A Heartless Design (34 page)

She stood up quickly, divining that this man craved respect. “You have the advantage of me.” She even managed a little curtsey.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Bering, it is you who has the advantage. Call me Monsieur Arceneau, if you please. Unlock this door, man. Let the lady out.”

The jailer rushed to do the man’s bidding, but Cordelia was under no illusions. She was still a prisoner.

“Mademoiselle, if you will come with me?” He offered his arm to her. Somewhat at a loss, she took it. Grimly accepting that her captivity would last a little longer, Cordelia allowed him to escort her to a room on the top floor. The room contained a small fireplace that blazed merrily. The walls had been painted not too long ago, and the ornate furniture seemed as if it might have once been in Versailles. The overall effect was rather jarring. She suspected Arceneau wanted to impress her. But the only thing in the room that she really noticed was the large table covered with schematics and papers.

Arceneau was watching her. “Your advantage, I hope, is clear now. All I wish is for you to aid me in deciphering these trifles. I strongly advise that you do as I ask.”

Cordelia walked slowly toward the table. “What makes you think I can do any such thing?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do not play innocent. Your creation of Mr Lear was very clever. You have a gift for subterfuge, Mademoiselle Bering. But you lacked the means to make your trick perfect. I studied the designs made by your father and Lear. I saw certain similarities in the style. So I knew someone was lying. When Lear proved an illusion, I realized the glorious truth. The daughter was the source! It was very well done, Mademoiselle Bering. Who would think of a woman?”

“No one,” she said, a bit sourly.

“Until me!” he said, pleased with himself. “So you have nothing more to hide. You will find that I know all your secrets. But I am not your enemy. All I ask is that you explain the trick of these designs. You see, I know they are wrong.”

Cordelia asked, “Why should I? It would be a betrayal.”

“To whom? Your father? He has passed on, and would surely wish you to live anyway.”

“Not to my father. To my country.”

“Your country!” He laughed, genuinely amused. “Your country does not care about you, Mademoiselle Bering. If they knew what I know, they would have acted to steal your work for themselves. Perhaps they have already tried.”

“I have no reason to help you, in any case.”

“You have several reasons, Mademoiselle Bering.” He looked at her with an appraising eye.

She looked away. “I cannot think of any. You must let me go. I will not help you.” She was following the plan given to her by the French lad. She would stand strong—but not too strong—at first.

“I am surprised at you, Mademoiselle Bering. So steadfast, even though no one is on your side.” He stood up, coming closer to her. “Consider this then. If you continue to refuse to aid me, your honor will be destroyed.”

She hated the way he smiled at her. “I am willing to accept that shame.”

“And…” He held up an aristocratic hand. “I will have one of your servants killed.”

“What?” Cordelia shot out of her chair, her shock only partly exaggerated.

“Oh, so you do care about something more than yourself.”

“You would not! They have done nothing to you!”

“They work for someone determined to stand in my way.” Arceneau stared at Cordelia, his eyes flat. “Do I really seem like a person who would let the death of a housemaid trouble my sleep?”

He did not. Cordelia realized what Jacques had warned her about. She could refuse Arceneau for a little while, but giving in was inevitable. But she could do her best to convince him that she had given up hope of rescue. “Please…” she began, her voice shaking all too realistically. “They are innocent. I promise…”

“Promise what, my dear?”

“I’ll draft you a new design for the
Andraste
. Complete and correct. You have my word.”

He was all smiles again. “Those are words to warm my heart, Mademoiselle Bering. Do this for me, and you will be rewarded. I will see that your honor is untouched and that your finances are replenished.”

“And my household kept safe. Just don’t hurt anyone,” she pleaded.

“Their safety is your hands, Mademoiselle Bering.”

She did not have to pretend to look defeated, but she also felt a little triumph deep inside. He thought she was completely in his power. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“No,” he said, almost kindly.

“Then I will whatever you say.” Remembering more of Jacques’s advice, Cordelia moved slowly to the table, thinking of the glass bottle she had left behind in the cell. How she wished for some kind of weapon! Then she had an idea.

