“I can’t. My hands are numb.”
“So chivalry is dead.”
He shuffled closer, his back rubbing against hers, then he grasped her hands in his and fumbled for the knots. He pulled on them, testing. “Bloody hell.” The ship lurched, and she fell against him, cutting off his words. Her fear rose in her throat again. “I suppose that means we’re under way?” she choked out.
“Yes.” His voice was taut with strain.
A volcano of panic erupted within her. “Oh God, Alex! We have to think of a way to get out of here. Those men—those men—”
“Shh.” He pressed against her. “I know.”
“You don’t know what they said when you weren’t here. They want to—” Her stomach rolled, threatening to heave its scant contents.
“Breathe, Lucia,” Alex ordered, voice low and comforting. “They won’t touch you. They don’t know who you are, and as long as De´charne´ isn’t sure of your worth and how he can use you, you’ll be safe.”
“Would it matter if they knew who I was?”
“No, but let me worry about that. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Lucia leaned back, resting her head against his solid shoulder. Hearing the words aloud soothed her ragged nerves. Alex would never allow harm to come to her or Francesca or anyone he considered part of his family. He would protect her with his life.
“We need a plan.”
Alex groaned. “You never give up, do you?”
“Alex, this is no time for jokes.” She sat up indignantly. “We need a strategy.”
“And I suppose you have one.”
Lucia bit her lip. “Not yet,” she admitted. She searched the darkness for inspiration. “I need to know where we’re going and who these men are first.”
He was silent.
“Alex, you owe me that much at least.” She felt his body tighten.
“I owe you? Need I remind you, madam, that you crawled through my window, you entered my bedroom, you—”
“I made a few impulsive decisions.”
“A few?”
“Alex.”
He sighed. Heavily. “I can’t tell you everything.”
“Tell me what you can.” She scooted closer. The mystery surrounding Alex was finally unraveling, and she was excited and a little afraid.
“Ethan was in France.”
“Ethan?” Lucia frowned. “What does he have to do with this?” This wasn’t unraveling. This was just tangling the matter further.
“My mother’s family was French, and my half-sister, Lady Emily Aubain, married a French nobleman. I didn’t really know her. She was older than Ethan and away at school when I was growing up. When the Revolution began, she and her husband, Luc, went into hiding. Ethan attempted to get Emily, Luc, and their daughter out of France. He failed. They were turned in and sent to the guillotine. All of them. Even my two-year-old niece, Renee.”
“Oh, Alex!” Lucia’s heart ripped in two, shred by pain she knew must only be a fraction of what Ethan and Alex felt.
“Ethan was there to see it.” Alex’s voice was cold and unemotional. “The crowd cheered when the blade fell on her tiny blond head. Ethan wanted revenge, and that was when he met Wentworth—the same Wentworth from your brother’s note. The Foreign Office stationed Wentworth in France, and he was monitoring the situation and reporting back to Lord Grenville. Anti-British sentiment was high in France, and everyone had to be cautious.”
Lucia thought of her brother, now in France as well. If the French hated the British twelve years ago, how much might that hatred have grown now that the two countries were at war? How much more danger might that mean for John?
