Page 90 of Souvenir Heart

In the flickering light, Marcus could see her expression of horror and pity as she found it. “Do you think I would lie about such a thing?” He wanted to tell her that he would never lie to her. To explain the story behind the pamphlet with its lurid headline. Though what good would it do? He might not be a mercenary, but he was a spy, and a forger, and he’d killed for his king and his countrymen, and if need be, he’d do it again. If she held him in contempt, so be it.

She was vulnerable. He couldn’t afford to be.

“It was a long time ago.” Sixteen years this September. “A battle.” Saratoga. “Nasty wound.” The saber slashing down. Biting into his flesh. So much pain. So much blood. Then nothing.

“Incompetent surgeon didn’t bother to make sure I was truly dead. Got tossed in a mass grave.” The tangle of cold corpse limbs all around him.

“How did you survive?”

“Decided it was a wretched way to die.” The waves of panic and fury. “Clawed my way out.”

“Is this why you do what you do now?”

Why did she insist on asking so many questions? Why couldn’t she just believe it was for the money? It would make everything so much simpler. Gritting his teeth, Marcus focused on the bobbing light of Andre’s lantern up ahead. Imagining how he’d wring the man’s neck when they got a moment alone.

He got his chance just before they reached the entrance of the quarry, where Andre and David had set up camp for them.

Andre stepped back. “This is the rough bit, Madame de Rouvroy. You’ll want to push your lantern through first, then wriggle through on your back. Less than comfortable, but I assure you, it will be fine once you get through. More than enough room once you get inside.”

Marguerite wrapped her skirts tightly around her legs and proceeded to follow Andre’s instruction. Her slippered feet disappeared through the narrow opening without Andre’s assistance. “This is amazing,” her muffled voice called back.

Marcus stepped close to Andre and hissed, “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Do what? Tell her how to get through?”

“Don’t insult us both by feigning innocence. Why did you tell her about me? About the war?”

“I imagine it felt a bit like the punch you threw at me in the alley.”

“Was it some kind of petty revenge, then? You know why I punched you. We talked about it. It had to look real to make the story about the attack convincing…”

“We did. And I agreed. But you didn’t warn me before you did it.”

“Is that what this is about?” Marcus shook his head in disbelief. “Your natural instinct—any man’s natural instinct, would have been to duck. I couldn’t risk the blow going awry and causing real damage.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Andre said carefully, “Is that you did it to ensure I’d have no time to put up a defense.”

“Yes, of course.”

“To ensure that what had to be done got done properly.”

“Of course.”

“Are you coming? Is everything all right?” Marguerite called.

“Just working out how to get Marcus through,” Andre answered. Turning back to Marcus, he said softly, “I know you’re furious with me. You’re imagining how you’d like to wring my neck.”

“You do know me well.”

“I do. Including how you feel about spaces like these.” He gestured with his lantern at the encircling darkness. “If you want to argue about the correctness of my decision at a later time, want to take another swing at me, I’ll stand and take it. But I’ve done what I could to distract you. To get you this far.”

Marcus eyed the narrow opening through which Marguerite had disappeared, his gut churning.

“Marcus?” Marguerite called again, a note of concern in her voice.

“And, if the lady sees a side of you, other than the base one you’re determined to show her…would that be such a terrible thing, my friend?”

Fifty-Four