“Could you spare me a glass of wine?” she asked. “I feel a bit parched, and I haven’t been eating well this week, for some reason.”

He laughed at that, and ordered the man standing outside the door to bring some food and drink.

She sat down at the table, aware the man was surveying her intently from behind. She tried to ignore him, and bent to study the drawings on the table. In spite of herself, she became instantly absorbed. Someone had tried to make sense of the puzzle Cordelia left in the schematics. Comments and alternative drawings littered the pages.

Cordelia started when she felt Arceneau’s hand on her shoulder, but he merely handed her a glass of ruby red wine. Still, his touch lingered longer than was proper. “Thank you,” she said frostily. He only smiled at that.

“You can do this, yes?”

“Yes. But I need fresh paper. And space. And a little time. These are not simple drawings.”

“Certainly, my lovely scholar. Take as long as you need. I shall be delighted to remain at your side.” Cordelia glanced up, and saw the glint in his eyes as he appraised her. She saw his gaze hover on her bosom, and she knew that, for all his airs, he was nothing more than a savage. He saw her as a prize, too.

With an effort, she dragged her attention back to the drawings. She called Sebastien’s name silently, sending out a message from her heart, willing him to sense where she was. To cover her frustrations, she took a sip of the wine.

“You like the wine?” Arceneau asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“It’s very good,” she said, not lying.

“It’s the best. If you have a taste for such things, Mademoiselle, you might consider working for me permanently. I promise you that it has its rewards.”

“I doubt I should like the work you offer,” she said.

His voice remained smooth. “What do you think I offer you? You have skills, but as a woman, you have little option to pursue your talents. I do not value women cheaply, I assure you. Your contributions should be as dear to me as that of any man.”

“And what is your ultimate aim for those contributions, sir? I have no wish to help kill men more efficiently, and from everything I’ve learned, your interest is war.”

“Not at all!” Arceneau smiled, his teeth flashing in the light. “My interest is money. You think I work for France, for the emperor? Why should I, when the government may change next month, next year? No, I work for myself. I will sell to the highest bidder—or better still, to anyone who meets my price. Then they are all equal, eh? Let the nations of Europe slaughter their men on the battlefield in glorious combat! I do not kill. I am merely a businessman.”

“You will forgive me if I do not share your interest, Monsieur.”

“The interest in money? Perhaps not. But we may share another interest.” He reached out to touch her cheek, ran his finger along her jawline.

She shivered in revulsion. “I thought your interest in me was my ability to recreate this design. I can do it, but only if you let me alone.”

Arceneau dropped his hand. “As you wish.”

She shivered again. The man had relented this time. She doubted he would do so again. How much longer did she have left?

“Oh, look! Miss Bering has
finally seen reason!” The voice belonged to Hayden.

Cordelia felt cold when Hayden entered the room like he owned it. She hadn’t seen him since he brought her to the house on the first day. She thought that he returned to England.

“Has our lovely lady been hard at work?” he asked.

Arceneau surveyed the new sheet she had begun. “She has.” He looked into Cordelia’s face. “These plans are correct, dear?”

“Yes.” She prayed her voice held steady.

“For your sake, I hope so,” he said. “I want to trust you, of course, but you’ve proven to be quite subtle before. I’ll let you go when the prototype is successfully built.”

She was horrified at the implication. “You would keep me a prisoner for months! You would destroy my life! You promised me you’d release me.”

By the fire, Hayden laughed hard at her naiveté.

Arceneau only smiled. “Too bad you did not consider the costs before attempting to thwart me. I always win, Mademoiselle Bering.” He paused. “But if you are telling the truth, and these plans do work, I will see that you can begin a new life under my protection.”

“Forgive me if I have extreme doubts about your protection,” she spat out.

Arceneau lost his smile. “Be careful, my dear. Who else is looking out for you now?”

Sebastien
. Her heart called out to him.

Arceneau turned his head suddenly. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

Hayden frowned. “Hear what?”

Arceneau didn’t bother to share. “I will look. You stay here and watch Mademoiselle Bering.”

“With pleasure.” Hayden smiled in a way that made her shiver.

