The Escape (3 page)

When Theodore took her away, she’d lost the protection of the Club. But then he’d long ago eschewed that protection, shunned everything the Club stood for. So, yes. Gabrielle believed what he’d done had been for his survival.

“Yes, Theodore,” Gabrielle said and nodded. “Perhaps one day I’ll understand.”

She didn’t elaborate further, but sidestepped him and headed for the stairs. Pausing at the base, she turned and looked back at him. “What would help me understand all you’ve done,” she said, knowing full well the butler listened in but refusing to lower her voice, “is by offering me peace. Peace where André and Eric are concerned,” she added though there could be no doubt as to her meaning.

His face darkened but when he spoke his voice held no anger, only firmness. “Forget that part of your life.” He took a step forward but didn’t touch her. “No matter what I have to do, I’ll protect you from your own foolishness.”

Theodore waved a dismissive hand at her. “Throw a flower in the Seine and be done with your grief.”

He stalked from the foyer, leaving her with barely a look. With a calmness that belied the fury seething beneath the surface, Gabrielle lifted her skirts and walked up the stairs. She refused to give the spying servants aught to report.

That lying bastard. Eric lived, she’d seen him, and still Theodore lied to her. At the top of the stairs, Gabrielle took a deep breath and headed for her rooms. Nothing her brother did mattered anymore. She’d find a way around him, around the servants, and see Eric tomorrow at the park.

Eric.

Spirits lighter than they had been in months, in
two years
, Gabrielle firmly closed the door behind her. Her lady’s maid waited for her, and Gabrielle did her best to stifle her joy. The girl, no more than eighteen and who had never really looked at her, dutifully undid her gown.

“You look very pretty in this one, ma’am,” she murmured.

Gabrielle nodded, but refrained from speaking. In the girl’s six months, she’d barely said a word to her. Her last lady’s maid, a cheerful woman Gabrielle often talked with about
le révolution
, and various rumors floating around Paris, had mysteriously vanished one morning. Instead, she stood perfectly still as the girl helped her into another gown.

“Will that be all?”

Nodding, Gabrielle waited for the girl to leave. She took forever, but Gabrielle didn’t blame her. Nor did she rush her. Rather, while the girl picked up her clothes and straightened the vanity, Gabrielle made a mental list of things to take with her on the morrow.

Once she left this house, she had no plans to return to it.

Eric. Tomorrow she’d see Eric again. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, and Gabrielle had a difficult time containing her absolute joy until her maid left.

Wandering to the window, she looked from the dead gardens back to the poor girl. Perhaps she’d leave her something, enough to see her away from this house with its fear and scrutiny, and Theodore’s method of paying for every tidbit of information.

The door clicked softly behind her, and Gabrielle waited for the obligatory lock. It came in short order, but she ignored it and released the breath she’d been holding. The invisible band tightening her chest since Theodore told her eased, and she took in a deep breath, the first she’d taken since learning of their deaths.

Alive
. Resting her forehead on the cool glass, Gabrielle shuddered. Tears of joy fell, and she let them. For the first time since leaving the Club, she let those emotions free.

Even now, Eric’s voice flowed over her, the smooth cadence of it. How his blue eyes held hers, with all the warmth and love she remembered.

But what of André? Fear and uncertainty over the fate of her other love overshadowed her joy at Eric’s appearance. Had André died? Eric said naught about him this afternoon, though Gabrielle knew there hadn’t been the opportunity to do so, not with Annette and Margaux there, listening to every word.

Gabrielle pushed away from the window and looked around the room. She didn’t have much, her gowns, a few jewels the general had given her to wear and proclaim her station. Crossing to the vanity, she wondered how she’d smuggle them all out tomorrow. For no matter what, no matter how she managed it, somehow she’d leave this house tomorrow.

Whether Eric still wanted her or not, whether André accompanied Eric, it didn’t matter. The jewels would either finance the three of them in a new life, or would be her first step on a new life.

Chapter Three

Gabrielle took one last look around her room. She knew she’d missed something, forgot it in her haste. But her nerves jangled, and she couldn’t think what it could possibly be.

