Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney Page A

eddied into the room.
    Rafe strolled to the window and looked out. She had vanished, but there were stout vines growing up the wall. It would present no great challenge to an active person.
    He shook his head in amusement and dropped the drapery. She was a beguiling witch who wanted to drive him mad, but two could play at that game. His lips curved into a smile. She might think that she was too strong to be swept away by passion, but he was not so sure.
    It promised to be a most interesting few weeks.
    * * *
    The Englishman had been blindfolded for his trip through the Paris streets, and he suspected that the carriage had driven in circles to confuse him. His jaw clenched whenever he thought about the upcoming meeting. The man who had summoned him was known only as Le Serpent. Like the snake he was named for, he was regarded with fear and loathing by those few people who knew of his existence. The Englishman knew it was dangerous to make Le Serpent's acquaintance, but without risk there would be no reward.
    The shabby hackney rumbled to a halt. How long had they been circling—fifteen minutes? Thirty? Time was hard to judge when one was helpless.
    A whiff of fresher air entered the malodorous hackney when the door opened. The silent escort grasped the Englishman's upper arm and jerked him out of the carriage and across a narrow strip of pavement, indifferent to the fact that his blindfolded charge stumbled and nearly fell.
    They entered a building, descended a closed stairway, then walked along a narrow, echoing passage. After a very long walk and a climb up more stairs, the escort stopped. There was the sound of a turning knob, then the Englishman was thrust into a room. He raised one hand to remove the blindfold, but stopped at the sound of a sibilant voice that was clearly disguised.
    "I would not advise you to do that,
mon Anglais
. If you saw my face, I should have to kill you. That would be a great waste, for I have better uses for you."
    The Englishman dropped his hand, demoralized by being blind and alone. It was impossible even to guess the nationality of his dangerous employer; considering what a political stew Paris was, the bloody man could be anything.
    Trying to sound confident, the Englishman said, "Don't waste my time with threats, Le Serpent. You must like the information I give you, or you would not be paying me for it. And you must want more, or you wouldn't have asked to meet me in person for the first time."
    There was a throaty chuckle. "The tidbits you gave me in the past were useful, but they were trivial compared to what I need from you now. Over the next few weeks, I want complete information on the movements of Lord Castlereagh and the Duke Of Wellington, plus daily reports on what the delegation is doing."
    "I'm not in a position to know all of that."
    "Then find someone who is,
mon Anglais
."
    The menace in the silky tone was unmistakable. Not for the first time, the Englishman wished he had never gotten involved in this. But it was too late for regret: Le Serpent knew far too much about him. Wanting to put the best face on this, he said, "It will cost extra to learn more. Most of the staff won't talk at all, and those who do are expensive."
    "You will be reimbursed for expenses, as long as they are legitimate. I will not pay for your whores and gambling."
    Sweat formed under the blindfold as the Englishman wondered if Le Serpent knew about the money skimmed from the sum provided to pay lesser informants. It had been unwise to appropriate some for his own use, but if he hadn't paid that particular gambling debt, he might have lost his position with the delegation. Tersely he said, "You need have no fears on that score."
    "How comforting," Le Serpent said with unmistakable irony. "Send your reports the usual way. Remember, I want daily information, for matters are becoming critical. You will be informed when I need to see you igain. Now go."
    As the escort came and led him from the room, the