The Escape by Kristabel Reed

Chapter One
    Paris, France
    September 1793
    The Reign of Terror
    Gabrielle Bertrand rushed down the stairs. Her heart raced as she hurried across the foyer, but she didn’t look back. Time was not on her side, and if she wanted to make it out of the house, she needed to move faster than the servant’s gossip. Slowing for too long before the mirror, she yanked on her gloves and affixed her hat as best she could, given her haste.
    All the while she kept a sharp ear out for her brother. Theodore demanded to know her whereabouts every moment of every day. No matter how she tried to slip past him, how she plotted to escape this stifling house, the servants remained loyal to the master of the household.
    She needed to move faster if she wanted to leave before he—
    A noise sounded down the hallway, close to Theodore’s study. Heart racing, Gabrielle jabbed the hatpin haphazardly in and whirled for the door. Propriety be damned, she’d run out of time. Hand on the handle, she felt the rough grasp of her brother’s grip. He wrenched her around to face him, and Gabrielle’s heart dropped. There was no escape.
    “Theodore,” she said, forcing a calm smile through her distress. “What is it? I’m going to be late.”
    Her brother didn’t answer. Theodore scowled down at her, face foreboding as he dragged her down the hallway. Gabrielle held her fear and frustration at bay as she stumbled on the polished marble, slipping as she struggled to keep up with Theodore’s long stride.
    At his study, he all but threw her inside. She struggled to keep her footing, and caught herself on the back of one of the leather chairs. The door slammed behind him, the sharp sound of it a final echo through the small study.
    She steadied her breathing and raised her chin. She’d done nothing wrong and refused to cower before him. He’d like that, her begging and crying, but Gabrielle’s pride refused to give him even that small bit of herself.
    “I know you’re lying to me,” he spat. He stood with his back to the door, arms folded over his chest, hands curled into angry fists. “You’re not meeting the general’s daughters until later this afternoon.”
    “There are several errands I wish to accomplish before I see them,” Gabrielle replied nonchalantly, keeping her blue gaze steady on his. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, but she maintained her composure. Cowering now would offer him a victory she refused to ever cede.
    Theodore stalked forward, and before she realized what he intended, before she managed to brace herself, his hand shot out. Her cheek stung with the force of his slap, and tears sprang involuntarily to her eyes. She closed them, refusing to let the tears fall. He’d been the cause of far too many tears, and Gabrielle would never show him more.
    Breathing slowly through the pain, she surreptitiously wiped her eyes. Raising her head, she met his gaze, the blue of his own eyes blazing with wild fury.
    “I know,” he began in a low, menacing voice. Theodore towered over her, and used his height in an attempt to intimidate her. “I know you’ve been looking for an opportunity to visit the Club. Don’t think that because time has passed that I’ve forgotten your,” he paused and sneered as if the word tasted of poison on his tongue, “ proclivities . Nor have I forgotten your desire to know what happened to your fellow members.”
    Tossing her head defiantly, Gabrielle stood her ground. She’d never made it back to the Club the few times she had managed to slip away. He always knew her destination, and no matter how she ran, what route she took, Theodore had found her before she could seek refuge in the Club’s hidden walls.
    But now, Theodore couldn’t hurt her any more than he already had. And once she’d befriended the general’s daughters, any physical mark he inflicted would be much more obvious. He couldn’t afford that knowledge spreading outside this household.
    “Not just any members,