“You exaggerate. So far I’ve found the Commune to be composed of bumblers and lummoxes. Look how easily I got in to see the queen. And tonight we danced past that guard at the gate—”
“And were almost captured by the patrol,” Jean Marc finished. “They’re not all bumblers. You forget our friends François and Danton.”
“But they’re no threat to us. It’s worth the risk. You want the Wind Dancer and I want the two million livres.”
They reached the outskirts of the town and Jean Marc turned the wagon toward Paris. “I believe I’m going to regret this. I should leave you at an inn here with funds enough to take you to Vasaro on the coach.”
“I’d only follow you.”
“On foot?”
“Why not? I’m young and strong and—”
“Not a doddering man of thirty—”
“Thirty-two.”
“I was going to say that.”
“You needn’t snap at me.”
He glanced sidewise at her. “Why not? You’ve certainly recovered your equanimity and you’re clearly trying to annoy me. I should think it would offer you satisfaction.” He smiled crookedly. “Enjoy it, Juliette. When you realize why you are doing this, I think it will bring you little pleasure.”
She had already begun to suspect why drawing fire from him had brought her such a feeling of exhilaration. But now she realized since that moment when he had held her in the pavilion the excitement and satisfaction of taunting him had entirely vanished. She looked away from him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going back to Paris with you tonight, and tomorrow night I’m going to the café to see this William Darrell. The discussion is closed.”
“Not quite.”
Juliette gazed at him warily.
“It’s a long trip back to Paris. I wish to be amused.Tell me a few anecdotes of your interesting past at Versailles.”
“It wasn’t very interesting. All I did was paint.”
“But you had many fascinating acquaintances,” Jean Marc said softly. “For instance, I think it’s time you told me all about the ‘triviality.’ Who was the Duc de Gramont?”
THIRTEEN
The hair of the stylishly coiffed wig was so pale a shade of gold, it shimmered silver beneath the candles of the chandelier of the foyer.
“Take it off,” Jean Marc said flatly.
“Don’t be foolish, it’s part of my disguise.” Juliette drew the wine-colored velvet cloak more closely about her as she came down the staircase toward him. “I think it looks quite splendid. Marie said Madame Lamartine obtained the hair for the wig from a village in Sweden where all the women have hair of this color.”
“Everyone at the café will be staring at you.”
As Jean Marc was staring at her now. Juliette’s heart began to pound harder, and the excitement she had known the previous night suddenly returned. She could see an emotion other than displeasure in his expression.“Oh, but they’ll be staring at Jean Marc Andreas’s latest mistress, not at Citizeness Justice.”
“My mistress?”
“Danton said I needed a more clever disguise, and you were most insulting about my dirty face.” Juliette strolled over to the ornate gilt-framed Venetian mirror on the wall and patted the long curls spiraling in glossy clusters to touch her bare shoulders. “I look completely different. I believe I like this much better than being the lamplight’s daughter. Yes, this will be my permanent disguise.”
“The one is as bad as the other. I dislike fair hair intensely.”
Juliette gazed at Jean Marc’s reflection in the mirror. “But why? It’s a very fine wig and a very fine disguise. You’re a rich man who has had many mistresses. I live in your house. Therefore, isn’t it natural I should occupy your bed?”
“Entirely natural.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “What are you trying to do, Juliette? I’m not a man you can tease with impunity.”
“I’m not teasing you. I wouldn’t know how. What’s your objection to my pretending to be your mistress?” Juliette suddenly snapped her fingers. “I know, you don’t think I’mravissanteenough. It’s true I’m not pretty, but that needn’t make any difference.”
