In the ultimate crimson Carnation novel from the New York Times bestselling author of The Mark of the middle of the night Manzanilla, Napoleon has occupied Lisbon, and Jane Wooliston, aka the purple Carnation, groups up with a rogue agent to guard the escaped Queen of Portugal.
Portugal, December 1807. Jack Reid, the British agent referred to as the Moonflower (formerly the French agent often called the Moonflower), has been stationed in Portugal and is anticipating his new touch. He doesn't anticipate to be paired with a woman—especially no longer the mythical red Carnation.
All of Portugal believes that the royal relatives departed for Brazil in advance of the French troops marched into Lisbon. purely the English executive understands that mad seventy-three-year-old Queen Maria used to be lively away by way of a bunch of loyalists made up our minds to rally a resistance. yet because the French garrison scours the nation-state, it’s just a topic of time earlier than she’s discovered and taken.
It’s as much as Jane to discover her first and confirm her security. yet she has no wisdom of Portugal or the language. even though she is loath to confess it, she wishes the Moonflower. working by myself has taught her to appreciate her personal obstacles. yet she is familiar with larger than to teach weak spot round the Moonflower—an agent with a name for brilliance, an inclination towards insubordination, and a background of going rogue.
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That may be too crude. yet his glance used to be the an identical of a marginally. “Or . . . virtually incorruptible. ” And that, suggestion Jane grimly, was once what she received for feeling sorry for Nicolas. She wasn’t the one girl to were lulled by way of that dimple, basically to suppose a knife within the ribs. A metaphorical knife, in her case, yet a knife all of the comparable, designed to belittle her, to weaken her. Your advantage lies on your brain, no longer in what lies among your legs. Taking energy from the reminiscence, from Jack, Jane folded her palms in her lap.
If this was once Jane’s rescue social gathering, he’d were at an advantage storming the citadel with the rattling donkey. Jack attempted back. “Is Lord Richard right here? ” “Anything you could inform Richard, you could inform us,” acknowledged woman Henrietta with a self assurance that Jack used to be faraway from feeling. “Tell me what? ” stated one other guy, rising on deck. “I don’t recognize. ” Crumbs scattered as Miles waved his biscuit. “He won’t let us know. ” The newcomer advanced, assuming command with an air of simple insurance. And thank goodness for that, inspiration Jack irritably.
Or even if I have been, the revolution is lifeless. Bonaparte might declare to be the voice of the revolution, however the simply strength that drives him is his personal ambition. ” Jack Reid stared into the fireplace, his expression abstracted. “I believed in all of it as soon as, you recognize. The revolution, the shining urban on a hill, rights for all. ” He glanced sideways at Jane, his eyes unreadable within the firelight. “When i used to be 16, I ran away and joined Scindia’s military. i used to be recruited by way of a guy named Pierre Perron. You’ve heard of him, I take it?
It’s now not all screaming mobs, Jane. in the end, Bonaparte has been consul for—how lengthy has it been? 3 years now? really, that’s precisely why Edouard wishes me there. Bonaparte is desperately attempting to make his jumped-up, murderous, usurping executive glance legitimate . . . ” “Not that you’re in any respect biased,” murmured Jane. “. . . so he’s been dating the outdated nobility,” Amy went on, pointedly ignoring her cousin’s remark. “But the dating has more often than not been occurring via his spouse Josephine—she has a salon for the women of the previous regime—so Edouard wishes me to be his entrée.
Her papers have been tucked away in a pocket of her cloak: Jean de Balcourt, scion of an outdated yet now impoverished relatives, looking to regain desire below the hot regime. Lieutenant de Balcourt had made the strange visual appeal earlier than, even if by no means at such size as this. “Did you think that i'd be so unprepared? ” Jack Reid mounted her with a protracted, inscrutable glance. “You don’t wish me to imagine. you will want me to stick to. ” A dozen retorts rose and died on Jane’s lips. That was once what he sought after: to attract her into argument, to place her at the protecting.