Page 35 of Temptation and the Artist

But what had Phillipe meant when he had said they’d clipped Stephen’s wings? Had they hurt him? Fear for him added to everything else, and she had to fight to remain focused on the present task.

This time, when they turned into an inn yard, she made her position plain. Basil had been taken out once to relieve himself by the roadside, but he was wriggling again.

“I insist you allow us refreshment and food,” she said. “If you don’t, I shan’t answer for the consequences. Trust me, it will not make the rest of your journey pleasant.”

“And if we simply tip you out of the coach?” Gaston said.

“Then I’ll have the hue and cry after you so fast you’ll never get as far as a port. Besides,” she added, holding Gaston’s angry gaze with her calm one, “you and André were friends once. Would you really be so cruel to his widow? And don’t imagine Basil would forget.”

Gaston’s eyes fell.

Philippe swore beneath his breath. “We’ll stop here for dinner. It’s off the beaten track, so we’d be safe enough staying the night. With an early start, we’ll still make Harwich for the afternoon crossing.”

“You’ll sleep?” Gaston demanded. “With her in the house?”

“Yes.” Philippe smiled. “Because Basil will be with me, and her door will be locked.”

It was less than she had hoped but better than not stopping at all.

Annoyingly, they did not untie her hands, but kept the cloak about her, while Gaston all but lifted her from the carriage and kept his arm about her, falsely solicitous. Philippe kept Basil’s hand through his arm, though the boy scowled so furiously, Aline felt rather proud of him.

The party was shown at once into a private parlor, although the innkeeper explained, wringing his hands apologetically, that he only had two bedchambers available, rather than the three Philippe requested.

Gaston looked speculatively at Aline.

“No,” she said flatly. “After the day I have had, I insist on a chamber of my own. You gentlemen may all share the one room.”

In fact, she didn’t much care, for she sincerely hoped she would have found a means of escape before then. But Philippe took it as a sign of her acceptance of the situation and relaxed slightly. More fool him.

“They are both good-sized rooms, sirs, madam,” the innkeeper said anxiously. “I can easily put up a truckle bed for the young master here. And your baggage, sir”

“Will follow with my man,” Philippe lied smoothly. “Hopefully before we retire.”

“Of course.”

“Are the rooms ready?” Aline inquired. “I would like to see mine now.”

“Of course, madam. I’ll have my wife show you up immediately.”

“She might as well show us all at the same time,” Philippe said. He was not a complete fool, and Aline had not truly expected to win so soon.

But she would at least be granted a few minutes alone.

The innkeeper’s cheery wife showed them their bedchambers on the floor above. Annoyingly, they were right beside each other. And at the front of the house, as Philippe discovered when he took it upon himself to inspect her room and peer out of the window. She already knew it was a sheer drop to the ground, although she could probably manage it if her hands were untied. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

In the few minutes of solitude she was granted behind the closed door, she used the chamber pot and the washbowl with great difficulty, and managed, by wriggling her back against the bed, to grasp the reticule and draw it open. She even managed to reposition the dagger within for easy access, but voices in the hall warned her she was about to be interrupted. She rose to her feet, scrunching the reticule closed, and positioned it where she could easily grasp it with her left hand. Then she shook her cloak back around her and sailed out of the room.

Philippe had been quite right that she would not run without Basil.

So, they all returned together to the private parlor, Gaston holding her arm in case her balance was upset. She thought quite seriously about upsetting his. A well-timed swipe at his ankles would send him tumbling downstairs and, in the confusion, it was possible she and Basil could escape, run to the stables and steal a horse. The trouble was, she needed her hands free to have a decent chance, and Gaston was as likely to tumble into Basil as into Philippe.

Her best hope was during dinner.

In the parlor, the table had been set and a bottle of wine was placed on the sideboard along with a mug of small beer. Philippe sniffed the beer, then passed it with some distaste to Basil before he poured wine into two glasses and cocked an eye at Aline.

“Wine, ma fille?” he asked.

“Thank you.” She watched him pour a third glass and sat down at one end of the table. “My hands?” she pointed out.

---