He shook it vigorously. “Pole, sir. Ye are too late to rescue Grant. He left our shores some hours ago on his way to join Wellesley.”
Damian bent and brushed the sand from his boots and breeches. “Grant is safely away? Excellent news. I should like to thank the man responsible for his escape. Is he here among you?”
“Unfortunately, he is not. It was an Englishman by the name of Crow who got Grant out of Paris,” Pole said.
Damian nodded, recognizing the alias of the clever intelligence officer Giles Devereux, Earl of Halcrow. They had crossed paths before while involved in this business. “Then I’llboard the next vessel back to England.” He paused. “Did Crow go with Grant on the boat?”
“No, sir. The French captured him. They hold him prisoner.”
Damian cursed. “Bloody hell! Do you know where they keep him?”
“We do, sir, although not much good it does us. The camp isn’t far, about fifteen miles as the crow flies, but it’s impossible to get Crow out. We heard Marshal Auguste de Marmont is livid, as he hoped to discover more about Wellesley’s plans from Grant. Little did he know Grant ran an intelligence service for Wellesley, sending and receiving letters from within the heart of Paris. Now, with Grant escaping from under his nose, he is intent on making an example of Crow, who is closely guarded. It’s like a fortress and crawling with Bonaparte’s men.”
Damian was not about to leave Giles to be shot as a traitor without doing his best to get him out. “Can you show me exactly where this monastery is situated?”
“If you’ll come with us, Beau, I will draw a map for you. We can supply you with arms, food, and a fresh mount, but I am the only one able to accompany you. And am pleased to do it.”
Damian nodded, his smile grim. “I am glad to have you with me. Lead the way to your hideout.”
While they waited for the cover of darkness, Damian learned what he could from Pole, the man in charge, who drew a crude map. “At the behest of de Marmont, a unit of his men have occupied a Gothic monastery overlooking the River Seine near the town of Les Andelys. Sentries patrol the grounds, and the back of the building can only be reached by fording the river.”
“If you can furnish me with a boat, I’ll find a way in,” Damian said.
“We might steal one. There are always a few fishing boats and rowing boats moored upriver, closer to the town,” Pole said. “But once you cross, if you can manage it undetected, you must findwhere they hold Crow. My guess is in the dungeons.” He shook his head and raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “So you must realize what an impossible task it will be to reach him, let alone get him away alive.”
Damian nodded gravely as he munched through bread and cheese. “I do.”
“So you’ll not tackle it?” Pole’s grimace expressed his regret.
He could not walk away like a coward and live with his conscience. “Of course I will. And should I succeed, can you have your men meet us on the road somewhere closer to the coast and get us on a boat?”
Pole’s eyes lit up. “That, we can do.” He named a village and showed Damian where it was on the map.
Damian took a swig of ale. “Right. If we leave at dusk, we’ll arrive about midnight?”
“As near as dammit, sir,” Pole said.
Damian put down the mug and leaned back, resting his feet on a spare chair. “Please wake me when it’s time to leave, Pole.”
“Right you are, Beau.”
Pole’s sturdy frame slipped away surprisingly silently and fleet of foot. Beyond the window of the cottage on the outskirts of a small village, the wind whispered through the trees and ducks and chickens squawked around the yard. Men’s voices drifted from where they gathered together, smoking their pipes. Damian breathed in dust, hay, hops, and the rancid smell of men’s sweat as he closed his eyes. He had trained himself to kip whenever he could during a mission. Despite this one proving to be treacherous and a serious challenge, he had no trouble drifting off.
Chapter Eighteen
“You are pleasingto the eye tonight, Lady Diana.” Amusement tugged at Lord Montgomery’s fleshy lips but failed to reach his eyes. “Once you stop glaring at me.”
Unsettled, she steadied herself as they danced the waltz. “Have I stopped, sir? I wasn’t aware of it.”
With a smile for the benefit of the surrounding dancers, he leaned closer, and she saw she’d riled him. “You are determined to make this betrothal as difficult as you can, aren’t you? It would not go well for you should I complain to your father.”
“You know my feelings on the matter, sir.” Diana longed to break away from him. His sly face invited a good slap. “Why do you wish to marry me?”
“You seem unaware of your attractions, Lady Diana.” His hand tightened at her waist. “But I fancy a firebrand for a wife. I’ll enjoy the challenge.”
Diana dragged in a breath so deep and fast, a wave of dizziness passed over her. She feared she’d lose her balance. It would be preferable to fall in a heap at his feet rather than cling to him for support. Fortunately, her head cleared, her anger warming her. “You will never bend me to your will, sir. Your life will be a misery, I promise you.”
His eyes turned flinty. “You will learn not to cross me,” he murmured as Mrs. Bell swept past on Lord Truedale’s arm. Lord Montgomery nodded to them before he turned back to Diana. “I’m reminded of a stallion I once owned. He had wanted hisfreedom too.” His tight-lipped smile was for theton’s benefit, but the chilling look in his eyes reminded her of frost on a stone statue in the garden. “Until I persuaded him otherwise with the use of the whip.”
