Serena took a step back.What did this burly man know about her family?She looked from him to Malcolm, who nodded.
“Ma mère n'est pas à Paris.”That her mother wasn’t in Paris was all she would tell him. If this stranger already knew Hélène Renault had married an Englishman, then he would probably disclose it, and Serena’s secret would be known. She held her breath.
“I haven’t seen her in years,” Monsieur Versanne said, “but I remember her working in the old Halle aux Vins, and your grandparents, too.” He squinted at her. “You are the picture of your mother, except for your hair. That color comes from Madame Renault.”
Malcolm looked at her curiously. After all, she hadn’t told him anything about her parents, and he probably assumed, as her Parisian friends did, that they were dead. It was easier to let everyone believe such a thing rather than explain how she’d been exiled for her own foolish misbehavior.
“You are looking better, monsieur,” she added, hoping to win over the gruff Monsieur Versanne.
He simply scowled and switched his attention to Malcolm.
“What trouble have you brought,Anglais?”
“The Tuileries’ guards have taken a dislike to me,” Malcolm quipped. “I’m not Gallic enough for them.”
“For me, either, but you’re fortunate I’m not trying to capture and torture you for information.”
“Actually, Bonaparte recently learned I’m not a mute baker, so I will have to make myself scarce. But first I need to get Mademoiselle Renault safely back to her grandparents’ home on the Rue Coquillière. Obviously, she can no longer be seen with me.”
She didn’t like how he disclosed the address so easily, but assumed he trusted this man entirely. Even more distressing was how it seemed he was washing his hands of her.
“You know I cannot stroll along the Champs-Élysées either,” Monsieur Versanne said. “Especially not with your fiery-haired lady friend. She is like a beacon.”
Serena’s stomach cramped with worry, and she tugged her bonnet over her hair more tightly. It did little good. With all the running she’d done, most of her hair was hanging down around her shoulders.
“With her unusual hair,” Monsieur Versanne said, “she may not be safe in Paris if Imperial Guards saw her helping you leave the palace.”
“I believeIwas helpingher,” Malcolm pointed out.
“Pride!” Monsieur Versanne scoffed. “Were you both seen or not?”
“Yes,” she admitted, “not only by the guards but by my friends.”
“Who are not your friends any longer,” Malcolm pointed out.
She stared at him. In one short afternoon, everything was ruined. She’d lost her important connection with the emperor and would no longer be useful to her grandparents. Her friends now considered her their enemy. And most importantly to her, she was going to be forced to stop all contact with Malcolm.
It was unbearable. Somehow, he’d become keenly important to her happiness.
“Mademoiselle, take that ugly hat by the door,” Monsieur Versanne instructed. “You can tuck all your pretty locks up inside of it.”
Serena looked at the shapeless black cotton, feeling a twinge of disgust at seeing its stained brim, but she took it down from the hook.
“When you are out of your apron and cap,Anglais,” Monsieur Versanne said to Malcolm, “maybe if you grow a mustache, it will help.” Then he cocked his head. “But you’re a whey-faced son of a Brit. Can you grow a mustache or a beard for that matter?”
“Your humor is unwelcome,” Malcolm said, his tone serious. “Her safety is all that matters. My height is a problem. Your figure and face are less well-known than mine. Put on a hat, stick a pipe in your mouth to cover your ugly visage, and I trust you will escort Mademoiselle Renault safely home.”
“I will,” the burly man said, glancing at her again. “Even if I am caught only to be hanged, drawn, and quartered.”
Malcolm rolled his eyes, but Serena didn’t want either man to get into further danger because of her. Quickly, while they talked, she set the hat down and plaited her hair before tucking the braid under the collar of her spencer. Hardly any of the red showed, and she decided there was no need for the Frenchman’s greasy hat.
“If they really think her a threat,” Monsieur Versanne said, “they will discover her residence soon enough or wait for her at the Halle aux Vins.”
Serena sucked in an unsteady breath. She hadn’t considered the ramifications, but it was obvious, she would have to go into hiding immediately. At that moment, however, she desperately wanted to go home and tell her grandparents everything that had transpired.
“I don’t need an escort,” she declared, causing both men to look at her. “In fact, I’ll look less conspicuous traveling alone than with Monsieur Versanne since I was last seen in the company of a man.”
The stranger just stared at her, but Malcolm started to shake his head.
