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De Merville checked his pocket watch. “They are already late.”
Hugh’s chest felt heavy with dread.
“We should eat something before our journey,” the vicomte said. “At least we still have our chef.”
In the dining room, the vicomtesse and Angelette sat drinking coffee. Both were dressed in traveling clothes and bonnets, which gave Hugh hope. He might have wished they looked less like nobility, but even dressed as servants the women would stand out. They were too clean, too pretty, too elegant. The vicomtesse looked pale and worried. Angelette looked resigned. “No coaches?” she said, not sounding surprised.
“I am certain they are but delayed,” the vicomte said with a smile. “Surely they will be here before we are finished eating.” He poured himself coffee and filled a plate. Hugh wasn’t hungry, and he would never understand the French love affair with coffee. He would have asked the chef for tea, but he didn’t intend to drink it.
“What sort of conveyance do you own?” he asked.
The vicomte shook his head. “A small phaeton for use in town and one town hack. That is all.”
The phaeton wouldn’t even fit all four of them much less any of the de Mervilles’ luggage. And that was assuming the servants hadn’t taken the horses when they departed. “Then if the coachmen will not come to us, we will have to go to them.”
The vicomtesse set her coffee cup down with a rattle. “But surely you cannot think to go out into the city. You could be killed.”
Hugh considered. “The Bastille is to the east, just outside the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. I assume your man ordered the coaches in the Palais-Royal, which is west of us.”
“Yes. Everything can be obtained from the Palais-Royal.”
Owned by the Duc d’Orléans, the Palais-Royal was full of coffee shops, merchants, and at night, prostitutes. The duc took a portion of all sold there and had become a very rich man. But the area had also become a gathering place for those espousing revolutionary ideals to speak and distribute pamphlets. Crowds often gathered there to listen to men argue for equality and revolt. The duc had allowed this to go on because he coveted his cousin’s throne and saw in the people a way to overthrow King Louis XVI and take his place.
“Then if the mobs are east and I go west, there should be no danger.”
“We go west,” Angelette said.
“No.” Hugh rose. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You just said there should be no danger.”
Hugh glared at her. “I don’t expect any, but if there is, I’d rather you were here.”
Now Angelette stood. “And I would rather not stay hidden away. I want to know what is happening as much as you do.” She walked past him and out the door of the dining room. Barely pausing, she glanced over her shoulder. “Coming?”
Hugh gritted his teeth before turning to the vicomte. But perhaps seeing Paris as it was now would convince her to leave with him. “Lock your doors and close the shutters. Do not open the door for anyone but the comtesse or myself.”
The vicomtesse rose and took his hands in her small, cold ones. “May God go with you, monsieur.”
Hugh nodded grimly, then followed the path Angelette had taken to the foyer. As he joined her on the street below, he heard more shots and breaking glass. Law and order had fled and soon chaos would reign. Hugh prayed God too had not abandoned Paris.
