“It is … if it’s true. I’m not sure I believe it.” He steered her down a path that probably led to where his carriage was situated. “Sir Percy was always adept at getting out of trouble, even as a lad.”
“You knew the baronet as a lad?”
“I knew all of our group as lads. Well, except for your father and mine, of course. But Jon, Percy, and I were at Eton together, and Scovell, too … until he was sent off to be a midshipman. He rose through the ranks fairly swiftly—”
“Probably because he was a marquess’s son.”
“I doubt that had much to do with it. He served with Admiral Nelson, who sang his praises. He managed to rise to commander before he was captured and sent to Verdun three years beforeour attempt at escape. We actually had a hard time talking him into it. He didn’t want to break parole. But we made it so he didn’t have to.”
She nodded. “I remember. The three of you and my father arrived fifteen minutes late forappel—what is it called in English?—ah, yes, ‘roll call,’ and were thrown into the Citadel.”
“Exactly. It was considered an infraction of the rules more than a breaking of parole. And we’d discovered it might be easier to escape from the Citadel than from the town when the gates were closed at night, anyway.”
“How clever of you.”
Heath halted just shy of his carriage to stare at her, remorse in his eyes. “Not so clever. That’s how your father was injured—trying to escape with us.”
She forced back tears. “I know. Tory told me. She also told me that Jon blames himself for it.”
“We all regret what happened to Morris.” He searched her face. “You realize that, right?”
“I do. But I told Tory as I shall tell you—my fatherwantedto escape. I tried to talk him out of it, but he missed Tory and his wife. And I understood that. I had begun to miss Maman by then, myself.” She glanced over to where her mother was watching them out of the carriage window. “As we grow older, we start to appreciate our family more.”
“That is certainly true,” he said wearily. “I only wish I could have seen my own mother again before she died. And even with Father, I … It doesn’t matter. The past is past now.”
She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. Sometimes she forgot he had lost both his parents in a relatively short period of time. It had been hard enough to lose her papa and then years later, her real father. She could not imagine how hard it must have been for him to lose both parents so close together.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I hope Percy didnotdie in Arras. He had his troubles, but he was a good fellow. We spent many an hour playing cards together. Although honestly, he was pretty bad at it. Another reason I could never see him as a card cheat. Card cheats do it to win. Percy was always too busy romancing the ladies to concentrate on cards.”
“So, like you, then,” she quipped, although she was still distracted by thoughts of her real father’s death.
Her mother lowered the window. “Are you coming? It is chilly.”
“Of course, Maman,” she said in a voice of forced cheer. She did not like to dwell on how Morris had died in Bitche prison. He had broken his thigh bone during the escape, and it had never healed right. Eventually, a piece of bone started working its way loose and got infected, so the leg became gangrenous. He had suffered greatly, which was too unbearably sad to imagine.
She and Heath exchanged a glance, then headed to the carriage to climb inside. This time, when he held her hand to help her in, she did not mind so much. That was one thing they would always share—her fondness for the father she could never acknowledge publicly and his for the friend he admired.
As she settled into the seat next to Maman, Heath said in French, “Madame Bernard, you know that the Lord Mayor’s Show begins tomorrow morning.”
“Yes.” A troubled frown crossed her brow. “But I am not sure if I can stand long enough to see the procession.”
“It is a concern,” Giselle said to Heath.
“Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. The party we’re attending is being thrown by the Earl of Thanet and his family. You may recall that two of his brothers were in Verdun. They have invited as many détenus as they could find addresses for. Their London mansion lies along the route of the return procession. We shall go there late in the morning, eat some breakfast, and watch as the procession goes by a while later.”
“But the standing—” Maman began.
“No standing unless you wish it,” he said gently. “The hosts have agreed to give you a comfortable chair on the long balcony next to a brazier, so you can keep warm. Most of the time, however, you may stay inside. If you don’t care to see the procession, you can stay inside the whole time. There will be numerous servants to look after you when we are outside, and I’m told there will be plenty of food and drink provided as well.”
He smiled at Giselle. “There will even be dancing if we choose to stay until evening. It will be fun, I promise.”
Giselle certainly hoped so. She could use a bit of fun these days. Besides, if the guests included many détenus. … “I will get to see people I have not seen in over three years! Oh, do you know if Mr. and Mrs. Witchell will be there? They were so kind to me at the lodging house.”
“I’m sorry, sweeting, I’m not sure who exactly was invited, or which ones accepted the invitation.”
Sweeting.Now he had called her that twice. Until today, he had refrained from using the lovely endearments for her that he’d used before that day in the park. Though she hated herself for being so weak, it did warm her toward him.
“It will be a rather large affair,” he went on in English, “given the size of their mansion. In fact, we may wish to spend more time on the balcony if we can, if only to avoid all the people.”