Certain key officers had also arrived, including the emperor’s Chief of Staff, Marshal Jean-de-Dieu Soult, General de Grouchy, and Marshal Ney, who by all accounts was at loggerheads with Soult.
“I suppose I should get a look at those plans if there’s anything in writing,” Malcolm mused.
“It’s always in writing,” his associate promised. “I’ve never known a military commander who didn’t want to see his bloody perfect battle plans in black and white. And our Boney is a soldier general as much as he’s an emperor.”
“True. Louis would have expressed some vague orders,” Malcolm said, “and then left it up to his officers to sort out the how of his brilliant strategy.”
“If he’d even bothered,” Randall muttered.
“Remind me why we want to sit fat Louis once again upon the French throne.”
Randall smiled at Malcolm’s irreverent question.
“Precisely because he won’t bother with anything to do with war, at least not with Britain. And I would like a few years of peace now we’ve tasted almost a whole year of it.”
“It was nice while it lasted,” Malcolm agreed.
“Then let’s restore King Louis and peace,” Randall said. “When can you get a look at those plans?”
Malcolm didn’t mind any task that returned him to the palace because it was the only place he might run into Serena Renault by chance. He had no believable reason for strolling through the Halle aux Vins. And if he sent her an invitation to anything in the city, there was a great risk to her should they be seen together by the wrong people.
Besides, her grandparents might not let him in their door again, not after the last dangerous outing to the Louvre.
But at the Tuileries, he could run into her, perhaps find a secluded area where he could kiss her again. From there, it wasn’t too far to his garret if she wanted to explore their mutual desire further. And he was entirely certain the feeling was mutual. No woman could kiss a man so passionately if she wasn’t feeling sparks.
Still, he wished his conscience wasn’t pricked by the idea of beginning a satisfying affair with her — tupping her daily if she’d let him — only to leave her behind when he returned home.
What was the alternative?He couldn’t seriously consider taking a Parisian vintner’s granddaughter back to jolly old England and hoping she would fit in. There would be wolves aplenty due to her nationality. On the other hand, the warm twist to his heart when he thought of her made him more than willing to have a go at protecting her from those wolves. Surely, he could keep her safe and make her happy.
And the idea of having her in his arms, under his roof, in his bed for the rest of their lives madehimhappy! He was surprised by how much.
***
SERENA DELIVERED HERlatest false message to the emperor. In the cafés where everyone knew foreign agents lingered, talk was that the Seventh Coalition would amass their forcesonlyto the east of Paris, she told him, and the enemies of France were counting on Parisians going over to their side.
Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the alliance of powers was hoping to march on Paris from all sides and, as her grandparents discussed, the Coalition intended to crush the smaller French army sooner rather than later. It could happen tomorrow!
Napoleon listened and thanked her. Curtsying low, she took her leave and made her way through the long hallway to the top of the main staircase when she heard male voices through an open door.
Glancing behind her, seeing no one, she moved closer. Perhaps she could discover whether the emperor planned on waiting for the enemy to come to his door or would choose an advantageous battlefield. And where that might be!
Loitering a moment outside the open door, she realized the men were indeed officers, but they were discussing food rations. At first, she thought it unimportant, until she realized they were touting numbers of troops, not only the Royal Army that Emperor Bonaparte had inherited, which was about two hundred thousand, but also men who were responding to his call to arms, another one hundred thousand at least.
More than that, they discussed the country’s police and naval units also being turned into foot soldiers. And the emperor was even considering reinstating the mandatory conscription the king had abolished as so many hated it. The men debated and calculated how much food they would need if all these men were going to march across France.
To where?she wondered, listening carefully.Where would Bonaparte take his army if he didn’t wait in Paris to be attacked?
“Eh, mademoiselle, what are you doing there?” came a voice from the other end of the corridor.Not the emperor, she realized with a sigh of relief. Undoubtedly, it was one of the palace guards.
The voices in the room beside her halted. Without turning around to allow whoever was addressing her to see her face, she swiftly descended the stairs. In the corridor below, she looked for a place to hide.
With her heart beating fast, she opened the first door she came to and disappeared inside. Surely, anyone following her would continue down another floor toward the entrance.
Pressing her back against the door, she realized she was in a meeting room, with maps strewn across a long table and small white porcelain cups contain the last dregs of coffee residue.
Maps!Creeping forward, she sawArmée du Nordscrawled across one andArmée du Rhineacross another. She swallowed, determined to comprehend what she was looking at before she had to flee.
Moving a large map to one side, she revealed more, stamped withArmée du Jura,Armée des Alpes, andArmée du Var.
