The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

The night was poignant and passionate but morning came too soon. Julienne woke with her nerves raw, a feeling that never diminished as she bathed and dressed for the grand festivities that were to begin at noon at the Tuileries Gardens.

When Dare called at her room, she met his eyes, and the dark solemnity she saw there mirrored her own.

"Solange has left," he informed her in a quiet tone.

"I know. I said farewell to her a short while ago."

They had arranged for the Frenchwoman to attend the celebration with friends, so as to keep her out of danger.

"Here," Dare said, handing her a small pistol. "Do you know how to use this?"

"Yes. After… the assault, I learned how to defend myself. But I have my knife tucked in my garter."

"Even so, I want you to be well-armed. That's the only way I will allow you to get near Caliban."

Julienne nodded and slipped the pistol into her reticule, which was hanging from her wrist.

Offering his arm, Dare escorted her below to the hotel entrance, where his carriage waited. The glorious June day, Julienne thought absently as they stepped out into the sunshine, presented a sharp contrast to the tension roiling inside her.

Her tension increased sharply when Dare suddenly came to a halt. She followed his gaze to see more than a dozen mounted British soldiers milling around his carriage.

Upon spying her, one of the soldiers broke away and rode up to them. "You are Julienne Laurent?" he asked, his face grim.

When she acknowledged that she was, he dismounted. "I am Captain Pritchard, and you are under arrest."

She felt the muscles of Dare's arm clench, but he held on to his temper and coolly raised an eyebrow. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"I am to arrest the lady, by orders of Lord Aberdeen."

"On what possible charges?"

"Attempted murder, my lord. Miss Laurent has been plotting to have you killed. I have a warrant sworn out against her by one Martin Perrine." He turned and motioned to one of his men, who led forward a riderless mount.

Dare's jaw hardened. "Miss Laurent is not going anywhere with you, Captain."

"Dare, it's all right," Julienne interjected. "I'm certain this is all a simple mistake."

"It is damned well not all right. I don't intend to stand idly by while you're prosecuted with fraudulent charges."

"You may accompany us if you choose, Lord Wolverton," the captain offered. "Lord Aberdeen said you would likely not believe the charges."

"No," Julienne said urgently, "you cannot come, Dare. You have business to attend to elsewhere. Please," she entreated in an undertone. "This is most likely a ploy to keep you occupied while our devious friend accomplishes his goal. I will go with the captain while you attend the celebration."

In response, Dare glanced around him, as if judging the odds. The carriage was surrounded, Julienne realized, and would be useless as a means of escape.

Offering a grim smile, Dare withdrew a pistol from inside his coat and aimed it at Pritchard. "I fear I don't have time to resolve this misunderstanding just now, Captain. Stand aside."

A look of outrage suffused Pritchard's ruddy face, and Julienne watched with apprehension as he debated what to do. Several of his soldiers had drawn rifles from their scabbards, she saw.

"I also suggest," Dare said pleasantly, "that if you wish to prevent your immediate demise, you will tell your men to put down their weapons."

With a low curse, Pritchard commanded his men to obey.

Then, before the captain's astonished eyes, Dare grasped the reins of the riderless horse and leapt into the saddle. Reaching down, he pulled Julienne up behind him.

The narrow skirts of her gown hampered her mounting, but she managed to wrap her arms around Dare's waist. Her heart pounding, Julienne clung tightly as he spurred the horse past the soldiers and onto the busy boulevard, heading for the Jardins des Tuileries.

Hearing shouts behind her, she glanced over her shoulder to find Captain Pritchard had mounted and was giving chase with his men. Dare must have realized the danger for he bent lower and urged the horse to greater speed as he weaved through the heavy traffic.