“Stay here, back in the darkness. I shall be very quick. I’ll find her and together, we’ll search for you, and you shall appear perfectly innocent, enjoying a breath of air. Why don’t you start humming in a minute so we can find you?”
“Humming?” she repeated.
“Whistling a tune, perhaps?” he suggested.
“I can’t whistle.”
In the dim light, she could see him roll his eyes. “Then sing, cough, or sneeze, mademoiselle. Anything to make a little noise so it isn’t obvious I found you because I knew where I left you.”
“Very well. But hurry.”
“I will,” he promised. Yet he hesitated, turned, and dropped another kiss upon her lips, so swiftly, she couldn’t react.
“Yes,” he said, “I am a rake.”
He disappeared into the dark garden.
***
MALCOLM RAN LIKE Arabbit with a fox on its heels, around one side of the shrubbery and up the other side until he reached the area where people were still eating and talking outside. There was Madame Fournier, looking perplexed. He circled around before approaching her.
“Madame,” he said, making sure it appeared as though he’d come from indoors. “I wondered where you and your charge had got to.” He had a smile on his face, which he turned into a frown a moment later. “But where is she? Is she not with you?”
“Oh, monsieur, I half hoped, half dreaded she was with you. I will never forgive myself if something has happened to her. We came out of the retiring room, and she went immediately onto the dance floor, then I lost her in the crowd.”
“Let’s find her together,” he suggested.
The chaperone turned toward the back doors of the old palace.
“I think we should search the gardens,” he said, “since we are already out here.”
In a very few minutes, Malcolm steered Madame Fournier toward the small canal of water. As they approached the fountain, he could hear alternately humming and coughing. He nearly laughed outright.
“Serena?” Madame Fournier called out, rushing forward.
Malcolm let the chaperone go in and discover her. His only worry had been some other buck would find her first, but luckily, she was still alone.
When they came out, Madame Fournier appeared annoyed but relieved.
“I think it best if we depart. The crowd is not behaving as finely as one could wish. I saw some untoward behavior when I was searching for Mademoiselle Renault,” she said.
With the amount of wine flowing, Malcolm had no doubt she’d had an eyeful of amorous congress in the hallways, and she’d nearly seen more at the Medici Fountain, too.
In any case, having claimed the kiss he’d been hungering for since meeting Serena Renault, with little chance of sharing any further intimacies that night, he might as well concede the field and take the ladies home.
As they reentered the building, a wave of new excitement rippled through the party-goers and washed over them. Continuing through the old palace, they were nearly at the main entrance when chants of “Vive l’Empereur!”erupted.
The front doors were thrown open as Bonaparte crested the outer landing with officers flanking him on either side and Imperial Guards coming behind. The emperor looked triumphant wearing another of his uniforms, different from the light cavalry he’d worn at the Tuileries. In a grenadier’s royal blue coat with its simple blue collar and pure white square-cut lapels, he waved to acknowledge the cheers while showing off his brilliant scarlet cuffs that matched the coat’s lining.
As Napoleon strode forward, his coattails flapped behind, also showing flashes of scarlet facing. The candlelight caught the emperor’s gilt buttons, each embellished with a crowned eagle, and the splendid gold epaulets danced as he walked. And of course, he wore a black felt bicorne without trim or plume, only a simple cockade, secured by a black braid. He looked to be glowing with the festive energy of the crowd who rushed to greet him.
Malcolm thought the whole display to be an effective show of power. Anyone who could see Boney’s arrival cheered before a hush fell over the party guests, hoping to hear the emperor speak.
Malcolm saw Napoleon’s eyes alight upon Mademoiselle Renault.And why not?She was easily the most beautiful woman in the palace, standing out due to the flaming color of her hair. Moreover, she happened to be directly in the man’s path.
“The Renault vintner!” Bonaparte exclaimed.
Malcolm’s blood chilled. If the emperor remembered her so easily, he would assuredly recall the mute baker for whom she’d spoken. And Malcolm no longer resembled such, nor could he pretend to be mute, especially not in front of Madame Fournier. Moreover, if he was discovered to be a fraud, it could put the Renault family in danger, as well.
