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Or could she? She’d seen something. That much was certain. She’d looked at him with suspicion ever since they’d left Le Grand Véfour. And yet he didn’t volunteer any information. Which probably made her more suspicious.
And now—bloody damn hell—he would have to find a way to warn Ffoulkes about Madame’s assistant because he couldn’t just leave the man unaware that he’d been compromised. And Ramsey didn’t even want to consider all of the ironies involved in that decision.
The door opened, and he turned quickly to see Gabrielle stepping into the hallway. She was dressed in black from head to toe, the area just above her toes being the most interesting.
“You’re wearing breeches,” he said, unable to stop staring at her legs. He had never realized she had such long legs before. He had never noticed her calves were so perfectly rounded or that her thighs were so lean or that her derriere…
“I thought it might make movement easier in case we need to leave quickly.”
You’re wearing breeches. He almost said it again before he realized he’d already pointed that out.
“Don’t you agree?” she asked.
“I…”You’re wearing breeches. He finally looked up. She was wearing a man’s shirt and coat as well. “Where are your…?” He gestured helplessly at her shirt.
“I bound them,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I know this clothing might cause more harm than good if we are caught by one of the patrols, but skirts are so cumbersome.”
He wanted to remove the coat and shirt, take hold of the bindings, and turn her around and around until he had her free. Then he’d put his hands on…
“Sedgwick?” she said sharply.
He blinked. “What?”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course.”
“Well?”
He had no idea what response she expected. And his gaze was dropping to her derriere again.
“Do you think I should change?” she asked. He couldn’t help but note that she sounded a bit impatient now.
“Change what?”
She stared at him, clearly annoyed. “My clothing!” She was holding a cap, one like those worn by the sansculottes, and she pulled it onto her head. He noticed now she’d pinned most of her hair up, but some hung down, giving a good impression of an unkempt workman.
Except she was no man. Still, now that he was looking at her face and trying to imagine her as a boy, he thought the disguise might work. Her lips were still too feminine, and there was that small freckle beside them that drove him half mad with lust, but if he were not looking for a woman, he did not think he would see one. She was slim enough to pass, though the bindings on her breasts did nothing to conceal the curves of her hips.
“No, don’t change,” he finally answered. And it was not only for his own pleasure that he made that determination. They’d decided earlier to hide in the building housing the Committee of Public Safety so as to have access to Robespierre’s office directly at midnight without risking encountering a patrol on the way.
Getting out was trickier, and they didn’t have a plan for that yet.
“It’s half past nine,” Gabrielle said. “We should go.”
“Into the lion’s den.” He gestured for her to descend the stairs first and immediately regretted his chivalry. The view from the rear was better than he’d hoped. She needed a longer coat.
They made their way through the dark, winding through the maze of Paris’s narrow streets. The buildings seemed to jut like decaying boulders above them and the few people they encountered appeared and disappeared like specters.
“I don’t like this,” Gabrielle murmured as they passed a doorway where several men stood smoking. “I’ve been to Paris dozens of times and was never afraid after dark.”
“This isn’t the Paris you knew,” Ramsey said. “It doesn’t even know what it is anymore. It changes from day to day, night to night.”
“How horrible not to be able to sleep in peace,” she murmured as they approached the buildings of the committee. “How awful to lie in bed, uncertain whether you shall sleep through the night or be woken violently by soldiers intent upon ransacking your possessions and dragging you to prison for the least infraction.”
“Makes me yearn for the squalor of London.”
She laughed. “It does, yes. Here we are. Are you ready?”
