“Do you have zee letter?” came a Frenchman’s voice speaking in heavily accented English.
“Yes. Here it is,” Winfield replied.
There was nothing but silence for a few moments and Beau could only guess that the Frenchman was reviewing the letter Albina had written.
Several moments of silence passed before the Frenchman finally said. “Very well. Everything looks to be in order.”
“Where is my money?” Winfield demanded, his voice impatient.
“I don’t keep zat sort of money here,” the Frenchman replied. “You’ll have to come out to the camp at Coulogne tomorrow.”
“Damn it. You told me you’d have my money,” Winfield insisted.
“I do have eet.” The Frenchman’s reply was terse. “But you must wait for tomorrow. Zere is no help for eet.”
“Fine,” Winfield replied. “Where is the camp?”
The Frenchman cleared his throat and lowered his voice. Beau had to concentrate to understand him. “Two hundred yards northeast of zee intersection of Coulogne Road and zee Andres Highway. Come and meet us. We’ll share a bottle of wine,mon ami. Come after dark, say, nine o’clock?”
“Do I have a choice?” came Winfield’s equally terse reply. “In the meantime, you’ll understand if I justkeepthe letter.”
Stepping away from the door, Beau motioned for Marianne to follow him again as he returned to the staircase. They’d heard enough. No doubt Winfield and Albina would be leaving the room at any moment.
Beau and Marianne barely had time to make it back to the stairs before the Frenchman’s door cracked open. Rushing into the stairwell, they flew down to the next landing. When they got there, they opened the door and hid inside the second-floor corridor until Winfield and Albina passed them heading back down to the ground floor.
“That was close,” Beau said after the door to the street opened and closed behind the other couple.
“Very,” Marianne agreed before arching a brow. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
They exchanged a look, then Beau nodded. “Baron Winfield is being set up by the French.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Beau and Marianne waited for Winfield’s coach to pull away before they left the warehouse, hurrying back around the corner to their own waiting coach.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Follow them again, please,” Beau replied.
This time, Winfield’s coach made its way to a small hotel near the docks. Once Beau was convinced Winfield was checking in for the evening, Beau paid the driver and helped Marianne to alight. They gathered their bags and walked around the narrow streets for a bit before finding another hotel not far away. They checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Baxter.
When they entered the room and Marianne saw that there were two beds instead of one, she breathed a sigh—relief or regret, she didn’t know. One thing was certain, no more awkwardness like their nights on the ship.
“I asked for two beds,” Beau said as if he’d read her thoughts.
“Thank you,” she replied.
“I also ordered a meal to be sent up.”
The meal arrived soon after and they ate mostly in silence, then waited for a servant to come clear away the dishes before Marianne asked Beau to turn around so she could change into her nightrail.
By the time he turned back around, she’d already climbed into the bed nearest the window and pulled the blankets up to her chin.
“I wonder if Albina will go to the camp with Baron Winfield tomorrow night?” Marianne mused as she tried to stare out the window instead of at Beau removing his shirt. The man obviously didn’t care one whit if she saw him and his chest was definitely worth sneaking a look.
“She won’t if she knows what’s good for her, but we’ll have to wait and see,” Beau replied, shucking his boots before climbing into the other bed. “They seem to enjoy each other’s company.”
Marianne shook her head. “I can’t imagine what Baron Winfield is thinking, leaving his wife and daughters like this. I get the impression his plan is to stay here with Albina once he gets his payment.”
