Bride for a Night(102)

“What of your pride? The Earl of Ascombe stripped of his pride has nothing,” Jacques taunted, lifting his hand as Gabriel’s lips parted to offer a scathing retort. “Oh, the polite world will pretend to be aghast over Harry’s treachery, but then they will all realize they predicted that he would come to a bad end. Then, of course, they will rush to sympathize with the poor Earl of Ashcombe who has been forced to endure the terrible antics of his younger brother for so many years and who has now so bravely stepped forward to renounce the boy as a spy.” He paused, watching Gabriel like a viper assessing its prey. An accurate description for a man who spewed his words like poison. “You shall be nothing less than a national hero.”

Gabriel tightened his fingers on the pistol, wishing to God he had never heard the name Jacques Gerard.

“You would say anything to avoid the hangman.”

Jacques shrugged. “Certainly, but that does not make my words any less true.”





CHAPTER TWENTY




JACQUES HAD DEVOTED his years in England to becoming the polished gentleman that his mother had always wanted him to be, even as he had secretly prepared for his return to France as a skilled soldier.

Oh, not as a traditional warrior who could wave around a pointy sword or shoot a man at twenty paces. There were always fools who could be taught to march in line and use a weapon without killing himself. But instead he had honed his talent in manipulating people, discovering that those about him could be used like pawns upon a chessboard with the proper incentives. It was only a matter of finding each individual weakness and exploiting it.#p#分页标题#e#

The world might condemn his sly scheming as beneath a true gentleman, but he had been indifferent to the censure. It was a supposedly honorable gentleman who had attempted to rape his mother and sent his father to his death.

And there was no arguing with the success of his efforts. By the time he had arrived in Paris he had mastered his talent in coercion, with a dozen high-ranking Englishmen dangling on his strings to show for it.

Including Mr. Harry Richardson.

Much to his annoyance, however, he found the Earl of Ashcombe was impervious to his attempts at manipulation. The arrogant bastard was too stubborn to be so easily led.

Not that he intended to concede defeat. He shifted his attention to the loaded pistol trained at his chest. Gabriel’s glare silently dared him to attempt an escape so he could have reason to shoot.

For all of Gabriel’s conceit, he was not nearly so certain of his decision to expose Harry as a traitor as he desired Jacques to believe. With the proper prodding, even this pigheaded man could be convinced to change his mind.

Unfortunately, his subtle assault was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a high whistle that came from the shore below the cliff.

Gabriel squared his shoulders, his expression one of bleak intent.

“Hugo has arrived with the boat.”

He gave a small wave of the pistol, and Jacques grudgingly moved back into the clearing. His gaze instinctively sought out Sophia who remained standing with rigid fear several feet from the others.

An answering fear clenched Jacques’s heart.

A tense promise of violence vibrated through the air as he came to a halt, and he cast a covert glance toward the nearby trees. He could not see his guards, but he could sense their increasingly restless presence. What would happen when Gabriel attempted to force him down the cliff?

He shivered at the looming potential for chaos.

Perhaps echoing his thoughts, Gabriel backed toward the edge of the cliff, briefly turning his attention toward his wife.

“Talia, you go down first.” When there was no response to his command, Gabriel swallowed his pride and sent her a desperate glance. “Please.”

Talia hesitated, clearly torn between an instinctual urge to protect her husband and the knowledge that he could not give his full attention to the lurking soldiers so long as she was near.

“Fine.”

Talia stiffly turned to make her way slowly down the cliff. There was an uncomfortable silence until they at last heard Hugo’s whistle to indicate Lady Ashcombe had reached the boat. Then Gabriel glanced toward his brother who was nervously aiming his pistol toward the nearby trees. Jacques held his breath, knowing it would take very little for the twitchy dandy to be startled into firing his weapon.

“Harry, you will be next.”

The younger man scowled at the sharp command. “We are not alone.”

“I see them,” Gabriel assured his brother. “Get to the boat.”

Harry shook his head. “No. You take Jacques and I will keep them at bay.”

Jacques gave a startled laugh. “Sacré bleu. Is it possible that the worm has at last acquired a spine?”