Grabbing her by the arm so hard that it ached, Vincent hauled her to the window. ‘They want the technique of the Sphère Obscurcie.’ He snatched the glass globe off the desk and thrust it into Jane’s hands, ripping the velvet free. ‘I do not think they know about the glass one. Keep it safe.’

In the hall outside, boots clattered and Mme Chastain shouted.

Jane seized his arm in protest. ‘But, Vincent—’

‘They will keep searching until they find me.’ Vincent shoved her into the sunlight. ‘I love you, Muse.’ With firm and erect bearing, he crossed the room so that he was standing in the middle of it when Lieutenant Segal flung the door open.

The sun coming through the window cast a square prison on the floor out of which Jane could not step without the glamour in the glass being interrupted.

Lieutenant Segal bowed to Vincent. ‘The Emperor Napoleon requires your services. Will you come quietly?’

‘I am not a French citizen.’

‘No. As such, I am not compelled to ask you at all. You will come. There is but the question of comfort.’ He gestured with his riding whip, and two of the soldiers came forward and took Vincent by the arms. ‘I hope this will teach you that you will only be asked once.’

Segal struck Vincent across the cheek with the whipstock. Her husband’s head snapped to the side, and he gasped. Jane clapped her free hand to her mouth to prevent herself from crying out for him. Before Vincent could straighten, the Frenchmen hauled him forward. Stumbling, he lost his footing and they jerked him upright, shaking him. Jane could see Vincent’s back tense as if he was about to throw them off, but he stayed resolutely still. By neither look nor action did he betray Jane’s presence. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘Such naïveté. But what else could we expect from a man who plays at the womanly arts?’ Lieutenant Segal strode to the table where Vincent’s writing desk sat. Jane moved to the far side of her small rectangle of light, praying that Lieutenant Segal would not step within the influence of the Sphère Obscurcie. Instead, he picked up the writing desk and slung it under his arm. ‘The Emperor is interested in your obscuring sphere. Let us go.’

Jane pressed her hand against her mouth, biting down on the flesh of her thumb to stifle a sob so she would not give herself away by mere noise. She longed above all else to cast a glamour, covering the room in darkness to confound them. Under its cover, she and Vincent could flee. But to where? Into the waiting arms of the soldiers in the courtyard below, there delivering to them the glass Sphère Obscurcie? There was no choice, no action she could take beyond bearing witness.

Jane held still in the cold sunlight and watched them take her husband.