The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [119]
Quin finished reloading and shot a third bottle.
“Get them up and send them down to the shore!” the captain screamed, to the sound of glass tinkling to the floor. “Find this man’s woman. Une anglaise. Mon dieu, my head is killing me.” He fell back onto his bed.
The young soldier saluted his moribund captain and then looked to Quin. “We’re about to patrol the shore in search of smugglers, as we do every morning and afternoon,” he said, without betraying by the blink of an eyelash the fact that they were standing in a smugglers’ haven. “We will look for your wife, sir.”
“Good,” Quin said, biting the word off. He was aware that he was in a state of barely modulated panic. If these soldiers hadn’t captured Olivia—and obviously they hadn’t—then where in the bloody hell was she?
He started down the stairs. He would check every house in Wissant, and then return here to see if the patrol discovered anything.
The damnable thing was that he knew this particular sensation. It fell on his shoulders like a familiar but loathed garment. He had felt it when he realized that Evangeline had taken Alfie and headed for the Channel. He had tasted it, bitter on his tongue, as he galloped toward Dover, hoping to intercept them on the pier.
It had driven him half-mad once he was there, watching the water. And he felt it now. It wasn’t safe to love someone.
His mother was right about that.
But it was too late to avoid the condition.
Thirty
The Princess and the . . .
Bessette, followed by Petit, marched Olivia through a door and down a damp and chilly vaulted brick passage. It went on, wound to the left, its walls broken occasionally by solid doors with barred openings at shoulder level.
“What is this place?” Olivia asked.
“The catacombs,” the young soldier answered. “They built the armory on top of them, and decided to use the catacombs for the kitchen and cells. You’re at the far end. She’s given you the best cell—it’s got a hole in the corner.”
Bessette shoved open a door to reveal a bare stone room with one rickety wooden chair, lying on its side. Sure enough, there was a stinking hole in the far corner. A high, tiny window, also barred, revealed sky and a bit of grass; she was, for all intents and purposes, underground.
“You cannot leave me here,” Olivia said, grabbing his arm. “My fiancé is a duke. And I am a lady.”
“I hate le ducs,” Bessette said, grinning at her again. “I’m not fond of Napoleon either, but I really hate you aristos.” He shoved her in and slammed the door. He pulled the key free and handed it to Petit, who had trailed them all the way down the passage. “Don’t let this one seduce you into giving up the key,” he advised. “Madame Fantomas is not a pretty sight when she’s angry. Think about her rolling pin.”
“It won’t matter what Madame thinks by the time my fiancé gets through with you,” Olivia shouted.
The only response was the sound of footsteps receding down the passage.
Olivia took a deep breath, which was a mistake; she nearly gagged at the stench coming from the hole. Presumably she would grow accustomed to the smell in a few minutes. Or perhaps fresh air would blow through the window. Perhaps pigs would fly.
One had to think that by now Rupert had either rallied or . . . not. Which meant that Quin would have returned to shore and must now be looking for her. He would be frantic.
Her situation wasn’t as terrible as the dire possibilities Quin had envisioned. After all, she hadn’t fallen into the hands of a garrison of soldiers thirsting for English blood. A mad breadmaker and a boozy captain didn’t strike fear in her heart; if she died of anything here, it was likely to be the stench.
She turned the chair over and dusted off the seat with the hem of her ruined gown, placing it in such a way that, once seated, she could see out the window. The grass bent at one point and she stood on the chair to see if someone was passing, but it was only a black cat, nosing along in pursuit of a mouse.
By the time the key rasped in the lock again, the light had grown stronger and taken on a yellow hue.