Lady Emma's Campaign by Jennifer Moore Read Free Book Online Page B

previous leader. He was quite reasonable when it came to prisoner exchange. My man would keep the young lady safe.”
    Emma’s heart raced as feelings of fear and hope tumbled around in her chest. “I would be careful—”
    “I will not even discuss it,” William said.
    “But if it is the only way . . .” Emma began, but a look from William quelled her words.
    The ambassador nodded his head in acquiescence. He made arrangements for the group’s meal to be served in the courtyard and excused himself, as he had a late supper with the Dons to prepare for.
    Emma did not bring up Henry Wellesley’s suggestion again. She knew William would not entertain the idea, and it would surely anger him to discuss it further. They ate and were shown to their chambers. She found the gown and slippers that had been fetched from the ship. It was one of her very loveliest dresses—Emma knew it showcased her figure and complexion perfectly. She had specifically brought it on the voyage and saved it to wear when she saw Sidney. Laying the dress over a chair, she gazed out her window at the garden and began wrapping her hair in curling papers.
    Her emotions battled with each other. She balled her fists in frustration at the annoyance she felt of being so completely underestimated by her brother, and at the same time, her heart filled with love for him. He truly had her safety in mind.
    She felt a pang of regret when she thought of how furious he would be in the morning when he discovered that she was gone.

Chapter 5
    The heavy metal door creaked and slammed shut, plunging the dank cell into darkness. Sidney breathed a sigh of relief as he lay upon the hard floor and then wished he had not when the pain shot through his side. He pressed his ribs gently with his fingers, attempting to determine the extent of his injuries. No bones broken. He touched his face. His lip was cracked, blood filled his mouth, and one eye was beginning to swell. He vaguely wondered whether it had been hit by the wall or his assailant’s fist.
    Finally pulling himself into a sitting position, he moved to lean against the damp wall, wincing as the back of his head bumped against the uneven stones. It was definitely not the worst beating he had received since his capture, and truth be told, Sidney preferred Lucien’s fists to le creux , which was by far the warden’s vilest method of torture. Sidney had spent two separate weeks in le creux: a pit too shallow and narrow to fully stand or extend his legs. The pit was sealed by a metal grate, leaving him exposed to the scorching sun and freezing rains, which flooded the small space. Each time, when he was finally released, it had taken days for his leg muscles to stop cramping and finally bear his weight. Although he knew his body could survive another week in the pit, he was nearly certain his mind could not.
    He had tried, at the beginning of his incarceration, to document the time that passed, but the dark dungeon where he spent days without food or light had disoriented him so badly that he could only guess how long it had been since he had lost his freedom. Perhaps two months? No doubt everyone he cared about thought him dead.
    He touched his fingers to his lip and winced at the stinging. He thought of the continued beatings and interrogations, hoping an opportunity to escape would present itself soon.
    Sidney had been occasionally allowed out of his cell into the common area with the other prisoners and had formed an alliance with two other inmates. The three of them were plotting an escape. Sidney spent every opportunity studying the movements of the guards and the layout of the prison. His mind was constantly occupied with devising a way out. Being able to focus on that one task and finding ways to communicate with his partners gave him a sense of purpose and hope that he would not die in a French prison. The only thing keeping him from going mad was the knowledge that he had a job to do. He knew that he