Bride for a Night

“And Harry has agreed to this plan?”

Gabriel wearily shrugged. “I pray he has not, but in truth…I do not know.”

As if sensing Gabriel’s reluctance to discuss Harry’s potential for fratricide, Hugo narrowed his gaze with a sudden surge of determination.

“Well, it does not matter,” he announced firmly. “Neither of us is going to be sacrificed.”

Gabriel smiled wryly. “Agreed.”

The golden gaze shifted toward the doorway where two soldiers were standing guard.

“Now we just need to discover the means to avoid our imminent death.”

JACQUES DID NOT allow himself the opportunity to consider his bold decision as he headed to the private study at the back of the townhouse.

It was his favorite room in the house that had once belonged to the Comte de Devanne.

Although not as large as the library, it was a spacious chamber. Gilt-wood armchairs with teal velvet covers matched the curtains covering the windows overlooking the back garden. A pair of lacquer cabinets framed a Brussels tapestry along the far wall while the heavy oak desk was set to face the white marble fireplace veined with gold.

He had removed the ornate figurines and porcelain plates that had littered the room before he had claimed it as his own, replacing them with the precious sculptures his father had completed before his untimely death.

It was his private domain that no one dared enter without his specific invitation.

Or at least no one with any amount of sense, he corrected, anger flaring through him as the door to the study was thrust open and Harry Richardson strolled in as if he were a welcome guest rather than a necessary pest.

“Harry.” Carefully sealing the letter he had just completed, Jacques rose from the desk and crossed toward the side door that opened into the connected antechamber. “I do not recall issuing an invitation for you to join me.”

An all too familiar sullen expression marred the younger man’s face.

“I need to speak with you.”

Gesturing to the soldier who stood guard in the antechamber, Jacques handed him the folded note. Despite the lateness of the hour, he wanted his emperor to be fully aware of his change in plans.

Not that he doubted Napoleon would protest his scheme. He was ruthless in his quest to conquer Europe. And perhaps the world.

There were no sacrifices too great to fulfill his ambitions.

“See that this is delivered to the emperor without delay,” he commanded.

“Oui.”

With military precision the guard turned on his heel and rushed from the room. The letter would be in Napoleon’s hands within a few days.

Strolling back to his desk, he settled on the corner as he sent his companion a mocking gaze.

“You see how a good soldier is capable of obeying orders?”

A flush crawled beneath Harry’s pale skin. “I am not one of your damned soldiers.”

Jacques flicked a dismissive glance over the man’s rumpled clothing that had no doubt cost a small fortune. The conceited peacock was precisely the sort of hedonistic aristocrat that Jacques had always detested. “Non, I would never depend upon you to protect me in the midst of battle. You would be fleeing in terror from the first shot.”

The dandy stiffened in ridiculous outrage. “Are you calling me a coward?”

Jacques shrugged. “Do you deny the claim?”

“Would a coward risk death to become a spy?”

“There is no honor in what you have done,” Jacques said, sneering, readily turning his vile temper on the fool before him. He had known from the moment he had tossed his lot with Napoleon that there would be difficult decisions to be made. War was not the noble business of a young man’s fancy. Too often victory demanded that a man make sacrifices that he would never willingly choose. And certainly it forced unsavory alliances. But that did not mean he had to be pleased with the loss of his conscience. “You became a spy because you are a self-indulgent coxcomb who was willing to betray everyone and everything you supposedly held dear for money.”