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She gave him a tight smile. “Well, do tell me when I’ve run out of funds.”
He bowed to her and turned to enter the entertainment complex. When he had been in Paris, coincidentally with Viscount McCullough a year or so before the viscount’s marriage to Gabrielle, Ramsey had visited the Palais-Royal. The large building complex was the seat of the Orléans family, most notably the former duc d’Orléans, Louis Philippe, cousin to the king. Now known as Philippe Égalité, the former duc had voted for the king’s death. He had recently fallen out of favor with the revolutionary government, though the people championed him still. Ramsey imagined that courting the people was one reason Orléans had opened the gardens of the palace to the public.
The Palais-Royal had been a place of boutiques, cafés, and salons—as well as prostitutes—when Ramsey had been here before. It was still thus, though the atmosphere was somewhat less frivolous. Still, some things never changed. The cafés were bursting with men talking politics.
“Where are you to meet our friend?” Ramsey asked. Gabrielle took a moment to answer. She looked about her, noting the changes.
“There are colonnades now,” she observed. “It’s an improvement…Oh? He will be near Le Grand Véfour.”
“Of course.” Ramsey had taken coffee at the restaurant when he’d last been here. He steered Gabrielle in that direction, noting the crowds spilling from Le Grand Véfour’s rooms.
“Will you go inside and search for him?” Gabrielle asked.
He nodded. “Will you be all right here on your own?”
She indicated a small bench. “I shall wait right here.” And she sat primly on the edge. Ramsey gave her a last look and waded into the restaurant. He moved through the men and women talking, eating, and drinking, looking for Ffoulkes’s blond hair. But after circling the establishment twice, and drawing several curious looks, he had not found the man. He was standing near a window, though, and chanced to glance out.
Gabrielle was no longer on the bench.
He turned abruptly, intending to leave, and stared into the smiling face of Madame’s assistant.
“We meet again,” she cooed.
Chapter 12
“Do you mind if we walk?” Ffoulkes asked Gabrielle as he led her along a row of shops not far from Le Grand Véfour. “I don’t like to be in one place for long.”
Gabrielle threaded her arm with his. She liked Sir Andrew. He had a boyish charm that would have appealed to almost anyone. She supposed that was why he was a successful member of the Pimpernel’s League. Who would suspect a man with a baby face and such big blue eyes of anything clandestine? As they left the colonnades beside the restaurant, she glanced back, hoping to signal to Ramsey.
“I saw your friend go inside,” Ffoulkes said, walking leisurely but with purpose. “I hope you don’t mind if we leave him for a moment.”
“No.” She looked back at Ffoulkes. “You don’t trust him?”
Ffoulkes raised a brow. “Do you?”
“No, but he’s a good thief. I could use his help with…the item.”
Ffoulkes nodded. “That’s your decision, of course.” He pulled her aside as a group of Jacobins passed. Gabrielle felt the men’s eyes study and assess her. When they were out of earshot, he murmured, “Did you have any trouble on your way?”
“No,” she replied.
“Your cockade looks a bit ragged,” Ffoulkes said. Gabrielle glanced down at the crisp red, white, and blue ribbons Alex had pinned on her this morning. She doubted it had ever been worn.
“Allow me to purchase you a new one, citoyenne.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle said. She had learned not to ask too many questions or to argue in this new France.
He directed her to a cart selling revolutionary souvenirs and handed over an assignat. When Gabrielle had the new cockade, Ffoulkes held out a hand. “Allow me, citoyenne.” She dropped the pin into his palm. Gabrielle felt perfectly capable of pinning the ornament on herself, but something in Ffoulkes’s steady gaze held her tongue.
As he pinned the cockade to her lapel, his gaze never left hers. Finally, he stepped back to admire his work. “There you are, citoyenne. You have everything you need.” He made a show of producing his pocket watch. “I’m afraid I have another appointment. Shall I see you back to Le Grand Véfour?”
Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder. The restaurant was not far. “No. I wouldn’t want you to be late.”
“Adieu.”
Gabrielle blinked. He had usedadieu,notau revoir.She did not think that was by accident, and she knew suddenly she would not see him again. He bowed, stepped away from her, and she almost called him back. What about le Saphir Blanc? How would she find it without Sir Andrew’s aid?
But Sir Andrew raised a hand and touched it to his cockade before turning from her. With a sharp intake of breath, Gabrielle glanced down at her own cockade. Was it her imagination or was a slip of paper pinned beside the white ruffles?
