“If you don’t like Danton…” The woman fumbled among her merchandise again and extracted another fan and unfurled it with a flourish. “The Temple, where our patriots hold those bloody tyrants.”
“These towers are completely out of proportion. You have them almost the same size, and this one is much larger.”
“Wait.” Jean Marc took the fan and looked at it more closely. “This one has a certain charm. Observe the pigeons, my dear.” He lifted his gaze to meet Juliette’s. “Four pigeons taking flight from the large tower.”
Juliette’s gaze flew to the fan vendor’s face.
The woman smiled. “You wish to buy this fan?”
“I haven’t decided.” Juliette studied the woman with more care.
The woman was well worth a second look, Jean Marc thought. She seemed to be a trifle under thirty, certainly not in her first youth, yet her yellow woolen gown flattered both her shining brown hair and full, statuesque figure. Her features were nondescript and her cheeks and snub nose liberally dusted with freckles, but the expression in her hazel eyes was lively and her smile full of humor.
Jean Marc leaned forward in his chair. “Show us something else, Citizeness…?”
“Nana Sarpelier.”
“I’m Jean Marc Andreas, and this is Citizeness Juliette de Clement.”
The woman unfurled another fan. “This one may please you. It’s a ship of our glorious navy. Notice the sails battened by the wind and the figurehead of Virtue Incarnate.”
“And the name of the ship on the bow,” Jean Marc said softly.
“TheDarrell.”Juliette pounced. “Where is he? We want to see him.”
“Who sent you here?” Nana Sarpelier unfurled another fan and batted her long lashes flirtatiously over the rim as she fanned herself.
“The lady in the Tower,” Jean Marc said.
The fan seller opened another fan. “That’s difficult to believe.”
“How else would we know to come here?” Juliette asked. “We need to speak to William Darrell.”
“There is no William Darrell. The name’s only a password.” The fan vendor closed the fan. “However, there are certain people with the same interests in fans as yourselves who might be able to help you. Give me your message.”
“I need to ask the queen something and I have no way to get back into the Temple to see her,” Juliette said. “But your group must be able to do so.”
“We don’t risk contact unless it’s important.”
“Would two million livres pouring into your coffers for our common purpose be considered of importance?”
Nana Sarpelier didn’t change expression. “It’s certainly a good deal of money. Still, it would have to be discussed.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure. What message do you wish us to give to her?”
“A question.” Juliette leaned forward. “Tell her Juliette needs to know who placed the object in the cache. The name of the person. The name.”
The fan vendor took back from Jean Marc the fan depicting the Temple, gave him the one of Danton, and held out her hand palm up. “Give me a few francs.” Sheput the money Jean Marc gave her on her tray and stood up.“Merci, Citizen. The lady will be the envy of all when she displays my fan.”
“When?” Juliette persisted.
“Ifwe decide to help”—Nana Sarpelier picked up the tray—“I’ll let you know when we’ve accomplished the task. Leave your address with Raymond.”
“Raymond?”
“Raymond Jordaneau, the man who served you. He owns the café and is one of us.” She picked up the tray and sauntered through the crowded tables, stopping here and there with a smile and a word.
