d have loved to see his slippers.”

Gabrielle merely nodded. Her thoughts were consumed with her impending meeting at the park. With seeing Eric again. News of André. It didn’t matter what Theodore said or did to her tonight, tomorrow was all that mattered.

Theodore.

On the ride back to the townhouse, Gabrielle chatted with Annette and Margaux. She didn’t think about her brother or his lies. She didn’t think about any of that. If she wanted to continue to fool the sisters, she had to keep up the pretense of this life.

But the moment they dropped her off with promises to see her the next evening for a dinner party, Gabrielle stormed into the house. She was going to murder her lying, scheming brother.

“I take it,” Theodore said the moment the butler closed the door behind her, “your day with the Fortier sisters was pleasant?”

The butler moved as slowly as he could from the room and still look as if he moved. Gabrielle waited until he’d gone from earshot, an excruciating wait, before answering. She started to confront Theodore, demand to know why he lied to her, but stopped herself before uttering a sound.

If she admitted to Theodore she’d seen Eric, he’d barricade up this house tighter than a besieged fort. No, Gabrielle knew why he’d lied—he hated that she had ever been a member of the Hellfire Club, hated that life, the sexual promiscuity, the political alliances made and broken over an evening in bed.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled up at him instead. “Yes, Theodore,” she said pleasantly, “we had a lovely afternoon. And I’ve had news.”

Studying him carefully, she saw the barest flicker of fear cloud his blue eyes. There and gone in an instant. If she hadn’t looked for it, Gabrielle would have missed it.

“What news?” he asked nonchalantly.

“General Fortier is to return within the month.” She smiled at that and hoped her reaction—her forced happiness—at her intended’s return showed clearly. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to finally have me out of this house.”

“It’s not that I want to be rid of my sister,” he said quietly. His hand cupped her shoulder and his eyes softened. Gabrielle almost believed him, he seemed so sincere. “I do care for you very much.” Theodore sighed then and added, “You’ve never understood that. Perhaps one day you’ll understand that what I’ve done, I’ve done for our survival.”

Pensive, she remained silent and studied him, wondering how much of what he said was true. Oh, she believed all he’d done had been to survive. His survival, not hers. She’d been safe in the Hellfire Club, happily ensconced with André and Eric; they’d wanted for nothing in the catacombs. The Club, through means she’d never asked after, still had plenty of food, drink, and freedom. So long as none left their walls.