Vintage Love (71 page)

“You must prove that at your mock trial.”

“I will do it. Have no fear. And if you came here hoping to rescue Armand Beaufaire, it was a waste of time. He is rotting in prison.”

She smiled. “Really? I have heard that he and others made their escape only yesterday.”

The bald man scowled, and her spirits rose a trifle. She was almost positive that she had hit on the truth, that Armand had been one of the fortunate escapees. She prayed that it was so.

“Nobles escape and nobles are captured again!” Esmond scoffed. “It is a cat-and-mouse game, you see. The only ones who really get away from us are the few who flee to England or to the new colonies in America.”

“It is too bad you could not emulate their type of revolution!”

“But we were inspired to revolt by the American Revolution,” he said with vigor. “Only we have improved on it! We are creating an entirely new order and eliminating an impossible one.”

“What could a person like you know of such things? You are a tyrant without scruples or morals!”

“One moment.” He raised a hand to silence her. “Let me inform you that I am a soldier with an honorable record, and I fought alongside the Americans in the war against you British!”

“I can scarcely believe it by your present conduct.”

“I suffered the wounds that made me something of a cripple by fighting with Washington’s army in Pennsylvania. I lost an eye, had a musket ball smash my hip, and was left for dead. But I recovered, and I have become a power in another revolution.”

“And lost your honor in the process!”

“I don’t think I ever noticed that loss,” Louis Esmond said with a smile. “Now to other matters. How is my elderly and peculiar rival, Sir Harry?”

“I know no one by that name.”

“That is a lie.”

“So you say.”

“And what about the good priest, Father Braun? Is he not also a companion of yours?”

Enid shook her head as if baffled. “You try to confuse me by saying names that are foreign to me.”

He fixed his eyes on her in grim study. “You are not nearly as confused as you would have me think.”

“You may think what you wish.”

“I will,” he promised. “Now to the question of your mission. Sir Harry chose you and the actor Kemble to come over here, posing as father and daughter, to steal a rare jewel and return it to England.”

“You are as mad as the Lear whom Kemble portrays so well on the stage!”

“Kemble is better suited to daring roles behind the footlights than those in real life,” the master spy declared. “His disguise is paper-thin, no more effective than your own. He does not have the temperament to be a secret agent.”

“You are given to strange fancies,” she parried.

“All that I say is established fact. And the jewel which you and Kemble were to steal is a rather important youth named Louis Charles. In short, the Dauphin!”

“Even Frenchmen know the Dauphin is in prison with his parents.”

“Don’t hope to deceive me on that point,” Esmond said, moving away from the desk. “I know full well of the exchange that was made. I had the venal jailer who took the bribe for the deed twisted on the rack! His screams were a delight to me, and when he pleaded for death, I reminded him of the enormity of his crime. He now drags himself about the floor of his prison cell like a kind of crawling insect, mindless and without hope.”

“Satan may actually deny you your proper place in his realm,” Enid retorted. “He is only a fallen angel, while you are something much more monstrous.”

“You have a sharp wit and a barbed tongue. I like that. A woman without spirit is nothing! As I was saying, I know all about the Dauphin’s being spirited away. And I’m fully informed of the English plot to give him security in exchange for using him in a political manner. That was a stroke of genius worthy of Sir Harry.”

“You weary me with your talking in riddles,” she complained.

“In that case I shall try to entertain you in a more interesting manner.” He seized her by the arm and dragged her from the chair toward a closed door on the other side of the room. He opened it and pushed her into an elegantly furnished chamber. Then he bolted the door behind him and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

She stared at him. “Is it your plan to rape me?”

“If necessary,” he said quietly as he removed his garment. “You could surrender pleasantly and save yourself from the guillotine tomorrow.”

“You state your terms with such clarity,” she mocked.

“You are no virgin. I do not need to be too gentle.”

“Would you, in any case?”

“No,” he said. He had removed his shirt, and she saw a livid scar across his hairy chest. “Another battle wound,” he told her.

