Page 54 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
The landlady appeared to accept it, moving her eyes over to Léon. “And that one?”
“An executioner I kidnapped from town.” It took her a moment, but her face slowly eased into a smile, and she let out a cackle at what she imagined was a joke. Spotting his opportunity, Henry said, “And that little one’s his brother.” Émile gave a friendly wave. “And that’s a random barmaid we picked up along the way.”
Souveraine let out a shocked gasp, not that it was entirely untrue, but she didn’t at all like the disparaging way Henry had said it. But then, after a laugh at her expense with the landlady, he followed up with, “Only joking. She’s obviously my sister’srespectable ladies’ maid, which explains what she was doing here all afternoon with my nephew.”
Léon stared across at Henry, watching one lie after another roll off his tongue. He wondered whether he was acting on the fly or if this whole scene was part of a plan, just as outrageous as his last plan to blackmail his sister’s executioner into freeing her. A plan which had worked, it occurred to Léon.
“So that makes him your brother!” the landlady cried, pleased with her ability to follow the whole mess so intelligently, even if she hadn’t at all.
“Yes!” Henry cried. “A little family reunion gone awry on account of this insipid weather.”
“And that’s how you lost your clothes, too?” She looked at Léon. “In this very big puddle?”
Léon, words trapped on his tongue, felt Henry bump his arm, and with no very good understanding of why he was playing along, replied, “It was deep. And the wheel. And-and weather. We were cold…”
To his great relief, Henry cut back in. “So you see, you’d be doing me the largest favour ever if you could arrange some hot water and a meal, and we’ll be on our way as soon as we can find appropriate means.”
The woman stood a little longer, assessing them all. Then, finally, “All right. Ladies upstairs. You’ve still got your key?”
Souveraine gave a nod and, “Yes, but?—”
“Come along, Souveraine,” Catherine said, sounding every bit the aristocrat she supposedly was, only with that same odd accent Henry kept slipping back into. “Be a good girl, or I’ll have to discipline you.”
“But I’m not— Léon!” She cast desperate eyes over at him, with something that looked like a hot blush on her cheeks.
He made a move to follow as Catherine dragged Souveraine away, Émile pushing ahead up the stairs, but was stopped in histracks by the landlady’s, “Not you two.” Henry and Léon turned as one to await her meaning, even as she scoured her eyes over them. “It’s the stables for you.”
“The what?” asked Léon.
“Thewhat?” asked Henry.
“The stables,” she repeated. Then, sternly, “Maybe she is your sister, and maybe she isn’t, but I won’t have you all up there in that private room while they’re getting dressed either way.”
“But it’s so cold out,” Léon virtually wailed, the very thought of it scratching at his weary bones. His tolerance for the whole charade having suddenly broken down, he said, “Forget it. Forget it all. Bring the horse back around, the brown one. With the carriage. It can make it back to town.”
Henry stayed the woman with a raised finger, and with an air of confidentiality, said to Léon, “Do you want to take a moment to think things through?”
“I don’t have a moment!” Léon hissed back at him.
“Léon.” Henry’s bare and soft fingers wrapped around behind his elbow to lead him some small distance from the owner. Léon attempted to snatch it back, but found it held firm, and Henry’s voice swept close across his ear. “How do you think it will look when you turn up with a stolen carriage?”
“I think it will look like I’m bringing it back to town right after having been kidnapped in it.”
“And who will you say kidnapped you?”
“I’ll say…” Léon looked around hopelessly. “I don’t know. I’ll say it was some man.”
“Some man?”
“Some man. In-in a mask. And that I didn’t get a good look at him.”
“Except they know you got a good look at him because those people will have told your people that you did it, and that youlooked exactly like me. And how are you going to explain that without implicating me?”
Henry didn’t speak like he was threatening Léon. He sounded like he was genuinely trying to figure a way out of the problem. But Léon couldn’t entirely believe that. A highwayman on the run with a convicted woman? He was not someone to cross.
“Henri…” Léon met his concerned eyes with confiding ones. “I won’t tell them. I promised you, didn’t I? And I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you, but… I haven’t betrayed you yet, have I?”
Henry’s grip on Léon’s elbow softened with the brush of his thumb across his arm. The slightest movement, but one that brought Léon’s eyes to Henry’s hand, that elicited the flinch of Henry’s fingers, that brought Léon’s lips open, that brought Henry’s eyes to Léon’s lips, and Léon’s eyes to Henry’s, charged.
