“There are other needs that must be met as well.” He sat down in a cushioned chair and leaned his arm on the table beside him. “And you can imagine that in my present state I have great difficulty persuading a woman to pleasure me.”
“I understand the strumpets on the Palais Royal care little how a man looks as long as he has money in his pockets.”
“But they can’t give me what I need. I used to have a choice mistress who was quite wonderful. She was an actress at the Comédie Française. Camille Cadeaux. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?”
Nana shook her head.
“She looked a little like you. A tall, strapping, full-figured woman. She suited my purpose admirably.”
“Then I suggest you return to her.”
“Oh, I can’t. While I was in Spain she took another lover, and when I tried to get her to change her mind, she refused to accommodate me.”
“Perhaps you can persuade her to see how mistaken she’d be to discard a truly admirable gentleman such as yourself.”
“Sarcasm isn’t permitted,” Dupree said. “It’s clear I’ll have to train you as I did her.”
“It hardly seems worth your time when your Camille is already—”
“Camille is dead.” Dupree smiled as he saw the shock on her face. “I really couldn’t permit her to live and continue to go to another man’s bed. It would have desecrated the role she played.”
“Role?”
“I told you she was an actress.” He nodded to a large armoire against the wall. “You’ll find a gown and a wig in there. They were Camille’s, but I’m sure they’ll fit you just as well. Put them on.”
She simply stared at him. What was his game?
“Now, you know you would never have come here unless you intended to do as I wished.”
She went to the armoire. “Have you decided how you’re going to dispose of the king?”
“Poison, I think. I know an apothecary on the rue Marat who will oblige me with what I need. Poison would seem a safe, reasonable method for Robespierre to choose, and I no longer have the strength for a physical struggle.”
“The king is only eight. He wouldn’t struggle hard enough to—”
“I don’t want to speak of the king. Put on the gown.”
Twenty minutes later she stood before him in the pink brocade gown, tucking her own brown hair beneath the stylishly coiffed gray wig.
Dupree could feel the excitement rise within as he looked at her. “Magnificent,” he said breathily. “Youhave a strength Camille never possessed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver snuff box. “Bend down. There’s one last touch.”
She bent close to him, her expression wooden.
He opened the snuff box, carefully extracted the heart-shaped beauty mark, and put it just to the left of her mouth. “There, you’re quite perfect now.” His hands were shaking as he closed the snuff box and replaced it in his pocket. “Kneel before me.”
Nana hesitated and then sank to her knees before his chair.
“Very good. Now the words. You must say them very sincerely or I’ll be displeased.”
“What words?”
His voice took on a high, simpering note. “Raoul, promise me we’ll be together always. You’re mother’s own sweet boy. I’ll never punish you again.”
She repeated the words.
His hand cracked against her cheek. “Sincerely. Again.”
Nana opened her mouth to speak, her eyes glittering with anger, then she drew a deep breath. A moment later she repeated the words.
