The Marriage Trap by Elizabeth Thornton Read Free Book Online

“Then what's your hurry? He's not late. Why don't we sit down and have a little conversation until he turns up?”
    She picked up her mask and put it on. There was no smile now. “You're too kind, but I must decline.”
    Ash now spoke to Jack in fluent French, which Ellie had no trouble understanding. “Leave her alone, Jack. She's not for you. I'd say she already has a protector, and a rich one at that. Just look at the clothes she is wearing. She's a pretty piece, I grant you. But do you really want to fight another duel this evening just to bed her? I'd be surprised if you're able to unsheathe your sword, let alone keep it up.”
    This was obviously a huge joke, because both men laughed.
    Jack's French was as fluent as his friend's. “You always think the worst of me. I swear on my honor that my intention is not to bed the lady, but to rescue her from a boor. Didn't your mother ever teach you anything about chivalry, Ash?”
    “I'm chivalrous, after a fashion.”
    Ellie was tempted to blast them both with a few choice words in any language they cared to name. They wouldn't be talking like this if they thought she could understand them. Jack, she absolved. He was more truly the gentleman, then he spoiled the impression with his next words.
    “You're right, Ash. She is ‘a pretty piece.' Chivalry be damned! I may not have my usual stamina, but I believe I can keep the lady happy for an hour or two.”
    The young soldier was becoming restive. It was obvious that he had not followed the conversation. “You, sir,” he said, addressing Jack, “are a coward.”
    “And you, sir, are drunk. Go home and sleep it off.”
    Ellie was edging toward the door when it opened and a gust of cold air rushed in along with a boisterous group of Prussian soldiers. Their laughter died when their young countryman called out to them that the English were spoiling for a fight.
    What shocked Ellie was that it seemed to be the signal everyone was waiting for. Within seconds, in every corner of the café, men were out of their chairs and closing with whomever they took exception to; women were screaming; glasses and chairs went flying. She had never seen anything like it. The English and the Prussians were supposed to be allies. No one would have known it from the brawl that ensued.
    Her one aim was to get out of there with her precious hoard of banknotes intact. The door to the courtyard was blocked, but there had to be a back door leading into a lane or the street behind. On that thought, she began to push and elbow her way down the length of the café. There were others with the same idea, and she followed where they led. All went well until a gun went off and someone shouted, “Militia!” Then it was every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost.
    Ellie was pushed hard against the wall as panic took over. Her precious pochette was knocked out of her grasp and fell on the floor. She didn't care about the stampede. Nothing was going to part her from that pochette.
    She dropped to her knees and began to crawl toward it. Someone else got to it first. With an almighty lunge, she dived toward it. She was too late. The pochette disappeared. Gasping, sobbing with rage, she came up for air. One of the patrons helped her to her feet, and she found herself gazing into the smiling eyes of Jack Rigg. She wasn't interested in his smiling eyes, only the pochette he held aloft.
    “Stay close to me and I'll get you to safety,” he said.
    He turned and began to shoulder his way through the crush, the pochette still in his hand.
    What choice did she have? Ellie went after him.

    His rooms were only one floor up. That's why he chose to dine at the Café des Anglaises—for the convenience. He'd told his manservant not to wait up for him, but Coates had banked the fire in the salon and left a candle lit.
    “By the way,” he said, “my name is Jack. And yours is?”
    “Aurora,” she replied.
    He was fascinated by the way her eyes followed the