It was a moment of dreadful decision for Enid. He had presented his terms: let him take her, or he would have her head in the morning. She did not question that he meant what he had said. It was in his power to do away with her. And he was drunk with the glory of his office, close to the state of madness. One does not argue with madmen, she realized. Better to surrender to him and hope to be rescued before she could be executed.

He led her to the side of the bed. “Weighing your decision?” he asked. “Let me assure you I’m an accomplished lover.”

“As you are an accomplished villain?”

“I pride myself in doing all things well,” he said softly.

He untied the cord about her dressing gown and removed it from her. Then, his hands trembling ever so slightly, he undid her nightdress and lifted it off her body.

“Lovely!” he cried, reveling in her nakedness. “You are a beautiful woman, my lady. Unhappily, you are also wrong-minded.”

She said nothing. He dropped his breeches to the floor and was shaking with uncontrolled passion as he drew her to him. She had not realized until this moment how eager he was for her. His ironic comments had artfully concealed his lust. He pushed her down on the bed and was immediately astride her. She felt his hard, throbbing penetration and lay passively, closing her eyes against his use of her flesh. Again and again he violated her with ceaseless thrusts, until, at last, his desire had been quenched.

It had been an act of rough demanding on Esmond’s part. He rose from her, breathing heavily, but he made no gesture of tenderness. There was no caress, no soft word of thanks, no kiss. Enid still lay unmoving, her eyes closed. She did not open them until he spoke.

He was standing a distance from the bed, fully dressed again. She was amazed at the speed with which he had accomplished this. Once again he was urbane and controlled, not the trembling, passion racked animal of a short while earlier.

“Like other men, I have my needs,” Esmond said. “You gave me nothing of yourself. Yet I enjoyed your lovely body without your approval. If you do not make too much of a nuisance of yourself, I shall have you remain my guest for a few weeks, perhaps even months.”

Enid sat up in bed and drew a sheet over her. “Can the executioner wait for me so long?”

He smiled at her coldly. “The executioner does my bidding. It would be well for you to remember that and do the same. Now I shall return to my desk, where urgent papers await my consideration. You may dress at your leisure and join me when you are ready. I will have one of my staff show you to your own room.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No dungeon?”

“And risk destroying your beauty? That would be defeating my purpose!” He bowed low. Then he limped to the door, unlocked it, and departed.

Enid was near tears. But something within her prevented her from giving way to such craven behavior. She was a lady born, and would not give Esmond the pleasure of her grief. She glanced about, feeling helpless and degraded. Her fingers touched the locket at her throat, and she remembered the powder. At least she had that way of escape. Desperate as it was, it would help her defeat the hangman. And with any luck, Kemble and the others would find the Dauphin and get him safely back to England. As for herself, she had little to live for. Even if Armand had escaped, she knew that Louis Esmond had been right in saying that her lover would probably be captured again. And capture for a second time would mean certain death.

She dressed slowly and tried to sort out her thoughts. The only way she could hope to live long enough to be rescued was to play on Esmond’s passion. His need for her was great, and she must use it as an instrument against him. Kemble and Renaud had no doubt returned to the house by now and found Ramon murdered and her missing. They would at once devise some plan of action to seek her out and rescue her. Whether such a plan would work was the all-important question. She could only hope it would and that they would also free the Dauphin from his cellar dungeon in the oppressive stone mansion.

She tied the cord of her robe carefully and arranged her hair in a neat fashion. And then, with a show of assurance she did not feel, she left the chamber and entered the library.

Louis Esmond glanced up from the paper he was studying at the desk, and a smile crossed his ugly face. “I say it again. You are a beautiful woman.”

Though Enid loathed the sight of him, she decided she must act as if her former resolve were crumbling in the face of passion. “Thank you. I must say I found you more impressive in bed than out of it.”

He stood up. “I will accept that as a compliment.”

“Whatever you like.”

