A Regency Gentleman's Passion. Diane Gaston
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long. I must return before dawn.”
She lit a taper from the dying coals in the kitchen stove and moved around the room lighting candles. “Do you need food? Something to drink?”
“Whatever is quickly prepared.” He sank down on her sofa.
In the light she could see his hair, as dark as her own, pulled back in a queue. His face had matured a bit, even to the point of a thin moustache above his lip. He did, indeed, look as Remy must have looked in his youth. Claude wore the blue coat of his uniform with the gray overalls that the soldiers wore to keep their white trousers clean. He would have been able to slip through the streets unseen.
“Do not light too many candles,” he told her. “No one must know I am here.”
She blew out the one she’d just lit. “I’ll bring you some wine.” There was wine left in the bottle she and Gabriel had shared. She poured it into a glass for Claude and brought it to him.
Gabriel! She had forgotten. She hoped he did not show himself.
He drank half of it quickly. “Thank you, Maman.”
She sat opposite him and reached out to touch his face. “I’ll prepare your food, but please tell me first if you are well. Tell me why you are so close by.”
He took another sip. “I cannot tell you why we are close by, but I am very well. They have allowed me to join the cavalry, Maman. I am a cuirassier. That is a great privilege.”
Claude had loved horses from the time he could toddle across a room. When they had travelled with his father, Claude was happiest riding with his father on his horse. Poor Coco, the mare, had been lost to them after Badajoz, another heartbreak for Claude.
Here in Brussels, Emmaline could never afford to keep a horse, but Claude had befriended Mr Engles, who ran a stables nearby. Claude performed whatever chores the man would give him, anything to be with the horses. Eventually Mr Engles began to pay him and Claude saved every franc until he could purchase a horse of his own. Named Coco. Claude rode Coco away to Napoleon’s army, and most likely having Coco was why Claude was allowed to join the cuirassiers.
“I am not surprised.” She smiled at her son. “You probably ride better than most of them.”
Would being in the cavalry keep him safer than the infantry? She prayed it was so.
He finished the wine. “They are veterans of the war and I have learned much from them.”
Learned how to fight and kill, she thought. But had they taught him how to face men wanting to kill him?
She took his glass and stood. “I will bring you more. And some food.”
He rose and followed her to the kitchen, but suddenly froze. “What is this, Maman?”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him pointing to Gabriel’s red coat, hanging over the chair.
“An English soldier’s coat?” His voice cracked. He gaped at her in disbelief. After a moment his face flushed with colour. “You have an English soldier here?” He looked around, as if the man would step out from behind a curtain.
“Claude, I can explain—”
“Where is he? In your bed?” His voice squeaked again.
Before she could say another word, he dashed to the stairs and leaped up them four at a time.
She ran after him. “Claude. Wait!”
“Show yourself,” Claude shouted in French. “Show yourself, you dog.”
From the bottom of the stairs, Emmaline glimpsed Gabriel in his shirt and trousers, standing in the doorway of her bedchamber. Claude charged him and they disappeared into the room. As she hurried up the stairs she heard something crash to the floor.
“I’ll kill you!” Claude yelled.
Emmaline reached the doorway. From the light of a candle Gabriel must have lit, she could see Claude trying to strike him and Gabriel, larger and stronger, holding him off.
“I’ll kill you!” Claude cried again, his arms flailing. He sounded like a wounded child.
“Stop it, Claude.” She tried to pull him away from Gabriel. “Someone will hear you. They will discover you are here.”
He immediately stopped, but glared at her, his chin trembling. “He knows I am here. He is the enemy.”
“Non, non, Claude.” Emmaline faced him. “Do you know who this is? Do you?”
He spat. “An Englishman in your bed. How could you do such a thing?” He took two breaths before charging Gabriel again. “Did you force her?”
Gabriel again held him off.
Emmaline jumped between them. “He did not force me, Claude. He is our rescuer. Do you not remember him?”
Claude backed away, looking puzzled.
“This is the captain who kept us safe in Badajoz.” She tried to keep her voice down.
“Claude—” Gabriel started.
Claude leaned forwards, pointing his finger at him. “Do not say a word! There is nothing you can say to me, you English dog!”
Emmaline pushed him back. “Calm yourself, Claude. We will go downstairs and talk about this.”
He looked as if he was about to cry. “This is traitorous, Maman.”
“I cannot be a traitor to Napoleon. I am not in his army. You are.” She seized his arm and yanked him towards the door. “Come downstairs.” She turned to Gabriel and spoke in English, “Will you come, too?”
Gabriel nodded.
He did not follow immediately, though. Emmaline took advantage and spoke to Claude. “You must remain calm and quiet. If someone hears you yelling and fighting, you will be discovered.”
“Do not be a fool, Maman,” he countered. “He will turn me in. I am already lost.”
“He is Gabriel Deane, a good man who will do what is right.”
A part of her wanted Gabriel to take her son prisoner. At least Claude would stay alive, but she’d been a soldier’s wife too long not to understand that Claude would find being a prisoner worse than death.
Claude sat down on the sofa and she sat down next to him, leaving the chair opposite the sofa for Gabriel.
He entered. “Shall I pour wine?”
“Oui, Gabriel. Merci.” She forgot to switch to English.
He brought the glasses and the wine and placed them on the table, pouring the first and handing it to Claude.
Claude kept his arms crossed over his chest.
“Take it, Claude,” Emmaline said in French.
He rolled his eyes, but did as she said. Gabriel handed the next glass to Emmaline before pouring one for himself.
“Tell Claude I have no intention of hurting you in any way. That—that I have the highest esteem for you,” Gabriel said.
Emmaline translated.
Claude closed his eyes as if he wished not to hear. “I cannot speak with him about you, Maman. Ask him what he will do with me.”
She turned to Gabriel. “Claude believes you will take him prisoner, but I beg you will let him go.”
His brow furrowed. “This is asking a great deal of me, Emmaline. My duty—”
Her throat tightened. “Please, Gabriel. Please allow him to leave.”
He glanced away, as if thinking.
“What are you saying?”