Of course it would be for Claude that she would travel all this way, to a foreign country that had so recently been at war with her birthplace.
She stepped closer to him. “It is so terrible. He is here in En gland.” Her gaze still managed to hold him in thrall. “Do you remember how he was so filled with hatred?”
Could he forget?
She took a breath. “He became a cuirassier to get revenge for—for what happened at Badajoz. What happened to his father. And to me. All these years Claude has not forgotten any of it. Fighting the English in the war was supposed to be the revenge, but, alors, you know what happened.”
“Why come to England, then, if he hates it so?” Wouldn’t Claude want to stay away and keep his mother away, as well?
She wrung her hands. “He remembers one name from that day—Edwin Tranville. He has come to En gland to kill him.”
Edwin Tranville. Gabe pressed his fingers against his temple. Damned Edwin Tranville. “What has this to do with me, Emmaline?”
Her eyes pleaded. “I need you to find Claude and stop him.”
What a fool he was. She’d come to England for her son, not for him.
He gave her a level look. “What makes you believe I would help you?”
She lowered her gaze so that her long dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. “Oh, Gabriel. Who else can help me? I cannot go to—to the gendarmerie and tell them my son wants to kill a man. I might as well send Claude to a guillotine. I came to you, because I do not know anyone else.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I know only you.”
Her emotion shook him. He paced in front of her. “Well, I cannot help you.” His response was firm. “I have my own life to attend to, Emmaline. I am waiting for a new commission. Word could come any day and, when it comes, I must be here or the position will go to someone else.”
“You are not in the army any more?” Her gaze flicked over his uniform coat and her brow creased as if in confusion.
“My regiment was disbanded. I’m on half-pay.”
“Half-pay? What is that?” Her eyes widened suddenly and her voice rose. “Do you need money, Gabriel? I can pay you money to help me.”
“I do not need money,” he snapped. What he needed she could not give him, not without forsaking her son. “The army pays half of a salary when a soldier is idled, but do not concern yourself. I have plenty of money.”
“Even so …” she fingered the front of her dress “… I will pay for your help.”
Did she think he would accept money for such a thing? It galled him that she would presume they could make some sort of business arrangement after what they’d had together.
What he thought they’d had.
“How old is Claude now?” he asked.
She looked puzzled. “He is now eighteen years.”
“I was in the army, taking care of myself when I turned eighteen. Claude is his own man now. He must act on his own and accept the consequences.”
She seized his arm. “You do not understand. He will be caught. He will hang for murder.”
Her touch radiated through him. “That is his decision.”
“Non, non, Gabriel,” she cried. “You must stop him. He cannot hang. I cannot bear it.”
Gabe felt himself weaken. Claude was her whole world, more important to her than anything or anyone else. Gabe had carried Claude off the Waterloo battlefield for that reason—for her—even while the cries of countless other wounded men had filled his ears. He did not regret doing so, but how many times was he expected to rescue Claude for her?
He closed his hands around her arms and lifted her away from him. He must think of himself now. Not of Emmaline. “I cannot go looking for him.”
She did not relent. “Then find Edwin Tranville. Warn him. Tell him to hide himself until I find Claude. I will send word to you when Claude returns to Brussels with me.”
He blew out a breath. “I am not going to look for Edwin Tranville.” He wanted nothing to do with Edwin Tranville. “No more discussion.”
He walked to the door and opened it. If she did not leave soon, his rapidly eroding resolve might entirely wash away. “I bid you good day.”
He pictured himself holding her in his arms, inhaling her essence, feeling her warm curves against his body.
She paused to face him. “I am staying at the Bristol Hotel, if you decide differently.”
He closed the door behind her and immediately paced the room, angry at her for making this request, angrier at himself for hoping she’d come for him. He turned towards the windows and watched her step out of the building onto the pavement. She took a few steps, then stopped to look for something in her reticule. She pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
His insides twisted.
With one distraught glance toward the building she started to walk away.
But the three officers he’d run into at the War Office were approaching her, returning from the tavern, no doubt. They swayed with drink and talked so loudly he could almost hear their words. They exclaimed in pleasure when catching sight of her.
The three men circled her, doffing their hats and bowing, their greetings too exuberant, too ungentlemanly. She tried to push past them, but they blocked her path. She stiffened and tried again.
Three drunk men in red coats? It was like Badajoz.
Gabe sensed her panic as if he were inside her skin. He grabbed his shako and hurried out of the parlour, crossing the hall to the front door. As he opened it the three men were right there, about to step inside. Through them Gabe saw Emmaline rushing away.
Hanson put an arm around Gabe’s shoulder. “Deane, my good friend. You just missed the most delectable creature. In fact, you might be able to catch up to her if you hurry.” Contrary to his words, though, he pushed Gabe inside with them.
“She was a sight for sore eyes, that is to be sure,” agreed Irishman. “A pity Webberly scared her off. Never did know how to approach a lady.”
Webberly shoved him. “What lady would be walking out of Stephen’s alone?” He laughed. “Shall we wager on whose room she was visiting?”
Gabe clenched a fist. “I saw the three of you through the window. You frightened her.”
Hanson guffawed. “And you were rushing to her rescue? Great strategy, Deane! No better way to get a woman into bed than to come to her rescue.”
Irishman staggered ahead. “I’ve a bottle in my room if you’ve a mind to wet your whistle before dinner is served.”
“Come with us,” Hanson said to Gabe.
“No, I have an errand.” He drew back.
“Come to us when you are done.” Irishman gestured for Hanson and Webberly to hurry. “We’ll save you a drink.”
“Four-to-one odds Deane is going after that fancy piece,” Webberly cried.
The others laughed, but Gabe was already across the threshold. Once outside he ran out to Bond Street and managed to catch sight of Emmaline in the distance, walking alone.
He followed her, as he had that first day he’d glimpsed her in Brussels. Irishman, Hanson and Webberly were harmless enough, but that did not mean there were no other men out there who could pose a danger to her.
He stayed close enough to keep her in sight, all the while cursing himself for involving himself with her again, for even caring about her safety when