Chapter Thirteen
Every second was urgent, and Arthur did not wait long before formulating a plan. He didn’t trust those men with Madeline at all.
He needed help.
There was one person he knew here. One person who might help ascertain that Madeline was treated fairly.
Admiral Fitzroy.
The man had coordinated many teams who’d gone against the French. Likely the man could break her out of the prison.
But Arthur didn’t desire that.
If Admiral Fitzroy looked into the history of the jewels and confirmed the French had happened upon the jewels in a criminal manner, perhaps Madeline’s sentence might be lightened. Gabriella would testify that Madeline had intended to steal the jewels and return them to the people they’d been taken from. She would be able to provide the documents from the solicitors proving the jewels should belong to the Costantini family.
“Wait here,” he told Gabriella.
He rushed outside. Admiral Fitzroy was staying at a villa nearby, and Arthur ran over the cobbled streets. The street was empty. Everything was dark. He could hear the waves crash onto the shore before him and he ran toward the sound. Admiral Fitzroy’s villa was on the ocean.
A few stars sparkled above him, but the moon was only a thin sliver, and appeared only on occasion. Clouds must be obscuring the heavens, even though this region was famed for its good weather.
He forced himself to lengthen his strides. His feet pounded against the pavement, and his breath tightened in his chest.
A Frenchman shouted at him through a house window to be quiet, but he maintained his pace.
Finally he arrived at Admiral Fitzroy’s. During the day the canary colored villa might look cheerful, but now it appeared foreboding. Arthur’s feet crunched over the gravel road, and he hammered on the door until the butler arrived.
The man’s hair was tousled, and he glowered at Arthur.
“I need to speak with Admiral Fitzroy,” Arthur said.
“You may call on him in the morning,” the butler replied.
“It’s urgent.”
“Admiral Fitzroy did not inform me he would be receiving any urgent requests.”
“He didn’t know he would have one. It’s an emergency.” Frustration rushed through Arthur, and he raked his hand through his hair.
“If you leave your calling card…” the butler said.
Arthur scowled. He was going to speak with the admiral, even if he had to drag the man out of bed himself.
He pushed past the servant and rushed into the corridor.
“Admiral Fitzroy.” Arthur’s voice thundered, and the butler hushed him.
“I must insist, sir.”
“So must I.”
Arthur spotted the stairs and started up them. The butler tackled him, and in the next moment they were sprawled on the landing.
“What on earth is this racket?” Admiral Fitzroy’s voice boomed.
The sound should have struck fear to Arthur’s heart, but he only felt profoundly grateful.
“You’re awake,” he exclaimed. “I need your help.”
“Obviously,” the admiral muttered. “You can return to your bedroom. I’ll deal with this man myself.”
“Are you certain?” The butler looked worried. “Should I rouse the other servants?”
“I suspect they’re already awake.” The admiral scowled. “No need to. This man works for me. He’s a marquess and should know better.”
The butler blinked and left the room.
“Now, Bancroft,” the admiral bellowed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“There’s been a frightful miscarriage of justice,” Arthur said. “Lady Madeline Mulbourne has been arrested for stealing the jewels.”
“Oh?” The admiral frowned.
“Comte Beaulieu dragged her to the prison himself.”
“Indeed?”
“We must make sure that she is treated well.”
“And why was she arrested?” the admiral asked.
“The jewels were taken, and when I went to see her—”
“Lady Mulbourne is that pretty blonde widow, isn’t she?”
“Er—yes.” Arthur considered her pretty. Beautiful. But he didn’t like the thought of anyone else remarking on it.
He felt an absurd protective urge when it came to Madeline. One that left him entirely without reason.
“Blue eyes, hmm?”
“Yes.”
“Good god,” the admiral said. “She’s it.”
Arthur blinked. He wasn’t certain what “it” meant, but the admiral was rushing down the stairs. That had to be a good sign.
“I’ll come with you at once. Colbert,” he shouted. “See that the carriage ready. We’re going to the prison. We have a woman to rescue!”
This was good.
Definitely good.
Clearly his words had worked. It showed a definite favorability toward the aristocracy that he didn’t like, but he wasn’t going to protest.
He was only glad that the admiral hadn’t asked if the baroness had indeed stolen the jewels.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” the admiral exclaimed. “I feel foolish for thrusting my niece at you.”
“Don’t worry.”
“She did find you quite appealing, but I’ve always approved of the baroness.”
“Well.” Arthur wasn’t going to contradict that.
The carriage sped through the town. Finally they came to the prison.
“That Comte Beaulieu,” the admiral muttered. “Far too hasty. Has no concept of romance.”
Arthur blinked. Surely the admiral didn’t think—
The coach halted, and the admiral rushed out.
“No need to fear, Bancroft. We’ll get her out.”
The admiral banged on Fort Carré with equal vigor to Arthur’s similar ministrations on the door of the admiral’s villa.
A guard opened it, and the admiral shouted some things in French.
“We demand to speak with Comte Beaulieu,” the admiral said.
The prison guard looked suspicious, but after the admiral had announced his title, the guard shrugged and led them through a dim corridor.
“You’re in luck,” the man growled. “He’s still here.”
The admiral nodded and pushed inside the door.
Comte Beaulieu sat at his desk.
“You have arrested the wrong woman,” the admiral declared. “I demand you release this British citizen at once.”
“I assure you I have not. In fact, the marquess led us directly to her.”
“Baroness Mulbourne is the man’s fiancée. It’s not uncommon that he would be seeing her.”
“So late in the evening?” Comte Beaulieu scoffed.
“The man is in love,” the admiral announced. “Though yes, that was improper. Widows have other rules.”
“I see. Yet we have evidence to the contrary.”
“What evidence?”
“She attended the party in disguise. As a Swedish countess. Most suspicious.”
The admiral sighed heavily. “True love will make a woman do mad things.”
“What evidence do you have of their relationship?” Comte Beaulieu asked. “The relationship is definitely with this woman? Not another?”
Arthur frowned. The manner in which the comte had asked the question seemed strange, as if he suspected him of having an affair with someone else.
The admiral seemed unworried. “The marquess told me himself yesterday. You should have seen how his eyes sparkled. So smitten.”
Arthur’s chest clenched. This was not right.
He didn’t love Madeline.
He’d just—well, he’d just happened to describe her when he thought of his imaginary ideal woman.
Purely coincidental.
He could just have easily have made her brunette. He hadn’t even known Madeline was staying in Antibes.
But he couldn’t tell them that now.
Not when even the comte’s eyes were melting.
“Let me ask you one question,” the admiral said. “Did you find the stolen jewels on her?”
“My men were not successful. Mon dieu,” the comte said. “I’ve been a—what is it you English have? An idiot. I’ve been that. Since Lord Bancroft was working on the case, I naturally assumed that when he visited a woman who’d attended the ball in disguise, that his visit was connected to the missing jewels.” He stood up. “Guards! Guards!”
The men entered the room and gazed suspiciously at Arthur and Admiral Fitzroy.
“Please bring Lady Mulbourne up here at once. And treat her well.”