The Escape Read online

  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.

  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.