The Heroic Baron Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the
neighborhood.”
    Cecile breathed easier. The New Regime might have
abolished the Tribunate and given power to the Senate
to protect the people, but there were still plenty of tools
at its disposal for oppression. The New Regime didn’t
tolerate dissent any more readily than the old regime.
She’d heard the generals remark at the dinner table
once that Napoleon was different than poor Louis XVI,
because he didn’t make the mistake of standing by and
letting the people criticize him. She’d seen what oppression had done to her parents in their old village.
She wasn’t about to risk trusting anyone with anything
that might somehow incriminate her.
    Etienne was growing sleepy now that he’d shared his
news. He yawned. “CeeCee, since the Panchettes are
gone, do you think we might be able to rent their
rooms? I remember they had a lovely window on the
top floor that let in the sun. We could use some of the
extra money”
    Cecile pushed back Etienne’s mop of dark hair.
There were only five years difference in their ages, but
she often felt more like his mother than his sister since
their parents had been killed three years ago, forcing
them to eventually make their way to Paris. She looked
at her brother’s droopy blue eyes. “Yes, I think that’s a
fine idea. I’ll make inquiries tomorrow.”

    Cecile went to her own bed across the room and
changed into a nightgown. In spite of the day’s excitements, sleep came easily. That night she dreamed of a
tall, honey-haired man who walked through the city
tossing livres behind him like the pied piper. And she
followed him.

Alain paused for a moment, sweating with exertion,
his work shirt damp from his labors. He’d spent the
bright April morning working beside the bricklayers
and watching the foundations of the new buildings rise
from the trenches they’d meticulously dug. He turned
at the sound of horse hooves clattering on the cobblestones and shielded his eyes against the sun in order to
make out the rider.
    “Alain! When did you return?” Daniel swung off his
horse in a lithe move, his sandy hair tousled from the
breeze. “Are the Panchettes safe?”
    “We arrived yesterday evening. They are happily rejoined with their family after a mild crossing of the
Channel. You see, everything went off without any trouble and I am now the proud employer of not one but two
excellent pastry chefs. Care to dine with me tonight and
taste my success for yourself?” Alain greeted his friend
in high spirits. The mission had gone well. He hadn’t expected many problems beyond disguising his British
citizenship. The blockade situation between France and
England made it impossible to simply sail his yacht
across the Channel with the Union Jack flying high.

    “Not one thing out of the ordinary?” Daniel queried
in disbelief.
    “Not one thing.” Alain confirmed. Unless one
counted the prideful sherry-eyed miss he’d encountered
in the street. She was absolutely out of the ordinary
with her defiantly tilted chin. The floppy mob cap she
wore could not hide the lustrous chestnut curls of her
hair. He had been seized with a mad desire to pull off
her cap and free her tresses from their confines. He was
sure if he did, her hair would fall to her waist in a glorious spill of silky curls. It was not to his credit that he’d
dreamed of her ever since their meeting. Alicia had
only been dead a month. He owed her memory more
devotion than to dream of an unknown French girl
whose name he did not know and whom he would
never see again.
    Daniel gazed at him thoughtfully, causing Alain to
shake himself back to the present. “You seem disappointed I don’t have tales of derring-do with which to
dazzle you.”
    Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. “I am only glad
enough that you don’t have such tales to tell. I’ll let you
get back to work. I have to ride over to Romney this afternoon for a client. I’ll call at The Refuge