Philippe nodded. “I’ll take care of them, Jean Marc.”
“You’re damned right you will. Where’s Juliette?”
“She went back inside to fetch the shawl Catherine left in the garden.”
“Etchelet’s meeting you shortly before you reach the barriers to make sure you get through without difficulty. You have the papers?”
“I’m not a fool, Jean Marc.”
Jean Marc didn’t answer as he turned and started to climb the steps. He met Juliette coming out of the front door as he reached the top step. She wore a dark green traveling gown and matching bonnet, and a blue silk shawl was draped over her left arm. “You have it? Good, get in the carriage.”
“Why aren’t you going with her, Jean Marc?” Juliette’s voice was low, her face shadowed by the brim of her bonnet. “You should be the one to go with her. After all, she’s your responsibility.”
“I believe you’ve pointed that out before,” Jean Marc said dryly. “I can’t leave Paris now. The National Convention’s in the middle of a debate about whether to confiscate more ships for the navy. If I’m not here to stop it, they’ll strip my shipyards even of the ships under construction.”
“Business again?”
“Philippe will send for me if there’s a problem. Once you’re beyond the barriers, you’ll be safe. Vasaro is a world of its own.”
“I’m not worried about being safe.” She started down the steps, her head bent, her gaze on the carriage. “I just think you should—”
“Look at me.” Jean Marc’s hand grasped her arm. “I want to see your face. You’re being entirely too subdued.”
She lifted her head and he saw tears swimming in her eyes. “She needs you, Jean Marc.”
He shook his head. “She has you and I’ll come to Vasaro in a few months’ time. It’s best, ma petite. I can’t go on this way much longer. You’re still wounded and I’m not accustomed to walking the virtuous path.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He smiled crookedly. “I know you don’t. But, if I went with you to Vasaro, you’d find out inside a few days. I might even decide to borrow Philippe’s Cottage of Flowers.”
She avoided his gaze. “I’m not wounded.”
“Is that an invitation?”
The blood scorched her cheeks as she started down the steps again. “All this has nothing to do with Catherine. You speak in riddles.”
“But a riddle you could easily decipher if you cared to make the effort. You’ve known the answer all along, but you chose to ignore it.” He followed her and stopped beside her as she reached the carriage. “And I chose to let you ignore it. By permitting you to leave Paris without me, I’m letting you ignore it again.” He lifted Juliette into the carriage onto the seat next to Catherine. “I’ve no doubt you’ll manage quite well without me at Vasaro.” He smiled faintly. “Au revoir, Juliette.”
“Au revoir.” Juliette’s gaze clung to his with desperation. “I didn’t mean I couldn’t manage without you. I only meant it was your responsibility and not mine to care for Catherine. I think you should—”
“Au revoir, Juliette,” Jean Marc repeated as he slammed the carriage door and motioned to the driver.
Juliette stuck her head out the window and he was astonished to see the tears that had been brimming were now running down her cheeks. It was completely unlike Juliette to allow herself to display weakness. “You never listen to me. I’m trying to tell you—”
As the carriage lurched, Jean Marc stepped back to avoid its wheels. Juliette sank back in the coach; Jean Marc stood in the street looking after them.
All would be well. Etchelet would send him a message as soon as they had passed the barriers. Nothing should go wrong. Still, he had a nagging sense of anxiety and unease as he remembered Juliette’s desperate expression. He suddenly wished he had gone with them.
He was being foolish. His place was not at Vasaro with Juliette, but here in Paris attending to his own business concerns.
Dark was falling when Robert came into the study where Jean Marc was working at his desk and began to light the candles. “A message has just come from Monsieur Etchelet.”
Jean Marc stiffened. “Yes?”
“The carriage was permitted through the barrier.”
The tension uncoiled within him. “Thank God.”
Robert nodded. “Shall I tell Marie you’ll have your supper now?”
Jean Marc picked up his pen. “Soon. I have some work to finish. Perhaps in an hour.”
Robert stood hesitating as he reached the door. “I wondered what I should do with the painting, Monsieur?”
Jean Marc looked up. “Painting?”
“The painting Mademoiselle Juliette was doing of me. She left it on the easel in the garden. She must have forgotten it.”
“Yes.” Juliette cared too much about her work to treat it so carelessly—and for her to forget a painting in progress was extraordinary. She must have been even more upset than he’d supposed. “You’d better put it in her chamber.”
“Yes, Monsieur.” Robert closed the door.
Her chamber? Juliette had been a guest in this house for only a short time, and yet everything she touched seemed stamped with an indelible impression. Stubborn, exasperating, willful, she managed in some way to touch him as no woman ever had. The house seemed oddly silent without her vibrant, demanding presence, and he was experiencing a restlessness out of all proportion. He heard the door open.
“I’m hungry. Will you tell Marie to fix supper?”
Jean Marc froze and slowly his gaze lifted from the document on the desk in front of him.
Juliette stood in the doorway of the study, gazing at him defiantly. She had removed her dark green bonnet and was swinging it by its ribbons. As he watched, she ran nervous fingers through her tousled dark curls. “You needn’t glare at me. I told you that you were the one who should go with her but you wouldn’t listen to me. Now she has only Philippe and you know how she feels about him, but—”
“What the devil are you doing here?”