It had been easier than she imagined, fooling Theodore and her lady’s maid. But then Gabrielle didn’t think Theodore noticed her moods or reactions, except when they conflicted with his. And her poor lady’s maid seemed too shy and scared to utter a word
to
Gabrielle. What worried her was the maid, or anyone else in the household, speaking against her. So that evening, she’d been careful to keep to her routine.

The girl slept in the adjoining room, a precaution Theodore had forced on her maids just after they’d been freed from prison. Careful not to wake her, Gabrielle searched through her vanity once more, but saw nothing of importance or value she hadn’t already secreted in the velvet pouch currently lying on the bed.

Her mother’s locket she’d managed to keep hidden from the prison guards and the jewels the general had given her. It surprised her Theodore had left the jewels in her room rather than locking them up in another part of the house. But then his network of household spies rivaled Robespierre’s, and she was certain someone checked their contents daily.

Gabrielle tugged on her jacket, adjusting it for the slight gaping of the gown she’d had to button up herself. Wrapping the bag’s tie around her wrist, she picked up her shoes and started for the door. Her lady’s maid hadn’t relocked it after Gabrielle insisted she needed a book from the library. But then she’d purposely waited until the poor girl swayed with fatigue before requesting it.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, she listened for a footman but heard no one. At the base of the steps, she tried to control her breathing, slow her racing heart, but it was no use. Nerves tightened her stomach. Swallowing, Gabrielle kept to the walls as she made for the rear door. She had to sneak past the servants’ rooms by the kitchens, but that danger paled in comparison to what she knew she’d face once she left the townhouse.

Her plan once outside the house was a vague one—stay in the gardens, keeping to the shadows, and out of sight of any wandering police patrol or curious servant. Easing the rear door open, Gabrielle held her breath and prayed none of the servants heard her. If they caught her now, she had no defense against what she’d clearly been doing. The cool fall night lay silent as she closed the door gently behind her.

Careful not to step on a branch or cause the neglected garden to rustle in any way, she crept to the bench just inside the gates. Once there, she released the breath she’d held and slumped to the stone seat.

Her thoughts whirled with images of Eric as she’d seen him only hours before. Despite her fear and uncertainty, Gabrielle smiled into the darkness.

She waited until she heard the neighborhood wake, the unmistakable sounds of servants kindling fires and the delicious scents of breakfast. She hadn’t thought to sneak an extra bite of food from last evening’s dinner, and it was far too late now to return to the house.

Before any servant from her household left, Gabrielle had slipped out the wrought iron gate and was already down the street. She made no eye contact with anyone, and was careful to keep her pace steady as she crossed Paris to the park Eric indicated.

The sun bathed the city’s streets in pale pinks and purples. It was a lovely start to a new day, and Gabrielle couldn’t help but enjoy it. She didn’t think of the uproar her disappearance would no doubt cause. In fact, she tried not to think about her brother at all. Doing so reminded her of all his lies. Of how he used her, of how he’d kept her from who she wanted.

The day warmed, and life blossomed on the streets. She took the morning to enjoy the people, to remember what Paris had once been like. To remember what the freedom to enjoy these things felt like. No one noticed her, though she did see a couple National Police walk by and give her curious stares. However, dressed as she was, and not doing more than sitting on a bench enjoying a beautiful day, even they had nothing to question her on.

There was no street clock visible from here, and Gabrielle had never been adept at telling the time of day by the position of the sun. Now, she wished she’d paid closer attention to that particular lesson her tutor once tried to teach. It didn’t matter; she doubted she could have focused enough to guess the time anyway.

And Eric promised he’d be here at noon, so she had no reason to leave her position.

Gabrielle’s foot tapped anxiously as she waited for him. The moments stretched out before her, and she began to fear Theodore would find her before Eric did. Had the man she saw yesterday really been Eric? Or had the conversation she remembered only been her mind playing elaborate tricks on her?

She so desperately wanted this to be real, wanted
him
to be. Perhaps she’d conjured Eric before her, and the face had been someone else. That thinking was foolish; who else could she have had such a conversation with other than Eric? A stranger who had somehow known what to say?

