
As Napoleon Rises from the Ashes of The French Revolution, One Woman Dares to Spy Against Him
Sentenced to eight months in an insane asylum for the crime of impersonating a man, Geneviève LaGarde fears giving birth in a filthy cell will mean certain death for her and her unborn child. Desperate for her release, her husband, Louis, trades his freedom for hers and must join Bonaparte’s army in Egypt.
As Geneviève wages her own war against the tyrannical general, she not only risks her own life but also those of her children and the four hundred families who depend on the Château de Verzat estate. Knowing her desperate actions could cause the government to confiscate the entire vineyard, she sacrifices everything to save her husband and protect the people who become her family.
A captivating tale of the power of love, hope, and courage, and the strength of community.

Château de Verzat Overlooking The Loire River
“Your thoughts have taken you far away.” Tante Nicole’s voice was gentle.
Louis scuffed his boot through wet leaves. “It is difficult to know how to begin.”
“I am so glad you have lost your arrogant veneer, like the thick maquillage—complete with white paint and rouge—you wore at Versailles.” She laughed. “Tell me, everyone knew that wearing a beauty patch on the left meant you were available to your mistress. But you always wore your diamond-shaped beauty patch on your right cheekbone. You must have had a mistress?”
His face warmed despite the chill. He had been so vain and cunning. “A mistress wants a man more if she thinks he is unavailable. Besides, why reveal myself to her husband if he is unaware he is a cuckold?”
“Very wise.” Her laughter was deep.
“Wily. I avoided duels.”
“As I said, wise.” She rotated her stick in the leaves lifting a few into the wind. “I think you will be missing Geneviève and Louisa very much.”
His chest tightened, pressing the air from his lungs. “Did your husband fight in Louis the Fifteenth’s army?”
“We both did.” Eyes sparkling, she looked across the river. “I followed Philipe’s troop. He was wounded, and I nursed him. He would have died.”
“You followed Philipe into battle? That sounds like something my wife would do.”
“I believe she would if she were not expecting your child.” She patted his hand. “We Nobles of the Sword have our own way of conversing. Remember all the machinations, witty slights, and double meanings that could charm a snake? Are you not glad we no longer must play that game?”
He huffed a laugh. “Indeed.”
“Then ask me what you wish.”
He inhaled as if he were about to plunge into icy water. “As a Noble of the Sword, I was loyal to and obeyed the King and promised to defend France.” He loosened his neckcloth. “But neither the Directoire nor Bonaparte is king. I cannot find it in me to defend a leader I do not respect, yet I am loyal to France.”
The lines about her eyes softened. “What is your personal code, Louis?”
“To protect those I love. To be honest, loyal, faithful, and true. To defend the innocent and not kill except in defense.”
“Should Bonaparte require you to go against your personal code?”
He jolted. “At risk of facing a firing squad, he could not force me to go against my personal code.”
Sorrow filled her eyes. She had seen battle; he had not. Could he kill a man? His wife had. Geneviève was more experienced. He had been trained by the King’s own tutor in swordsmanship and marksmanship, had bested every other courtier with his rapier but had the good sense to allow the King to best him. Yet, he had never killed.
Tante’s gaze followed a man casting a fishing net from the shore. “After my husband was wounded, he taught me cryptography, and we both served Louis the Fifteenth. When Philipe passed, I continued and then served Louis the Sixteenth.”
“With cryptography?”
She sucked in her lower lip, pushed it out, sucked it in, and out again. “Can you not puzzle it out, Louis? Is this not the true subject of your inquiry? The reason for our promenade?”
His thoughts blurred. He could not speak nor accuse her of—espionage.
Her laughter was deep. “Philipe and I spied on and reported those courtiers traitorous to the King. Why do you think I noticed where you wore your beauty patch? The ways courtiers opened snuff boxes, tapped fans, and adjusted ostrich plumes revealed clues in a language Philipe and I monitored.”
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Meet Debra Borchert

Debra Borchert has had many careers: clothing designer, actress, TV show host, spokesperson for high-tech companies, marketing and public relations professional, and technical writer for Fortune 100 companies. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle, The Christian Science Monitor, and The Writer, among others. Her short stories have been published in anthologies and independently.
A graduate of the Fashion Institute of Technology, she weaves her knowledge of textiles and clothing design throughout her historical French fiction. She has been honored with a Historical Novel Society Editors’ Choice, Publishers Weekly BookLife Editor’s Pick, and many other five-star reviews.
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