Arceneau shut the door behind him. Cordelia knew he didn’t lock it, and she ached to run and yank it open.

Hayden saw her gaze, and guessed her thoughts. “Don’t try it.” He moved closer to her. “You wouldn’t even get to the stairs. Besides, you didn’t think I would let as lovely a thing as you get away, did you?” Hayden snaked out an arm and drew her close to him. “I admit, you get more appealing each time I see you. I am pleased you fell into my lap.”

“Fell into your lap? You kidnapped me!”

“It’s all in the phrasing.” He shrugged. “I won’t hurt you, beautiful. Not unless you want me to.” He grinned foully at that, and Cordelia struggled to get free of his grasp. He was not as large as Sebastien, and Cordelia was able, just barely, to break free and run to the door.

“Well, maybe I will hurt you, you little vixen.” He was faster than she was, and pinned her to the wall next to the door before she could open it. “I bet you taste good,” he leered and reached to kiss her.

“Get away from me!” Cordelia used all her strength to push him off her. He still had hold of her, though, so they both tumbled to the floor, hitting the table on the way. Cordelia heard a glass shatter, and then heard a shout from the hallway. The guard must have heard the fight.

“Come here, vixen.” Hayden crawled on top of her, grabbing her arms to hold her down. Cordelia, throwing caution to the winds, screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone in this house had a shred of human decency. Hayden slapped her hard across the jaw, snapping her head to the side. “Don’t scream.”

She couldn’t even speak through the sudden pain.
If he knocks me unconscious, at least I won’t know what happens
, she thought, dazed.

Then, through a haze of stars across her vision, Cordelia saw the door open. Miraculously, Sebastien stepped through it, followed by someone else. She sobbed in relief, not knowing or even caring if the vision was real.

It was real, though, judging from Hayden’s howl of rage. Sebastien did not wait for the man to stand up and engage him. He grabbed him by the hair and dragged him upwards. Hayden dangled almost comically in the air, held up by the enraged Sebastien. Staring for a long moment into Hayden’s face, he curled his lip in disgust.

“Take care of this trash for me, won’t you?” Sebastien asked his companion.

He tossed Hayden into the none-too-gentle grip of his friend, who grinned foully. “Won’t you step outside the room with me, sir?” the huge man asked. “I have some things to discuss with you. But first, let’s see if your white-haired friend can join us.” He dragged the screaming Hayden through the doorway as if he weighed no more than a sack of flour, and then both disappeared.

Sebastien turned his full attention to his goddess, disheveled and dirty on the floor, but still smiling at him through her tears. “Hello,” she said.

Falling to his knees in front of her, he gathered her up and held her as if he would never release her. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I knew you would find me,” Cordelia breathed into his ear.

“Are you hurt, love? Did he…touch you?” He tightened his arms around her, as if trying to protect her from the world.

“Nothing to speak of. I’m glad you got here when you did, though.” She shuddered. “How did you find me?”

“I’ve been looking for you since the morning after you were taken.”

“But here, in this house?”

“We had a hint, and then I followed the trail. Did you think I’d let anyone keep you away from me?”

He kissed her. It had barely been a week since their last kiss, but Cordelia felt like she was drowning in a sea of love when Sebastien put his lips on hers. She hardly wanted to breathe.

A voice from the doorway interrupted them. “Sorry, but I’m not sure how much time we have. The white-haired man must have snuck out when he heard us. I don’t know if he’ll come back with reinforcements.”

“And Hayden?”

“I’m a little upset about that,” the black-haired man said flatly. “I barely got to ask him anything when he suddenly keeled over and stiffened up like a plank. His face was purple within a minute. Am I that frightening?”

“He poisoned himself?” Sebastien asked.

“I’m afraid so. Wouldn’t have thought he had the guts. Oh, well.” He looked around the room. “But as I said, we’d best move on.”  

Sebastien nodded at his words, reluctantly letting go of Cordelia. “Oh,” he said. “Cor, this is my friend. He tagged along.”

She turned to the taller man. “I’m Cordelia Bering,” she said, offering her hand as if they were at just another party of the
ton
.