“I’m going to stay here.”
He felt a leap of emotion he refused to identify. “Not likely.”
“Well, where else am I to go?”
“Vasaro.”
“I can’t go to Vasaro. François said I’m smothering Catherine, and I’m not sure he’s right, but I—” She stopped. “No, that’s not true. He is right.”
“Nonsense.”
She shook her head, her fingers opening and closing on the ribbons of her bonnet. “I don’t know how to let go. I wasn’t sure I could let her go even when I knew I should. Do you think it was easy for me to do this? I’ve never had anyone but Catherine and I didn’t want to believe him.”
“I can see I’m going to have to have a discussion with Monsieur Etchelet,” Jean Marc said grimly as he set his pen back in its holder. “I suppose he brought you back here from the barrier?”
She shook her head. “François doesn’t know I didn’t go with them. I had the carriage stop on the street before we reached the barrier. I got out and watched until they let Catherine through, then I started back. François was talking to the guards and never looked into the coach.”
“And just how did you make your way here?”
“I walked. I believed you would be angry, so I thought it best if the carriage were well on its way before you knew I wasn’t on it. You are angry, aren’t you?”
“Exceedingly.”
“Then I was right to—”
“You were not right,” he interrupted icily. “You were thoughtless and stupid and reckless. Why the hell have we been keeping you off the streets of Paris? What if you’d been recognized or—”
“I was careful. I wore my bonnet and kept my head down.” She frowned. “And I didn’t even ask directions when I became lost.”
“Merde, it’s a wonder you weren’t captured and thrown into prison. Do you have any idea how we’re going to get you out of Paris n
ow that you’ve seen fit to destroy our plans?”
“I’m not going to leave Paris. At least, not right away. Do you think I’d upset Catherine and walk halfway across the city to turn around and meekly follow them to Vasaro?”
“And just what is your intention?”
She gazed at him warily. “I think we’d better discuss this after supper.”
“Now.”
“I’m hungry,” she said. “And I’m tired and my feet hurt. I’m going to wash and eat and then we’ll talk.” She whirled on her heel. “Tell Marie to fix supper.”
“Juliette.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
His tone was soft but edged with steel. “I’ll wait to talk to you, but this is the last time you’ll ever give me orders in this house.”
Pink rose to color her cheeks. She started to speak, but thought better of it. Her gaze clung to his and suddenly he was startled to see the bravado fade into desperation. She looked hurriedly away and gave a careless shrug. “I doubt it.”
ELEVEN
May we talk now?” Jean Marc’s tone was impeccably polite as he placed his napkin beside his plate and leaned back in his chair.
Juliette reluctantly set down her spoon. “You didn’t eat very much. Are you sure you won’t have some more of Marie’s lemon syllabub? It is—”
“I don’t want lemon syllabub. I want to know why you’re not on your way to Vasaro. Three days ago you were in a frenzy of worry about Catherine and today you abandon her.”
“I didn’t abandon her,” Juliette said, stung. “I told you why I didn’t go with her. She’ll be better off without me for a while. In a few months I’ll join her at Vasaro and stay with her until the child is born.”
“And what if she realizes she’s with child before you decide to grace Vasaro with your presence?”
Panic speared through Juliette and she couldn’t speak for a moment. “I could be wrong. She might not be with child. We weren’t absolutely sure.”
Jean Marc gazed at her in disbelief.
“And if she is, then she’ll just have to face it alone. She has Vasaro and Philippe. Philippe said he would send for his mother as soon as they arrived. I couldn’t be expected to stay with her. She has to face what happened to her sometime, doesn’t she? She’s stronger than we think. You should have seen her this morning when François brought her—”
“Juliette.” Jean Marc’s voice cut through her feverish dialogue.
Jean Marc’s face blurred and Juliette fought back the tears stinging her eyes. She whispered, “I’m so frightened, Jean Marc. What if I’m wrong? When I told her I wasn’t going with her to Vasaro she looked so bewildered. I tried to explain it to her, but I know she didn’t understand.”
“I’m having a good deal of trouble understanding myself.”
“You see, I thought she needed me.”
“She does need you.”
“Does she?” Juliette swallowed and shook her head. “She did at the beginning, but now I can’t stop sheltering her. I’m too selfish.”
“Selfish?”
“I liked having her need me. It made me feel so good to be important to her.” She drew a deep shaky breath. “I thought about it a long time today and I realized François was probably right about me being bad for her. At first I decided I’d go to Vasaro anyway, but I knew that wouldn’t do. I don’t give up easily what I want. I had to cut the ties and let her go alone.” She tried to smile. “And if I am wrong, Philippe will send you a message and I’ll find a way to get to her at once.”
“May I point out you’d been a virtual prisoner in this house for almost six weeks before we could arrange to get you safely out of Paris?”
“We wouldn’t have to be nearly so careful with me as we were with Catherine.”
“No?” For an instant the sarcasm was arrested on Jean Marc’s expression, and he quickly glanced away. “I suppose I’d forgotten that no care need be taken for your welfare.”