“I’m going to be considerate of you,” he promised. “You shall be given a fine room upstairs and will have a maid at your disposal. Your only guard will be stationed in the hallway outside your door. He will not interfere with you unless you attempt to leave the room.”

“So I remain a prisoner.”

He limped over to her and eyed her with a lustful interest. “I would prefer to call you my guest.”

“How tactful of you.”

“Who knows? You may come to like it here.”

Enid made a show of looking down as she said quietly, “That will depend on you.”

“I shall be attentive,” he assured her. “I have many problems. My position is not an easy one. But you shall have a full share of my time.”

“Any objections I would make would count for little, I suppose.”

“You are quite right.” He gave her another smile. “But I find your attitude improved, so I shall treat you more kindly. However, one thing I will not do is to place a sword in your hands. I have seen too much evidence of your skill in fencing.”

“You admire that?”

“Only when you are not my adversary,” he laughed.

He went to the library door and spoke to someone in the hallway. A moment later Enid found herself escorted to the upper region of the mansion by a stolid-faced guard. He took her to a door on the third level and opened it for her.

She went inside and watched him light several candles and start a fire in the grate. Her glance shifted around the large room, and she saw it as one of many family bedchambers in happier days. The decor of white and pink suggested that it had had a female occupant. The entire atmosphere was of ruffles and refined elegance. Esmond had kept his promise of supplying her with proper quarters.

As soon as the soldier’s tasks had been completed he went out and closed the door behind him. During the time he had been there he had not looked at Enid or spoken a word.

She moved to the fire to warm herself a little, then crossed to the single large window and saw that it overlooked the front half-moon driveway. But the window offered no hope of escape. It was a great distance to the ground, and even though it had no bars and was not locked, it was useless in helping her gain her freedom.

She was still standing by the window when the door of her room opened, and a thin, elderly woman in a black dress entered.

“I have been sent to care for Madam’s needs,” the woman said in a tremulous voice.

“Are you to be my maid?” Enid asked.

“Yes. I have served in this house for most of my life.”

Enid found this information interesting. “You were here before it was taken by the revolutionists?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not find it strange under the new order? With your master and his family gone?”

The thin woman eyed Enid defiantly. “I am of the new order, madam. I support the aims of the revolution.”

Enid was somewhat shocked. “And don’t you feel any pity for your former master who is imprisoned here?”

“Not at all,” the servant replied sternly. “Many must suffer for the good of the nation.”

“I see,” Enid said, realizing it was useless to question her further. She was a true revolutionist, or Esmond would not have kept her on.

“Do you need something, madam?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Enid said. “I would like to take a warm bath.”

“I will have a tub and hot and cold water brought up.”

Within a short time two male servants arrived, with the woman directing them as they placed a large tin bathtub and jugs of hot and cold water in the middle of the room. When they had departed, Enid enjoyed a long, luxuriant soak in the warm water. She had felt the need to cleanse herself of the slightest contamination from the repulsive Louis Esmond. She wondered how long she could pretend to be succumbing to him and whether some sort of aid would reach her in time.

In the morning the woman servant appeared promptly with fresh water for Enid’s morning ablutions and a heaping breakfast tray. Then came a long interval of boredom. Enid paced restlessly up and down, musing on what Kemble’s reaction had been to her obviously having been taken hostage. There was little likelihood that any rescue attempt would be made by day, so she would somehow have to endure the tension until nightfall.

The servant brought her meals and looked after all her other needs. But she was unfriendly and said very little. Enid saw that it was senseless to try to reason with her, so she largely ignored her. Once she opened the door to see if the guard posted outside would continually be there. He was! On seeing her, he lifted his musket and pointed the bayonet at her. She took the hint and went back inside.

It was not until around nine in the evening that Louis Esmond made his appearance. When he came limping in, Enid felt her heart sink. She was convinced that he had come for another session of lovemaking, and she was in no mood for it. But he surprised her by saying, “I have come to see that you are comfortable.”