Page 83 of Souvenir of Love

The soldier lifted her skirts. She kept her eyes locked on James’s and saw anger flash in their blue depths, hot and raw; she put her hand to her cheek, as if tracing the scar on his face. Her actions as much as her brother’s sword had put it there. She wouldn’t endanger his life again.

The soldier’s hands poked and probed and lingered too long, and when she winced, he laughed.

James took a step forward.

“No,” Elizabeth cried again, more sharply.

Marcus grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

The soldier laughed again. “Perhaps the citizeness is not so much in love with you, citizen. Perhaps she would prefer to roll around in the grass with us.” Elizabeth saw James’s body tense. His blue eyes were hot, like the center of a flame, but Marcus held him fast.

Unable to provoke the Englishmen into a fight, and failing to discover anything to support their suspicions, the guardsmen circled the party, shifting like a pack of feral dogs. The thin soldier, in particular, seemed reluctant to let them go. He held on to their papers, examining and reexamining the signatures and seals, glancing over to match the descriptions in the identity papers with the people standing before him. “Which one of you is the coachman Duval?” he demanded abruptly.

Joley shuffled forward, tugging at his brown-dyed forelock with a dirty hand. “I am, monsieur.”

“We are all equals here,” the soldier said sharply. “You must address me as citizen.”

“Citizen,” Joley repeated.

“Have you searched this man?” the soldier demanded of his companions.

“I have, citizen,” one of the soldiers volunteered. “I found nothing suspicious.”

“Nothing suspicious? A free Frenchman enslaves himself to English aristocrats and you find nothing suspicious in that?”

“It’s not that uncommon for the locals to hire themselves out as guides to foreigners,” the soldier offered defensively.

The thin soldier squinted at Joley. “Lived here long have you, Duval?”

Joley tugged his forelock again. “Yes, citizen.”

“How’d you lose your eye?”

Joley’s hand fluttered instinctively to the leather patch. “It’s not gone, citizen. But a splinter of rock flew into it a while back, tore my eye up a bit, and the wound won’t seem to heal.”

“You wear the patch to protect your eye, then?”

“Mine and other folks.” Joley inclined his head toward Elizabeth and James, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidence. “It’s none too pretty. Frightens the gentry.”

“They should be frightened.” The thin soldier smiled with satisfaction.

Elizabeth flashed back to the picnic with James, to her complaint that their rescue of Joley was undramatic. What a fool she’d been. She recalled his response, his toast:To a smooth, uneventful, and entirely boring rescue.There seemed little chance of that now.

“Jean.” The thin soldier beckoned to the stout soldier who’d searched Elizabeth. “Come lift this man’s patch.”

Thirty-One

“Your dog has entangled me with Lady Anne Dinsmore!” Madeleine exclaimed dramatically, thrusting the squirming pug at a startled Alix.

Taking the dog, who licked her face enthusiastically, Alix demanded, “What on earth are you talking about?”

Madeleine settled with a flourish into a large blue damask armchair across from Alix. “I decided to go out walking today in the village. There’s a surprisingly talented milliner there, were you aware of that?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I was admiring the hats when Roland”—she glanced at the pug with an arched brow; he licked his nose and stared back—“took off without warning. The next thing I know, he’s completely twisted around Anne Dinsmore’s skirts.”

“She has that effect on the male species.” Alix couldn’t resist.

“This is not amusing,ce n’est pas du tout,” Madeleine said tightly.

Alix schooled her features to attend to her mother’s distress. “What did she say to offend you?”