She nodded briskly. “So you see my being here isn’t nearly as foolhardy as you might think. I can stay here for a few months and when Dupree leaves Paris we’ll have François get me papers that—”
“No.”
“But why? I’ve explained why it’s best for Catherine that I stay here.”
“But you haven’t explained why it would be best for me. Why should I harbor an enemy of the republic? Every minute you stay in my house, everything I own is in danger.” He smiled cynically. “Including my head. Personally, I don’t believe the claims the guillotine is the most humane way to die. I think it lacks a certain dignity.”
Juliette hadn’t considered the possibility that her presence might put Jean Marc in actual physical danger. She found the idea hard to accept. “You have too many friends in the government to be in jeopardy.”
“When a house topples, everyone scurries to get out of the way, not prop it up.”
“We could find a way to—”
“You’ve been fortunate not to have been discovered already.” Jean Marc’s lips tightened. “Particularly when you decide to stroll about the streets of Paris in broad daylight.”
“I told you why I took that risk.”
“I don’t regard your reasoning as either clear or prudent.” He shook his head. “Prudent? Merde, what am I thinking of? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
Juliette frowned. “I suppose I could try to find some other place to live. Perhaps Robert would help—”
“No!” Jean Marc’s hand clenched on the stem of his goblet. “You’re leaving for Vasaro as soon as possible.”
“Maybe you’re right. I guess Robert could be connected back to you. Besides, I wouldn’t want to endanger him.” She met his gaze across the table. “Very well, I’ll admit I could be a danger to you. What would make the danger worth tolerating?”
He looked down at the wine in his glass. “Nothing.”
“There must be something you want. You’re very greedy.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, I approve of greed. All the best artists were greedy. They took whatever they needed from life and from the people around them and put it into their work. It’s really quite fair when you consider what they gave back. That’s the most sublime form of avarice.”
He looked startled. “And is my greed sublime?”
“Well, perhaps not sublime, but I’ve never heard talk of you cheating anyone, so surely it’s a good, honest greed.”
He smiled faintly. “Well, since I’m afraid you don’t have anything to feed my greed, you’ll just have to go—”
“The Wind Dancer!” Juliette’s eyes were suddenly alight with excitement as she leaned forward in her chair. “Of course. You want the Wind Dancer!”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face. “And you don’t have it.”
“But perhaps I could think of a way to get it for you.”
His gaze narrowed on her face. “I thought you said Marie Antoinette had the right to keep her treasure?”
“It’s not doing her any good in the Temple, is it?” She was thinking quickly. “How much would you be willing to give to get the Wind Dancer back? I can’t remember how much you offered the queen.”
“Two million livres. Plus the loan I made to the king.”
“And you didn’t get any of the loan back?”
He shrugged. “I knew it was a risk.”
“Two million livres.” Juliette gnawed at her lower lip. “It’s a great deal of money. Would you pay me two million livres for the Wind Dancer?”
Jean Marc was silent a moment. “Yes.”
Her gaze flew to his face. “You do want it. It wasn’t only your father who wished it returned to the family. You want it too.”
Jean Marc sipped his wine.
“You must want it very badly.” Juliette’s gaze was still fastened on his face. “Why?”
“I don’t like being thwarted.”
“No, I think it’s more than that.”
“If
it is, then I refuse to let you probe it out of me. A man must have a few secrets.”
Jean Marc had more than his share and Juliette had never wanted more to uncover them than at that moment. In the candlelight his black eyes shimmered with cynical amusement and those beautifully shaped lips smiled mockingly. Yet, beneath it all, she sensed something …
He shifted his shoulders impatiently. “This conversation is useless. You’re trying to sell me something you don’t possess.”
“I’ll want two million livres for it,” Juliette said slowly. “And I want to stay in this house under your protection for as long as I wish. That’s my price for the Wind Dancer. Would you pay it?”
Jean Marc frowned impatiently. “You’re being ridiculous. You don’t have any idea who has the statue.”
“Would you pay it?”
“The revolutionary government has been searching for the Wind Dancer ever since it disappeared.”
“Would you pay it?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
“Then it’s a bargain.” Juliette smiled with relief. “Now, all I have to worry about is how I’m going to find it for you.”
Suddenly Jean Marc began to chuckle. “Merde, for a moment I was taking this nonsense seriously.”
“I am serious. I see nothing to laugh about.”
“It’s impossible.”
“I don’t see why.” Juliette frowned. “Though I admit I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’m sure you will. And, in the meantime, you won’t mind my making plans for sending you immediately to Vasaro?”
“But I’ll need time to—”
“You have no time.” Jean Marc’s smile faded. “I’ll not risk having you in my house a moment longer than necessary. You’ll be on your way to Vasaro before the week is gone.”
“Only a week?”
“Surely that’s enough time. After all, you said it wasn’t an impossible task.” He smiled recklessly and suddenly leaned forward and offered her his wine. “Shall we toast your success?”
She jerked back away from the goblet. “I don’t like wine.”
He was watching her. “Not even to toast such a splendid enterprise? Just a sip?”