Free The Worldly Widow by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

one of the exits to the Rue de Rivoli. They made no move to stop her.
    She drew a deep, steadying breath and moved off at a brisk pace in the direction of the Hotel Breteuil. In another hour she would be on her way to Calais. In another week, Paris would be a memory; and with luck, in another month, Dalmar would seem like a figment of her imagination.
    By noon, her hired chaise was entering the Forest of Chantilly. Back in Paris, inventory was being taken in the wake of one of the worse melees to have broken out since the occupation of the city. Scores of innocent and not-so-innocent bystanders were injured. Of the dead, fourteen were Prussian officers and ten were either known Bonapartists or of the garde du corps. In one corner of the gardens, beneath a thicket of mimosa, the body of a French woman was discovered. Her throat had been slit. She was later identified as a young prostitute, the drawing card of the Maison d ' Or. Her name was Monique Dupres.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
    D almar ' s glance, carefully neutral, touched briefly on the diverse uniformed gentlemen of His Majesty ' s Service, all four of whom were known to him, and who lounged at their ease in Sir Charles ' s elegant study in the British Embassy. Of their number, only Ransome appeared to have escaped injury in the recent fracas at the Palais Royal. Of the ambassador himself, Sir Charles Stuart, there was nary a sign.
    "Mercer, Seymour, Bodley, Ransome, " murmured Dalmar, addressing each gentleman in turn. Sheepish glances were exchanged. Dalmar strolled to one of the vacant gilt-edged chairs and carefully seated himself.
    "How ' s the shoulder? " asked Major Seymour conversationally.
    "Mending nicely, thank you. And your arm? "
    "The same. "
    It was Captain Mercer who interrupted the spate of chitchat and civilities which this small exchange provoked. "What are you doing here, Dalmar? You ' re no longer under army discipline, as I hear. "
    From his coat pocket, Dalmar withdrew a small enamel snuffbox. He offered it round. "Is that why we ' re here? " he asked mildly. "To be disciplined? "
    Mercer grinned. "Speaking for myself, it wouldn ' t surprise me. I was the officer in command that night. I ' ve already been hauled over the coals once for not sending for reinforcements the moment trouble started. "
    " Thank God someone did, " drawled Major Bodley, his fingers absently curling the ends of his handsome mustache. "We ' re lucky there wasn ' t a bloodbath. Well, we all know we ' ve been sitting on a powder keg these last months. The French and the Prussians would like nothing better than to wipe each other off the face of the earth. "
    After a considering silence, Ransome remarked, "What I don ' t understand is how the devil the rumpus got started. I thought to catch forty winks before joining Lady Ashford ' s party for the theater. The next thing I knew, our friend here, " he indicated Dalmar by a nod of his head, "was shouting bloody murder at the top of his lungs. "
    "D ' you mean you missed the show? " asked Captain Mercer consolingly. Of the five gentlemen present, he was the youngest, and transparently eager to earn his spurs in any affair of honor which presented itself. He ' d had the misfortune to take a trifling injury at Quatre Bras, two days before the main action at Waterloo, and had lamented his unfortunate fate ever since.
    Ransome ' s lips were very grave as he answered, "It pains me to tell you, Captain, that I slept through the whole of it. Shall I ever live it down? "
    Ignoring this idle exchange, Major Seymour took up the conversation. "As for how it got started, I think Bodley and I can answer that. We were there, you see, at the Cafe de Foy, when a score of those half pay French officers swaggered in. They were looking for a fight, of course, and they got it. "
    "What were you doing in the Cafe de Foy? " asked Ransome, mildly surprised. "It ' s a known Prussian rendezvous. "
    " They ' re not all barbarians, " protested