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she dismissed her paranoia. She’d seen Eric; that had most definitely been him she spotted yesterday afternoon. And even as the sun rose higher in the clear blue sky, she knew he’d arrive momentarily. And want her again.

Tears slipped unbidden down her cheeks as she thought of the time they’d been apart, the trials they had all suffered. Would Eric be the same man she once knew? And André, was André still with him? Or had her beloved perished? Questions filled her head and would not let her rest until they were answered.

“I wanted to grab you and run.” Eric’s voice washed over her.

Overjoyed, Gabrielle whirled to face him. She took a step forward, wanted to run into his arms and kiss him. Wanted to feel his strong hands hold her, his hard body pressed close to hers.

A horse neighed, a woman shouted. Gabrielle stumbled after the first step. Quickly lowering her head, she tried desperately to compose herself before someone noticed her reaction, saw them in the park and reported them to the police.

Unable to tame her smile, she looked up at Eric again. His warm blue eyes caressed her and his brown hair blew in the wind. She wanted to run her fingers through it, feel its softness again.

Somewhat composed, Gabrielle took a cautious step forward. She didn’t want to appear overeager, but she desperately needed to be closer to him. Clasping her hands before her, fingers locked tight to keep from touching him, she took another moment to simply take him in.

“I would have run with you,” she admitted.

Eric appeared to be alone; André hadn’t accompanied him. Gabrielle looked around again, but she didn’t see her tall, black-haired lover.

“What of…André?” Her voice broke on his name, the first time in two years she’d asked after him and knew she’d receive an honest response.

Gabrielle gripped her fingers tighter, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She blinked against her tears, and met Eric’s gaze.

“Mademoiselle,” he said in a clear tone that shook her more than the simple term should have. “Please, allow me to show you to my shop.”

Eric silently guided her across the street, not speaking further. He didn’t touch her, nor did he look at her as they walked side-by-side down the walkway. No one watched them, at least not overtly, and Gabrielle appreciated Eric’s restraint in not touching her. In recalling where they were and that, to the outside gaze, they were, indeed, strangers.

Police spies lurked at every corner, waited in every shop storefront. It was impossible to be too careful.

The distant roar of the crowds jarred her. Gabrielle stumbled as memory washed over her; she’d almost forgotten about those sounds. The screams of delight as another noble or suspected Royalist died beneath Madame Guillotine. She shuddered as the cries rolled over the streets, but didn’t pause and didn’t look at the other pedestrians walking down the busy avenues.

Instead, she blocked out the cheering crowds, the memory of that filthy prison. The rats, the constant hunger and despair. Gabrielle shook her head and raised her chin. That part of her life lay firmly buried in the past. Today, with the sun shining brightly down on her, with her lover beside her, Gabrielle thought only on that. Only on her future. On Eric.

The guillotine must have been busy today, Gabrielle thought with some bitterness. It usually was these days. She hadn’t heard it before now. Unsurprising, she supposed, given how focused she’d been on this meeting. Anticipation had blocked everything save Eric from her thoughts.

As they continued down the curved Rue de Fleur, her mind raced with possibilities. However, Gabrielle knew they needed the privacy to speak openly. It didn’t stop her from worrying what Eric might tell her.

Did André wait for them in this shop? She dared not raise her hopes.

The small millinery lay deserted when they entered. Eric merely nodded at the grey haired proprietress who was diligently weaving a ribbon through an ivory hat and ushered Gabrielle into the back. Curious, worried, and wrestling to maintain what little control she had left, Gabrielle followed him past piles of ribbons and cloth.

Eric paused before a door, and took her elbow. The first time he touched her. Gabrielle’s blood raced at the familiar feel of him. Before she let herself fully accept his touch, Eric opened the door.

André stood inside the small storage room.

Gabrielle wanted to race forward and embrace André. She wanted to touch him, kiss him; wanted to do the same to Eric. Dazed, speechless, her knees weakened as two years of strictly held emotions flooded free.