Bride for a Night(87)

The farther from the center of town they traveled the narrower the streets and the shabbier the buildings until at last Armand slowed his rapid pace and Gabriel caught sight of the English-style building with hexagonal turrets and an inner courtyard where a number of drunken coxcombs mingled among the brightly lit gaming tables. Beyond the courtyard the open doors revealed a gaudily decorated salon. A number of females were temptingly posed to entice the gentlemen who had grown tired of the cards and dice and preferred a more intimate entertainment.

Cautiously, Gabriel inched toward the opening to the courtyard. He remained hidden in the shadows as Armand pointed toward the familiar young gentleman with tousled brown hair and pale eyes that were already glazed by drink.

Harry.

“Voilà,” Armand breathed, a cocky smile curving his lips.


Gabriel briefly studied his brother who was elegantly attired in a gold jacket and a black waistcoat embroidered with golden thread, his blood running cold at Harry’s nonchalant comfort among the French dandies.

Did he have no shame whatsoever?

Bridling his urge to rush into the courtyard and drag his brother from the bordel, he instead forced himself to turn toward the lad at his side.

“Is there another entrance?”

“This way.”

With a familiarity that made Gabriel wonder how much time Armand spent with the local whores, the boy led him along the stone wall that surrounded the property, pausing at a narrow wooden door.

Waiting for Gabriel’s nod, Armand pushed open the door and led him into a private garden with a perfect view of the courtyard.

“Will this do?” he asked.

“It will do very well.” Gabriel pulled out a fistful of coins and pressed them into the boy’s hand. “It is late, return to your home, Armand.”

“Merci, monsieur,” Armand breathed, his expression stunned at the small fortune. “Merci.”

“Straight home,” he commanded, shaking his head as the boy offered a cheeky grin and dashed through the door.

Accepting that there was nothing he could do for Armand, he turned to study his brother through the trellis.

He had managed to track down Harry, but now what? No matter what his fury, he was not stupid enough to create a scene when there were a few thousand French soldiers camped just outside the walls of the city.

Then again, he had no desire to stand in a damp garden for the entire night, waiting for his brother to grow weary of his entertainments and return to his lodgings.

Brooding on a possible means to lure his brother from the newly introduced La Roulette, Gabriel was slow to react when a slender form appeared from the stone steps behind him.

“Ah, bonjour,” a husky female voice murmured.

Gabriel reached beneath his jacket for his loaded pistol, and smoothly turned to confront the vixen behind him. Her curls were the color of summer wheat tumbling over her shoulders left bare by a sheer robe. Her features were delicately drawn and her hazel eyes charming, if one ignored the calculating manner they slid over the strange man standing in her garden. With one glance Gabriel was confident that she knew the precise worth of his wine jacket and ivory waistcoat that had been perfectly sculpted to his body and the small fortune needed to purchase the ruby sparkling in the folds of his cravat.

“You are in need of companionship?” A smile curved her lips as she ran a finger along her plunging neckline, drawing attention to the tempting curve of her breasts. “I am Monique.”

“Non,” he impatiently declined, only to realize the lovely female was precisely the bait he needed to attract his prey. “Wait, Monique.”