Page 79 of Souvenir Heart

“You and me. I don’t want to take the chance of anyone remembering that Andre was there with Allard and asking uncomfortable questions about the night our guard friend had his unfortunate accident.”

“Andre, I want you to surveil the gate at the Pont du Jour. Report back to me on their procedures, the level of traffic, the level of the guards’ attention. I know you’ve been keeping an ear to the ground on this, but I want to make sure there haven’t been any changes since the escape.”

“Might it be better—faster, to ride? Leave the carriage behind?”

David looked as if Andre was suggesting leaving his child behind.

“Riding would be faster, but we can sleep in the coach if need be. And most of the supplies we’ll need are concealed in it. Given all the changes David’s made to it, it’s unlikely the guards around Rouen will recognize it.”

“The documents you created and the story you came up with, also seem to be working a charm,” David said “Indeed, the more often I appear at the gate, the less attention the guards pay me.”

“It’s going to take time for rumors about the escape to filter out of the prison, but if there’s a place where they’re most likely to spread, it’s the Cock’s Roost.”

“And while we’re out conducting surveillance and collecting rumors, how do you plan to keep Lady Walks About occupied?

“If you’re asking how I plan to keep her from leaving the premises?” Marcus tapped his plate with his fork. “The lady’s many things, but none of them a fool.”

“I’m delighted to discover you hold me in such high regard,” the lady in question said, as she swept into the room.

Marguerite was wearing a floral-printed round gown and her hair was tied back in a braid with loose curls framing her face. To Marcus’s critical eye, she looked too pale, the smudges under her eyes too dark. As his gaze lingered on her face, the sealed cabinet of emotions in his chest began to rattle. He forced himself to look away.

“Omelet! How lovely,” she declared, picking up a plate and fork. “I’m assuming you’re about to inform me that I should just stay here and wait…“

Her tone sounded much like the one she’d used when she’d said, “The fake names—is Marcus Tyndale really your name, or just your name for now? The disguises; the I-can’t-tell-you-just-wait-for-my-instructions secrecy.”

“And waste your considerable talents?”

“My what?” She turned to look at him, eyes narrowed.

Marcus gestured with his fork at the art box he’d set on the edge of the table and said, “My dear Madame de Rouvroy, have you ever considered learning the fine art of forgery?”

Forty-Nine

“Forgery?” Unbidden, the lines of the ridiculous verse scrawled in the margin of the De Arte Graphica popped into her head: Do not tell me of your heart, fair one, but show me your art. She scowled at Marcus.

“Shocking, I know.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Nearly as dangerous as drawing Marat as a fish.”

That damn doodled fish. Would he ever let it go? As if he’d never done anything that he regretted later.

Andre studied them both for several long moments. Then he flipped the last omelet onto a plate, divided it, slid half onto the plate in front of Marguerite, and took a seat at the table beside a massive man with honey-blond hair.

Downing the last bite of his omelet, the big man tossed back the remainders of his tea and began clearing away his utensils.

“You.” She’d been about to take a bite of egg and cheese, but hesitated, staring at him with growing certainty she’d seen him before. “You were in the courtroom. You made a windmill for a small boy.”

“Man’s forever tinkering.” Andre shook his head. “I’d say it keeps him out of trouble, but well,” he glanced around the room, “it doesn’t. Still, bad habit if you ask me.”

“I’m fairly certain I didn’t ask you.” The big man flashed white teeth. “And my tinkering has saved your neck more than once.” Turning back to Marguerite, he gave her a bow that was surprisingly graceful for such a large frame. “I’m at your service Madame de Rouvroy. I’m…”

She held up a hand. “Are you about to offer me a fake name?”

He shrugged. “A necessary evil in this business. Just David will do.”

“Just David, were you driving the coach last night?”

“I was.”

“Then I thank you for your timely arrival.”