“Non, non, Claude.” Emmaline faced him. “Do you know who this is? Do you?”
He spat. “An Englishman in your bed. How could you do such a thing?” He took two breaths before charging Gabriel again. “Did you force her?”
Gabriel again held him off.
Emmaline jumped between them. “He did not force me, Claude. He is our rescuer. Do you not remember him?”
Claude backed away, looking puzzled.
“This is the captain who kept us safe in Badajoz.” She tried to keep her voice down.
“Claude—” Gabriel started.
Claude leaned forwards, pointing his finger at him. “Do not say a word! There is nothing you can say to me, you English dog!”
Emmaline pushed him back. “Calm yourself, Claude. We will go downstairs and talk about this.”
He looked as if he was about to cry. “This is traitorous, Maman.”
“I cannot be a traitor to Napoleon. I am not in his army. You are.” She seized his arm and yanked him towards the door. “Come downstairs.” She turned to Gabriel and spoke in English, “Will you come, too?”
Gabriel nodded.
He did not follow immediately, though. Emmaline took advantage and spoke to Claude. “You must remain calm and quiet. If someone hears you yelling and fighting, you will be discovered.”
“Do not be a fool, Maman,” he countered. “He will turn me in. I am already lost.”
“He is Gabriel Deane, a good man who will do what is right.”
A part of her wanted Gabriel to take her son prisoner. At least Claude would stay alive, but she’d been a soldier’s wife too long not to understand that Claude would find being a prisoner worse than death.
Claude sat down on the sofa and she sat down next to him, leaving the chair opposite the sofa for Gabriel.
He entered. “Shall I pour wine?”
“Oui, Gabriel. Merci.” She forgot to switch to English.
He brought the glasses and the wine and placed them on the table, pouring the first and handing it to Claude.
Claude kept his arms crossed over his chest.
“Take it, Claude,” Emmaline said in French.
He rolled his eyes, but did as she said. Gabriel handed the next glass to Emmaline before pouring one for himself.
“Tell Claude I have no intention of hurting you in any way. That—that I have the highest esteem for you,” Gabriel said.
Emmaline translated.
Claude closed his eyes as if he wished not to hear. “I cannot speak with him about you, Maman. Ask him what he will do with me.”
She turned to Gabriel. “Claude believes you will take him prisoner, but I beg you will let him go.”
His brow furrowed. “This is asking a great deal of me, Emmaline. My duty—”
Her throat tightened. “Please, Gabriel. Please allow him to leave.”
He glanced away, as if thinking.
“What are you saying?” Claude asked her in French.
She gestured for him to be quiet. “Gabriel?”
He rubbed his face. “For you, Emmaline, but only if he swears he has not been gathering information for Napoleon.”
She turned to Claude. “Have you come to Brussels for any other reason than to see me?”
He looked surprised. “Non, Maman. What other reason could there be?”
“To find out about the English?”
He gave her a withering glance. “I cannot learn any- thing in the dark. And I must return before light or be branded a deserter.” His expression reminded her of when he’d been five years old. “I wanted to see you before—before the battle.”
She grasped his hand. He averted his gaze.
She turned to Gabriel. “He only came to see me.”
Gabriel nodded. “Very well. I’ll do as you desire.”
She squeezed Claude’s hand. “Gabriel will allow you to go.”
He blinked in surprise. “Then I must leave posthaste.”
“I will pack you some food.” She rose, shaking inside at the thought of saying goodbye to her son, not knowing if he would ever return to her.
She wrapped bread and cheese in a cloth and, with tears pricking her eyes, brought it to him.
He took the package in his hand. “We must blow out the candles.”
She blew out the nearest one and started to move to the others, but Gabriel said, “I’ll do it.”
Claude walked towards the door.
“Claude.” Emmaline’s throat was tight with emotion. Her son put his arms around her and held her close. “Please be careful,” she said. “Come back to me.”
“I will, Maman.” His voice sounded raspy and very young. “Do not worry.” He held her even tighter.
A moment later he was gone, fading into the night like a wisp of smoke.
She covered her face with her hands.
And felt strong arms embracing her again. She turned around and let Gabriel’s embrace envelop her.
“I am so afraid for him. So afraid I will lose him.” She sobbed.
“I know,” he murmured. “I know.”
When her sobs turned to shudders, he picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs, laying her on the bed and holding her against him.
When she quieted she said, “I fear I’ll never see him again.”
“I know,” he murmured again.
Gabe rose with the first glimmer of dawn, but he’d hardly slept.
The ring remained hidden in his uniform pocket, along with all his hopes for the future. He’d lain awake most of the night, debating whether to ask her to marry him that morning. Was there any chance at all she’d say yes?
She’d defended him with her son, he’d realised, and with her aunt. That heartened him. He was certain he could convince Madame Laval that
