His smile faded. “You’ve been nearer the guillotine than you think. Georges Jacques said Dupree caught a glimpse of you yesterday.” He saw her stiffen and shook his head. “He didn’t recognize you, but it was very close.”
She shrugged. “I can’t hide myself away any longer. It’s not my way. If I hadn’t had Catherine to care for these last weeks, I would have gone mad in that house.”
The carriage stopped in front of Jean Marc’s house and she gathered her cloak around her. “I should have told him to stop down the street again. Oh, well, perhaps Jean Marc hasn’t come back from seeing Monsieur Bardot as yet.Au revoir, François.”
Laurent opened the door to the carriage and helped her down to the sidewalk.
“Notau revoir.”Grimness inflected François’s voiceas he watched her hurry up the steps. “I most earnestly hope it’sadieu, Juliette.”
The lanterns affixed on either side of the door on the walls of the alcove revealed both Juliette’s deplorably dirty face and the mischievous glance she cast him over her shoulder.
“But how often are our hopes realized in this world, François?”
She entered the house and with utmost care to be silent, closed the front door.
TWELVE
Juliette dashed across the foyer and started to mount the staircase two steps at a time.
“What an intriguing ensemble. Don’t tell me that gown came from Julie Lamartine’s?”
Juliette stopped on the eighth step.Merde, she should have known events were going too well. She sighed and turned to face Jean Marc, who stood leaning against the jamb of the archway of the salon, his arms folded across his chest.
His gaze traveled slowly over her. “If it did come from Julie’s establishment, then I’ve been grossly cheated.”
“It’s one of Marie’s old gowns.”
“Rags. Is that the latest fashion? I’ve always been fascinated by the vagaries of ladies’ apparel. Come down and let me get a closer look at you.”
Jean Marc’s tone was silky but his lips were tight with displeasure. Juliette hesitatedand then came slowly down the stairs and across the foyer to stop before him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been out. This is my disguise.”
“Is it?” He reached out, touched her cheek, and then looked at the soot on his fingertips. “Who were you supposed to be? A chimney sweep?”
She merely gazed at him.
He took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his fingers. “I thought I’d expressed my wishes very clearly regarding your venturing from this house. And just where have you been? Perhaps for a walk on the square?”
She didn’t answer.
“Or a ride in a carriage? Please, don’t bother to lie. I discovered you were gone more than an hour ago and was watching out the window when the carriage drew up in front of the house.” He paused. “Danton’s carriage, I believe. I recognized his driver. Was Danton in the coach?”
“No, it was François.”
“And where had you been with our friend François?”
There was no avoiding it. Jean Marc was obviously not going to give up. “It was your own fault I had to sneak out of the house. If you’d been reasonable, I could have gone without—”
“Where did you go?”
“To the Temple.”
Jean Marc froze. “The Temple?”
“Well, I had to see the queen. How else was I to find out where she’d hidden the Wind Dancer? You told me she was the only one who knew its whereabouts.”
“So you went to the Temple to ask her.” Jean Marc’s words were measured. “It didn’t occur to you that if you’d been caught you’d almost certainly been taken before the Commune and recognized by Dupree?”
“Why are you so upset? You were quite safe. If I had been caught, I would never have told them you sheltered me.”
