Free Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney Page A

order, they are a Prussian, Colonel Karl von Fehrenbach, and two Frenchmen, the Count de Varenne and General Michel Roussaye."
    "What would their motives be?"
    "The Count de Varenne is an Ultra-Royalist, a close associate of King Louis's brother, the Count d'Artois. As I'm sure you know, d'Artois is a fanatic reactionary. He and his emigre friends want to wipe out every trace of revolutionary spirit in France and take it back to the ancien regime."
    She made a Gallic gesture of exasperation. "Of course that is impossible—one might as well try to hold back the tide—but they won't accept that. Varenne has spent the last twenty years skulking around Europe on dubious royalist business. Some of his past projects qualify him for our list."
    "I see." Her high cheekbones were impossibly dramatic in the candlelight, and strands of golden hair escaped from the hat to glow around her face, softening the starkness of her garb. With an effort, Rafe forced himself to concentrate on her words. "If this plot comes from the Ultra-Royalists, who do you think the target would be?"
    "This may sound farfetched," she said hesitantly, "but perhaps Varenne might try to kill King Louis himself so that the Count d'Artois would take the throne."
    Rafe whistled softly at the idea. It was an ugly thought, but given France's current instability, he supposed that anything was possible. "What about the other Frenchman?"
    "Roussaye is a Bonapartist. He was born the son of a baker, and he fought his way up to being one of France's top generals. He's tough and brave, and dedicated to Napoleon and the revolution. Currently he is on Talleyrand's staff, dealing with questions relating to the French army."
    "Who would be his most likely target?"
    She shrugged. "From his point of view, almost any important Allied official would do, because that would result in a much harsher treaty. If anything happens to the leading voices of moderation, the radicals will get all the humiliation they want."
    "And Europe might be at war again within a year or two." Rafe frowned. "Wellington would be the best target. Not only is he universally revered, but it's common knowledge that he won't take precautions because he thinks it would be cowardly to seem to value his life too much."
    "Even a charmed life may eventually run out," Maggie said dryly. "If anything happens to him, Britain will be baying after France's blood as loudly as the Prussians are."
    "Speaking of Prussians, what about Colonel von Fehrenbach?"
    Maggie finished her cognac, then got up to refill their glasses. Rafe admired the way her skin-tight pantaloons clung to her shapely hips and legs. In the old days, when she had always dressed like a lady, he hadn't known how much he was missing.
    Unaware of his scrutiny, Maggie sat down and said, "Von Fehrenbach is a typical Prussian, which means that he hates the French in a pure, uncomplicated way. Von Fehrenbach was an aide to Marshal Blücher, and is presently a military attache with the Prussian delegation."
    "Do all Prussians feel such hatred for the French?"
    "It's easier for the British to behave with restraint than the other Allies," she said obliquely. "Considering how horribly the nations of Europe have suffered, it's no wonder the Prussians and Russians and Austrians are determined to make France pay. France has sowed the wind, and now she is reaping the whirlwind."
    Knowing her personal reasons for hatred, Rafe asked, "How do you think France should be treated?"
    Maggie looked up, her gray eyes cool and steady. "If Napoleon stood before a firing squad, I would pull a trigger myself. But someone must stop the hating, or there will be no end to it. Castlereagh and Wellington are right: destroying France's pride and power will create another monster to rise up and fight again. If anything happens to either of them ..." She shrugged eloquently.
    Rafe took her meaning. "They and Tsar Alexander are all that stand between France and a vengeful Europe. Do you think