GypsyDukeEpub (38 page)

Fascinated with his endeavor, the cell inhabitants urged him on, all save one, stretched out on filthy rushes.

John dearly hoped this was not his uncle. The man didn't look capable of an escape.

Robert ignored all comments, concentrating on the task at hand, which John wasn't even sure he comprehended.

It appeared as if Robert was pouring gunpowder in the lock. When he emptied the pouch, he ran the cord into the keyhole and lighted the end, which hung down the side of the door.

He dropped the used faggot to the floor, waving at the prisoners. "Move away from the door."

He'd hardly spoken the admonishment when there came a loud pop, almost an explosion, with a puff of smoke wafting out the lock.

Robert gave it a monumental shove, and the door swung free.

It was a struggle to see who would get through the door first, Robert or the prisoners. Robert won, rushing to the figure on the floor.

John followed him inside, keenly aware that the two loosed men running through the prison could seriously jeopardize the success of their mission.

Robert didn't hesitate when he reached the man. He wrapped a bedraggled shroud over him before he took his arms. He gestured for John to take his feet.

The man's feet, wrapped in rags, were damp with cold. The dark color staining the fabric resembled dried blood. He was scarcely alive, and they were risking their lives for a man little better than a corpse.

Once they left the cell, carrying him was an easy task. He weighed so little, Robert could easily have done it alone.

They passed many guards along the way, but they showed even less interest when Robert cried out. "Death, death. Stand aside."

Something about his voice held an ominous ring, and the guards fell away, as if they assumed the dead man had the plague.

They never encountered the other freed prisoners. Had they made their way out? Would he and Robert be barred when they reached the exit?

They walked calmly past the two guards at the gate. Robert turned toward the wagon, where the girl still argued with Newport and now, only two guards.

As soon as she saw their litter, she began to back Newport and the two guards away from the rear of the wagon.

John marveled to see Newport respond as if they'd been working this trick for years. She shoved at his chest. He stumbled back a bit, flailing his arms wildly for the guards to catch him.

They settled him on his feet, and the girl pushed forward again. Newport held up a beseeching hand to the guards. "She owes me money, I tell you."

Robert hoisted the body on the back of the wagon and clambered down. John glanced around the street. No one paid the least attention to him and Robert. Every eye focused on the gypsy girl arguing with Newport and the guards.

"Keep him still," Robert commanded before walking around the front of the wagon. A completely unnecessary caution, since the man hadn't once moved.

John watched in utter amazement as Robert strode over to the gypsy girl, grabbed her about the waist and threw her protesting body over his shoulder. He dumped her without ceremony into the back of the wagon then walked back to the guards. He tossed them a jingling bag of what must be coins, all the while gesturing angrily at Newport.

Newport shrugged, but the guards, now in complete support of Robert, forced Newport to the front of the wagon where he was made to pull.

Robert joined John at the rear of this strange conveyance, and they pushed off down the street.

After about ten meters, John heard the girl, in an extremely cultured voice, instruct Newport to turn off the main avenue. They managed it, barely, with everyone pulling or shoving as hard as they could to turn the unwieldy old wagon.

Once in the alley, a smiling urchin with two horses gave them a nod before hooking the horses to the wagon.

John and Newport exchanged a glance. One look said it all. It was
the most unorthodox escape they'd ever seen, trusting entirely to chance, and it worked!

Robert clapped John on the back. "Shall we?"

He jumped in the back. John and Newport followed quickly as the gypsy girl, with the urchin beside her, whipped up the reins of the horses.

They heard loud cries from the direction of the main avenue, but there were loud cries from all over the city. John hoped it wasn't the gendarmes in hot pursuit.

It appeared the gypsy girl wasn't taking chances. She urged the horses to even greater speed, careening sharply around the next corner.

John held on as if his life depended on it. Moments later, she stopped, so abruptly that John flew into Robert.

Robert tossed him a cheeky grin. "I told you she was something."

He climbed down without waiting for an answer. The gypsy and the urchin turned their attention to the prone figure in the wagon.

She waved a hand at John. "If you would be so kind…"

Newport and John bent to lend a hand as they moved the man from the wagon and followed the girl through an open door.

Inside, John saw Robert busy lighting a fire before a make-shift cot. They set the prisoner on the cot, and the gypsy girl went to work. She cut away the tattered fragments of clothing hiding the man, but it did little to expose his visage. His eyes remained closed, and the lower half of his face was covered by a thick, matted black beard threaded with silver.

Robert stepped forward with a pail of warm water and several cloths. He handed them to the girl before pointing at John. She lifted her eyes to meet John's as Robert introduced them, including Newport with a flick of his wrist. "John Seymour, duke of Somerset. Reginald Newport…Katerina Rosetta Lovell."

A gamine smile lit her face as she turned to each man. "Your grace...or should I say cousin?" Without waiting for John to respond, she nodded to Newport. "Sir, I thank you for your assistance. Your arrival was most fortuitous."

Newport actually smiled back at her. John couldn't remember ever seeing Newport smile. But the girl had stunned them both with her quick transformation from guttersnipe French to the fluid tones of a noblewoman.

"Yes, it was," he said. "What would you have done on your own?"

"God provides, does he not?"

There seemed to be no answer to that.

John and Newport watched or helped as the man from the prison was transformed before their eyes. As Katerina scraped away the beard, John was struck at once by the deep cleft in the chin, a telltale sign of the males in his family.

