‘I suppose that I did.’
‘I trust that you didn’t mention Major Crevel,’ said Daniel.
‘No, no, I swear it,’ replied Ainley. ‘On that subject, my lips were sealed. I obeyed your orders on that score, Captain.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Honestly, I feel so deuced embarrassed by all this.’
‘You’ve nothing to reproach yourself with, Lieutenant,’ said Daniel with a forgiving smile. ‘I just wanted to hear what had happened between you and Higgins. You’ve put my mind at rest and I’m grateful to you.’
Ainley brightened. ‘Oh, I’m not under fire, then.’
‘Not at all — I’m sorry that I kept you so long.’
Daniel put a hand in the middle of his back to ease him gently away then he strolled along the bank in the opposite direction with Welbeck. The sergeant was able to lapse into familiarity.
‘You let that silly bugger off lightly, Dan,’ he said.
‘Lieutenant Ainley means well.’
‘No wonder Higgins picked on that simpleton. He could see how naive the lieutenant was. He probably got the entire life story of Daniel Rawson out of that fool.’
‘We caught Higgins,’ said Daniel, ‘so no harm was done.’
‘The lieutenant should learn to keep his big gob shut.’
‘And you should learn to be less censorious of an officer, Henry. I concede that Ainley has his shortcomings but he’s assiduous in his duties and has distinguished himself in battle.’
Welbeck snorted. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it, Dan.’
‘He may surprise you yet.’
Before he could speak up for the lieutenant, Daniel saw someone walking briskly towards him. The man was carrying a letter in his hand. When he reached them, he gave it to Daniel.
‘His Grace wanted you to have this as a matter of urgency, Captain,’ said the messenger. ‘It was sent from the French camp.’
‘Thank you.’
Daniel waited until the man had gone before he opened the letter. When he realised what he was holding, he recoiled as if from a heavy blow. His mind clouded for an instant. There was no need to read the letter because, having written it to Amalia Janssen, he already knew its contents. Daniel was shocked that something so private had been made public. If it had been sent by the enemy, the message was clear.
Amalia was in dire trouble.
Flanked by two guards, Amalia Janssen stood in trepidation while Vendome ran a searching eye over her. His scrutiny made her blood run cold. Being abducted and smuggled out of Holland had been a frightening experience but her captors had treated her with a measure of respect. She got little of that from Vendome. His gaze was so direct and penetrating that it was almost as if he were slowly undressing her until she was stark naked before him. Bound and defenceless, Amalia felt abused. She turned her face away in embarrassment.
Vendome nodded so one of the men removed the gag from her mouth and the rope that pinioned her hands behind her back. Amalia rubbed her wrists. During her stay in Paris, she’d learnt a fair amount of French but was far from fluent. When Vendome spoke rapidly to the two guards, she could only pick out certain words. The two men withdrew and she was left alone in the tent with Vendome. After circling her to appraise her from every angle, he came back to face her, lifting her chin with a finger so that she was forced to look into a pair of dark, burning, uncompromising eyes.
‘Captain Rawson is a fortunate man,’ he began, slowly. ‘I’m sure that he realises that. He wrote you a very touching letter.’
‘That was private,’ she said.
‘You no longer have any privacy, mademoiselle. You left it behind you in Amsterdam.’ He saw her glancing around. ‘And before you think of trying to run away, let me warn you that guards are posted outside. There’s no escape.’ He beamed at her. ‘You’re mine.’
‘What do you want from me?’
‘I want you to tell me about Captain Rawson.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘Then you have a very short memory,’ he chided. ‘Have you so soon forgotten your rescue from Paris? Don’t you remember how the captain managed to release your father from the Bastille? That was a remarkable achievement. I look forward to hearing how it was done.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Your father must have told you. Emanuel Janssen is one of the very few people who escaped from the Bastille. I’m certain that he must have boasted to you about it.’ Amalia remained silent. ‘Well? What did he tell you?’ Biting her lip, she let her head fall to her chest. ‘You’re not in a very talkative mood yet, I see,’ he continued. ‘That’s understandable. You’re still shocked at being kidnapped. You need time to grow accustomed to the idea.’
‘Where am I?’ she asked, raising her head.
‘You’re in our camp at Braine l’Alleud and I,’ he said, proudly, ‘am the duc de Vendome, commander of the French army.’
Amalia trembled. Because of his aristocratic bearing, she knew that he must hold a high rank but it never occurred to her that she was talking to a duke. Vendome was so slovenly. He looked nothing like the magnificent grandees she’d once seen on parade at Versailles. She couldn’t imagine why she’d been plucked from the streets of Amsterdam to stand before one of the most celebrated commanders in the French army. He noted her confusion.
‘You’ll have plenty of time to think about it, mademoiselle.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You have no idea why you’re here, do you?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s because I want to witness a reunion.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I wish to be there when you and Captain Rawson meet again.’
She was still bewildered. ‘How can you do that?’
‘He’s probably read that letter he wrote to you by now. I had it sent to him. By all accounts, he’s an astute man. He’ll know that you’d never have returned something that was so precious to you. The captain will reach the obvious conclusion — his beloved is in danger.’
Vendome spoke too quickly for her to translate every word but Amalia caught the gist of what he was telling her. She was being used as bait. In order to lure Daniel to the French camp, Amalia was to be held hostage. Her brain was swimming and her heart fluttering. She was consumed by feelings of guilt. Because of her, Daniel would now be imperilled. Because she’d been so unguarded as to let herself be captured, his life might be at risk. It was a devastating thought. Stifling a sob, Amalia brought both hands up to her face.
‘I see that you’ve finally comprehended,’ said Vendome, gloating. ‘Since you won’t tell me how your father escaped from the Bastille, I shall have to wait until I can put the question to Captain Rawson.’
Daniel had hoped in vain that there was another explanation. It was conceivable that his letter to Amalia had been stolen from her or even intercepted before it ever reached Amsterdam. Deep down, however, he knew that he was grasping at straws and, when news came from her stricken father, the truth was unavoidable. Emanuel Janssen’s letter told of his daughter’s abduction and of the inabilities of the Dutch authorities to find any trace of her. That confirmed it. Amalia was in enemy hands. She was being held in the French camp.
‘We can’t be absolutely certain of that,’ said Marlborough.
‘I think we can, Your Grace,’ insisted Daniel.
‘Amalia could be held anywhere in French territory. She may even have been taken back to Paris.’
‘I think that highly improbable. The only use that Amalia has for them is to act as an enticement for me. They’d hardly want to draw me all the way to the French capital.’
‘That’s a fair point, Daniel,’ said Cardonnel. ‘They went to great trouble to arrange the kidnap. It must have
