Alex went to the door, opened it, and Camille exited. Lucia looked down at John one last time. In his eyes she saw fear. What wasn’t he telling her?
“Be careful,” he whispered. The words sent a tremor of apprehension through her, and his hand shook in her grasp.
Chapter Twenty-seven
On the way back to Alex’s apartment in the Latin Quarter, Lucia couldn’t stop thinking about John’s last words.
“Be careful,” he’d said, and his hand had trembled in hers. She took a deep breath. Lord, she’d be relieved when they were all finally out of France and safely home on English soil.
Alex gave her some last-minute instructions as they entered his apartment. He was in a hurry to get the papers and money he needed and secure them a carriage, and maybe that was why he didn’t notice that something was wrong. But Lucia felt it right away. A chill of apprehension and warning wrapped itself around her as soon as they crossed the threshold into his quarters. Camille entered behind them and didn’t seem to sense the danger, either.
“Keep the curtains drawn and the rooms dark,” Alex was saying. “Look in my wardrobe for the false documents we’ll need to get out of Paris. Lucia, are you listening?”
She stared hard at the room. The couch . . .
The swords and the shield above the couch. One sword was missing. She could have sworn it was in place when they left. “Alex, something isn’t right—” She turned to Alex and froze as she caught the flash of metal in the fading sunlight.
“I do not think you will be needing those documents, Selbourne.” Camille raised her pistol.
“What the hell?” Alex pushed into the room and thrust Lucia behind him. “What are you doing, Camille?”
“What I should have done days ago.”
Lucia heard the click of the hammer as Camille cocked it into place. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Lucia said softly.
Alex stared at her. “Lucia, I told you—”
“It’s her, Alex.”
He shook his head and turned to Camille. Camille chuckled. “That’s why I love you, Alex. You always see the best in me. I am almost sorry I could not live up to your standards. Now you will die thinking the worst of me.”
Lucia began to tremble, and Alex moved closer to her.
“Put the gun down, Camille,” he said. “You’re no traitor.”
“Oh, but I am.” She waved the gun at them, and Lucia flinched.
“I would love to kill her first so you would have to watch her die,” Camille told Alex. “But I think it more prudent for you to be the first to go.”
Lucia felt Alex stiffen with rage. His body was poised for battle, but she felt like grabbing him, holding him, keeping him safe.
“Why?” he said, voice deceptively cool. “What happened to you?”
“What happened?” Camille gave a short, bitter laugh. “I was never a patriot like you, cher. My parents were killed in the Revolution, and I hated the misguided fools who did it, but the Revolution is over now. Bonaparte has a new vision for France. We can rule the whole of Europe and beyond. Do you think I want to stand by and watch you English bastards defeat us?”
Oh, Lord. Lucia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How badly had this woman compromised England?
“How long?” Alex’s body shook with anger. “How long have you been deceiving me—deceiving all of us?”
“You mustn’t take it personally, Alex.” She moved closer, still pointing the gun at them. “If not for me, you would have been dead long ago. I kept your identity a secret as long as I could, but after your last escape, it was no longer possible. That information concerning Villenueve was too important. De´charne´ was on to you.”
“He said he’d discovered your identity after my escape from France.”
“A precaution, I’m sure, so you would trust me in case you managed to elude him. And do you know, Alex, that even yesterday I would have saved you? I meant what I said about the two of us leaving together. Getting away. But then I saw her.” She waved the pistol at Lucia, her eyes burning with jealousy. There was no disguising it now, or the woman’s intent. She was going to kill them both. “I saw her and knew it would never happen.”
“What would never happen?” Alex asked. Lucia clutched his tailcoat, willing him to silence. Willing him to change the direction of the conversation. “You would never love me,” Camille answered. “I’ve loved you for years, Alex, and I’ve watched you spurn me again and again for other women. I meant nothing more to you than a common prostitute.” Lucia closed her eyes. The pain in Camille’s voice was heartrending.
“No.” Alex took a step toward Camille, and Lucia stared at him in shock. Why was he moving closer? “You know I care about you, Camille,” he said, his voice low and seductive.
