Hélène and Edward Elmstead gasped at the same time.
“Grand escape!” exclaimed Will excitedly, while Frances merely grinned.
However, her father frowned. “We don’t think anything about her bravery because we have heard nothing of an escape.” His tone was serious, and he glared at her.
“Don’t look like that, Edward,” Mémère said softly. “Your daughter is safe with you. That’s what matters.”
After a pause, he nodded. “Then tell us, Serena, from whom did you escape and why?”
She sent her grandparents a look of dismay. When she’d arrived home, she hadn’t announced how she’d fled the Palais des Tuileries and then gone into hiding at the vineyard. Naturally, she’d said nothing about shooting anyone. Thus, her family simply imagined she’d come home as they’d requested, albeit a little earlier than expected.
She inhaled a deep breath. “I was discovered to be helping the Seventh Coalition,” she said, her voice dropping.
“You were a spy!” Her father sounded horrified.
“A spy!” Frances exclaimed with admiration. And Will gave a little cheer.
“She was a hero!” Pépère declared.
“Papa,” Serena’s mother admonished her father, “neither of you should have involved her.”
“I didn’t mind,” Serena said, wanting to defend her grandparents. “I just kept my ears and eyes open.”
“I knew I would need brandy,” her father said, sending his glance heavenward for a moment. Then he fixed her with another stare. “And what of Lord Branley?”
The instant memory of his naked body atop hers as they made love caused her knees to weaken, and she sat next to her grandparents.
“Lord Branley was also keeping his ears and eyes open. When things became a little heated,” Serena added, choosing her words carefully, “he helped me get away from the Imperial Guards and onto a boat returning to England. Grand-père arranged it, just as you requested.”
“That’s why you came without your things,” her mother guessed.
Serena nodded. She had told them there hadn’t been room on the ship for her trunks, which wasn’t a lie.
“I thought Lord Branley was coming with me.” She didn’t mean to trail off with a sad tone, but that was exactly what happened.
Everyone fell silent, and her father’s expression became suspicious. She knew he was about to ask her more questions about Malcolm, and quickly she recalled her grandparents’ words.
“You said Lord Branley helped you as well. Were you in danger?”
Her grand-mère exchanged a glance with her husband.
“Best to let the dust settle after this type of thing,” she said, referring to the entire magnitude of exchanging a king for an emperor and back again, all in one hundred days. Her grand-père gave a typically gallic shrug of agreement.
Then instead of speaking about any personal threat, Pépère leaned back and crossed his arms. “While we are here, Jacques and Michel will look after things in Paris, and the staff at the vineyard shall continue on as usual.”
“And Madame Lucie sends her love,” her grand-mère added, as if they’d merely come away from home on an ordinary visit. “We brought your trunks, Serena.”
She startled, remembering how she’d last seen them behind a tree on the road to Saint-Malo.
“How is that possible?” She didn’t want to say more, since her parents had been shocked enough for one day.
Her grand-mère smiled. “Monsieur Branley brought us your trunks in our old harvest wagon, all the way to Paris.”
Serena shook her head. How thoughtful of him —and how dangerous!He must have had to steal the wagon so as not to explain to the Imperial soldiers about her disappearance.
“We’re so happy you’re here,” Hélène said to her parents. “Aren’t we, Edward?”
Serena eyed her father, who was forced to agree or risk sleeping in one of the guest rooms.
