Ladies of leisure!Even in his crude French translation, she knew he meant a harlot.What cheek! What gall!She ought to feel her father’s fury, not only at Monsieur Branley’s impertinent assumption but also at herself for allowing their conversation to stray to such an unseemly topic.
In truth, though, she couldn’t feel even a modicum of outrage. It was a flaw in her nature, she decided, a wayward trait that might land her with the label of a jade or a light-heeled wench if she wasn’t careful.
Trying to sound grave, she asked, “You didn’t answer my question regarding what precisely you are doing here?”
He sighed. “Mademoiselle Renault, are you aware Emperor Bonaparte is returning?”
She nearly laughed. “I am not a nitwit. It is all anyone is talking about.”
“Do you have thoughts on the matter?” he persisted.
Serena hesitated. Obviously as an Englishman, he would be wary of the emperor’s return. He probably had supported King Louis’s reclaiming of the throne the previous year.
She thought carefully about her response. “I only want for my fellow Parisians to live in peace.”
“Bonaparte is not bringing peace, I assure you,” Monsieur Branley shot back.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because the rest of Europe, as well as Britain, do not want him here. Thus, war will inevitably break out as soon as he declares himself ruler again.”
She shivered, knowing it to be the truth. Her grandparents had said as much.
“Je m’excuse,”he said, “I don’t wish to frighten you. I doubt the fighting will be in Paris. At least not the main battles anyway. Everyone respects the city as a jewel of historic importance, even if it is cramped and filthy,” he added under his breath, although she heard him.
“You are here from Britain to do something about Bonaparte,” she surmised.
He glanced at her yet didn’t confirm her guess.
“And the man from whom you keep running?” she prompted again. If there was danger at the Halle aux Vins, Serena wanted to know about it.
“I wouldn’t have run earlier if we weren’t in a busy market and if he didn’t have three fellow citizens who looked ready to anoint me with the oil of gladness.”
He’d switched into English, but she still hadn’t a clue what he meant.
At her bewattled expression, he spoke in French. “To give me a robust beating.”
“But just now,” she pointed out, “we ran again.”
“Just now,youwere with me, and I wouldn’t have him see us together for all the world. After all, you came to my aid and translated at the Café des Aveugles. Seeing us in close proximity twice might lead him to think you know something about my actions or his.” He sent her a small smile, enough to warm her toes.
“Either way,” he added, “I don’t want you involved. But in case you fear for your safety, I am armed.” He patted his pocket.
She wondered what he would think if he learned she carried a pistol, too. When her parents had brought her to France, her father had given her a pretty but deadly silver muff pistol, although she usually carried it, as she did that day, in a leather holster her grand-père had made, strapped just above her left boot.
“If it had come to it, I would not have let him or his men kill me,” Monsieur Branley added matter-of-factly. “Although as I said, I would have greatly disrelished drawing my gun and opening fire in the Halle aux Vins. It would have drawn far too much attention.”
She was wondering if she should tell her grandparents any of this, or if they would decide she was enjoying a bit too much freedom. Possibly, with involving herself in the actions of a British spy, she was going too far.
“I say, Mademoiselle Renault, do you always walk this far?”
“Not at all.” Actually, she was rather weary after a long day, and her feet were tired. “Normally, I would signal afiacre— a taxi, you understand? — but I thoughtyouwanted to walk.”
He laughed. “Thank God! While it was nice to stretch my legs, I’d prefer not to still be walking at midnight.”
With that, he waved down a single-horsed carriage and helped her into the back before climbing in beside her.
“Café de Chartres at the Palais Royal, monsieur,” he told the driver.