With his face clean and shaven, he could have passed as a twin for Ardaix, though a very thin twin. The man was greatly undernourished.

His eyes fluttered slightly, and John saw Katerina grip Robert's hand. An intimate smile passed between them before she leaned over her father.

"Papa, have you awakened from your little slumber? Papa?"

The eyes popped open to reveal the same startling blue shared by John and Ardaix. John glanced at Katerina, but she didn't share the family trait. Her eyes were more a green hazel.

"Papa, can you hear me?"

"Katerina?" He whispered. "Did it work?"

She laughed aloud and laid her head on his chest. "Yes, mon pere, you're free. Now we must get you dressed and away from Paris."

He struggled to sit up, and with Robert's help, they managed to get him to a seated position.

Katerina held a cup to his lips, and the poor man gulped at the contents. She wiped his mouth then she and Robert helped him into trousers and boots.

When they pulled him up, the change was remarkable. No one at the prison would recognize him now, but Katerina wasn't quite finished. She reached behind him and pulled his hair into a queue before placing a large gold earring in his ear.

She patted his chest. "There. Now we can leave."

As she walked past John, she tossed two earrings at him. "I heard you lost yours."

Throughout this process, Newport had been unusually silent. Now, he barricaded the doorway with his body, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Before we leave, I should like a clear understanding of what we are attempting to accomplish. Assuredly, I do not resent being made to look an unfeeling ogre who absconds with a poor gypsy girl's horse as payment for her debts, however…" He held out a hand to stress his point. "I would be more able to enter into the spirit of the thing were I to know in advance what will be required. I might even be persuaded to improve upon your existing plans...such as they are," he added ironically.

John laughed. "She accused you of taking her horse?"

Newport nodded.

"No wonder they made you pull the wagon."

"Yes. Westley?"

"I would be happy to oblige, Newport, but could we do so after we get on our way?"

Robert made a move to the door with his frail burden hanging from his shoulder. Newport opened the door.

The open wagon they'd used previously had vanished. In its place, stood a covered wagon, horses in harness, ragged urchin waiting with the reins in hand.

As the stumbling trio passed John, the emaciated former prisoner searched his face. "You…you are Roma?"

John searched his mind for the man's name. Nicholai, Ardaix had said.

"Yes, Nicholai. Ardaix sent us."

Relief showed on his face. "I wondered."

With that cryptic statement, the girl urged him into the back of the wagon. Everyone but the urchin rode under cover of the wagon, but speech was kept to a minimum.

When John felt sure they must be near the outskirts of the city, the urchin called back. "All clear. There are no guards."

The look Newport gave Robert said he had every intention of getting his explanation.

Robert obliged. He told the entire story of how he'd arrived in Paris, been unable to locate a single name from the list of operatives he'd memorized and gone instead to visit the prison. After several days, he was able to ascertain that for the right amount of money, you could visit anyone. For even more coin, you could give them food.

Each day, he visited the prison, buying as much information as he could from the inmates and avoiding explanations to the guards. He eventually noticed Katerina and followed her home, realizing she was related to Nicholai.

They'd plotted from there, hoping they'd be able to manage all the details themselves.

The day before the escape, Katerina gave her father a gypsy concoction sure to cause him deep sleep. They faked his death, arriving to pick up the "body" before it could be discovered and disposed of by the guards.

"Admirable, I'm sure," said Newport. "But how do you expect to get out of the country? Wellington has already engaged the enemy to the
south. The ports are sure to be a hotbed of suspicious soldiers."

Katerina gave that Gallic shrug of hers again. "We pray. Every detail will work out." She looked across at John. "Do you not find this to be true?"

He stared at her. Her simple belief reminded him very much of Kitty, whom he'd lost. It also reminded him of the simple requests he'd made to God. They'd been answered as easily as she expected this problem to be solved.

"Yes."

Robert leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. "Very well. But a good plan wouldn't go amiss. Why can we not all be a troop of gypsies, returning to England with a dying gypsy as his last request?"

Though in a weakened condition, Nicholai had been listening to the conversation. "With your red hair, you look nothing like the Roma."

John laughed when Robert scowled. He was even more surprised when Katerina looked speculatively at Robert.

"His hair is russet. But that matters not. I can make anyone look Roma. This is a good plan."

"It's a good start," said John. "I suggest you make this look like a gypsy wagon as soon as possible."

Chapter 17

"I cannot stay in bed any longer," Kitty complained to her mother, who was seated in the chair near her bed.

"I am truly sorry, dearest, but the doctor said it would be best for another week or two."

Kitty clinched her eyes shut. "Two weeks. I will expire of boredom. Besides, I have recovered. Did you not feel the babe yourself when he kicked?"

"Indeed I did. 'Tis a wondrous miracle from the Lord after that fall you took."

Kitty frowned, thinking of the letter that had shocked her so. "Yes, the Lord is good, but explain that letter. If John is not lost or dead, to what did it refer?"

Rachel's hands fluttered about the coverlet, pulling it up to Kitty's expanding waist. "I have explained several times that it concerned the loss of John's estates, not his life. The estates have been returned to him, and the guilty parties involved in the speculation have been arrested. He will regain his estates upon his arrival at the law offices where he must sign, as the duke, some formal documents."

Kitty fretted still. Would John ever again sign anything as the duke? It had been three months and still no word. She had doubts as to the success of the mission. Robert hadn't returned from France, but that held little meaning. They had not been together when she left John.