He shook his head ruefully as he bowed with a flourish. “I’ll do all within my power to oblige you, Madame.”
“And I’ll do all to oblige you,” she said softly, her gaze clinging to his a moment longer before she turned away and opened the door. “Remember the armoire.”
A Savonnerie carpet patterned in beige and ivory now covered the cold stone floor and heavy rose-colored-velvet drapes hung at the window. A scarlet velvet coverlet had replaced the linen blanket, and a massive cream-covered cushioned chair with a matching footrest occupied the area next to the porcelain stove.
“It’s not too bad.” Catherine tilted her head critically as she looked around the room. “I like the yellow curtains in my room at Vasaro better, but these are heavier and will do more to shut out the cold.”
“Did you leave Jean Marc any furniture?” François asked as he leaned back and rested his head on the cushioned back of the chair. “As I recall, he had a fondness for this chair. He always sat in it when we met in the Gold Salon.”
“Because it’s large enough for a big man. You need it more than he does.” Catherine smiled. “Don’t worry, he didn’t argue with me when I took it. Jean Marc has many chairs and he can spare us this one.” She shivered. “It’s still chilly here. We can’t seem to get rid of the cold. Is the little boy’s apartment this cold?”
François nodded. “But he’s not uncomfortable. The Simons treat him very well, by their own standards. Of late they’ve let him live a normal life.” His lips twisted. “Though, God knows, at first they did everything to turn him into what the republic wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
“Simon had orders to coarsen him, educate him in the ways of the common man.”
She frowned, puzzled. “What did they do?”
“Brought in whores, taught him to drink wine as if it were water. He was in a drunken haze during most of the period before they guillotined his mother.”
Catherine looked at him in horror. “But he’s only a little boy. How could they do that to him?”
“It’s Simon’s idea of heaven for the common man,” François said dryly. “Whores, wine, and time to enjoy both. In his eyes he was only doing his duty and showing the boy a fine time.”
Catherine shook her head. “How is Louis Charles now?”
“Old for his years. When I look at him and remember Michel…” His gaze met her own. “They’ve robbed him of his childhood. I want to give it back to him, Catherine, but I don’t know if anyone can.”
Tears welled in Catherine’s eyes as she heard the weariness and discouragement in his tone. He had struggled long and hard against tremendous odds and had lost as often as he had won. Pray God he did not lose this time. “When can I meet him?”
“Tomorrow. I have supper with the Simons twice a week and then play cards with Simon and a few of the officers. You’re sure you want to do this? They’re crude, bawdy people.”
“The field workers at Vasaro are certainly not genteel.” She smiled. “And I liked them very much indeed.” Her smile faded. “Though I don’t believe I’ll like these people. To bring whores to an eight-year-old boy…”
He held out his hand and she came to stand before him. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You could always go back to your garden.”
“No, I couldn’t,” she whispered. “Not without you. Never again without you, François.”
He pulled her down on his lap and cradled her in his arms. He sat holding her, carefully, lovingly, for a long time without speaking. At first she was aware only of the delicious pleasure of being close and held as ifshe were a treasure infinitely precious to him. However, gradually she became aware the muscles of his body were hardening against her own. Her heart leapt and then began to pound harder as his lips pressed to her throat.
“You do know how much I want you?” he whispered.
She stiffened and then forced herself to relax against him. She had known this moment would come, and she had thought she’d prepared herself for it. She laughed shakily. “That night we were wed you said you didn’t like skinny women.”
“I lied.”
“When I thought about it later, I suspected you had.”
“I wanted you so much I was hurting.”
They were silent a long time.
His voice was muffled against her hair. “It doesn’t have to be tonight. I can wait.”
She was frightened. She could tell him to wait and he would do it. She wouldn’t have to face the fear tonight.
But if she told him to wait, she would be hiding again.
