“Without question or he’ll be forced to do without your services. He’s very concerned about the possibility the little king might be freed and taken, not to his own loving arms, but to England. He believes Etchelet is working toward that aim without informing him.”
Nana was silent a moment. “It’s true. Etchelet only recently told me about it. I would have sent word to Monsieur in my next report.”
“But you don’t have to report to him now. You report to me,” Dupree said. “Much more convenient. We can’t allow Etchelet to succeed, of course. The count has made that perfectly clear.”
“What are we to do?”
“Kill the boy.”
Nana nodded. It was the answer she had expected. “It’s the sensible thing to do. If Etchelet didn’t free the boy, then one of the other groups might. The Baron de Batz almost managed to free the queen days before she was guillotined. How will you kill the child?”
“I haven’t decided. I’ll let you know. The count wants the death blamed on Robespierre in order to disrupt the convention.” He shrugged. “That may take some manipulation.”
“You have access to the boy?”
“Of course. You forget who I am. I may no longer have my former power, but all the guards know of Raoul Dupree.” He rose to his feet. “Find out all you can from Etchelet regarding their plans. We must strike before them.”
She nodded. “Where do I reach you?”
He gave her the address of his lodgings. “You’ll come to me tonight.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I may not know anything for a few days.”
“You will come to me anyway. I require certain services.”
“What—” She broke off as she realized his meaning and couldn’t keep the distaste from her expression.
“You find me less than pleasing?” He laughed harshly. “So does the entire world. Andreas made me into this monster. Andreas and his bitch. We shall have to find a way to include them in our plans.” He turned away. “In the meantime, if you don’t wish me to send a report to the count that I found you unobliging, you’ll come to me tonight.”
He limped from the room.
TWENTY-THREE
François’s lodgings in the Temple looked more like a cell than living quarters for a municipal official, Catherine thought with a shiver as the officer stepped aside for her to enter. The stone walls seemed to breathe a damp chill and the furnishings were almost nonexistent: a simply crafted table with three chairs, a small chest, a narrow bed with only a shabby linen coverlet.
“I’ll have to wait here with you until Citizen Etchelet comes,” Captain Ardlaine told her apologetically as he pulled out a chair for her. “No one is allowed alone in the Tower without the proper papers.”
“I told you my husband didn’t know I was coming. He would have arranged to have me admitted if he’d—” She frowned. “Is it always this cold?” Catherine drew her crimson cloak more closely around her. The Decembercold seemed to pierce the thick stone walls. “Why is there no fire in the stove?”
“I’ll light one.” He moved toward the porcelain stove. “The citizen’s duties keep him away for most of the day, and it’s not practical to keep a fire—”
“Catherine!” François stood in the doorway.
He appeared harder, thinner, wearier than he had at Vasaro, she thought, but still he looked wonderful. She jumped to her feet. “This gentleman believes I don’t belong here, François. Please tell him I’m your wife.”
“My…wife,” François repeated slowly. He turned to the soldier. “Yes, of course, Paul, this is my wife, Catherine. God in heaven, what are you doing here, Catherine?”
She came toward him. “Why should I live in comfort at Vasaro when you choose to serve the republic by existing in this hovel? I decided I should be by your side.” She turned and smiled at the captain. “Thank you for being so kind, Captain. Will you have my boxes brought up from the courtyard now?”
The captain nodded. “You’re a lucky man, Citizen. But remember to get proper papers for her.”
“I’ll remember.” François’s gaze never left Catherine. “If she stays. My wife’s spirit is stronger than her constitution. I’m not sure living here would be the best thing for her.”
Catherine smiled at him. “I should know what’s best for me. Everyone knows a woman’s place is with her husband.”
As soon as the heavy oak door closed behind the captain, François demanded, “What’s this about, Catherine? Why are you here?”
She drew a deep breath. “This isn’t easy for me.”
