Despite his limp, Maurice plowed into the crowd. Suzanne caught her breath with relief when he reached the knot of fighting men and hauled her husband to his feet. Simon was unsteady, but with Maurice’s support he began moving toward the carriage. Their progress was slow as they dodged around clumps of fighting men.
It had been a long time since Suzanne had driven a carriage, but she hadn’t forgotten how. She turned the light vehicle around so they could depart the way they’d come rather than try to cross the rioting plaza.
Her gaze was fixed on Simon and Maurice and she didn’t realize that men were approaching on her other side until a powerful male hand grabbed her left ankle. Her head whipped around and she saw that her attacker was a roughly dressed fellow who smelled like he’d been hauled from a vat of beer.
As he dragged her toward him, he grinned with a mouth full of bad teeth. “What’s a pretty lady like you doin’ here? Come with me and I’ll show you a good time!”
Fight hard and fast!Remembering Simon’s words, she slashed at the man with the buggy whip. Startled, he loosened his grip and she was able to jerk her ankle free.
Swearing, he lunged for her again. Furiously she kicked out, her heel catching the side of his throat. He squawked and fell back. When he regained his balance, he came at her again, raging, and this time he was joined by another drunken lout.
Suzanne lashed out with the buggy whip and managed to strike both men. Before she could wield the whip again, Simon tackled her first assailant, knocking him into the second man. Both attackers crashed to the ground. One side of Simon’s head was bloody, but that didn’t stop him from kicking the first man in the gut and stamping his booted foot on the other man’s fingers.
As the men lay gasping on the cobblestones, Simon swung up onto the backseat of the carriage at the same time that Maurice scrambled in front, grabbed the reins and whip from Suzanne, and sent the carriage bolting out of the square. Shaken, Suzanne clung to the front seat’s side rail until they were well away from the riot.
When they were out of earshot of the shouting, she said unsteadily, “Maurice, can you stop long enough for me to change seats and see how the colonel is doing?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the carriage to a halt, murmuring encouraging words to the horse for doing such a good job.
As she clambered back to Simon, she asked, “Were you a soldier, Maurice?”
“That I was, ma’am.” He looked energized by the altercation.
Before she was even settled in the backseat, Simon drew her into a protective embrace. “Are you all right,ma chérie?”
“I’m fine.” She burrowed into his arms, realizing that she was shaking. “I’m not the one who was just whacked on the head with a rock in the middle of a riot!”
He stroked a hand down her back soothingly. “I wasn’t seriously hurt. You were targeted by those ruffians just for being female, which is much worse.”
Simon understood so well. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder as she began to relax. “I’m glad you gave me lessons in fighting.”
“I just wish you didn’t need them so often!” he said ruefully.
“At least it was over quickly.” She drew back to study the laceration on the left side of his head. It was several inches long, but shallow and had mostly stopped bleeding. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began blotting the blood from the laceration. “You lost your hat.”
“It could have been worse. Let’s save our worrying for Napoleon.”
She bit her lip at the truth of his words. “Do you think this news will send Brussels up in flames?”
“I don’t believe so. This was just the first reaction to shocking news,” Simon replied. “Maurice, you’ve lived here for many years. What do you think?”
The driver shrugged. “Belgium is used to living under different masters. Folks will settle down and wait to see what happens next.” He used the buggy whip to indicate people talking earnestly in front of a butcher shop. “The news is spreading, but most people are just talking, not rioting. Those drunken troublemakers in the square just like an excuse to fight.”
Suzanne hoped the men were right. “Do you think Napoleon will be able to stay on the throne?”
“For now, at least. It sounds like the whole army has fallen under his spell again,” Simon said soberly. “King Louis’s support is thin and his government didn’t treat the returning soldiers of Napoleon’s Grande Armée well. That means at least half the men in France despise the king, and they’re experienced soldiers. Life under their emperor again must look like an improvement.”
“I wonder if there’s any chance that he’ll decide it’s enough to rule France and stop invading other countries,” Suzanne said thoughtfully. “He’s older now. Perhaps his ambitions have dimmed.”
“Even if Napoleon swears he’ll bury his sword and go to war no more, who will believe him?” Simon asked. “I wouldn’t. Surely all the Allied leaders are already drawing up declarations of war against France.”
Her hand tightened on his as she thought of all the death and devastation the wars had wrought. “Will there ever be an end to it?”
“I surely hope so,” he said quietly. “Luckily, the emperor is a long way from Brussels and he’s never managed to cross the English Channel, so Britain should be safe. Do you want to return to London now?”
“There will be time for that if Napoleon decides to invade Belgium,” Suzanne said, knowing they must complete their search for Lucas and visit Château Chambron before returning to the safety of England. “We have unfinished business. The sooner we leave for Namur and Château Chambron, the better.”
He smiled down at her, his expression warm. “Gallant girl. Shall we leave tomorrow as we planned?”
